Kinsman pushed open a compartment door and his nerves flashed red inside him. A space-suited figure sat on the bunk, a submachine gun in its lap. The dartgun in Kinsman's hand was cocked and pointed as his brain screamed, Is it a man or a woman? Is she threatening you?
"Put the gun down on the floor!" Kinsman shouted.
The figure on the bunk took up the gun by its muzzle with two gloved fingers and laid it gently on the floor.
"Stand up."
"Please don't shoot me." Through his earphones, Kins- man heard a man's voice, high-pitched, frightened. "I'm just an adjutant with the Judge Advocate Group. I'm not here to fight!"
A lawyer. Kinsman almost laughed with relief. A mother-humping lawyer! How did he get into a suit while others suffocated?
There was one more suited man to find. And Colonel Stahl.
Stahl's quarters are down this way, Kinsman told himself as he and the other two Luniks behind him plodded down the corridor. Be just like him to start a shoot-out. The thought of their dartguns against a submachine gun did not please Kinsman, especially in the narrow confines of the corridor and the tiny compartments.
Shots! A muffled string of shots coming from up ahead. Kinsman broke into a galumphing sprint, leaving the other two pressure-suited youngsters behind him. Sure enough, there was Stahl's door. Shut. Probably locked. And the shooting? Kinsman kicked at the door. It swung open. Stahl was sitting at his tiny desk, his back to Kinsman. He was in his pressure suit. The submachine gun was on the floor, still smoking.
With the inevitability of a Greek drama. Kinsman knew what he would find. He did not even bother to call to the Colonel. He saw the entire event in his mind's eye: Stahl sitting there at his desk, defeated. Maybe starting to write a 458 note to his wife or commanding officer. Realizing that he had lost the station to people he considered traitors. Unable to write with the suit's clumsy gloves. Knowing that it was just a matter of time before he would be taken prisoner. Thinking about all that tradition, centuries of military history piling up inside his head, all the gallantry and honor and bravery that had failed.
He believed all that crap. Kinsman thought as he crossed the three-paces-wide compartment.
Stahl facing defeat, disgraced in his own eyes. Staring down at the gun. Holding his breath and lifting up the visor and resting the gun's muzzle against the lip of his neck ring and setting it on semiautomatic and squeezing . . . His last thought: Don't lei me die in vain. Remember Space Station Alpha. Kinsman knew it as if Stahl had implanted the words telepathically in his brain.
He put his hand on the shoulder of Stahl's space suit and turned the Colonel toward him. The chair swiveled easily. There was not a speck of blood anywhere, except inside the helmet. For the first time in his life Kinsman retched in his pressure suit.
VAFB/SCM TO SACHQ/SJL
COMMUNICATIONS WITH STATIONS ALPHA, BETA, GAMMA
INOPERATIVE. PLS ADVISE.
SACHQ/SJL TO VAFB/SCM
BACKUP SYSTEM USE AUTHORIZED. EMPLOY LASER LINK
IF NECESSARY.
VAFB/SCM TO SACHQ/SJL
