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actual training in one of the ship's two power suits. But with the
suit-powered
\b93\b energy projector, much more massive and destructive than a regular
two-hander, disconnected and removed. While a guard or officer, in the other
suit, had the potent weapon ready for use. And the whole thing, the suit
training, took place in a locked hold. No, Arger Korbeith was taking no
chances of a cadet getting loose with a suit-not in \ihis\i ship.
Never mind; Bran Tregare enjoyed the learning. At first the time-lags, the
discrepancies between his body's moves and the servo responses, felt awkward.
But then he caught the hang of it-a little, though not entirely, like swimming
in Great Salt Lake (which he had done one summer, but had almost forgotten by
now). In his third session he had the coordination down pat: the move, the
pause, the suit's \iaction.\i So when he thought he'd achieved mastery, what
else but to \itry\i it?
Risky, it would be, for now Peralta inhabited the weaponed suit, and the man
was cat-quick. But in a power suit, not quite so fast. All right, give it a
go! So moving toward the other suited man, Bran said, "Let's see if I can do
something, here," and heard his amplified voice boom echoes from the confining
bulkheads. Peralta nodded; good enough. Bran feinted to the right, held the
feint long enough for Peralta to react, then took advantage of the suits'
delay-factor to come back the other way while Peralta had only begun to move.
The next instant, he had the other man's energy projector in his armored
hands. But before
Peralta, recovering his balance, could launch any attack, Bran was handing the
weapon back to him.
"No offense meant, sir. I just wanted to see if I could \ido\i it."
Halting his move, the Third Officer reached and took back the big gun. Inside
the helmet, Tregare saw his nod. "Good action, cadet. You know, I trust, that
if you'd failed to take the gun, you'd be dead now? Not by my will, but by my
trained reflexes."
"Not quite that definite, no, sir. I did know I had to cut it pretty fine."
"Indeed." Peralta had punched the door control; it opened, and for the first
time helpers came to get both men out of the suits. So Tregare knew something
else now, or thought he did: a trainees suit must have outside controls on it,
so that someone else could turn it off. For otherwise the unprotected helpers
could be made hostage, or simply slaughtered, by a really desperate cadet.
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One more item to keep in mind ...
\b94\b
When he told Sally about it all, she shook her head and then laughed. "You
take such chances!"
He thought about it. "In this mess, is there any other way?"
"I guess not. But-" He was caressing her. "Careful, there. Mmm-that's safer.
And now why don't you-?"
He did. Sometimes it bothered him, what they had to settle for. But as long as
Sally agreed, it would have to do him.
Parsons had said the Butcher never spaced less than three cadets per trip;
that much, he had done (if Keith Pendleton, cast adrift in a defective suit,
also counted. And how many more deaths would Korbeith's urge need?). Patience
wasn t Bran's best skill, and constant fear would never come to be a
comfortable companion. He lost sleep, dreamed badly, and ran on raw adrenalin.
\iOne day I'll kill him. If he doesn't kill me first.\i The saying helped Bran
at first waking, and also in getting to sleep. No one, ever, had given him
such fear; while Korbeith lived, Bran felt he could never be a whole person.
Alive and functional, maybe, but incomplete. So \iI have to. Someday, some
way, I have to.\i
He knew the goal was unrealistic, but still he was stuck with it. All his
life, maybe, however long that might turn out to be. The main thing was
outliving the Butcher; he thought on it.
When Peralta next paid Bran and Sally an "inspection" visit, he'd been wining.
In fact he brought along a bottle, still nearly full. "Be my guests," he said.
"I've had plenty. Not in the usual sense, but on this ship, more than enough."
So, with thanks, the two sipped the tart, ruby
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"Very good," Bran said, and Salome nodded. Bran changed the subject. "What
have you been doing since you left the- the Academy?" Thinking back, he
frowned. "Someone said-I forget who-that you were trying for the next fleet to
Stronghold."
"I was." Peralta's chuckle held no amusement. "But got bumped last minute into
patrol duty on the \iBarbarossa.\i Been there ever since, 'til now. Not much
action, and \ino\i promotions."
"But you're Third now. ..."
95
"Your Mr. Rheinhardts bad luck was my good. Oops . . . drink to his memory for
me, will you?
That's right. Anyway, I was senior to all-cadet status personnel on the
\iBarbarossa\i and also here on the \iMacArthur,\i so I got the nod. Not my
idea of a prize assignment, as you might guess, but Third Officer is Third
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