“I agree, Doctor,” Hoban said. “I was going to make the suggestion myself.”

“Do what you can with them, Captain. We'll talk again later.” Stan signed off.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Julie asked.

Gill said, “Obviously there's trouble. But I'm sure Captain Hoban can handle it.”

“I hope so,” Stan said. “We have a few problems of our own to take care of down here.”

He turned back to the screen. The others looked now, too. They were viewing the landscape of AR-32 through Norbert's visual receptors. Norbert's head was turning, checking out the landscape as he walked forward. Ahead of him, Mac suddenly started barking and ran toward a little hill. They heard Norbert say, “Come back, Mac. Wait for me!”

Then the view began to shake as Norbert broke into a run. For a moment they could see nothing but jagged brown-and-yellow lines. Norbert was watching the uneven ground, struggling to keep his balance. Then he went over a little rise. There was a sudden red-yellow explosion and his screen went into a wild array of colors and test patterns.

“Just what we needed,” Julie said. “Stan, can you clear up that view?”

“I'm working on it” Stan turned the controls. “Gill, you got any ideas?”

“Let me just try this,” Gill said. His hand probed the front controls on the computer. “I think that's getting it, sir. The view is beginning to come back….”

The confrontation on board ship flared up suddenly. One moment Captain Hoban was talking with the crewmen and apparently getting somewhere, then the whole thing blew up.

Badger had rapped at the door to the control room. “Sir. Permission to speak to you about a grievance.”

“Now is not a very convenient time, Mr. Badger.”

“No, sir. But the union laws state that grievances of a serious nature are to be settled on the spot.”

“And who determines whether they're serious?”

“A duly authorized ship steward, sir. Me.”

“All right,” Hoban said. “Come in. Let's get this over with quickly.”

Badger entered the control room followed by Glint and four other members of the crew. They looked ill at ease in the officers' area, with its soft lighting and flickering wall scanners. The helmsman stood alone in a little fenced-off enclosure to one side, scanning the ship. Two engine-room officers were also present. None of the officers was wearing sidearms. In the inquiry that later followed, Captain Hoban was faulted for this omission.

“What seems to be the problem?” Hoban asked.

“As you know, we took the liberty of viewing the ship's log that I brought back from the rest. You've seen it, sir?”

“Of course,” Hoban said.

“What did you think, sir?”

“They caught Valparaiso Queen napping. They won't find us so easy.”

“Yes, sir. But what has that got to do with us? We're not soldiers, sir.”

“We are going about our peaceful and lawful business,” Hoban said, hoping it was true. “We aren't out looking for trouble. But if it comes, they'll find us ready. That is a perfectly normal situation in space, Mr. Badger.”

“Sure, a crew has to be ready for trouble. But it doesn't have to go out of its way to find it.”

“We don't have to run from it, either,” Hoban said. “But it is an unusual situation and additional compensation would not be out of order. I will make an announcement shortly, granting the crew extra hazard pay.”

“That's not good enough,” Badger said. “We want some assurances now that this Potter isn't going to blow us out of space.”

Hoban knew it was time to be firm. “I don't care what you want, Mr. Badger. You're a troublemaker. This situation will be resolved and we will let you know what our disposition of it is.”

“That is not good enough, Captain.”

“Well, it's just going to have to be good enough! You are all dismissed.”

One of the engineers tugged at Captain Hoban's sleeve, trying to get his attention. Hoban turned, and saw that Glint had sneaked over to the weapons locker and helped himself to some of its contents. He had pulled out a Gauss needler. This weapon, with its big side magazine of steel slivers, had not been allotted in the standard issue, where favor was given to primitive slug throwers and the newer beam weapons. Glint may just have been fascinated by the handgun's deadly lines, and by the bulbous housing that contained the magnetic impulse equipment. “What do you think you are doing?” Hoban shouted. “Put that down!”

One of the engineers reached for the weapon. Glint fired, perhaps by reflex. Steel splinters drove through the engineer's left shoulder. There was a moment of shocked silence. And then all hell broke loose.

The second engineer was diving for the weapons locker even as the first was going down. The first thing his hand encountered was a Wilton tangler. He swung it at Glint and pressed the release stud.

Glint managed to duck out of the way. The tangler bolt, with its rapidly expanding core of sticky plastic, soared over his head like a gray bat and wrapped itself around one of the crewmen behind him.

The man screamed and tried to tear the stuff away from himself. The tangler held him tight and began to contract.

He fell, still inextricably caught in the mess.

Suddenly it seemed that everybody in the control room had picked up a weapon. Threads of light from beam throwers glanced off metallic surfaces and glowed against the Perspex windows. Solid projectile loads ricocheted off the ship's walls, darting around like angry hornets. Explosions rocked the control room, sending up dense, greasy clouds of acrid smoke.

The second engineering officer had the presence of mind to bar the entry port, thus stopping any reinforcements coming from crew country.

Hoban ducked down behind a spare-parts case bolted to the floor. The crewmen found shelter in various parts of the control room. The officers were dug in at various locations. Most of them had managed to pick up arms.

For a while there was a strenuous exchange of small-arms fire, its intensity in that confined space enormous. Hoban thought it was like being inside a snare drum that some madman was attempting to play.

45

“It's gettin' too close for comfort!” Badger cried as his refuge in a corner of the room was zapped with blue-white flame.

“You can say that again,” Glint said. “We better get out of here!”

“I'm thinking about it,” Badger said. “We might need to regroup, reorganize….”

Machine-gun bullets stitched across the ship's walls above their heads, showering them with fragments of metal. There was more noise as a concussion grenade, thrown by Hoban, landed just outside of effective range.

“Okay,” Badger said. “Time we got out of here.”

The normal egress port was barred, but an elevator to other areas stood with its doors open. Badger and Glint and the remaining crewmen beat a hasty retreat, and managed to shut the doors and get the elevator moving.

Captain Hoban, wounded in the arm by a beam weapon, refused medical attention and led the pursuit.

Most of the crew had not joined the rebellion. Those who had been wavering now decided they'd had enough.

Only Badger and Glint and their close friends, Connie Mindanao, Andy Groggins, and Min Dwin, were irrevocably committed.

All together now, they moved down one of the corridors, maintaining a rolling fire to keep the pursuing officers at a distance.

Glint was saying, “Where we going, Red? What we going to do now?”

“Shaddap,” Badger said. “I've got it all doped out.” He led them through the now deserted commissary and out to the rear hold. “Where we goin'?” Glint asked.

Badger didn't answer.

“There's no place to go!” Glint said.

“Don't worry, I know what I'm doing,” Badger said. “We're going to get out of here.”

“Out of here?” Glint looked puzzled.