'With the police in hot pursuit,' Marygay said.
'Maybe; maybe not,' I said. 'You keep the gun, in case, but hell. They don't have police like on Earth.' Probably not on Earth now, either. 'Unarmed traffic cops.'
'You don't want the gun?' Max said.
'No – look; that tear gas is a godsend. I go in with the tear gas and the mask and a crowbar, I'll be inside the suit in minutes. Hell, I'll meet you on the road to the spaceport.'
Marygay nodded. 'It could work. And if it doesn't, at least you won't have used a deadly weapon on the guard.' I was able to stuff the gas grenades and mask into the sheriff's briefcase. Hard to disguise a crowbar, but I found I could slide it down my pants leg to the knee, and the belt held it in place, with the top part concealed by my coat.
We all got situated in the floater and it took off, rising to about a hundred meters. The snow had gotten pretty heavy; you couldn't see the ground. We hoped it was like this in Centrus. It would slow things down for them, but not for us, so long as the wind stayed calm. The shuttle was okay in snow but wouldn't launch in a strong crosswind.
It was an uncomfortable hour. The sheriff wasn't the only hostage, in fact; everyone else's fate was dependent on the outcome of a string of unpredictable events. And nobody wanted to talk about it, not with the sheriff listening.
I became curiously calm as the floater dropped to ground level, near the city limits. There was a certain amount of danger ahead, but it was thin soup compared to what I remembered of combat.
I didn't want to think about how many years ago that was. I hoped the museum guards were soft city boys and girls – bookish and unfamiliar with violence. Maybe old folks. I'd give them a story for the grand-kids, regardless. 'I was there when the crazy vets highjacked the starship.' Or maybe 'One day this crazy guy ran in with tear gas. I shot him.' But none of us could remember the museum guards being armed, which would have been memorable. Maybe they just kept the guns out of sight. Maybe I should worry about something else.
Marygay had her thumb on the OVERRIDE button, but it wasn't necessary. The floater stopped for cross-traffic a block before the library. I gave her a kiss and slipped out the door.
The snow was sifting down slowly, straight – still good for the shuttle and perhaps for me, since it would slow down response to a call for help from the museum. I threaded my way through the inching traffic, people perhaps being extra-courteous because of my limp. The crowbar had slid past my knee.
It occurred to me that the museum might be closed, and that might be a good thing. I could break in and, although it would doubtless set off an alarm, I would just be dealing with police, and not a lot of bystanders.
No such luck. As I approached the museum, someone was leaving, backing out the front door with a wide covered tray, probably breakfast.
I went through the heavy wooden door, and sure enough, the guard was nibbling at a piece of cake from a stack of assorted kinds on a plate. She was a female Man, in her early twenties. She said something to me in their language, mumbling through a mouthful. I think she said good morning, and invited me to leave my coat and attaché case there.
She had the broad chin they all have, a good target for a punch. When she looked inside the case, I'd give her an upper-cut that I hoped would knock her out for a minute and leave her disorganized for another.
It wasn't necessary. She asked me what was in the bag, and I said, in slow English, 'I don't know. I'm from Paxton, supposed to deliver this to the Man in charge of the weapons exhibit.'
'Oh, he's not a Man; he's one of you. Jacob Kellman, he came in two or three minutes ago. You could take it right to him, A4.' The small building only had two stories, with four rooms each.
The door to A4 was closed. I opened it and there was no one inside. No lock. I eased it shut and worked fast – pulled out the crowbar and ran past all of the less potent examples of man's inhumanity to all species, straight to the glass case with the fighting suit. Two swings with the crowbar and the front pane of glass cascaded in.
I ran back toward the door and got there just as it opened. Kellman was a greybeard, at least as old as me, unarmed. Drawing on my vast knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, I shoved him hard and he fell down sprawling in the corridor. I slammed the door shut again and wedged the crowbar in between the door and the jamb, as a crude lock, and hurried back to the exhibit.
The fighting suit was a newer model than the 'last one I'd had, but I hoped the basic design hadn't changed. I reached into the concealed niche between the shoulders and felt the emergency lever and pulled. It wouldn't work if there was anyone alive in the suit, but fortunately it was unoccupied. The suit clamshelled open, smashing another pane of glass, and the reassuring hydraulic wheeze meant it had power.
Someone was pounding on the door and yelling. I got one boot off and with a stockinged foot swept away enough broken glass so I could stand barefooted while I undressed. Got my sweater and pants off and tried to rip open the shirt, but the buttons were sewn on too well. While I fumbled with them, the pounding became a rhythmic heavy thump – someone bigger than Kellman was applying a shoulder to the door.
I got both gas grenades out of the briefcase, pulled the pins, and hurled them the length of the room. They popped with a satisfying swirl of opaque cloud and I stepped backward into the suit, slid my arms into the sleeves, and clenched both hands, for the 'activate' signal. I didn't bother with the plumbing; I'd either hold it in or live with the results.
For a long second, nothing happened. I smelled the first acrid hint of the tear gas. Then the suit closed around me with a disconcerting jerkiness.
The monitor and displays came up and I looked to the lower left: power was at 0.05, Weapons systems all dark, as expected.
A twentieth of normal power still made me a Goliath, at least temporarily. The cool machine-oil smell meant I had my own air. I reached down to pick up my clothes and fell on my face with a huge crash.
Well, it had been a long time since I'd been in one of these, and even longer since I'd used a GP unit – General Purpose, one size fits everybody. Normally, I'd had one tailored to my dimensions.
I managed to clamber back up to my feet and stuff the clothes, minus boots, into a front 'pocket,' just before they beat the door open. There was a lot of coughing and sneezing. One figure came staggering out of the cloud, a female Man who was pumped up like our sheriff, in a similar uniform, also with a pistol. She was holding it in both hands, waving it in my general direction, but her eyes were streaming and I assumed she hadn't seen me yet.
These people were not my concern. There was an emergency exit door behind me. I turned, rocking like a zombie from a 1950s movie, and lurched toward it. The Man fired three shots. One of them put a nice hole in a display of nuclear weapons and one broke an overhead lamp. The third must have ricocheted off my back; I heard it sing away but of course felt nothing.
I supposed she knew the suit was unarmed but extremely dangerous. I wondered how brave she would have been if I'd turned around and started lumbering toward her. But there was no time for play.
I pushed on the emergency door and it ripped open, then ducked slightly as I passed through. The suit was almost eight feet tall; not really for indoor wear.
People scattered in all directions, making considerable noise. The Man or someone else was shooting at me – an easy target, a matte-black giant in a snowscape. Twisting the wrist control turned me camo green, then sand yellow, then I finally, found a glossy white surface.
I walked as fast as I could to Main, almost slipping twice in the snow. Come on, I thought, you've operated these things on frozen portal planets a few degrees above absolute zero. But not lately.
At least Main Street had salt and sand, so I could run. Some of the traffic was on manual, and it noisily parted for me as I sprinted down the middle. A lot of them went spinning dangerously out of control. I shifted back to green, so they'd have more warning.
I picked up the pace as I became more sure of
the clumsy thing's abilities and limitations. I was loping along at about twenty miles per hour when I met Marygay's bus, just outside the city limits.
She opened the driver's side door and stepped halfway out. 'Do you need power?' she shouted.
Not yet.' The readout said 0.04. 'Back at the spaceport.'
She spun it on its axis and slid to the outbound lane, sending a delivery van that was on auto straight out into a field of snow. The people on manual were all pulling over, evidently from some police command; it was interesting that the ones on auto took longer to comply.
They were no doubt clearing traffic to get to me. I ran after Marygay as fast as I could, but soon lost her in the white distance.
What could they send after a fighting suit? I'd find out soon enough.
Strident blue flashing lights cut through the swirling snow as I approached the spaceport. Marygay's bus was blocked at the entrance by a Security floater.
Two officers, evidently unarmed, were standing by the driver's side, yelling at her. She looked down on them pleasantly, and gave no reaction when I passed behind them.
I picked up one end of the Security floater and easily flipped it over. It went crashing down into a drainage ditch. The two officers, sensibly, ran like hell.
The lack of radio contact was a handicap. I bent down next to her window. 'Park it up by the main building and I'll drain the fuel cell there.'
She said okay and sped off. My power was down to 0.01 and the numerals started flashing red. That would be great, stranded a couple of hundred meters from my destination. Well, I could always open the suit manually. And run naked through the snow.
As soon as I started walking, the suit added a 'beep … beep' in time with the flashing digits, I suppose as a convenience for the blind. The legs started to resist my commands, feeling as if I were walking through water, and then mud.
I did make it to the floater while the people were still unloading. Max stood there with his arms crossed, the pistol prominent.
I popped the rear utility door and clipped my emergency cables to the fuel cell's terminals, and studied the directions on the grimy plate on the side of the cell. Then I pushed the 'fast discharge' button and watched my numbers start to climb.
They'd reached 0.24 when I heard the heavy thrum of a floater braking, and found out what they could send after a fighting suit.
Two fighting suits. One human; one Tauran.
If they were armed, I was nothing but a target. Either suit's weapons could vaporize me or slice me like lunchmeat. But they didn't fire, or couldn't.
The floater lurched as the Man got out, and he repeated my performance, falling on his face. I resisted the impulse to tell him that the longest journey begins with a single step.
In the floater, the Tauran suit flailed, trying to keep its balance, and tipped over backwards. Neither of them had any more recent practice than I had. My hundreds of hours of training and fighting, even though mostly lost in the mists of time, might be worth more than their two-to-one advantage.
The Man had gotten up on hands and knees; I covered the distance with a graceless leap and swiveled a hard side-kick to the head. It probably didn't hurt him physically, but it sent the suit skidding and tumbling.
I grabbed the front bumper of the floater, my strength amplification whining loud, and tried to swing the heavy machine around to bash the Tauran. It managed to dodge, and the effort made me stagger and fall. The floater buzzed away like an angry insect.
The Tauran threw itself on me, but I kicked it away. I was trying to resurrect what I once knew about Tauran fighting suits; what weakness might give me an advantage, but all the musty ALSC stuff was about weapon systems, range, and response speed, which unfortunately seemed not to apply.
And then the Man was on me, falling on my shoulders with a crash like some heavy playground bully. He tried to grab my suit's head, and I batted his hands away – that was a good target; the suit's brain wasn't in the head, but its eyes and ears were.
I flipped him away clumsily. My weapons systems' telltales were still dark, but I tried the laser finger on him anyhow. When it didn't lance out and cut into his suit, I was curiously relieved. My underdeveloped killer instinct hadn't become fiercer with age.
While I was peering through the snow for something I could use as a weapon, the Tauran had found one; it whacked me from behind, across the shoulders, with an uprooted light pole. I went down and plowed into a snowbank. While I staggered up, it kept clanging against my shoulders and upraised arms.
My visual sensors were smeared, but I could see well enough to aim a kick between its legs, an aim more anthropomorphic than practical – but it did unbalance the thing enough for me to grab hold of the light post and jerk it away. I had seen the Man in my peripheral vision, running toward me; I swung the pole around in a flat arc and caught him at knee level. He spun sideways and hit the ground hard.
I turned to face the Tauran again, but couldn't see it, which didn't mean it was far away or hidden – all three of us were white lost in white, invisible from fifty meters in the rolling snow. I tongued over to infrared, which might work if it turned its back to me, with the heat exchangers. That didn't work and neither did radar, which I expected to work only if the suit moved in front of a reflecting surface.
I turned back to see the Man lying there motionless. Maybe a trick, or maybe I actually had knocked him out when I knocked him down. The head's protected with padding, but force is force, and he might have slammed into the ground hard enough to sustain a concussion. I feinted at him, a kick that missed his head by a hair, and he didn't react.
Where the hell was the Tauran? No sign in any direction. I crouched to pick up the Man and heard, from the direction of the spaceport, a woman's scream, muffled by the snow, then two shots.
I ran toward it, but was a moment too late. The floater was rising fast, slanting away from the smashed front entrance; Max was standing with the pistol aimed at the machine, but with no useful target. I jumped with all my amplified might, and went up maybe twenty meters, almost high enough to touch it, and then fell back down with a crash that rattled my teeth and made my ankles sting.
'The thing got Jynn,' Max said. 'It dove through the glass and snatched her and Roberta.' Roberta was sitting in the snow, cradling her elbow.
'You all right?' They both flinched; I realized I'd inadvertently cranked up the sound. I chinned it down.
'Damn near yanked my arm off. But I'm okay.'
'Where is everybody?'
'We split up,' Max said. 'Marygay went on with the bus, out to the shuttle. We stayed here with the gun, try to distract them.'
'Well, you did that.' I hesitated. 'Nothing we can do here now. Let's go catch the bus.' I scooped up Roberta, then Max, and stepped out on the field, carrying them like bundles. The bus wasn't visible, but it had blown a clear path through the snow. We caught up with them in less than a minute, and my passengers seemed happy to switch conveyances.
No sign of the floater with the Tauran and Jynn. I could have heard it if it were within a couple of klicks.
The bus was crowded. There were two humans I didn't recognize, and four Men, evidently our welcoming committee.
'They've got Jynn,' I told Marygay. 'The Taurans took her off on their floater.'
She shook her head. 'Jynn?' They were pretty close.
'There's nothing we can do. She's just gone.'
'They won't hurt her,' Max said. 'Let's move!'
'Right,' Marygay said, but she didn't move.
'I'll meet you at the shuttle,' I said. I was too big and heavy for the bus.
'Meet you there,' she said quietly, and pushed the button that closed the door. The bus lurched forward and I jogged past it toward the shuttle launch tube.
I tapped the tube elevator door button and it opened, looking warm in its yellow light. Then I popped the suit and gingerly stepped out into the snow. The front pocket resisted my efforts, but after one broken thumbnail I got my clothes
free and quickly pulled them on in the shelter of the elevator car.
The bus eased down by my empty open suit and I silently urged them to hurry, hurry – how long would it take for someone to just turn off the power and leave us with a useless elevator? The shuttle might be autonomous, but we did have to get inside it to use it.
Marygay spent a few precious seconds telling the four Men and two humans to get out of here and underground, which they probably knew. The launch tube would absorb the gamma rays for the first seconds of launch, but after that it would not be wise to be nearby. Roberta had her thumb on the up button and mashed it as soon as Marygay sprinted inside.
Nobody pulled the plug. The elevator surged up and clicked into place alongside the shuttle airlock, which irised open.
Getting seated was not simple, gravity-against us. We climbed down a ladder net and filled the compartment from the bottom up. The sheriff's hands and feet were freed for the job and he didn't resist being taped into place again, once he was belted in.
I settled into the pilot's seat and started snapping the sequence of switches that would get us out of here. It wasn't complicated, since there were only four standard orbit choices. I chose 'Rendezvous with Time Warp,' and had to more or less trust the ship.
The viewscreen came on and it was Jynn. The focus pulled back to show that she was in a floater, next to a Tauran.
The Tauran pointed to the windows next to Jynn. Vague through the snow, you could just make out the twin shuttle launch towers.
'Please proceed,' the Tauran said. 'Three seconds after you launch, this woman and I will be killed by your radiation.'
'Do it,' Jynn said. 'Just go.'
'I don't think you will,' the Tauran said. 'That would be inhuman. Murder in cold blood.'
Marygay was next to me, in the copilot seat. 'Jynn – ' she started. 'You don't have any choice,' Jynn said evenly. 'For the next part to work, you have to show … what you're willing to do.'