“I don’t see how—” Van Atta began, and broke off, because suddenly he did see how. “Son-of-a-bitch…” he whispered.

“Lord Krishna,” Dr. Yei said, and wheeled to stare again at the live vid of the Habitat half-dismantled in orbit far above them. “It can’t be…”

“Graf’s crazy. He’s crazy, the man’s a flaming megalomaniac. He can’t do this—” The engineering parameters paraded inexorably through Van Atta’s mind. Mass—power—distance—yes, a pared-down Habitat, a percentage of its less-essential components dropped, might just barely be torqued by a Superjumper into wormhole space, if it could be wrestled into position at the distant jump point. The whole damn thing… “They’re hijacking the whole damn thing!” Van Atta cried aloud.

Yei wrung her hands, half-circling the vid. “They’ll never manage. They’re barely more than children! He’ll lead them to their deaths! It’s criminal!”

Captain Bannerji and the shuttleport administrator glanced at each other. Bannerji pursed his lips and opened his hand to her, as if to say, Ladies first.

“Do you think the two incidents are connected, then?” Chalopin pressed.

Van Atta too paced back and forth, as if he could so coax an angle from flat view of the Habitat. “… the whole damn thing!”

Yei answered for him, “Yes, we think so.”

Van Atta paced on. “Hell, and they’ve got it apart already! We aren’t going to have time to starve ‘em out. Got to stop ‘em some other way.”

“The Cay Project workers were very upset at the abrupt termination of the Project,” Yei explained. “They found out about it prematurely. They were afraid of being remaindered downside, being unaccustomed to gravity. I never had a chance to introduce the idea gradually. I think they may actually be trying to—run away, somehow.”

Captain Bannerji’s eyes widened. He leaned across the console on one hand and stared into the vid. “Consider the lowly snail,” he muttered, “who carries its house on its back. On cold rainy days when it goes for a walk, it never has to backtrack.…”

Van Atta put an extra half meter of distance between himself and the suddenly poetic Security captain.

“Weapons,” Van Atta said. “What kind of weapons does Security have on tap?”

“Stunners,” answered Bannerji, straightening up and studying his right thumbnail. Was there a flash of mockery in his eyes? No, he wouldn’t dare.

“I mean on your shuttle,” said Van Atta irritably. “Ship-mounted weapons. Teeth. You can’t make a threat without teeth.”

“There are two medium-power ship-mounted laser units. Last time we used them was—let me see—to burn through a log snag that had backed up flood waters threatening an exploration camp.”

“Yes, well, it’s more than they have, anyway,” said Van Atta excitedly. “We can attack the Habitat—or the Superjumper—either, really. The main thing is to keep them from connecting with each other. Yes, get the Jumpship first. Without it the Habitat is a sitting target we can polish off at our leisure. Is your security shuttle fueled up and ready to go, Bannerji?”

Dr. Yei had paled. “Hold on! Who’s talking about attacking anything? We haven’t even made verbal contact yet. If the hijackers are indeed quaddies, I’m sure I could persuade them to listen to reason—”

“It’s too late for reason. This situation calls for action.” Van Atta’s humiliation burned hot in his stomach, fueled by fear. When the company brass found out how totally he had lost control—well, he’d better be firmly back in control by then.

“Yes, but…” Yei licked her lips, “it’s all very well to threaten, but the actual use of force is dangerous—maybe destructive—hadn’t you better get some kind of authorization first? If something went horribly wrong, you wouldn’t want to be left holding the bag, surely.”

Van Atta paused. “It would take too much time,” he objected at last. “Maybe a day, to reach District HQ on Orient IV and return. And if they decided it was too hot and bounced it all the way to Apmad on Earth, it could be several days before we got a reply.”

“But it’s going to be several days, isn’t it?” said Yei, watching him intently. “Even if they succeed in fitting the Habitat to the Superjumper, they aren’t going to be able to swing it around and boost it like a fast courier. It would never stand the strain, it would use too much fuel—there’s lots of time yet. Wouldn’t it be better to get authorization, to be safe? Then, if anything went wrong—it wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Well…” Van Atta slowed still further. How typical of Yei’s wishy-washy, wimpy indecision. He could almost hear her, in his head; Now, let’s all sit down and discuss this like reasonable people… He loathed letting her push his buttons; still, she had a valid point: cover-your-ass was a fundamental rule for survival even of the fittest.

“Well… no, dammit! One thing I can damn well guarantee is that GalacTech is going to want this whole fiasco kept quiet. The last thing they’ll want is a lot of rumors flying around about their pet mutants running wild. Better for all of us if this is handled strictly inside Rodeo local space.” He turned to Bannerji. “That’s the first priority, then—you and your men have got to get that Jumpship back, or at least disable it.”

“That,” remarked Bannerji to the air, “would be vandalism. Besides, as has been pointed out before—Shuttleport Three Security is not in your chain of command, Mr. Van Atta.” He glanced significantly at his boss, who stood listening and pulling worriedly on a strand of hair escaped from her sleek coiffure.

“True,” she agreed. “The Habitat may be your problem, Mr. Van Atta, but this Jumpship hijacking is clearly under my jurisdiction, regardless of their connections. And there’s still a cargo shuttle docked up there that’s mine, too, though the Transfer Station reported they picked up its crew from a life pod.”

Van Atta stood fuming, blocked. Blocked by the damned women. It had been Chalopin’s buttons Yei had been aiming for, he realized suddenly, and she’d scored a hit, too. “That’s it, then,” he said through his teeth at last. “We’ll bounce it to HQ. And then we’ll see who’s in charge here.”

Dr. Yei closed her eyes briefly, as if in relief. At a word from Chalopin a comm tech began readying his system for the relay of a scrambled emergency message to District, to be radioed at the speed of light to the wormhole station, recorded and Jumped through on the next available transport, and radio-relayed again to its destination.

“In the meantime,” said Van Atta to Chalopin, “what are you going to do about your,” he drew the word out sarcastically, “hijacking?”

“Proceed with caution,” she replied levelly. “We believe there is a hostage involved, after all.”

“We’re not sure if all the GalacTech staff is off the Habitat yet, either,” put in Dr. Yei.

Van Atta growled, unable to contradict her. But if there were still downsiders being held aboard, senior management must surely realize the need for a swift and vigorous response. He must call the Transfer Station next and get the final head count. If all these dithering idiots were going to force him to sit on his hands for the next several days, he could at least lay his plans for action when he was unleashed.

And he was certain he would be unleashed, sooner or later. He had not failed to read Apmad’s underlying horror of the mutant quaddies. When word of this mess finally arrived on her desk it would goose her three meters straight up in the air, hostages or no hostages—Van Atta’s eyes narrowed. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “we’re not as helpless as you think. Two can play that game—I have a hostage too!”

“You do?” said Dr.Yei, puzzled. Then her hand went to her throat,

“Damn straight. And to think I almost forgot. That four-armed geek Tony is down here!”

Tony was Graf’s teacher’s pet—and that little cunt Claire’s favorite prick, and she was surely a ringleader—if she couldn’t swing this to his advantage, he was dead in the head. He spun on his heel. “Come on, Yei! Those little suckers are going to answer our calls now!”