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hear laughter. I tossed my laser aside and told Arlie to do the same. I touched the charge in my hip
pouch. I believed if necessary I would be able to detonate it, but the thought made me cold.
A group of men and women, some ten or eleven strong, came along the corridor toward us,
Samuelson in the lead. Like the rest, he wore black satin trousers and a blouse of the same material
adorned with badges. Creatures, it appeared, wrought from the same mystic stuff as the black walls and
ceiling and floor. He was smiling broadly and nodding, as if our invasion were a delightful interlude that he
had been long awaiting.
How kind of you to do your dying with us, John, he said as we came to our feet; they gathered in a
semicircle around us, hemming us in against the hatch. I never expected to have this opportunity. And
with your lady, too. We re going to have such fun together.
Bet she s a real groaner, said a muscular, black-haired man at his shoulder.
Well, we ll find out soon enough, won t we? said Samuelson.
Try it, said Arlie, and Oi ll squeeze you off at the knackers!
Samuelson beamed at her, then glanced at Bill. And how are you today, sir? What brings you along,
I wonder, on this merry outing?
Bill returned a look of bewilderment that after a moment, infected by Samuelson s happy
countenance, turned into a perplexed smile.
Do me a favor, I said to Samuelson, moving my hand so that the palm was almost touching the
switch of the charge at my hip. There s something I ve been yearning to know. Does that gear of yours
come with matching underwear? I d imagine it must. Bunch of ginger-looking poofs and tizzies like you
got behind you, I suppose wearing black nasties is de rigueur.
For somebody who s bout to major in high-pitched screams, said a woman at the edge of the
group, a heavyset blond with a thick American accent and an indecipherable tattoo on her bicep, you
gotta helluva mouth on you, I give ya that.
That s just John s unfortunate manner, Samuelson said. He s not very good at defeat, you see. It
should be interesting to watch him explore the boundaries of this particular defeat.
My hand had begun to tremble on the switch; I found myself unable to control it.
What is it with you, Samuelson? said the blond woman. Every time you chop someone, you gotta
play Dracula? Let s just do em and get on with business.
There was a brief argument concerning the right of the woman to speak her mind, the propriety of
mentally preparing the victim, of tasting the experience, and other assorted drivel. Under different
circumstances, I would have laughed to see how ludicrous and inept a bunch were these demons; I might
have thought how their ineptitude spoke to the terminal disarray back on Earth, that such a feeble lot
could have gained so much power. But I was absorbed by the trembling of my hand, the sweat trickling
down my belly, and the jellied weakness of my legs. I imagined I could feel the cold mass of explosives
turning, giving a kick, like a dark and fatal child striving to break free of the womb. Before long I would
have to reveal the presence of the charge and force a conclusion, one way or another, and I was not sure
I was up to it. My hand wanted to slap the switch, pushed against it, it seemed, by all the weighty detritus
of my violent life.
Finally Samuelson brought an end to the argument. This is my show, Amy. I ll do as I please. If you
want to discuss method during Retreat, I ll be happy to satisfy. Until then, I d appreciate your full
cooperation.
He said all this with the mild ultrasincerity of a priest settling a squabble among the Ladies Auxiliary
concerning a jumble sale; but when he turned to me, all the anger that he must have repressed came
spewing forth.
You naff little scrote! he shouted. I m sick to death of you getting on my tits! When I ve done
working over your slippery and that great dozy blot beside you, I m going to paint you red on red.
I did not see what happened at that moment with Arlie. Somebody tried to fondle her, I believe, and
there was a commotion beside me, too brief to call a struggle, and then she had a laser in her hand and
was firing. A beam of crimson light no thicker than a knitting needle spat from the muzzle and punched its
way through the temple of a compact, graying man, exiting through the top of his skull, dropping him in a
heap. Another beam spitted the shoulder of the blond woman. All this at close quarters, people shrieking,
stumbling, pushing together, nudging me, nearly causing me to set off the charge. Then the laser was
knocked from Arlie s hand, and she was thrown to the floor. Samuelson came to stand astraddle her, his
laser aimed at her chest.
Carve the bitch up! said the blond woman, holding her shoulder.
Splendid idea, Samuelson said, adjusting the setting of his laser. I ll just do a little writing to begin
with. Start with an inspirational saying, don t you think? Or maybe -- he chuckled -- John Loves
Arlie.
No, I said, my nerves steadied by this frontal assault; I pulled out the packet charge. No, you re
not going to do that. Because unless you do the right thing, in about two seconds the best part of you is
going to be sliding all greasylike down the walls. I ll give you to three to put down your weapons. I drew
a breath and tried to feel Arlie beside me. One. I stared at Samuelson, coming hard at him with all the
fire left in me. You best tell em how mad I am for you. I squared my shoulders; I prayed I had the guts
to press the switch on three. That s two.
Do it! he said to his people. Do it now!
They let their weapons fall.
Back it off, I said, feeling relief, but also a ghostly momentum as if the count had continued on in
some alternate probability and I was now blowing away in fire and ruin. I picked up my pack, grabbed
Samuelson by the shirtfront as the rest retreated along the corridor. Open the hatch, I told Arlie, who
had scrambled up from the floor.
I heard her punching out the code, and a moment later, I heard the hatch swing open. I backed
around the door, slung Samuelson into the airlock, slamming him up against Bill, who had wandered in on
his own. At that precise moment, the CPC exploded.
The sound of the explosion was immense, a great wallop of pressure and noise that sent me reeling
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