"Shut up, See-Pee. It's our officer," Valentine heard Torres growl.
"You planning on going into the Blue, sir?" Partridge continued, ignoring the byplay.
"Something like that. It's a life away from the Reapers to any man who comes with me."
"You move, and I'll shoot you down," the unknown voice from the right side of the T-intersection threatened.
"Hey, what're-," Partridge began, but the sound of shots cut him off. Valentine heard four shots in rapid succession, and the three marines appeared in the corridor, Torres and Went holding the wounded Partridge between them.
They squinted in the glare of the spotlight, holding up their free hands. Torres had a revolver in his, and Went a rifle.
"Bastards! You killed Delano!" someone yelled from around the corner as the marines approached the barricade.
Ahn-Kha plucked the wounded man over and bore him into the arms locker, and put him down next to Post. Valentine helped the other two. Torres followed Partridge, who had blood already soaking through the right side of his uniform.
"We're with you, Mr. Rowan," Went, one of Valentine's deadeyes, said once they were safely behind the mattresses again. "When we heard the announcement, Party, he said, 'Who'd you rather take orders from, Saunders or Mr. Rowan?' I grabbed my match rifle, and Torres got Corporal Grant's pistol, and came to see what was happening. That bastard Delano fired first, sir, and we shot back. Everything's dark and confused. I heard firing forward. I think everyone's shooting at each other."
"I'm glad you're here, Went. I want to be straight with you. This is not going as I planned. It's us, the Grogs, and the Chief and a few of his men. We're outnumbered about eight to one."
The corners of Went's mouth twitched back into something that, if not a smile, was at least a wry grimace. "Leastways the guns are here." He peered over the edge of the barricade. "They won't take me alive. I'm not going to get delivered in handcuffs to some Hood."
The hatch to the generator room at the bottom level of the ship opened, and the Chief's face looked up at the assembled Grogs and men. "Tight as a drum, they're going to have to blow a big hole in the ship to get at us from down here. Captain's going to have an interesting time commanding the ship without engines."
"Good work, Chief," Valentine said.
Valentine heard a commotion down the hall and sought out the location with hard ears. The captain was speaking to someone, demanding a report. Saunders did not care for the answers, he began to yell. "That's all? And you let men join them?"
"They shot Delano, sir, and he had the only gun right then."
"You've got a wrench in your hands-you should have bashed some skulls in with it. Out of my sight!"
After a moment, Valentine heard Saunders's voice raised again, this time projecting from somewhere along the starboard-side corridor.
"The attempt on the ship has failed, Rowan. You know it, and I'm sure it's starting to dawn on those deluded enough to follow you."
"We're ready to wreck the engines, Captain, if we come to believe that," Valentine called back.
"You're a dead man, Rowan, and so's your pet drunk. But I'm offering an amnesty to whoever turns you in. I'll hush all this up. Like it never happened, long as they frog-march you and Post out."
Valentine looked over his shoulder; Torres and Went were both looking at him. He read doubt in their expressions, but whether it was doubt in him or doubt in the captain's promise he could not say. He slowly placed his gun on the floor, butt end pointed at the marines. 'Takers?" Valentine asked softly.
Went blanched, but Torres just smiled and shook his head. Partridge groaned something from his position on the floor of the arms locker.
"What was that?" Valentine asked Torres, who knelt beside the wounded man.
"'Tell Captain Saunders to go fuck himself,'" Torres repeated for the wounded man.
Valentine picked up his gun. "We put it to a vote, Captain, and it's unanimous: Go fuck yourself."
"You'll all bleed, you renegade bastards," the captain swore.
"Tell me, sir," Valentine shouted back. "What happened to the last captain that failed in a mission because of a mutiny? I heard Kurians ordered-"
"By Kur, Rowan, I'll make it so hot for you, you'll wish you were in hell. I'll keelhaul you. You'll beg me to let you die, renegade!"
Torres disappeared into the arms locker and returned, scooting up toward Valentine with something in his hand. Valentine recognized the can-shaped object as one of the ship's grenades. "Play much pool, Mr. Rowan?" Torres asked, putting two fingers into the ring atop the explosive.
"Not my game, Torres," Valentine whispered back.