Positioned around the circumference of the chamber were four clumps of people, all poised near a flat surface in wary readiness for action.
Rael half-listened to the steady rise and fall of voices. Nunku and two other Spinner gang leaders spoke a strange melange of languages that she couldn’t make out at all. They all three faced the black shrouded figures against one wall; as yet none of these had spoken.
The followers of the Spinner gangs kept absolute silence, including Tooe and Momo, so Rael and Jasper were also quiet.
She was just as glad of the chance to watch, to reassess. She moved slightly, partly to get a clearer view and partly to ease her aching neck—and saw one of the sinister dark-clad beings across the room flick a glance at her from inimical-seeming eyes. She kept her hands wide, palms out, in the universal gesture of goodwill.
Working in null gee was just as tiring as laboring in gravity, she realized as she watched the conversation, for one had to constantly brace oneself against the reaction of one’s efforts; one couldn’t rely on weight to absorb the energy of push and press—and one’s mass had very different meaning here.
Despite all those interruptions a greater crowd than the first time had appeared, causing her a strange emotional response midway between exhilaration and despair, the latter because she knew she could not help them all. Her supplies would give out, or she would.
A change in the speakers’ postures broke her thoughts. The three facing the black-shrouded figure were stiff, still, wary; a tense silence fell, and then a deep Shver voice growled something from inside the black cowl.
The three whipped around and Rael found herself the focus of their attention. Someone spoke. Tooe touched Rael’s arm and said, "They have questions."
Rael felt Jasper move restlessly at her side.
She sent him what she hoped was a reassuring glance, and pushed away from the wall she’d floated near.
Everyone’s heads were oriented in one direction—a concession to the Shver, she figured.
The dark-cowled one spoke, and Nunku said, "The Deathguard wisheth to hear thy story from thine own lips."
"What story?" Rael asked. "How we found the derelict, or what has happened since we arrived here?"
"Everything," Nunku said. "They say that those from the Solar Queen have brought the Monitors into the Spin Axis. This changes what hath been accepted for lifetimes."
Rael heard the threat implicit in her soft voice, and felt danger clamp her insides. She knew very little about the Deathguard, other than that they were Shver outcasts and assassins—and that they had nothing to do with anyone outside their numbers, unless they were paid. These Shver outcasts would not have any interest in the plights of the other inhabitants of the Spinner, so they certainly would not care about justice for the Starvenger or the Ariadne.
She took in a deep breath, cast her mind back to Denlieth, and started to talk.
21
Rip Shannon was not surprised when every present member of the Queen's crew expressed his desire to accompany Dane Thorson to the site
of the duel.
"Right," Captain Jellico said. "There are ten of us who want to go."
"Five is an important number to them," Van Ryke said.
"As well," Jellico said. "We’ll pick lots, then. I want half here to guard the Queen against any other tricks that Flindyk might concoct."
Frank Mura produced some fine tiles from somewhere, some colored white and some blue. He mixed them all up in a bag, and as each man picked one, the captain said, "White goes, blue stays."
Rip didn’t say anything, but he was relieved when the tile he pulled out was white. He wanted to be there for a number of reasons—partly guilt, because he still felt that he ought to have talked Dane out of the fruitless errand to the mail drop in the first place, but also out of an intense desire to see if Ali’s plan would work.
He thought grimly to himself as he handed his tile back to Frank and bounded down to get his sleeprod that he also wanted to be there to help in case Ali’s plan blew up in their faces. He wasn’t going to stand by and watch some planet-sized Shver warmonger munch his crewmate. Rip was very ready to prove that humans could fight—well—when they had to, and he could see in Kamil’s bright-edged gaze and challenging smile that he felt exactly the same, even though he was staying with the Solar Queen.
Surprisingly, Frank had chosen a tile, and as it was white, he had silently produced his feedle pipe before he took his place with the others.
Steen Wilcox had drawn blue. As he frowned at his heirloom, discreetly stowed in a sturdy bag in Dane’s arms, Jan Van Ryke, who had also gotten a white tile, said, "Wilcox, we can swap if you like. You can keep an eye on your property."
Steen hesitated, then gave his head a shake. "Better not," he said. "If there’s a problem, you’d be better at talking us out than I. If they come here, there won’t be any talking." He smiled grimly, then nodded at the bag in Dane’s hands. "As for that—my being there or not isn’t going to make a particle of difference. But it’s been safely through many a battle, so I’ll hold to the faith it’ll come through one more."
Jellico said, "It’s time. Let’s get this over with."
Rip followed the others into the lock tunnel. Behind, he heard Ali and Steen talking to Stotz, Tang, and Tau, planning their defensive strategy. Their voices very soon dropped away as the five bounded their way to the maglev access.
The five got half a pod to themselves. Rip had half expected either emptiness or stares, as if news of the duel had somehow gotten all over Exchange—demonstrating Flindyk’s far reach. Except that Flindyk wouldn’t want it publicized, he realized as he noted a group of Kanddoyds buzzing and clacking away in a corner, utterly unconcerned with either the knot of humans at the other end of the pod or the four Arvas spacers at one side, who spoke together in a sibilant language of their own.
He looked across at Dane, who was fingering some mysterious lumps and bumps pressing against his bag.
"You know what to do with that thing?" he asked.
Dane gave a short nod. "Steen showed me when we went down to his cabin to get it." He grimaced slightly. "Not that there was time enough to show me how to really operate it. But I know enough to." He stopped, then shrugged. "Succeed or fail."
Jellico had been conversing in low tones with Van Ryke. Now he glanced up, assessing the other occupants of the pod, and Dane and Rip. He didn’t say anything to the apprentices, but Rip decided to drop the subject.
As the grav increased, Rip became aware of a faint breathing sound coming from somewhere. He looked over, fascinated by the sight of Dane breathing into the bag, eliciting a soft wheeze from whatever was in it. It was changing shape, flattening into a kind of ovoid with odd bumps poking at intervals along one end. It reminded Rip unpleasantly of some asymetric sea creatures—was it some sort of biological construct? His stomach lurched. The use of living weapons was forbidden throughout Terran space, but out here. ?
Captain Jellico didn’t seem concerned. The last of the passengers on the pod hurried off, sending odd looks toward the Terrans.
Dane didn’t look back at Rip, hunching instead over the bag as if meditating. Was he imagining the impact of Shver weapons on his weaker frame? And how did that feel to someone who’d probably gotten used to—or become resigned to—being bigger than everyone else?
As they reached the one-gee level, whatever was in the bag had distended to a hard-looking mass; Rip could hear its coarse breathing, edged with a weird, honking whine, and the odor of its breath, a kind of rank, greasy sweetness, filled the maglev pod. What kind of bioweapon had Steen Wilcox been secreting in his cabin all these years? All Rip knew was that he had several heirlooms from his Scots ancestors, and that Ali had somehow found out about them. And he remembered a Scots word—"haggis"—that he’d overheard a spacer mention once with a look of great horror on his face. Was that what Dane had?