Non-Stop - Brian W. Aldiss [84]
‘We’ve already decided that,’ said Gregg, impatiently. ‘The trouble is, things are in such a muddle, on most decks we don’t know when a bit’s cut off and when it isn’t. An army could be hiding behind any bulkhead.’
‘I’ll tell you one such place near at hand,’ Complain said tensely. ‘Above the cell Fermour was kept in, on Deck 21.’
‘What makes you think that, Complain?’ Scoyt asked curiously.
‘Deduction. The Giants, as we have realized, went to an enormous amount of trouble to lure everyone away from the corridors so that they could get to Fermour and rescue him via the trap-doors. They could have spared themselves all that bother if they had simply pulled him up through the grille in his cell. It would not have taken them a minute, and they could have remained unseen. Why didn’t they? My guess is, because they couldn’t. Because something on the level above has collapsed, blocking that grille. In other words, there may be chambers up there we have no access to. We ought to see what’s in them.’
‘I tell you there are a hundred such places –’ Gregg began.
‘It certainly sounds worth investigating –’ Councillor Ruskin said.
‘Suppose you’re right, Complain,’ Scoyt interrupted. ‘If the grille’s blocked, how do we get through?’
‘Like this!’ Complain levelled the heat gun at the nearest wall, fanning it horizontally. The wall began to drip away. He switched off power when a ragged archway had formed, and looked challengingly at them. For a moment all were silent.
‘Gawd’s blood!’ Gregg croaked. ‘That’s the thing I gave you.’
‘Yes. And that’s how you use it. It’s not a real weapon, as you thought – it’s a flame projector.’
Scoyt stood up. His face was flushed.
‘Let’s get down to Deck 21,’ he said. ‘Pagwam, keep your men pulling up trap-doors as fast as you can circulate that ring. Complain, you’ve done well. We’ll try that gadget out at once.’
They moved out in a body, Scoyt leading. He gripped Complain’s arm gratefully.
‘Given time, we can pull the damn ship apart with that weapon,’ he said. It was a remark which did not fully register on Complain until much later.
Chaos reigned on the middle level of Deck 21, where Fermour’s cell was. All the manholes were exposed, each being now guarded by a sentry; their covers were flung aside in untidy piles. The few people who lived here – mostly men of the barriers and their families – were evacuating before further trouble came, straggling among the sentries, getting in everyone’s way. Scoyt elbowed his way roughly through them, pushing squeaking children to right and left.
As they flung open Fermour’s cell door, Complain felt a hand on his arm. He turned, and there was Vyann, fresh and bright of eye.
‘I thought you were asleep!’ he exclaimed, smiling with the delight of seeing her again.
‘Do you realize it’s within a watch of waking?’ she said. ‘Besides, I’m told things are about to happen. I had to come and see that you didn’t get into trouble.’
Complain pressed her hand.
‘I’ve been in and out of it while you were sleeping,’ he said cheerfully.
Gregg was already in the middle of the cell, standing on the battered crate which served here as a chair, peering up at the grille above his head.
‘Roy’s right!’ he announced. ‘There’s an obstruction on the other side of this thing. I can see some crumpled metal up there. Hand me up that heat gun and let’s try our luck.’
‘Stand from under!’ Complain warned him. ‘Or you’ll shower yourself with melted metal.’
Nodding, Gregg aimed the weapon as Scoyt handed it up, and depressed the button. The glassy arc of heat bit into the ceiling, drawing a red weal on it. The weal broadened, the ceiling sagged, metal came gooing down like shreds of pulverized flesh. Through the livid hole, other metal showed; it too, began to glow lividly. Noise filled the room, smoke cascaded about them and out into the corridor, bitter smoke which rasped their eyeballs. Above the uproar came a crackling explosion, and just for a second the lights flashed on with unexpected brilliance then died away to nothing.
‘That should do it!’ Gregg