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Authors: Brian Daley
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a grunt and a squeal, eyes huge and round with horror, as the air rushed from his lung. Alacrity stabbed twice more, blood splashing across the gun's handguard. Pressure on the axe shaft fell away. As he pushed the man's body off him, Alacrity smelled death in the intruder's exhalation.
He massaged his throat, sucking in great lungfuls of air, as Floyt helped him up, demanding to know if he was all right although Alacrity was gasping too hard to answer.
At last Alacrity got out one word. "Reload!"
As Alacrity began digging a fresh—he hoped—charge from a belt pouch, Floyt shakily opened the Webley. The extractor sent empty shells flying. He fumbled in his pocket for more cartridges.
His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely fish out a handful of bullets, dropping two of them, which promptly rolled and fell through deck perforations. Floyt took another deep breath, focused himself by an act of will, and, bringing all his concentration to bear, began fitting bullets into the cylinder with exacting patience. Every few seconds he would glance around nervously. No noise or sound indicated any more intruders.
Ashen-faced, hands jittering, Alacrity had returned the spring-loaded bayonet to its place in the deflector after replacing the pistol's spent charge. The charge indicator was indeed malfunctioning, reading full even when the gun was empty.
Floyt left no empty chambers this time, and kept the Webley in hand. He checked Seven Wars again, finding that, while the envoy was still unconscious, his pulse rapid and rather weak, the field dressing was still containing the bleeding.
He heard footfalls on the catwalk and very nearly fired as he turned. Alacrity was prowling, gun ready, through the maze of equipment, up a short flight of steps, in the direction of the harp. Floyt turned back to the medical device, to see if it could tell him any more about Seven Wars' condition.
Most of the research apparatus seemed to be on and functioning; Alacrity figured the intruders had activated everything to cover their movements. He came to a central bank of displays, picking out bits and pieces.
SYNCHRONISTIC PATTERNED SET ANALYSIS FEYNMANISTIC EVALUATION
KOESTLERIAN EVENT CONFLUENCIALITIES STRANGE ATTRACTOR INFERENCES
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (36 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:28
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
Weir's researchers had apparently been using the gantries for some sort of direct observation or testing, going out to the edge of the harp itself. He found a screen with a red indicator over it. It read: ENTER NEXT TEST RUN SUBJECT.
Floyt was still looking after Seven Wars. Alacrity studied the touchpad and entered an inquiry that meant everything to him. The screen changed to read WORKING and its indicator changed from red to green. The indicator on the next screen along lit up red, as it displayed ENTER NEXT TEST RUN
SUBJECT.
ComputerLand inference engines came to full life; the dandelion and-barnacle interfacers glowed and glittered.
The gantries had smaller interfacers on them; he extended the nearest until it nearly entered the eerie maelstrom. He walked the gantry with a feeling of unreality; reaching the end, he moved between the interfacers. The causality harp roiled.
Well? What's the answer? He pulled down the bandanna. "Out with it!"
A sudden, almost unbearable increase in the humming and toning of the harp drove him back a step.
Hissing discharges rippled through it; the harp was all flame and turbulence, making the vault vibrate with its peturbations and pitch patterns.
Alacrity threw up one hand to ward off the fierce light, laughing shrilly. He slowly extended his other hand into the star-brume.
He was lost in a storm of thought-fillips and surges from his overloaded nervous system. He lowered his hand again, watching the dance of the phase-portraits and the grand processions of the adumbrations through
He massaged his throat, sucking in great lungfuls of air, as Floyt helped him up, demanding to know if he was all right although Alacrity was gasping too hard to answer.
At last Alacrity got out one word. "Reload!"
As Alacrity began digging a fresh—he hoped—charge from a belt pouch, Floyt shakily opened the Webley. The extractor sent empty shells flying. He fumbled in his pocket for more cartridges.
His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely fish out a handful of bullets, dropping two of them, which promptly rolled and fell through deck perforations. Floyt took another deep breath, focused himself by an act of will, and, bringing all his concentration to bear, began fitting bullets into the cylinder with exacting patience. Every few seconds he would glance around nervously. No noise or sound indicated any more intruders.
Ashen-faced, hands jittering, Alacrity had returned the spring-loaded bayonet to its place in the deflector after replacing the pistol's spent charge. The charge indicator was indeed malfunctioning, reading full even when the gun was empty.
Floyt left no empty chambers this time, and kept the Webley in hand. He checked Seven Wars again, finding that, while the envoy was still unconscious, his pulse rapid and rather weak, the field dressing was still containing the bleeding.
He heard footfalls on the catwalk and very nearly fired as he turned. Alacrity was prowling, gun ready, through the maze of equipment, up a short flight of steps, in the direction of the harp. Floyt turned back to the medical device, to see if it could tell him any more about Seven Wars' condition.
Most of the research apparatus seemed to be on and functioning; Alacrity figured the intruders had activated everything to cover their movements. He came to a central bank of displays, picking out bits and pieces.
SYNCHRONISTIC PATTERNED SET ANALYSIS FEYNMANISTIC EVALUATION
KOESTLERIAN EVENT CONFLUENCIALITIES STRANGE ATTRACTOR INFERENCES
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (36 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:28
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
Weir's researchers had apparently been using the gantries for some sort of direct observation or testing, going out to the edge of the harp itself. He found a screen with a red indicator over it. It read: ENTER NEXT TEST RUN SUBJECT.
Floyt was still looking after Seven Wars. Alacrity studied the touchpad and entered an inquiry that meant everything to him. The screen changed to read WORKING and its indicator changed from red to green. The indicator on the next screen along lit up red, as it displayed ENTER NEXT TEST RUN
SUBJECT.
ComputerLand inference engines came to full life; the dandelion and-barnacle interfacers glowed and glittered.
The gantries had smaller interfacers on them; he extended the nearest until it nearly entered the eerie maelstrom. He walked the gantry with a feeling of unreality; reaching the end, he moved between the interfacers. The causality harp roiled.
Well? What's the answer? He pulled down the bandanna. "Out with it!"
A sudden, almost unbearable increase in the humming and toning of the harp drove him back a step.
Hissing discharges rippled through it; the harp was all flame and turbulence, making the vault vibrate with its peturbations and pitch patterns.
Alacrity threw up one hand to ward off the fierce light, laughing shrilly. He slowly extended his other hand into the star-brume.
He was lost in a storm of thought-fillips and surges from his overloaded nervous system. He lowered his hand again, watching the dance of the phase-portraits and the grand processions of the adumbrations through
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