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saved from yelping only by the fact that he was holding his breath. The instructor, forward, lurched
futilely, tied to his air supply. But by the time he d fumbled his pocket open, Miles had swallowed,
achieved a more secure grip on the wall, and recovered his tube in a heart-stopping grab. Try again. He
turned the valve, hard, and the hissing from the hole in the wall a meter astern of him faded to an elfin
moan, then stopped.
The tide of green gas began to recede and thin at last, as the cabin ventilators labored. Miles, shaking
only slightly, climbed back to the front end of the shuttle and strapped himself into his co-pilot s seat
without comment. Comment would have been awkward around his oxygen tube anyway.
Cadet Kostolitz, in his role as pilot, returned to his controls. The atmosphere cleared at last. He stopped
the spin and aimed the damaged shuttle slowly back toward dock, paying strict and subdued attention to
engine temperature readouts. The instructor looked extremely thoughtful, and only little pale.
The chief instructor himself was waiting in the shuttle hatch corridor of the orbital station when they
docked, along with a repairs tech. He smiled cheerily, turning two yellow armbands absently in his hands.
Their own instructor sighed, and shook his head dolefully at the armbands. No.
No? queried the chief instructor. Miles was not sure if it was with amazement or disappointment.
No.
This I ve got to see. The two instructors ducked into the shuttle, leaving Miles and Kostolitz alone a
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moment.
Kostolitz cleared his throat. That, ah blade of yours came in pretty handy after all.
Yes, there are times when a plasma arc beam isn t nearly as suitable for cutting, Miles agreed. Like
when you re in a chamber full of inflammable gas.
Oh, hell, Kostolitz seemed suddenly struck. That stuff will go off, mixed with oxygen. I almost... He
cut himself off, cleared his throat again. You don t miss much, do you? A sudden suspicion filled his
face. Did you know about this set up in advance?
Not exactly. But I figured something must be up when I counted the three breath masks in the
instructor s pocket.
You Kostolitz paused, turned. Did you really lose track of your light-pen?
No.
Hell, Kostolitz muttered again. He scuffed around the corridor a moment, hunched, red, dismally
recalcitrant.
Now, thought Miles. I know a place you can buy good blades, in Vorbarr Sultana, he said with nicely
calculated diffidence. Better than standard issue stuff. You can get a real bargain there sometimes, if you
know what to look for.
Kostolitz stopped. Oh, yeah? He began to straighten, as though being relieved of a weight. You,
ah I don t suppose...
It s kind of a hole-in-the-wall. I could take you there sometime, during leave, if you re interested.
Really? You d you d yes, I d be interested. Kostolitz feigned a casual air. Sure. He looked
suddenly much more cheerful.
Miles smiled.
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