Shadow World (18 page)

The Elpind hesitated, then went, accompanied by the guard who had been posted outside the door. Mark and the Captain preceded Orim through the corridor and onto the bridge.

As they passed by on their way to the communications console, the young communications tech on duty glared at Orim, hatred in his blue eyes. The other two Wospind on the bridge raised their guns meaningfully; the man slowly subsided.

Quickly the Wopind leader motioned for Mark to take one seat before the communications console, while hin took the other. The Heeyoon

communications operator nodded to them. "Stand by,
Asimov."

As they waited, the holo-tank rippled, then an Elpind neuter's image appeared. "Hin is Ri-El Alanor," the Elpind said. "First Speaker of the WirElspind."

"Greetings, First Speaker Alanor," Mark said. "This is Mark Kenner. You have a message for us from the WirElspind?" he asked hopefully.
Maybe
they've agreed to meet Orim's demands,
he thought.
Maybe this nightmare
will be over soon. Even if I have to spend time on Elseemar as a hostage,
knowing that the Asimov is safe and that rescue ships are on the way, I
could stand that.

"Hin has no message for Mark Kenner," the Elpind official said sternly. "Hin has instead a warning for Orim!" Hin leaned forward, fury evident in every line of hin's body. "Orim, the

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Wospind are a disgrace to our people, a weed that must be wrenched up, allowed to wither without mercy! The WirElspind knows the names of those who have followed you aboard that ship. Their families, as well as Orim's family in Lalcipind, are at the moment being taken captive! We intend to give back to the Wospind what they have done to our CLS friends--tenfold, Orim!

Does hin listen and hear the words of Alanor?"

As the First Speaker's tirade had begun, Mark had sat frozen, stunned to hear an Elpind speaking so threateningly. Before the WirElspind

representative was half through, the young man was shaking his head and looking at the board before him for the "end transmission" control.
No!
he wanted to scream.
Don't! I was finally getting someplace with hin, and you're
ruining it! Dammit, the thumbscrew approach doesn't work with fanatics,
anyone will tell you that!

Beside him, Orim was trembling with rage.

"First Speaker," Mark said hastily, "Orim has--"

"Orim has
nothing]"
the Wopind said shrilly, leaping up, stabbing the air savagely with the muzzle of hin's weapon. "The WirElspind will suffer for this, and Alanor will watch the consequences of hin's words! Obviously, the WirElspind doubts hin's resolve, hin's sincerity--well, they will be convinced!

Hin will not wait for the deadline!"

Even though Orim was shouting in Elspindlor, hin's anger and intention to commit further violence was evident to everyone on the bridge. "Orim!" Mark said. "Please--"

The Wopind turned on him, and Mark shrank back in his seat before those mad, burning brass eyes. Quickly the Wopind spoke to the armed female.

"We need more pictures. Bring the journalist, Cara Hendricks, and this time bring
two
prisoners. Hin will see that they meet Wo before the eyes of this one!" Hin gestured furiously at Alanor, who was silent with shock. "Bring the Apis here, and one other"--hin glared at Mark-- "and make sure that other is human!"

No!
Mark's mind screamed.
No! God, don't let this happen!

Alanor was silent, perhaps realizing what hin's anger had done.
You fool!

Mark thought savagely, then the holo-tank rippled, and the face of the Heeyoon was back.
"Asimov"
he began, "what's happening? What--"

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"They're going to kill two more hostages!" Mark yelled in Mizari. "Get Alanor back to say hin didn't mean it!"

"But--" the Heeyoon stammered.

And the communications tech cracked.

"You idiots!" he yelled, lunging for the comm board. "Do it, or we'll all--

Ahhhhhh!" His scream was mortal agony as the high-energy beam from Orim's gun drilled a neat hole in his back. He fell against the comm station.

Mark leaped to get out of the way of the deadly beam, and crashed against Rogers, the Communications Chief. The man lurched forward.

Perhaps the han who'd stood so many long hours guarding the bridge thought the Comm Officer was attacking her. She fired wildly, as if she'd never handled a gun before, missing him and destroying the comm station and several panels of instrumentation in the process. And then Rogers was on top of her, and they were rolling on the deck, wrestling for the gun.

"Stop!" Loachin was screaming. "You'll wreck the ship!" Orim was turning to fire on Rogers. The woman launched a desperate high kick at the Wopind's head, stiffening her whole body into a projectile. The impact ruined his aim, sending the deadly beams sweeping over the bridge. Part of the navigation board and most of the engineering board melted into a charred mess.

Warning alarms sounded, and lights flashed red on the still-intact controls.

The third Wopind on the bridge, the other neuter, wavered less than a second between targeting Loachin or Rogers. By the time he chose Loachin, it was too late; Mark was on hin.

The Wopind was wiry-strong and fast, but Mark had been well trained in the martial arts. A calculated pressure grip and a follow-up, strong twist and jerk sent the gun sliding across the bridge. Mark forced the Wopind facedown on the deck and straddled hin.

Only then was he able to look up and realize that Orim lay dead across Loachin's legs, blasted by the gun Rogers had wrested from the han guard.

Loachin pushed the Wopind off and staggered to her feet. One look at the bridge controls was sufficient.
"Shit!"
she yelled. "We've got no power! We can't maintain orbit without power! We're going down!"

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Rogers was already at the ruined comm board. "No communications, Captain, internal or external!"

Loachin turned to the StarBridge student. "Mark, get back to the passengers, spread the word, tell them to secure for a crash landing. If you see the First Mate, tell him to get up here!" She slid into the pilot's seat and began testing what remained of the controls, rattling off orders to the Communications Chief, who had taken the navigation console.

Mark whirled on the remaining Wospind. "This ship is going to crash on your world in just a few minutes." He mimed an explosion. "You go and tell the rest of your friends that if they want to live, forget guarding the hostages and find a place that will protect them!"

The han and the hin looked at each other, at Orim's body, at the nearly destroyed bridge, then bounded off down the passageway.

Mark raced after them, skidding to a stop just inside the common lounge.

"Listen!" he shouted. Pandemonium, created by the panicked arrival of the two Wospind a second before, was already breaking out. "Listen to me!

Secure for crash landing! Secure for crash landing!"

"Where's the Captain?" a woman yelled. "What's--"

Rogers, the Communications Officer, appeared suddenly at his shoulder. "I'll take over here. You see if you can find the First Mate. All right," he shouted at the screaming crowd, "secure yourselves for emergency landing. Use the hiber units!"

A few people obeyed, but most just milled, all babbling at once. As Mark whirled back toward the door, Cara grabbed him. "Mark, what happened?"

"Orim's dead, and we're going to crash!" He shoved her in the direction of the hibernation chamber. "Get us a unit! Where's Eerin?"

The Elpind materialized next to Cara. "Here!"

"Both of you! Find a unit."

Mark pushed through the crowd. He wasn't the only one who remembered that the central part of the diamond-shaped passenger liners had the greatest number of reinforcing layers. People were jostling and elbowing their way into the hiber room as the cry went up all over the lounge: "We're going down!"

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The
Asimov
bucked, leveled, bucked again. Fresh screams erupted.

Oh, my God! We're hitting atmosphere already!

Mark was forced to move aside for a big Simiu bent on clearing a path into the hiber room for a wizened little Apis and realized the two had just entered the common lounge with a clot of people from the rear, smaller lounges. He battled his way through them and suddenly spotted the uniform of the First Mate headed straight for him.

He grabbed the man's arm. "Sir! The Captain needs you on the bridge.

Crash landing!"

"I'm on my way." The man hardly paused. "Find a safe place!"

Mark turned, expecting to find the way easier now that he went with the flow of the crowd ... but the tide of people was changing direction. Again he had to push and elbow his way through. As soon as he made it into the

hibernation chamber he knew why. Every unit was full!

The ship heaved again, and Mark joined several others in a tangle of arms and legs that rolled across the slanting floor.

"Mark! Over here! Over here!"

Automatically he tracked the voice and saw Cara waving frantically to him from one of the second-level units.

"Over here, Mark! Get in!"

His body was moving before his mind caught up. It propelled him there, climbed up, hesitated when he saw both Cara and Eerin already there, but slid in anyway.

Lying on their sides with the skinny Elpind in the middle, the three of them were tightly jammed into a hiber unit designed for one person. Mark fumbled over his head to let the top down, checking, at the same time, the location of the manual catch that would open it from the inside. They would need that if they survived.

If-

"Oh, God, Mark ..." Cara whispered. "We'll burn up."

"No," he corrected her. "The special insulation material that protects against the effects of metaspace works against friction, too. We've already entered atmosphere."

The ship pitched violently, and instinctively Mark reached

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out. Two human hands, one dark-skinned, one light, met across the down-covered body of the Elpind. Mark held on tight, closed his eyes, and pressed his face against the back of Eerin's fuzzy, warm neck.

A hard, uneven, side-to-side wobble was suddenly the ship's predominant motion.
She's going to pull it off! The Captain's landing us!
Mark thought triumphantly. He recognized the motion as a sign that they were very low now ... and in the same moment he gauged the sense of forward motion that penetrated even into the hiber unit.
Oh, shit! Too fast. We're going too fast!

His heart rattled off a hundred heartbeats in the last, long, too-long second.

The suspense alone was killing him.

Dammit! Crash, if you're going to! Just get it over with!
he silently screamed.

The S.V.
Asimov
obeyed.

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Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10

Death Rites

The first slamming impact would have bounced Cara and the others like a child's ball, spattering them against the lid of the hiber unit, except for the unit's emergency air-cushion that was triggered by impact. Even so, she lurched against the padded side of the unit as more bruising bounces were accompanied by grinding, tearing noises. The unit tilted, then there came a final, massive jolt that abruptly ended all sensation of motion.

A long, breathless minute passed.

"It's over," Mark said in a strangled voice. He stirred, and his face appeared over the Elpind's shoulder, worried hazel eyes studying both of them. "Cara?

You okay? Eerin?"

The Elpind squirmed. "Hin is well."

"I ... I'm fine. Are you?" Her throat was raw, and she could barely whisper.

Mark nodded and took a deep breath. "We've got to get out of here. Hit the manual release on your side, Cara."

We're alive! We made it, all three of us.
As her fingers groped at the lever, Cara tried to feel joy, or even relief, but she only felt numb.

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Mark pushed back the top of the unit, then climbed out. Seconds later Eerin followed the human over the side. Cara shifted in the sudden roominess and sat up. The unit was steeply tilted, leaving her feet far lower than her head.

"Cara? Here, let me help." Mark's head reappeared over the side. Cara looked at the hand he held out, the hand she'd gripped like a lifeline during the crash, and realized she didn't remember letting go of it.

"Cara!" He regarded her anxiously. "You okay?"

She nodded, then slowly, conscious of dozens of bruises, she clambered out. As she did so, she spotted the autocam wedged in a corner of the unit, and grabbed it.

Her bare feet encountered a wildly tilted deck as Mark steadied her down.

Cara turned and regarded the hibernation chamber with mingled horror and awe that any of them had survived.

The whole compartment tilted steeply to port. The deck was littered with broken light panels and smashed instrumentation. The few remaining light panels glowed a dim, eerie orange, the result of the emergency power cells.

Behind her, Cara heard grunts and groans as several other survivors sat up in hibernation units that practically hung from the ceiling due to the
Asimov's
pronounced slant. There were dripping sounds and a soft hissing, and somewhere to her left, someone whimpered mindlessly, like an injured animal. But despite these faint sounds, the most notable thing was the thick stillness, an unnatural quiet, that made her shiver.

The chamber seemed to have shrunk. Cara peered through the red gloom toward the "down" end and realized that part of the compartment had buckled inward; bulkheads and overhead supports met in a crazy tangle.

What had been an orderly curving wall of sleep units was now a crunched and twisted disaster. Here and there through shattered viewpanels Cara could make out a splayed hand, a still, huddled shape, a blood-streaked face.

"Oh, God. I hope none of them are still alive. If they are, we'll never be able to get them out. We'd need equipment ..." Mark trailed off, shuddering all over as he turned away to look back at the units on the wall where they had been. Some of them were damaged, too, but nothing like the ones on the starboard side.