The lethal drone roared on toward Scotland.
Chapter 10
Jonnie held the wrench in his hand. He hefted it thoughtfully. Certainly, in setting up this drone to fire, mechanics would have to get into something. And they'd have to service something if it were ever to be fired again.
Locked, armored preset box. Yes, but that was just a control box. He had seen nothing else that took a key.
He was finding it hard to think. It was cold! These ancient Air Force flying suits were supposed to be electrically warmed, but they had not been able to rig any batteries and the originals hadn't been made for a shelf life of a thousand years. The blood from his cut forehead kept messing up his faceplate quite in addition to the way it kept misting. What was the temperature where they were flying? A power zoom to get up to freezing, that was for sure.
This wrench...
He caught a flicker of movement up toward the front of the ship and fired a warning shot.
Two problems. No, three. Zzt, Nup and a Mark 32 on top, and how to disable this drone!
Old Staffor used to say he was “too smart.” A lot of village people had thought that. He wasn't feeling very smart now.
He knew he should get rid of Zzt. But firing shots in this armored interior was not just dangerous to Zzt. It was dangerous to himself. All these frames sent every shot madly caroming about, and twice now one had whistled past his own ears and another had hit his plane on rebound.
Suppose Zzt were a puma. How would he go about killing it? Well, one didn't walk up to a puma; one waited for the puma to spring. No, now suppose Zzt were a bear in a cave. That was a more fitting example. Walk into a cave with a bear in it? Suicide.
He thought of setting a time fuse on a limpet and pitching it up there, getting in his plane, and depending on its armor to protect him. But there was a limit to the way magnetic grips held and he might blow up his own plane into an unusable state. He wished he had a grenade, but all the grenades they had found were duds and they hadn't worked out how to use them. He even thought of taking one of the fuel or ammunition cartridges– of which he had plenty for the plane– throwing it up there, and shooting into it. It would explode, that was for sure. But one cartridge might not kill Zzt. Psychlos were very tough, very tough indeed. Zzt had once beaten Terl, he had heard, and Zzt truly hated him– in fact, had almost killed him once. No, he was not going to try any stunt of walking up there even with an assault rifle firing. He did not know how deep that recess was or even what recess Zzt was in, and Zzt might very well be armed still.
Nup he had nullified for the moment. Lord, it was cold.
One thing at a time. His job was not Zzt or Nup. It was to stop this drone.
He had better get awfully smart. Fast!
Because of his misting and blood-stained faceplate, he had not spotted the tiny mechanic's mirror that watched him. He got busy untangling the problem of this drone.
Where Psychlos couldn't use a molecular parting and resealing tool, they used nuts and bolts. And he was sure that this armor wouldn't yield to a “metal knife,” as they called the tool in Psychlo mechanic's slang. He had gathered from Zzt that this was molecular lamination, layer after layer of different but binding metals. Good. So somewhere here they had used nuts.
He caught a flick of motion and fired another shot. The bullet ricocheted three times and went whining out the door.
Maybe one of these floor plates... He laughed suddenly. Squarely in front of the ship, in a shadow the lights left between the skids, was a floor plate held down by nuts!
He reduced the jaw size of the wrench and got down between the skids. Another small adjustment and he had the size. There were eight nuts. They came off very easily– these had been removed recently. He put the nuts on one of the skid tops that had an inset groove. Heavy, they stayed there despite the roll.
One of the plane skids was on the far edge of the plate. He pounded it with the heel of the wrench and it loosened.
He pried the plate up with the lip of the wrench. He intended just to set it aside, but as it came loose the drone rolled and it went sliding out of his numb hands, through the door and into the screaming wind and emptiness. Who cared?
He got out a torch and shone it down into the blackness.
He was looking at the top of the main motor drive!
The housing was as big as a one-story house. It made him realize that the whole underside of the drone was motors and additional gas canister storage. What tons and tons and tons of lethal gas this carried! The canisters glowed like monster fish in the darkness. But the housing!
Jonnie knew these drives in miniature. They were space translation cubicles, mostly empty but served by an enormous number of points that jutted into them. Each point had its own coordinate message, and these points had to be cleaned.
There must be an inspection and maintenance plate on this housing!
With a wary look up the long passageway, he slid down and braced his feet on the structural support members of the housing. He played the light around.
It was hard to keep an eye on the corridor from this position, and he alternated looks at the housing with looks at the corridor. Maybe he really ought to work out how to get rid of Zzt before he went on with this. He had to duck down to see the housing.
But doing something with Zzt might put an end to himself and he reminded himself that too many lives– in fact the only human lives left– depended on him. Courage aside, he mustn't risk his neck. Bear in a cave. He decided he could chance it and ducked down.
There it was!
A huge inspection plate.
Held down by four twelve-inch nuts.
But what an unhandy place. Handy maybe for a Psychlo mechanic to reach down with huge long arms. Not handy for him.
He banged off another shot up the passageway. He ducked down and adjusted the wrench. He gripped the first nut.
Yikes, it was tight. No one-hand job with this big wrench. Psychlos didn't know their own strength when putting nuts on.
He inspected the corridor again. He had to lay down the assault rifle to do this. He made sure the place he put it braced it reasonably so it wouldn't slide out the door. He still had his revolver in its holster.
He eased down and, with two hands on the wrench, legs braced, heaved on the nut.
It turned!
He had learned enough about mechanics not to just undo and take off one nut. He'd find the last one wedged tight. So loosen all four about half a turn each....
He had number two loosened. He was straining at number three. “What are you doing!” roared Zzt.
Jonnie came up. Zzt was still in his recess up there.
“You dimwitted, stupid slug!” roared Zzt. "If you monkey with those motors this thing will just crash!”
Thank you, Zzt, said Jonnie to himself.
“If you leave it alone, this thing will just land by itself in two or three days!” howled Zzt.
Actually, Zzt was getting panicky. There was something very peculiar about those shots the animal kept sending up the passageway. Right now the exhale valve on his breathe-mask had sparked slightly. For some minutes he had been aware of little tiny sparks around him. He had thought they were dust motes at first and then thought something was wrong with his eyes, that he was seeing tiny molecular flashes in his head. But this last exhale had actually sparked. Was there radiation around here? Was that animal throwing uranium dust around? Wait, were those slugs or was that gun he used operated by radiation?