“Come now, sir. Enough badinage. Surely you realize that if I must turn away military personnel I could never let one of you past this station, any more than I am able to relate what kind of research takes place here. I can say that most of the time I do not know myself.”
“Then let us pass,” Wuu interjected, speaking only because he saw chance slipping rapidly away, “and upon our return we’ll enhance your store of knowledge from our own.”
She eyed him intently. For a moment Ryo thought that Wuu’s instinctively elegant speech had betrayed them.
The officer’s mandibles moved and Ryo feared she was about to ask the first of many unanswerable questions, when something whoomed! from the far end of the corridor. Even the fossilized guards unbent, whirling with their raised weapons. Flakes of sealant fell from the corridor ceiling.
Tor had clung to the desk for stability. Ryo and Wuu barely managed to keep their own balance.
There was a disquieting pause as the officer took a step toward the source of the explosion. A second blast shook them. This time smoke and a brief flare of orange flame filled the far end. The flame disappeared, the smoke began to dissipate, and shouts and whistles sounded from unseen Thranx.
Several appeared from behind the smoke, running toward the barrier. They gestured urgently. Without a word the two guards rushed to join them and the little group hurried around the bend that had produced the smoke and fire.
The officer had hesitated before turning back to face her inquisitive visitors.
“I’m afraid I must ask you gentlesirs to return to the central sector, preferably to the concession area.” An intercom video console was built into the barrier. The status indicators on it were going berserk. From down the corridor they could hear the shrill blare of warning whistles.
“We won’t get in the way,” Tor said with admirable calm. “Maybe we can help, if you’ll allow us to—” He broke off suddenly, speechless with amazement.
The officer had produced a pistol, which she held in a foothand. It displayed not the civilized snout of a stinger or of an energy weapon, but that of a charged-projectile device whose tiny explosive pellets could blow a person’s chiton to splinters. “Please return the way you came,” she instructed them brusquely, with maximum-degree assurance, “or I will be compelled to kill you here.”
“Kill?” Wuu repeated stupidly. It was the first time Ryo had ever heard the poet at a loss for appropriate words. “We haven’t done a thing. We—”
“You have five seconds. One … two …”
“Enough. We can argue later.” Tor turned and started running. Ryo did not need further urging. As he ran he turned to glance back over his shoulder. The officer had resumed her saddle, her hands flying over the console’s controls. The ugly projectile weapon lay close at hand atop the barrier.