Eric Flint - Threshold

Thank engineering for nicely redundant and independent support, at least. "Bloody hell!" "Yes, I remembered to try infrared sensing this time, Mr. Fitzgerald. A shame I didn't remember that earlier, but most of us are used to visible light. You stand out quite nicely. I can make out your glow even behind that support." I'll bet you can.

Fitzgerald could see the shadowed infrared glow of General Hohenheim too, if he cared to risk a glimpse at the door. It was nice that sensor suites cut both ways. "And so we'll just be sittin' here for the next, what, day or so until we meet the friendly face of Io?"

"Actually, Mr. Fitzgerald, I intend to leave that contemplation for you. I have another engagement." Dumbfounded, Richard heard the door open and then close. Understanding came immediately. That clever bastard. Hohenheim had realized the same thing that Fitzgerald just had. Fitzgerald had to get past the general, but the general didn't have to get past Fitzgerald. If he succeeded, of course, Hohenheim would have to take back that lovely melodramatic farewell, but Fitzgerald supposed he'd get over it. The general could always console himself with the fact that he'd left Fitzgerald here to die. On the other hand, the new situation meant that Hohenheim was also no longer an immediate threat. Richard dove straight down for the doorway, bringing boots finally back into solid floor contact and hitting the control. The door, however, did not open. He had rather expected that, of course; the general didn't want him leaving. But Hohenheim probably hadn't known exactly what Fitzgerald still had on him at the end. The one charge he'd selected before might not be quite enough, but adding a second one should do just fine. He set the timer and moved well away to the side. A moment later the shaped charges gave a dullbang, and the door blew to pieces. He restrained himself from going right through. Time was of the essence, but he didn't put it past Hohenheim to have waited for a few minutes to see if, in fact, Fitzgerald did have a quick solution to the locked door. The general might be sitting in ambush outside. Richard sidled up to the area and took out a small mirror-amazing how useful a polished piece of metal could be. He scanned the area carefully in the reflective surface and caught a faint shape in one of the now-black monitor screens on the wall.

Hohenheim was there, all right. And obviously he knew Fitzgerald was coming out. Bloody hell. However, the general didn't know exactlywhen his opponent would come out, nor how. Hohenheim would have to react, while Fitzgerald would be acting. The problem was that there was a lot of straight corridor outside of this door. He could take a dive that would force a hand-to-hand confrontation if Hohenheim didn't get him instantly, but he remembered the general's unexpected strength. While Fitzgerald was not afraid of facing just about anyone in amano-a-mano confrontation, Hohenheim was in surprisingly good condition for a commanding officer, and he outweighed Richard by many kilograms. It was always possible that he'd gotten some training in hand-to-hand combat from his special forces friends, too. Quality generally outweighed quantity, but, as others often said, quantity had a quality all its own. While he was undoubtedly a more skilled fighter than the general, Richard saw no reason to test whether or not his extra skill would outweigh the general's superior size and possibly superior strength. But hedid know where Hohenheim was. Which meant…

Seconds later, a body dove headlong from the doorway. General Hohenheim fired twice, hitting both times, before it registered on him that the body had been flying oddly limp to begin with. But by that point, Richard Fitzgerald had already gotten a good bead on him from his position at the bottom of the doorway and shot twice. The angle was bad, though. Richard would have preferred to do this standing, but that would have exposed him too much. The two bullets ricocheted from the carbonan suit, one very narrowly missing the faceplate, sending the general tumbling. That did, however, give Richard the opening to get out of the launch bay. He continued to shield his escape by shoving Feeney's body down after the general. Another bullet whined by him, and another, but by then he was to the end, and through! His security override code locked down that door. For the moment, he was safe. And, now that he thought about it, the situation was better than he'd realized. General Hohenheim had guessed Fitzgerald had remembered the location of the others, figured out his plan, and had set himself up on theother side of the corridor from the direction that led there, figuring that Fitzgerald would be heading in that direction and thus leave his back exposed. So, he'd outthought himself. Now Richard was already heading in the direction he needed to be, and Hohenheim was the one who'd have to take the long way around-if there was a safe way around at all. TheOdin was still partially intact, but the combination of damage and the fact that nothing had been done to neutralize her spin before the disaster meant that she was still turning. With pieces now no longer connected as they were supposed to be, the giant ship was wobbling on her axis, stressing components in ways they were never meant to be stressed. Things were getting worse, and Richard had to move quickly. By now, Eberhart would have gotten his craft under control, and he only had to make one stop. Richard swiftly made his way along the corridors. He knew what route the general must have taken; there were only so many ways to get where they were going.

Momentarily there was a flicker of connectivity, and he was able to get a partial outside report. There'sMunin! Not where she's going yet.

Good, good. I have more than enough time. He opened the next door, leading to the radial corridor up to the hab ring-and his radiation alarm screamed. Reflexively, he slapped the door shut and backed off.

Shield failed… That would cover the whole radial. His suit would reduce the dosages, but at this range from Jupiter and Io, even insideOdin, he wouldn't have that much time. Normal radiation flux inside this region was over thirty-six hundred rem per day, and right now the sensors had been measuring doses of almost twice that, which meant that half an hour's exposure would start making you sick, and a few hours would make you a dead man. He'd gotten a quick glimpse up the radial before the door closed, and there was no possibility of making it up in time. It would be a thousand-foot crawl through a tangle of wreckage which could shift and fall at any time. But there might still be a way. There were a couple of maintenance access shafts that provided a shortcut through parts of the main hull, and one of them was just a little ways back the way he had come. He could move over to the next section through that, and then go up to the hab ring where Eberhart would be trying to dock. He backtracked, found the access tunnel, and wormed his way in. It was a tight fit in the suit, but he could make it. Another hundred feet and he'd be clear. Even as he thought that, theOdin quivered again, and something snap-crunched behind him. Simultaneously, radiation alarms began and an automatic cutoff door slammed down only twenty feet behind. Still, his suit would protect him easily for the next hundred feet, and once he was past this section the other would, hopefully, be shielded. It was darker up ahead than he'd expected; he should be seeing light coming from the central corridor. He had to hurry. The dosage meter was slowly moving. That wasn't an immediate concern yet-wouldn't be for at least a half hour, actually-but he didn't like any exposure. Richard didn't fancy coming down with cancer eventually, assuming he survived all this. As he continued, it became clear that something was blocking his path. He shone a suit light at it, and realized it was a body. He felt his lips stretch in an ironic smile as he realized it wasn't justa body. It was a body he had put there himself-that of the technician, Erin Peltier. Peltier hadn't been dead when he left her, but she was dead now. That much was obvious by the fact that there was no air left in this section of the tunnel. Something, probably one or more of the armor-piercing pellets, had punched a hole through a nearby area of the hull. Too bad for the technician, of course.