They were rising fast. David backed away from the shaft, ran for the air lock, and climbed inside after Sarell, pulling the door almost but not quite closed. Then, just as he saw the first of the assassins rise into view, he struck his half-solar against the rock.
It made the tiniest of sparks, barely visible under the bright light in the air lock, but the flash of burning methane and hydrogen nearly blinded him and the explosion blew him half-way across the lock. It would have been worse, but the pressure of burning gases on the other side slammed the door closed with the force of an angry giant, cutting off the blast before it had a chance to develop to full force.
His head rang from the concussion and from lack of oxygen. He crawled back toward the door, trying to stand up and get to the air controls, but everything started to swirl around him and he lost his balance, falling with a thump to the floor. He tried to stand again, but only made it to his knees.
Sarell couldn’t have been in much better shape than him, but he watched her drag herself to the opposite door, pull herself upright, and punch the button that sent cold, cloudy white gas pouring in over them.
Don’t let it be ammonia, David thought. He took a shallow breath. It smelled like something had died in the storage tank, but it didn’t kill him outright so he took another. Sarell seemed to be doing okay with it, too. They were gasping like beached fish, but still alive, when security robots opened the lock a few minutes later.
Searchers found the assassins bobbing in the currents at the top of the lift shaft. They had either been blasted downward by the explosion and knocked unconscious on one of the landings below, or the pressure wave alone had done the job, but when the security robots pulled them down they found one dead of a broken neck and the other two alive but heavily burned and unresponsive. All three were Bajodas, and though nobody could trace them to the Bajoda delegation, nobody believed they’d acted alone, either.
“They wanted to start a war between humanity and the Ranthanik,” Sarell said when she heard the news. She and David were recovering in the infirmary, lying back on examining tables while once again wrapped in their separate force cocoons and breathing their own atmospheres. There were a few other patients in the infirmary, mostly suffering from anxiety at seeing a roiling fireball rushing down the lift shafts and drop shafts toward them, but their force fields had kept them from any physical harm.
“Between us and the Ranthanik?” David asked. “What for?”
Sarell made a growling sound that didn’t translate. She shook her head and said, “It’s always better to have someone else fight your wars for you. The Bajodas want to take over human space, but they don’t want to pay the price so they tried to get someone else to do it for them. They would probably have waited until the war was winding down and then joined the Ranthaniks for a share of the spoils. Now they’ll be lucky if the Ranthaniks don’t attack them.”
“Bajodas.” David nodded. “I guess it makes sense. But that means you were right about something else; they weren’t after you at all. They were after me, because they were afraid I was onto them. And I led them straight to you.”
“I forgive you,” Sarell said. “It’s the least I could do after falsely accusing you of being an assassin yourself.”
“Well, I guess maybe we’re even, then.”
There was a commotion at the door, then Ambassador
DeLange burst into the infirmary, trailing medical robots like
a retinue behind him. “There you are!” he roared when he saw David. “You’re in deep trouble, Wikondu. I’ll have your head on a stake for this.”
David sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to thank me.”
“Thank you? For what? For knocking me out and leaving me locked in a prison cell? For scaring the hell out of half the peace delegation? For damn near blowing up the entire Hotel Andromeda?”
“Just one wing of it,” David said. “And it didn’t blow; there wasn’t enough oxygen for that.”
“Just one wing,” DeLange said with a snort. “Well, it happened to be the wing I was in, and I’m not about to forget it.”
Sarell said softly, “Nor am I. David saved my life. You may not realize it yet, but he probably saved yours and the rest of humanity’s as well. I suggest you calm down and consider the ramifications of what happened here before you blow a perfect chance for improving your status among the rest of your race.”
“What do you mean?” asked DeLange.
“I mean if I were in your position, I would much rather return from the conference with a hero at my side than with a criminal.”
“Oh,” said DeLange. “Aha.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. “I see your point.”
David shifted uncomfortably on his exam table. “Wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a hotel to manage.”
“I imagine they can spare you for a publicity tour to Earth,” DeLange said. His tone of voice left little room for doubt.
A publicity tour, eh? Hmm. As a hero, no less. Staying in some of the best hotels from all through history, and dining in restaurants famous before humanity had left the planet… The Hightower would never have paid for such a trip, but they were looking for something new to offer their guests. David didn’t think he could recommend the Andromeda’s new life system, not until they worked a few more bugs out of it, but in the meantime maybe a touch of old-world opulence would suffice.
He made a big show of thinking it over, then just as DeLange was about to erupt with another outburst, he said, “Well, if you insist. Maybe I could spare a week or two. Three at the outside.”
Hotel Andromeda Page 28
