“No, it’s not,” Sanges growled. He got his feet clear of the tunnel and stood upright. In the dim light he seemed larger than Nikka had remembered.
“You and him—I thought you might—”
“Look, I’m just sending Alphonsus some of the old material.” Nikka kept her voice casual.
“It doesn’t look like it to me. That screen”—he pointed to where technicolor images quickly shifted and danced—“is sending directly from the ship’s core. Not filed data—new data.”
“I—”
“We thought you might have something special set up in here. Something you’d put in since your last watch. But this—”
“I tell you again—”
“This is a direct violation of the Coordinator’s directives.”
“Why don’t you call him, then?” Nikka spoke mildly and backed toward the console, her heart fluttering.
“And let you send the whole damned business out while I’m going through channels? Ha!”
“I really don’t understand at all what you are—”
He lunged abruptly.
Nikka swiveled and kicked high, heel turned outward to take the impact. Sanges caught it in the shoulder and shifted his weight with surprising speed.
Nikka came down too heavily from the kick, losing balance. Sanges danced to the side. Nikka got herself into position and tried to remember what she had learned, long ago and far away, about personal defense.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sanges said.
“Don’t you.”
“I will see to it that you and Walmsley never work again.”
“We’ll see.”
“I warn you.”
“So I heard.”
“I order you—”
“You haven’t the authority.”
“Then—”
He lumbered forward. His hands were held down, palms up. He clearly intended to get her into a bear hug and sling her around. If he could then reach the console switches he could stop transmission.
She turned, back to him, and brought up her elbow. She felt her arm smack into him with a satisfying thud. Sanges wheezed out his air. He wheeled away. Caught himself. Turned.
Nikka backed away. She needed space to maneuver. She felt the console rim press against the small of her back.
Time. She needed time. The data was going out. A few more minutes and—“Listen, Sanges.” Maybe she could kick the son of a bitch in the balls. “Listen—”
Sanges feinted to the right. Nikka moved to block his way. He shifted weight and dodged to the left. She turned to follow. He slammed into her with full force. Nikka tried to strike him but he lurched forward. Her arms were pinned. Together they sprawled backward. Nikka felt herself tipped over, past the safety guard on the console. The small switches of the alien terminal knifed into her back. They were crushing delicate wire switches, clicking them over from active to passive, calling new entries forth—
“Stop! We’re wrecking it!”
“Let me—” Sanges grunted and flailed at the power switch. He wrenched it over to the OFF position. The screen above them faded.
“There,” Sanges said. “I hope you realize the damage has been caused totally by your—”
“Look,” Nikka said quietly, panting.
She pointed at the alien terminal. Some switches were alight, winking redly in the shadows, following a sequence of their own. The lights danced and rippled.
“It’s running on its own.”
“An internal power supply?” Sanges wheezed, his face flushed.
“It must be. Something we did activated—”
The wheeling dabs of yellow pulsed, flickered, pulsed. “Some very complex program is running,” Nikka said. “Not simple one-to-one data retrieval. An action sequence of some kind—”
A dim glowing lamp caught her attention. “Nigel’s online input—it’s still active. He’s still reading this.”
“Here.” Sanges reached over and switched off the connection. The lamp remained steady. Sanges clicked the toggle switch back and forth. “Funny,” he said. “Something’s happened.”
A silence grew between them in the dark bay, now lit only by the twinkling, shifting array of alien console lights. Each tiny fleck of solid-state electronics flared briefly into life and then died momentarily, part of a jiggling rhythm.
