He held on until he was sure that the man was dead, until there was no trace of a pulse under his thumb.
Reason returned — and with it fear. He looked around wildly. There was no one else there. Outside the firing was becoming more spasmodic as the soldiers ran out of targets. They would be back, someone else might enter soon… He tore at the officer’s clothing, ripping open the magnetic fasteners, pulling the boots from his feet. It took less than a minute to strip the man, to throw off his own clothes and pull on the uniform. The fit was adequate though the boots were tight. The hell with that. He jammed the helmet on his head then stuffed the limp corpse and discarded clothing behind the instrument bank where he had hidden, pushing them as far back as he could. Time, time, there was not enough of it. As he ran toward the lift he fumbled with the chin strap of the helmet. His thumb was raised to the button when he looked at the indicator.
It was on the way down.
The emergency stairs, the way they had entered. He slammed through the door and pushed hard against the mechanism to make it close faster. Now. Up the stairs. Not too quickly, don’t want to be out of breath. How far? What deck? Where would there be an exit from the ship? Debhu would know. But Debhu was dead. They were all dead. He tried to blame himself for their deaths as he stumbled on the treads, but he could not. Murdered here or murdered later. It was all the same. But he was still free and he would not be as simple to kill as it had been to slaughter the unarmed men in the pit — who did not even know how to fight. Jan loosened the officer’s pistol in the holster. Well he knew how. It would not be that easy with him.
How many decks had he climbed? Four, five. One was as good as any other. He laid his hand on the next door and took a deep breath, then pulled his uniform down. Shoulders back, another breath — then through the door.
The corridor was empty. He walked down it at what he hoped was a brisk military pace. There was a junction ahead and one of the crewmen came around it. He nodded at Jan and started to hurry by. Jan put out his hand and stopped him.
“Just a minute my good man.” The accents of his prep school, long forgotten, sprang instantly to his lips. “Where is the nearest exit?”
The crewman started to pull away, eyes widening. Jan spoke again, more firmly.
“Speak up. I came into this ship from the pit. Now how do I get out to report?”
“Oh, sorry your honor. I didn’t know. Up one deck, that’s the stairwell over there. Then right and first right again.”
Jan nodded and walked stiffly away. So far so good. He had fooled the spaceman — but would this bluff work with any others he met? He would find out soon enough. What had the dead officer called himself? He dredged his memory. Loka? No, Lauca, or something very close to that. He glanced at the ring on the uniform cuff. Sub-Lieutenant Lauca. Jan pushed open the door and climbed the flight of steps.
It was only when he had turned the corner that he saw two guards stationed at the exit from the ship. The airlock controls had been overriden and both interior and exterior locks were open. Beyond the outer lock a metal bridge led across the pit to safety.
The guards snapped to attention, slamming their heels down and bringing their weapons to port arms. He could only go forward toward them now, even when they stepped in front of them. Jan walked steadily on to stop before them. And noticed something of utmost importance.
Their unit numbers were different from the ones on the uniform he wore.
“I am Lieutenant Lauca. Mop-up squad. My radio is dead. Where is your commanding officer?”
They snapped to attention as he spoke.
“The major is down there, sir. Command post in the company office.”
“Thank you.”
Jan returned the salute in the correct manner that had been drilled into him with great precision during his cadet days at school, wheeled smartly about and stamped away.
As soon as he was out of sight of the airlock he turned in the opposite direction, away from the command post, and walked off between the machines and harsh lights and on into the night.
Not that he was free. He knew better than to believe that for an instant. No one was really free on Earth with its ubiquitous webs of surveillance spreading completely about the globe. The lieutenant’s body would be found soon, that was certain. The man’s uniform would be an asset until that moment — but after it a terrible liability. And he didn’t even know where on Earth he was. Probably Spaceconcent at Mojave, though he could not be sure. The military might very well have their own bases kept secret from the public. But that wasn’t important, not now. The first order of business was getting off the base. There was a road of some kind off to his left, well lit with occasional vehicles going by, and he went in that direction.
From the shelter of some large crates he looked out at the brightly-lit gate. It would need more than bluff to get through this one. Perhaps he ought to try the fence, although he knew that there was no way through this without setting off a number of alarms. Speed. Whatever he did he had to do it fast.
“Lieutenant Lauca, come in.
He started as the voice sounded loudly inside his head. Transmitted by the bone conduction field inside the helmet. The radio, of course. Now where would the switch be? He fumbled at his belt, finding the radio controls, trying to make them out in the dark.
“Lauca, come in.”
Was this the right one? It seemed to be. Only one way to find out. He pressed it and spoke.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s enough. We want some remains for the press. Call your men back.”
The commander’s voice died away and the carrier tone vanished. The ruse worked, he had gained a few minutes — but no more. He switched the radio to broad-channel reception and listened with one ear to the commands passing back and forth. He must do something, even something desperate. And fast.
Jan ran forward to the illuminated traffic lane and waited out of sight of the guards at the exit. A car came toward him, there was someone next to the driver though, and Jan faded back out of sight. A motorcycle was close behind the car. Then nothing more. Seconds, then minutes ticked away. There seemed to be a steady stream of traffic into the base but nothing at all going out. The radio murmured in his ear. Routine commands. No emergencies yet. Something, anything!
There! A flatbed truck with a heavy load lashed in back. He couldn’t see inside the high cab. It was a chance he had to take.
Jan stepped out in front of the slowly moving truck and raised his hand. Standing, unmoving, as it braked to a stop. The driver leaned out of his window.
“Can I help your honor?”
“Yes. Has this vehicle been searched yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Then open the other door. I’m coming up.”
Jan climbed the ladder and swung in through the open door. The driver, beefy and middle-aged, roughly dressed and wearing a cloth cap, was all alone. Jan slammed the door shut, turned back to the man and drew the pistol.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Yes your honor, I know, yes I do.”
The man was stammering with fear, staring wide-eyed at the muzzle of the pistol. Jan could not afford to feel sorry for him.
“Good. Then do exactly as I say. Drive through the gate as you always do. Say nothing. I shall be on the floor and will kill you if you so much as open your mouth. Do you believe that?”
“Yes, I do! I certainly do…”