After the first moment of panic, Bart realized Montano could not tell
him from a Lhari. He remained motionless. "It's me, Montano--Bart
Steele."
The man lowered the weapon and put it away. "You nearly got yourself cut
down," he said. "Did you make it all right?" He crossed behind Bart,
inspecting the fastenings of the bunker.
"It's just luck I didn't shoot you first and ask questions afterward."
Montano drew a deep breath and sat down on the concrete floor. "Anyway,
we're safe in here. We've got about half an hour before the radiation
will reach lethal intensity. It has a very short half-life, though; only
about twelve minutes. If we spend an hour in here, we'll be safe enough.
Did you have any trouble putting the radiation counter out of
commission?"
So in half an hour they would all be dead. Ringg, Rugel, Captain
Vorongil. Two dozen Lhari, all dead so that Montano could have a Lhari
ship to play with.
And what then? More killing, more murder? Would Montano start killing
everyone who tried to get the secret of the drive from him? The Lhari
had the star-drive; maybe it belonged to them, maybe not. Maybe humans
had a right to have it, too. But this wasn't the right way. Maybe they
didn't deserve it.
He turned to look at Montano. The man was leaning back, whistling softly
through his teeth. He felt like telling Montano that he couldn't go
through with it. He started to speak, then stopped, his blood icing
over.
If I try to argue with him, I'll never get out of here alive. It means
too much to him.
Do I just salve my conscience with that then? Sit here and let them
die?
With a shock of remembrance, it came to Bart that he had a weapon. He
was armed, this time, with the energon-beam that was part of his
uniform. Montano had evidently forgotten it. Could he kill Montano?
Even to save two dozen Lhari?
He reached hesitantly toward the beam-gun, quickly thumbed the catch
down to the lowest point, which was simple shock. He froze as Montano
looked in his direction, hand out of sight under his cloak.
"How many Lhari on board?"
"Twenty-three, and three Mentorians."
"Anyone apt to be behind shielding--say, in the drive chamber?"
"No, I think they're all outside."
Montano nodded, idly. "Then we won't have to worry."
Bart slipped his hand toward his weapon. Montano saw the movement,
cocked his head in question; then, as understanding flashed over his
face, his hand darted to his own gun. But Bart had pressed the charge of
his, and Montano slumped over without a cry. He looked so limp that Bart
gasped. Was he dead? Hastily he fumbled the lax hand for a pulse. After
a long, endless moment he saw Montano's chest twitch and knew the man
was breathing.