Complain fixed him with a surly eye. The little librarian was almost dancing on his toes, his face gawky with excitement.
‘What seems to be the trouble?’ he asked.
With a visible effort, Tregonnin pulled himself up before that contemptuous stare.
‘The ship is being wrecked,’ he said, more steadily. ‘That madman Hawl — the fellow with the little head — has the heat gun. Your brother was injured. Now most of his gang — and many of our men — are simply pulling everywhere to bits. I ordered them to stop and surrender the gun, but they just laughed at me.’
‘They’ll obey Scoyt,’ Complain said grimly. He began shaking Scoyt insistently.
‘I’m afraid, Roy. I can’t help feeling something terrible is going to happen,’ Vyann said.
One glance at her face told Complain how worried she was. He stood up beside her, stroking her upper arm.
‘Keep working on Master Scoyt, Councillor,’ he told Tregonnin. ‘He’ll soon be lively enough to solve all your problems for you. We’ll be back.’
He hustled a surprised Vyann out into the corridor. A thin dribble of water crept along the deck, dripping into the manholes.
‘Now what?’ she asked him.
‘I was a fool not to think of this before,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to risk pulling the place down about our heads to get to the Giants — unless there is another way. And there is another way. Zac Deight has an instrument in his room by which he spoke to Curtis, the Giants’ leader.’
‘Don’t you remember, Roy, Marapper said Zac Deight had gone?’ she said.
‘We may be able to find the way to work the instrument without him,’ Complain replied. ‘Or we may find something else there that will be useful to us. We are doing no good here, that’s sure.’
He spoke ironically, as six Forwards men, pelting silently along, brushed past him. Everyone seemed to be on the run, splashing down the corridors; no doubt the spiked stench of burning hustled them on. Taking Vyann’s soft hand, Complain led her rapidly along to Deck 17 and down to the lower level. The trap-door covers lay about like discarded gravestones, but already the guards over them had deserted their posts to seek excitement elsewhere.
Halting before the room in which he had left the dazed councillor, Complain levelled his torch and flung open the door.
Zac Deight was there, sitting on a metal stool. So was Marapper, his bulky body eased into a chair; he had a dazer clamped in his hand.
‘Expansions to your egos, children,’ he said. ‘Come in, Roy, come in. And you too, Inspector Vyann, my dear!’
IV
‘What the hull do you think you’re doing here, Marapper, you oily old villain?’ Complain asked in surprise.
The priest, ignoring this unpleasant form of address, which Complain would never have employed in the old days, was as usual only too ready to explain. He was here, he said, with the express purpose of torturing the last secret of the ship out of Zac Deight, but had hardly begun to do so since, although he had been here some while, he had only just managed to pull the councillor back to consciousness.
‘But you told the council meeting he was not here when you came to look for him,’ Vyann said.
‘I didn’t want them pulling Deight to bits for being an Outsider before I got at him,’ Marapper said.
‘How long have you known he was an Outsider?’ Complain asked suspiciously.
‘Since I came in and found him on the ground — with an octagonal ring on his finger,’ Marapper said, with a certain amount of smugness in his tone. ‘And I’ve so far elicited one thing from him, with the help of a knife under his fingernails. The Outsiders and Giants come from the planet you saw outside; but they can’t get back there till a ship comes up to get them. This ship can’t go down there.’
‘Of course it can’t, it’s out of control,’ Vyann said. ‘Priest Marapper, you are wasting your time. I also cannot allow you to torture this councillor, whom I have known since I was a girl.’
‘Don’t forget he was going to kill us!’ Complain reminded her. She made no answer beyond looking stubbornly at him, knowing, woman-like, that she had an argument superior to reason.
‘I had no alternative but to try and remove you both,’ Zac Deight said huskily. ‘If you will save me from this horrible creature I will do anything — within reason.’
There are few more awkward situations in the world than to be dragged into a three-cornered argument between a priest and a girl; Complain did not enjoy the position. He would have been contented enough to let Marapper wring information out of Deight by any means possible, but with Vyann present he could not do it; nor could he explain his sudden sensitivity to the priest. They began a wrangle. It was interrupted by a noise nearby, a curious noise, a scraping rustle, frightening because it was unidentifiable. It grew louder. Suddenly, it was overhead.
Rats were on the move! They drummed along the air duct above this level; across the grille Complain had recently climbed through, pattering pink feet came and went, as the tribe thundered by. Dust showered down into the room, and with the dust came smoke.
‘That sort of thing’ll be happening all over the ship,’ Complain told Zac Deight gravely, when the stampede had gone by. ‘The fire is driving the rats out of their holes. Given time, the men will gut the place absolutely. They’ll find your secret hideout in the end, if they kill us all doing it. If you know what’s good for you, Deight, you’ll get on that instrument and tell Curtis to come out with his hands up.’
‘If I did, they would never obey,’ Zac Deight said. His hands, paper-thin, rustled together on his lap.
‘That’s my worry,’ Complain said. ‘Where is this Little Dog? — Down on the outside of the planet?’
Zac Deight nodded confirmation miserably. He kept clearing his throat, a nervous trick which betrayed the strain he was undergoing.
‘Get up and tell Curtis to speak to Little Dog double quick and make them send a ship up here for us,’ Complain said. He drew his dazer, aiming it steadily at Deight.
‘I’m the only one who flashes dazers here!’ Marapper shouted. ‘Deight’s my captive.’ Jumping up, he came towards Complain with his own weapon raised. Savagely, Complain booted it out of his hand.
‘We can’t afford to have three sides in this argument, priest,’ he said. ‘If you’re going to stay in on this, stay quiet. Otherwise, get out. Now then, Deight, have you made up your mind?’
Zac Deight stood up helplessly, twisting his face with indecision.
‘I don’t know what to do. You don’t understand the position at all,’ he said. ‘I really would help you if I could. You seem a reasonable man, Complain, at heart; if only you and I –’
‘I’m not reasonable!’ Complain shouted. ‘I’m anything but reasonable! Get on to Curtis! Go on, you old fox, move! Get a ship up here!’
‘Inspector Vyann, can’t you –’ Zac Deight said.
‘Yes, Roy, please –’ Vyann began.
‘No!’ Complain roared. It was hell the way everyone had wills of their own, even women. ‘These beggars are responsible for all our miseries. Now they’re going to get us out of trouble or else.’
Seizing one end of the bookcase, he pulled it angrily away from the wall. The phone stood there on its niche, neutral and silent, ready to convey any message spoken into it.
‘This time my dazer’s at “lethal”, Deight,’ Complain said. ‘You have the count of three to begin talking. One… two…’
Tears stood in Zac Deight’s eyes as he lifted the receiver. It shook in his grasp.