"Oh ho," Simeon crowed. "Very nice, Channa, but if you don't put AHorys there in his sack, he's going to go a very unflattering shade of blue."

"Em ... right" She unbuckled the man and sealed him in his sack, connecting the two bags together. Then she tugged them behind her to the lock where she turned diem over to the waiting med-techs. The goodstransporter's hold was filled with floating, jostling sacks while Channa and the med-tech chief stood in the lock, checking their sensors for heart-beats.

"Guess we got them all," !Tez Kle said. "But I don't think we can save them all. We left those we were certain we couldn't help," he said apologetically.

"Nothing else you could do," Channa told him. "We don't have time for anything else. Go," she said, and slapped his shoulder, "I've got a tug outside." She sealed the end of the caterpillar lock behind him and waited impatiently for the pilot to retract it "d.a.m.n, I wish we could have gotten to the bridge."

"You and Patsy give it a try," Simeon answered. "Every bit of data wUl help, but we're cutting it a little close. I'm positioning tugs to push that wreck away from the station and soon"

Channa looked up sharply. "It's still a danger to you?"

"Nothing this brain can't handle," Simeon said blithely. "You do what you can, brawn."

She looked down at the notescreen tethered at her waist, studying the map of the ship's interior which she had managed to acquire from its own data banks, archaic as they were.

"I'll try through here," she said, struggling with the toggles of the hatch. "It'dbe the more direct route, if it's open. If it isn't, I'll rendezvous with Patsy immediately."

"I need some people for tug and detonations work," Simeon announced. "It's going to be dicey."

The a.s.sembly room beneath the-south-polar docking bay was full of second-wave volunteers, those not needed or qualified for the emergency medical work. Every single one stepped forward. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Simeon found time for a grim internal smile. That old line's worked its challenge since GOgamesh, he thought, proving that even the oldest books on military psychology were right. People were very reluctant to appear frightened in front of others, especially their friends. He called the roll of those he needed. They were already suited up, helmets under their arms. Gus, of course, and six of the more experienced tug pilots, with six of the mining explosives experts who had been taking R & R on the SSS. "Thank you and I thank all the rest of you, too."

As soon as the room emptied of all but the partic.i.p.ants, he began the briefing with the truth.

"That ship is going to blow. The engines, by the sound of them, are critically unbalanced, redlining far off scale. We've got the survivors off her. But we've got to get her far enough from the station so that when she goes, she won't take us with her. That's not the only problem. We've got to be sure she'll break into the smallest possible fragments and that they are thrown in a favorable dispersal pattern."

The explosives men grinned at each other. "Easiest thing in the workl, Simeon," their spokesman said with a rakish smile. "If you know what you're doing."

"We do," one of the others said, thumping the spokesman jovially on the back. The man didn't so much as rock on his toes.

"That's good to know, guys! Can you tug pilots match their skill by redlining your engines a little to putt her as far away from us as you can?" i "h.e.l.l, Simeon," Gus said, "you oughta know we'd have no trouble doing that little thing for you."

Til be monitqring and should be able to give you fair warning to get yburselves clear." He paused a moment, anxious despite their obvious disregard for the inherent danger^. "Have 1 made the situation clear?"

Gus grinned. "Couldn't be clearer, station man," he said, giving his broad shoulders a preparatory twitch in response to the challenge. "And we don't have much time for further chatter!"

Another voice broke in: Patsy's. Simeon keyed her visual transmission to one of the ready-room screens; she was back in the control seat of her tug.

"My, ain't the machismo level high around here? You got one tug already in place, Simeon - mine. Count me in, too."

Gus winced. "Look, Patsy, we're in very deep, ah -"

"Very deep s.h.i.t," she finished, grinning at him. "Ah know the words, Gus."

Everybody laughed. Simeon looked them over and stifled a wave of bitter longing. A military commander of any stature led his troops from the front, not from an impervious t.i.tanium column. Don't worry, if they fail you'll be the only one left to say what happened, thanks to thai samet.i.tanium column. Ifyoucan buewithyowconseience, thatis.

"I'll keep my eye on the coils and give you enough warning to peel oS," Simeon promised.

Almost simultaneously, helmets covered the faces of this small band of heroes.

"This is taking more time than it's worth," Channa said in disgust, giving the control panel a final thump with her fist. The door valved open, "d.a.m.n! And I thought that was a station legend," she said. "Does it work for you, Simeon?"

"Having a servo whack me with a wrench to make me work properly?" he asked. "No, not often. The bridge ought to be right down there. And hurry"

"How are we handling the demolition?" she asked him, stepping through the half-open door and trotting down the darkened way, her helmet light fanning ahead. Mercifully, no bodies floated about this section.

"I've got a team rigging explosives all around the ship to blow it to," he paused, his own nerves making him play the down, "smithereens. Real, genuine, nonstation piercing smithereens. It would be disgraceful, utterly disgraceful, to get holed by flying debris after surviving this morning, don't you think? Ah, the tug volunteers are in place, ready to grapple. Ah! They've broken her out of orbital inertia."

Movement was not obvious this far in the bowels of the dying ship. "Who's in charge of the team?" Channa asked.

"Gus."

"Patsy said he was a good pilot," Channa commented. "Soon as I finish here, I'll join her. Is she still standing by at the hatch?"

"She is, to pick you up and bring you straight back to the station with any information you discover."

"I can scan the info back to you, Sim-mate, but first I have to find it, you know.1* She stumbled over some jumble piled in the corridor and recovered herself.

"You and Patsy getsfra^jAi back here. I can't have my brawn risking her neck when..."

"Simeon," she said reasonably, "brawns are supposed to risk their necks far their brains. And if you, the station, are at risk, / am required to reduce that risk any way possible. This time I can do it by helping tug the risk away from here. Have I made myself clear on this point?"

"I don't like it," Simeon said in a disgruntled mumble. "Foolish risk."

"Thank you for your input, but Simeon..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't you ever try to forbid me to do the job I'm here to do. You got that?"

"Right in the forehead, sweetheart"

"Not quite where I was aiming, but it'll do," Channa said.

"If you get thronghte the bridge of that ship, can I ask you for a download?" Simeon said plaintively.

"Why else1 am I penetrating this about-to-blow-up wreck?" Channa said. "Patsy, you read me?"

"Welcome to the pahty, Channa," came Patsy's cheerful wice.

"You don't mind my crashing?"

Patsy laughed. "Watch yoah choice of words, girl."

"I just noticed something," Channa said, slowing her pace.

"What?"

"Paper. What's all tiuspaper doing around?" There were sheets of it drifting down the corridor and sticking with static attraction to the rubbery walls.

"This lumbering hulk must be filled with gear so ancient it's exotic," Simeon said.

"Paper storage?" she said dubiously.

"Maybe they regressed."

"Could it originally have been piloted by a sh.e.l.lperson?" Channa asked, suddenly jumping to some conclusions mat ought to have been more obvious to both herself and Simeon. Ifshegottheedgeonhimonthisone...

"Highly unlikely," Simeon said patronizingly. "B & B ships weren't that common then. All of these little backof-beyond colonies were literally a shot in the dark, too risky to expend us on. C'mon, forward is to your right, one more pa.s.sage to reach that control room."

"Aye, sir," she said. She worked her way forward, past leaking pipes and the occasionally sparking control boxes, ruptured by the overloads of the catastrophic deceleration.

"Paper," Channa said in wonder, wishing she could touch the valuable substance with her bare hands.

"And books! At least I think that's what I saw when you glanced into that corner. Nor further right. Yes! Books!"

"No time for browsing now," Channa said firmly.

"Right," he said. "Antiquarian refjex, sorry."

"Ah, I am now at the control room," she said.

It was large and circular; most of the consoles were under shrink-shrouds of plastic that looked rigid with age. Raw, hasty jury-rigs had restored a few panels to functionality. She had to duck under festoons of cable which were draped to and fro with no noticeable pattern. In the dimming light, she saw jury-rigged control boxes taped to consoles. The whole bridge seemed to have been reconstructed with mad abandon.

"Ghu! They flew this thing?" Simeon exclaimed. They must have been crazy, he thought and c.o.c.ked a weather-ear to the sound from the engine. "The log," Simeon reminded her. "Though I'm inclined to doubt that this outfit has anything that fancy. Strip the data bank, too. We want any information we can get,"

"You tell me how to retrieve information from this archaic mess and you've got it," she answered, peering from workstation to workstation, trying to figure which one might access the main banks.

"I've got to go a long way back in my own files to find something comparable," he said. "There're only three centuries of b.u.g.g.e.ring-up to decode but... ah, try the second console to your right. About the only one they hadn't been trying to use."

She drew the information feedline out of her glove and pressed it over the inductor surface. The screen beside it clicked to life and began flowing with a spaghetti-complex web of symbols.

"Oh, my oh my," Simeon muttered.

"Problems, Sim?"

"Nothing oT Simeon can't handle," he said. "But the code is old. I don't have anything that esoteric on file. Nothing I can't eventually decipher."

"Don't let your modesty run away with you," she muttered, looking down at her wrist chrono. Plenty of time, she thought ITwpe?

"I'm just cracking the interface and downloading it to decode at leisure," Simeon replied. "Don't get your t.i.ts in a tizzy."

"What did you say?", "Old slang," he replied blandly.

"Another antiquarian reflex, no doubt," she said archly.

"Touched Okay, got it," he said, "Get out of there."

"Gawd-dawm this thing!" Patsy said in frustration.

The tug was presenting its broad rear surface to the ancient colony ship. Channa scanned carefully on visual and deep-magnetic, looking for a place to engage their grapple.

"Time is a factor here, Ms. Hap." Gus's voice was a little testy. Aligning an extra tug in the pattern had taken more time than antic.i.p.ated.

"I just got up here, Mr. Gusky. I'm looking for a flat spot among these struts. I can see why you gave it a pa.s.s. It's a mess. Wait, I think I see something now, it's..." She looked again and increased the magnification. "b.l.o.o.d.y helir she cried.

"c.r.a.p!" Simeon's voice overrode hers. It took the others a few moments longer.

"I don't believe it," Channa whispered.

"What?" Patsy demanded. "What do you see?"

"It's a sh.e.l.l. There's a sh.e.l.lperson out there, strapped to the hull."

"Are you sure?" Gus* voice cut in. "Look, everyone else is in place, we have to get this thing away from the station-"

Simeon ordered in a roar that nearly fractured eardrums. "BELAY THAT, GUSKY!" A moment of stunned silence followed. "Check it out, Channa. Now!"

"Aye, aye, sir," Channa said even as she strobed a landing spot where Patsy could set the tug down. "Yes, Mr. Gusky, it's a sh.e.l.lperson all .right. Granted, it doesn't look like anything you're likely to have seen, but brawns learn to recognize *em.a)L"

She hoped Simeon never had occasion to bellow like that again, with the decibels going off the gauge. Understandable, of course, or at least to her. If brains had a collective nightmare, it was being cut off from their equipment and left helpless. Attached to their leads and machinery, a sh.e.l.lperson was the next thing to immortal, a high-tech demiG.o.d in this world. Cut off from it, they were cripples. Spam-in-a-can, as the obscene joke had it. Neither Simeon nor she were capable of abandoning a sh.e.l.lperson, even if its occupant should prove dead.

"Gus, why don't you set the haul in motion," Channa said, knowing her priorities had just shifted. "Patsy and I will get this sh.e.l.lperson off."

She anch.o.r.ed the grapple just above the sh.e.l.l and as quickly as possible, reeled the tug to it. She studied the sh.e.l.l in the monitor as she drew closer. "It's inward feeing, they did that right at least."

"Fardlingr^fo?" Simeon cursed. "Did it right? There is nothing right about this. What kind of s.h.i.t-for-brains did this? That sh.e.l.lperson was lodged on the exterior of the huU Anything could have happened to him or her! b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Get him out of there!"

Channa heard the cold pa.s.sion in Simeon's voice and recognized another aspect of him, one his often diffident manner and sometimes boyish enthusiasms had masked. Sh.e.l.lpeople were as individual as normals. Why had she thought him shallow, even trivial? Because of his fascination with ancient wars and weaponry?

"I'm on my way, Simeon," she said. "Gusky, step on it. We'll get out of your way. This won't take long."

"It had better not," the ex-Navy man said, his voice still carrying a trace of resentment. "Wilco. Out"

The surge of acceleration was feint but definite as the bulky vessel began-to idt>ve. Channa locked a safety line to her suit before s$ie swung down to the pitted, corroded surface of the_hull and began to thread her way through the crazed jungle of beam-fused girders that covered it like fungus. The light had the absolute white-and-shadow of s.p.a.ce, but the froth where vaporized metal had recondensed looked out of place.

Tm too used to things being new and functional, she told herself at a level below the machine-efficient movements of hands and feet. Fear coiled at a deeper level still, shouting that she was risking two living humans for a sh.e.l.lperson who could have died long ago. Brawn training overrode that trickle of fear almost before she noticed. A sh.e.l.lperson could not be left, not while a brawn could remove him.

"Is the brain alraht?" Patsy asked.

"Can't tell yet," Channa told her. Off to her left a white light flashed and the metal toned beneath her feet "What was that?" she half-squawked.

"Iron ore," Gus said. "She's moving into the dispersal cone of that load of balled ore. There's a lot of that c.r.a.p out here. Hurry." fm hurrying, Tm hurrying, Channa thought. The sh.e.l.l was a shape like a metal egg split down the middle, with a tangle of feed lines and telemetry jacked into opened access panels. Three more winks of light as ore struck at hundreds of kps further down the derelict's hull, then a whole cl.u.s.ter. Debris flipped away into s.p.a.ce with leisurely grace.

"Channa..." Simeon began. Tne rage was out of his voice, replaced by fear for her. Somehow that wanned Channa despite the cold clamp she'd put on her feelings.