Part 8 (2/2)

Success depended on exact timing, on instant action. Even as she used that fraction of a second required to aim the stun gun at Novikov she knew that it was going wrong, because Simonov's rifle had not yet spoken. It did not surprise her to see that Boris Bely was the first to react. The commissar made a dive for the floor, reaching for his weapon at the same time. When Simonov's weapon began to chatter quietly, it was too late. She discarded the stun gun, and as the officers recovered from their surprise and began to react, death sprayed the bridge, starting from right and left and coming toward the center with men and women being flung backward by the force of the high-velocity bullets.

That familiar thudding, whining sound of a projectile pa.s.sing close by her ear was followed by a small explosion on the hatch behind her. Pavel Simonov had not done his job: He was not moving swiftly enough; he was overkilling, leaving some of his a.s.signed targets free to bring their weapons into action.

Another round clipped a piece from the shoulder of Theresita's uniform.

Fedor Novikov-she'd deliberately lifted her finger from the trigger of her automatic rifle as she'd swept the muzzle past him-was reacting very slowly. The fire was coming from her right. Where was Boris Bely?

What was wrong with Pavel Simonov?

An explosive round missed her, angling upward to blast against the bulkhead near the ceiling. The captain had leaped for cover behind the command chair. Men and women were down, killed instantly or dying. It had all happerited in split seconds. Flesh had been mangled, had blossomed with the impact of the deadly, explosive bullets. And Pavel Simonov was dead, falling even as Theresita began to search desperately for Boris Bely.

It was suddenly quiet.

”Fedor,” she said, ”I don't want to have to kill you. Throw out your weapon.”

A movement to her right triggered her survival instincts, and she fell, rolling, using Simonov's body forcover, sending a burst of fire toward the origin of the shot that had almost killed her. She caught a glimpse of Boris Bely's frightened face as he ducked into the communications room.

”Your weapon, Fedor,” she said.

”I cannot,” he answered, his voice sad, dull.

”Fedor, come with us to the stars,” she implored. ”The stars. Come with us. You know as well as I that it means death for all if we go back to Earth. Throw out your weapon. Be with us. Be our leader.”

”I am going to stand up, Comrade Pulaski,” Novikov said.

His head showed, then he was erect. She got to her feet carefully, holding her weapon at the ready, for his sidearm was still in his hand, muzzle down. He looked around with stunned eyes. ”All of them? Did you have to kill all of them?”

”It was necessary,” she replied.

”But you have lost, comrade,” Novikov said.

”Will you join us? Will you be our leader?”

”You forget that we are a suspicious and cautious race, comrade,” he said, and there was a great sadness in his voice. ”You have lost. ” He was looking toward the communications room. She jerked her head for a quick look at the closed door.

”Tell me quickly what you mean.” Her urgency left no doubt in Novikov's mind that he had to speak, and speak quickly.

”Surely, as a marshal of the Red Army, you must know that all sensitive installations, and all such weapons of war as our nuclear submarines and s.p.a.ce stations have self-destruct capability to prevent them from falling into the hands of the enemy. ”

She felt faint for a tiny moment.

”Boris Bely has his finger on the b.u.t.ton.” He slowly put his sidearm into its holster, then ran a hand over his lined face. ”I m sure, knowing you, that your mutiny was efficient and prepared and that the s.h.i.+p is now in your hands. But with Bely in the communications room, it was all for nothing.”

”Why didn't you warn me?” she grated. ”You invited me to take over the s.h.i.+p. You didn't have the courage to say it openly or to disobey your precious orders, but you were hoping that I'd do exactly what I've done.”

He sat down weakly in the command chair. ”But I thought you were different. I thought you would have the leaders.h.i.+p and the inspiration to do it without... this.” He looked around the blood-splattered bridge, then shrugged. ”Well, no matter,” he said loudly into the transmitter, so Bely could hear inside the locked communications room. ”You have only two choices now: You can lay down your arms, and we will then obey our orders and go back to join our countrymen in their fight.” He looked toward the closed door and called out: ”Would you care to state her other choice, Comrade Bely?”

Bely's voice was tense, pitched high. It came to her from the speakers of the communications system.”The second choice is total destruction of the s.h.i.+p and everyone on it,” Bely said. ”Give the captain your weapon, traitor.”

Theresita knew that Bely was not bluffing. She knew his type. He would be totally loyal, to the point of fanaticism.

”All I have to do,” Bely continued, ”is move one finger. Small charges will detonate the rocket fuel, causing explosive decompression throughout the s.h.i.+p. You will not be alive when the nuclear warheads detonate. You must call upon your fellow criminals to lay down their arms.”

Theresita had made her decision instantly, but she pretended to be indecisive for a few moments before speaking. With a sigh, she bent and put her rifle on the deck. ”There is nothing else I can do,” she said. ”I cannot, however, reach all of my force by s.h.i.+p's communicator. To prevent an early alarm, many areas of the s.h.i.+p have been isolated. I have laid down my weapon. I will go to them and explain the situation.

They will obey me.”

The captain moved, somewhat reluctantly, to pick up the rifle. As he straightened, his eyes met hers, and in his there was regret. At that moment she hated him. He didn't want to go back. But he didn't have the courage to do what was right.

”Let her go to talk to the other traitors,” Bely said, his voice more confident now.

She found that a few, like Pavel Simonov, had died from indecision and hesitation. But the s.h.i.+p was in her hands. The security forces had been eliminated, along with most of the crew. And Uya Salkov had been correct in thinking that he would find sympathizers in the engineering section-he had five young officers with him when she found him making his way toward the bridge.

”We have won, Comrade Marshal,” Salkov said, but there was no joy in his voice. He had blood that was not his own on his tunic.

”Not yet,” she said. ”Is there, in the s.h.i.+p's armory, a Zhukov?”

Salkov's eyes widened, but he did not question her. ”Yes, of course.”

”Quickly, then,” she said. Salkov departed on the run. She examined the pale, strained faces of the five young officers. ”You choose to go with us to the stars?”

”Yes, Comrade Marshal,” one said. The others nodded.

”Damage in the engineering section?”

”Nothing serious. The s.h.i.+p is fully operational.”

”Who of you is familiar with the communications room?” she asked.

”I, Comrade Marshal,” said a young lieutenant with a small cut on his cheek. ”I am a.s.signed to electronic maintenance. ” He was young, not over twenty-one.

”Tell me the effect on the s.h.i.+p following total destruction of the interior of the communications room.”

He thought for a moment. ”We would, of course, be cut off from all communications with the Earth. Wewould have to rewire and improvise an in-s.h.i.+p system, using an alternate power supply. If the destruction is confined to the communications room, none of the vital functions of the s.h.i.+p will be affected.”

Uya Salkov came pounding up the corridor, the deadly Zhukov slung on his shoulder. The weapon had been named for one of Russia's great military heroes of the mid twentieth century. She took it, and a set of earplugs, from Salkov. She was quite familiar with it-she'd used it against British-built tanks in Kenya. It was a sweetheart of a weapon, no heavier than a standard a.s.sault rifle, and it fired a rocket-propelled, shaped charge, which could pierce the heaviest armor and devastate a confined area.

And Bely had himself locked in a room with a door that was metal, an inch and a half thick, counting a hollow core.

If the junior officers knew of the s.h.i.+p's self-destruct system, they gave no indication of it, and she had no intention of telling them. She was going to take an enormous chance: She had no way of knowing whether or not the destruction of the communications room would automatically set oft the charges of the destruction system.

She had gone too far to stop now and allow the captain and Bely to take the s.h.i.+p back to engage in a mutually destructive war.

She pushed the b.u.t.ton to the door to the bridge. ”Pulaski,” she said. ”It is arranged.”

She heard the door click, and for the second time within minutes she burst through.

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