rearguard action. It's going after propulsion and jump drive now."
"Weapons?" asked T'Ral.
"Weapons power feed back up firmed—the fluctuations were probably a secondary effect of its tinkering with life systems. But you'll have to man the batteries—remote targeting's useless."
"And we're helpless without the original algorithm?" said K'Raoda.
"Or its antidote," nodded the engineer. "Which I think is with that slaver machine."
"I won't argue with you," sighed K'Raoda. "Let's hope the commodore brings it back intact."
"Or it the commodore," said N'Trol.
A faint clanking came from across the bridge. Everyone turned to look. Sweating, cursing softly, the two commandos were cranking open the doors, using a hand winch installed centuries before by a meticulous Imperial Fleet.
"There's something you should see," said N'Trol as the doors grew wider. "Back where I was, in the light conduits."
"I can't leave the bridge!" said K'Raoda.
N'Trol laughed. "The bridge is dead, K'Raoda." He leaned close. "It's important."
"All right," said K'Raoda after a moment. He stood. "Attention, please." Those who'd started to drift away returned. "I'm going with Mr. N'Trol down into the light conduits. Commander T'Ral will be in command." He turned to his friend. "Secure the bridge and relocate to gunnery control. Break out a tactical commweb—the sort we'd use for ground operations. ..."
"An I'Zul Tactical Web," said T'Ral.
"That's it," said K'Raoda. "Put the nexus in gunnery control and a unit in every fusion battery facing Alpha Prime. Then man those batteries with everyone who's Mark eighty-eight qualified. At least we can give the commodore some cover fire if he needs it."
T'Ral nodded curtly. "Yes, sir." He began issuing orders as N'Trol and K'Raoda left the bridge.
"What's so damned secret, N'Trol?" asked K'Raoda as they hurried down an empty stretch of corridor.
"I didn't think you want the rest of them knowing there's a transmute running around on board," said N'Trol as they passed an open recroom door. A steady stream of chill air flowed into the corridor. "I see you're not startled," said the engineer.
"You haven't heard," said K'Raoda, and quickly sketched the incident of R'Gal, the transmute and the blasted command chair. He finished as they stopped before a wall panel. "So, what did you find?" he added.
"I had this engineering tech foisted on me, off Terra," said N'Trol, entering the access code on a touchpad. "Knew his stuff, kept to himself." The panel didn't open. N'Trol shrugged. "Stasis algorithm must have reached the security protocols." Unclipping a light wand from his shirt pocket, N'Trol held it over the tiny optics transceiver to the left of the touchpad. Picking up the downtime signal from transceiver, the wand sent an override code flashing into the panel. There was a soft click.
"Give me a hand here," said N'Trol, pocketing the wand.
The two men each seized one of the two handles and pulled to the right. The panel yielded slowly, sliding right.
"Anyway," said the engineer, "I went into this tech's quarters unannounced during his sleep period—a question about something he'd done but hadn't logged.
"This tech came up with a knife all set to cut my heart out. Never saw anyone in engineering move that fast." They had the panel opened now. Light glimmered in the distance.
"So you pegged R'Gal as CIC or maybe Fleet Security," said K'Raoda, following the older man into the crawl space. "So what?"
"So imagine how I felt, finding him lying in the conduit, more dead than alive."
"More dead than alive is right," said K'Raoda, kneeling over the Watcher. R'Gal lay in the center of a small four-way intersection, hands crossed over his chest, the red-green light of a billion messages washing over him. There were two neat holes in each of his temples.
"S'Cotar transmute," said K'Raoda, rising. "Weird. Why didn't it steal his mind, kill him and flick him out into space?"
N'Trol shrugged. "I'm not a PsychOps
"Weapons?" asked T'Ral.
"Weapons power feed back up firmed—the fluctuations were probably a secondary effect of its tinkering with life systems. But you'll have to man the batteries—remote targeting's useless."
"And we're helpless without the original algorithm?" said K'Raoda.
"Or its antidote," nodded the engineer. "Which I think is with that slaver machine."
"I won't argue with you," sighed K'Raoda. "Let's hope the commodore brings it back intact."
"Or it the commodore," said N'Trol.
A faint clanking came from across the bridge. Everyone turned to look. Sweating, cursing softly, the two commandos were cranking open the doors, using a hand winch installed centuries before by a meticulous Imperial Fleet.
"There's something you should see," said N'Trol as the doors grew wider. "Back where I was, in the light conduits."
"I can't leave the bridge!" said K'Raoda.
N'Trol laughed. "The bridge is dead, K'Raoda." He leaned close. "It's important."
"All right," said K'Raoda after a moment. He stood. "Attention, please." Those who'd started to drift away returned. "I'm going with Mr. N'Trol down into the light conduits. Commander T'Ral will be in command." He turned to his friend. "Secure the bridge and relocate to gunnery control. Break out a tactical commweb—the sort we'd use for ground operations. ..."
"An I'Zul Tactical Web," said T'Ral.
"That's it," said K'Raoda. "Put the nexus in gunnery control and a unit in every fusion battery facing Alpha Prime. Then man those batteries with everyone who's Mark eighty-eight qualified. At least we can give the commodore some cover fire if he needs it."
T'Ral nodded curtly. "Yes, sir." He began issuing orders as N'Trol and K'Raoda left the bridge.
"What's so damned secret, N'Trol?" asked K'Raoda as they hurried down an empty stretch of corridor.
"I didn't think you want the rest of them knowing there's a transmute running around on board," said N'Trol as they passed an open recroom door. A steady stream of chill air flowed into the corridor. "I see you're not startled," said the engineer.
"You haven't heard," said K'Raoda, and quickly sketched the incident of R'Gal, the transmute and the blasted command chair. He finished as they stopped before a wall panel. "So, what did you find?" he added.
"I had this engineering tech foisted on me, off Terra," said N'Trol, entering the access code on a touchpad. "Knew his stuff, kept to himself." The panel didn't open. N'Trol shrugged. "Stasis algorithm must have reached the security protocols." Unclipping a light wand from his shirt pocket, N'Trol held it over the tiny optics transceiver to the left of the touchpad. Picking up the downtime signal from transceiver, the wand sent an override code flashing into the panel. There was a soft click.
"Give me a hand here," said N'Trol, pocketing the wand.
The two men each seized one of the two handles and pulled to the right. The panel yielded slowly, sliding right.
"Anyway," said the engineer, "I went into this tech's quarters unannounced during his sleep period—a question about something he'd done but hadn't logged.
"This tech came up with a knife all set to cut my heart out. Never saw anyone in engineering move that fast." They had the panel opened now. Light glimmered in the distance.
"So you pegged R'Gal as CIC or maybe Fleet Security," said K'Raoda, following the older man into the crawl space. "So what?"
"So imagine how I felt, finding him lying in the conduit, more dead than alive."
"More dead than alive is right," said K'Raoda, kneeling over the Watcher. R'Gal lay in the center of a small four-way intersection, hands crossed over his chest, the red-green light of a billion messages washing over him. There were two neat holes in each of his temples.
"S'Cotar transmute," said K'Raoda, rising. "Weird. Why didn't it steal his mind, kill him and flick him out into space?"
N'Trol shrugged. "I'm not a PsychOps
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