The Albino Knife (31 page)

Another missile tore through the ship's main engine, wrecking the Number One mix chamber.

He was being crippled.

He was going to die if he didn't do something!

Khadaji.He had to collect the man and make the transfer!

As the gravity lessened by maybe half, one of the ship's dins lurched out into his path. Khadaji didn't hesitate. Stable as the din was in normal gravity, it wouldn't be anchored by as much weight with the ship's systems cutting in and out. Khadaji ran straight at the din, then at the last second jumped and twisted, feet leading in a flying kick. His left bootheel hit the din high, and the momentum and his mass were enough to topple the robot. By the time the din could use its arms to right itself, Khadaji was well past. It would never catch him from behind.

If he was right, the escape pod was just ahead.

Analysis of the shattered missiles revealed spheres composed of iron, carbon, nickel, vanadium, chromium—

Steel, Wall realized. He was being beaten to death by steel marbles. He also realized what Khadaji must have done.Very clever. No weapon involved; they were only thrown rocks! He could have foreseen the possibility. He had made a mistake in trusting the Duralum Wall.

Where was Khadaji? Ah, there—

Wall went blind. He could not feel pain, but he knew he was damaged. More of the steel balls continued to thud into him, tearing into his entrails, destroying precious circuitry and hardware. But the Healy was self-contained. He could get Khadaji there and he would be saved. The implant was ready; even if his main mind was damaged, most of him would make the crossing, the memories were logged—

What? Did someone call him?

"Marcus? It's me, it's Michelle. Where are you?"

No, it was a trick! Michelle was dead, he'd had her aged, and the poison she had spewed at him had killed her, too—

"Marcus?"

Khadaji! He had to get Khadaji!

Khadaji found the pod. It was a two-person sled with enough rocket power to hold an orbit, and had rudimentary aerodynamic surfaces to fly in atmosphere, though it wouldn't be a comfortable time of it to ski down to land. He was almost out of air, his lungs burned, he wanted to breathe,it was all he could do not to breathe. He banked on the pod being unguarded and unlocked, because on a ship controlled by Wall, there would be no need to worry about somebody stealing it.

Another din, programmed to capture him, rolled out from behind a bank of transducers. He saw he could beat it to the pod's hatch; once inside, he'd be safe.

The gravity failed completely. Unprepared, Khadaji lost his footing and tumbled. He tucked, and managed a half turn before he slammed into the wall above the escape pod. He triggered the stiktight boot soles as he bounced off into the air. All he needed was asurface, wall, ceiling, floor, and he could regain control.

The din floated past and it clicked a three-fingered hand shut on Khadaji's shoulder. He twisted and the claw dug into his orthoskins and shoulder, drawing blood, but missing a secure grip on his flesh. The tough fabric tore, and the din twirled away clutching a bloody scrap of his clothes, but nothing more.

Khadaji reached the ceiling and shoved his feet at it. The boots stuck. He looked at the pod. The din would reach a wall in a second and it too would be able to propel itself back in his direction.

He shoved away from the ceiling toward the pod, using his toes to flip himself in a layout half somersault so that he was once again movingtoward a flat surface feet first. If he had guessed right, he would land in front of the pod's hatch. From there, it would only be a step to hit the control and enter the tiny ship.

The din reached the far wall and pushed away with inhuman strength toward the pod. Khadaji realized immediately that the din was now moving much faster than he, and that it would arrive at the pod before he did, blocking the hatch. He had no weapons with which to fight it, but maybe he could hit or kick it hard enough to move or damage it. There was nothing to lose by trying…

The gravity came back on.

Khadaji was in landing position and he hit feet first and tumbled.

The din was still rotating toward its landing position. Unfortunately for it when the gravity started up, the din was head down. It fell from two meters up, smashing its sensor and control cap. The din managed to shove itself onto its treads, but only one side worked, and the robot began to spin in tight circles, beeping and waving its arms.

Khadaji rolled up, hit the hatch control, and dived into the pod. He scrambled to the control panel, blew the emergency wall bolts, and was kicked out of the belly of Marcus Jefferson Wall into space. The little engines coughed to life and shoved the pod away from the larger ship.

Khadaji remembered to breathe. Canned air had never tasted so sweet before. He wasn't safe yet; Wall could still shoot at him. He had to get as far away as fast as he could.

He was, he reflected, getting too old for this.

Wall felt systems breaking down inhimself . He managed to get a back-up camera input going by rerouting and crossing busses designed for communications, and what he saw was ruin.

One of the steel marbles had found its way into the Healy. The implant package was destroyed, an oozing ruin.

No!

A short in the main nuclear batteries was approaching critical. The control rods for the fusion furnace were only half operative. The solar collectors were smashed to useless bits. Hismaui drives were out.

The escape pod had been deployed.

He was going to die, finally, in a form far different than he had planned. And the man who had killed him was escaping.

No. There was the self-destruct circuit, independent of the others, and if he must die, he would take his killer with him! The pod was close enough to be enveloped in the explosion. He would trigger it—

"Marcus?"

The camera showed her standing amidst the clutter next to the destroyed operating theater, curiously undisturbed by the destruction. A girl. A flower. Didn't he know her?

His thoughts were muddled, and for a second, he didn't understand why. Ah. He had been injured somehow. An accident?

"Marcus?"

But wait. Here was Michelle, his favorite flower of all time, such a darling child she was. Something uncomfortable swept through him as he regarded her, some darkness, but he could not quite get his mind around it. He felt… slowed, somehow…

"Marcus?"

"In here, dear one," he said."This way."

The girl smiled at him. "Marcus?"

Wait. There was something he was supposed to do. What was it? Oh. He remembered. The self-destruct command. Yes. He had to—had to—had to—

The nuclear battery short reached critical. Energy flared, reaching out with hot fingers to score all that it touched. The claws of it found the core of Wall's mind and gouged deeply.

"Marcus?"

Wall had one instant left to him. "Michelle?"

Then he winked out, like a light bulb smashed by a hammer. All the systems linked to Wall's mind went down at once. The whine of turbines faded, but until the last of the air left to carry sound had escaped from the holed ship, a small recorded voice kept plaintively repeating its final question:

"Marcus? Marcus?"

But Marcus was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

THEY WERE WAITING for him when he managed to put the escape pod down at the cleared field in Brisbane . It had been a rough ride, but all things considered, Khadaji felt just fine. He stepped from the scorched pod onto the plastcrete.

The six of them hugged him, a tangle of arms and kisses and congratulations.

"You okay?" Bork asked.

"Yes. Veate filled you in?"

"Yeah," Sleel said. "You took a pretty big risk."

"Not really. I figured I knew Wall better than he knew me. His weaknesses were worse than mine. Made it easier."

Juete had her arm around his waist. "What will you do now, Emile?"

"I have a little pub," he said. "Maybe you'd like to come and stay with me there? There are some things to catch up on.Some things to think about in the future."

Juete smiled. "I'd like that."

Bork said, "Uh, Veate and I, we, uh, we want to, uh, to contract.To get married."

"Tomorrow," Veate said. "Tonight we have other business to consummate." She looked at Bork and he reddened. She put one hand on his back and patted him.

Dirisha and Geneva held hands, smiling at Bork and Veate. "Look how cute. Kinda gets your juices stirred up, don't it?" Geneva said to Dirisha.

"Yeah, ain't love wonderful," Sleel said, disgust in his voice. "The boss goes off with his beautiful lover, Bork the ape-man gets the beautiful daughter, you and blondie make tracks for the nearest bed, and here's old Sleel all by himself again. There ain't no justice."

Everybody but Sleel laughed.

Dirisha and Geneva exchanged glances. "What do you think, brat?"

"Well, it's been a long time, but I recall that he wasn't too bad. I'm willing if you are."

Sleel frowned. "What?"

Dirisha smiled broadly. "Come make tracks with us, Sleel. To the hotel bed. It's the least we can do."

"Huh?" Sleel's mouth gaped and the look on his face was worth a million stads. Khadaji wished in that moment he had a camera, but he didn't need anything else.

Not a thing in the universe.