Young Miles - Lois McMaster Bujold [89]
Another tech joined them, Miles saw out of the corner of his eye. No one spared attention for social chit-chat. They worked together in silence broken only by the uneven rhythm of hyperventilation. His suit reduced his oxygen flow in stingy disapproval of his state of mind. Bothari would never have let him join the boarding party—maybe he shouldn't have ordered him to duty at the refinery. On to the next bomb—and the next—and the—there was no next. Finished.
Kat rose, and pointed to one bomb in the array. "Three seconds! Three seconds, and—" She burst into unabashed tears, and fell on Miles. He patted her shoulder clumsily.
"There, there—cry all you want. You've earned it—" He killed his comm link broadcast momentarily, and inhaled a powerful sniff.
* * *
Miles tottered out of his newly captured ship into the refinery docking station clutching an unexpected prize—a suit of Pelian battle armor nearly small enough to fit him. The plumbing, not surprisingly, was female, but Baz could surely convert it. He spotted Elena among his reception committee, and held it up proudly. "Look what I found!"
She wrinkled her nose in puzzlement. "You captured a whole ship just to get a suit of armor?"
"No, no! The other thing. The—the weapon, whatever it was. This is the ship whose shot penetrated your shielding—did it hit anything? What did it do?"
One of the Felician officers glowered—oddly, at Elena. "It punched a hole—well, not a hole—right through the prison section. It was losing air, and she let them all out."
His people, Miles noticed, were moving about in groups of three or more.
"We haven't got them half rounded up yet," the Felician complained. "They're hiding all over the station."
Elena looked distressed. "I'm sorry, my lord."
Miles rubbed his temples. "Uh. I suppose I'd better have the Sergeant at my back, then, for a while."
"When he wakes up."
"What?"
Elena frowned at her boots. "He was guarding the prison section alone, during the attack—he tried to stop me, from letting them out."
"Tried? And didn't succeed?"
"I shot him with my stunner. I'm afraid he's going to be rather angry—is it all right if I stick with you for a while?"
Miles pursed his lips in an involuntary silent whistle. "Of course. Were any prisoners—no, wait." He raised his voice. "Commander Bothari, I commend your initiative. You did the right thing. We are here to accomplish a specific tactical objective, not perpetrate mindless slaughter." Miles stared down the Felician junior lieutenant, what's his name, Gamad, who shrank under his gaze. He went on more quietly to Elena. "Were any prisoners killed?"
"Two, whose cells were actually penetrated by the electron orbital randomizer—"
"By the what?"
"Baz called it an electron orbital randomizer. And—and eleven asphyxiated that I couldn't get to in time." The pain in her eyes knifed him.
"How many would have died if you hadn't released them?"
"We lost air in the whole section."
"Captain Tung—?"
Elena spread her hands. "He's around here somewhere, I guess. He wasn't among the thirteen. Oh—one of his jump pilots was, though. And we haven't found the other one yet. Is that important?"
Miles's heart sank into his foaming stomach. He wheeled to the nearest mercenary. "Pass on this order at once. Prisoners are to be re-captured alive, with as little injury as possible." The woman hurried to obey. "If Tung's on the loose, you'd better stick by me," Miles told Elena. "Dear God. Well, I guess I'd better have