Learning to Dance

“No,” said Up.
“No,” she admitted, her eyes flicking toward Up.
Rogers turned to Up. “It’s this or digging, and they’ll
certainly have managed to break our access codes by the
time we get out of here. They’ll have full control of the
ship. Have you got any better ideas?”
Up expelled all the air in his lungs. “No,” he said finally.
“Get the girl a gun,” said Rogers, “I’ll assemble the
Rangers at the door. We’ll be ready.”
Up pulled a pistol from the holster at his belt. “This will
be simplest for you to handle.” He showed her the grip, the
safety, the trigger. She listened intently. The ensign finished
unscrewing the grate.
“Ready, sir,” he said.
“Don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to,” Up said, as
she took the pistol in her hand. “And for dead God’s sake,
don’t shoot yourself.”
“Do you think I’m estúpido?” she said.
“No, Taz,” he said. She was anything but stupid. “Stay
low, stay out of sight. Wait for their attention to be
elsewhere before you make your move. Remember, these
aren’t humans you’re dealing with, these are machines, and
they have sensory equipment we can’t even dream of.” He
caught her arm as she crouched to enter the vent. “Be
careful in there, Taz.”
Her eyes were very big and dark against her pale skin. “I
will.” Neither of them moved.
“Ready, Lieutenant?” called Rogers.
Taz nodded, her eyes not leaving Up’s face.
“Ready,” he said. Reluctantly, he let her go.