I don't need it/he announced, and tucked his spectacles into his back
pocket and hoisted his trousers with both elbows. It will be more fun
to take you to pieces by hand.
It was only then that Nick realized how tall the engineer was. His arms
were ridged with the lean wiry taut muscle of hard physical labour. His
fists, as he balled them, were lumpy with scar tissue across the
knuckles and the size of a pair of nine-pound hammers. He went down
into a fighter's crouch, and rode the plunging deck with an easy flexing
of the long powerful legs.
As Nicholas touched the chrome over-ride handle, the first punch came
from the level of Baker's knees, but it came so fast that Nick only just
had time to sway away from it. It whistled up past his jaw and scraped
the skin from the outside corner of his eye, but he counter-punched
instinctively, swaying back and slamming it in under the armpit, feeling
the blow land so solidly that his teeth jarred in his own head. The
Chief's breath hissed, but he swung left-handed and a bony fist crushed
the pad of muscle on the point of Nick's shoulder, bounced off and
caught him high on the temple.
Even though it was a glancing blow, it felt as though a door had slammed
in Nick's head, and resounding darkness closed behind his eyes.
He fell forward into a clinch to ride the darkness, grabbing the lean
hard body and smothering it in a bear hug as he tried to clear the
singing darkness in his head.
He felt the Chief shift his weight, and was shocked at the power in that
wiry frame, it took all his own strength to hold him. Suddenly and
clearly he knew what was going to happen next. There were little white
ridges of scar tissue half hidden by the widow's peak of flopping sandy
hair on the Chief's forehead. Those scars from previous conflicts
warned Nick.
Vin Baker reared back, like a cobra flaring for the strike, and then
flung his head forward; it was the classic butt aimed for Nick's face
and, had it landed squarely, it would have crushed in his nose and
broken his teeth off level to the gums - but Nick anticipated, and
dropped his own chin, tucking it down hard so that their foreheads met
with a crack like a breaking oak branch.
The impact broke Nick's grip, and both of them reeled apart across the
heaving deck, Vin Baker howling like a moon-sick dog and clutching his
own head.
Fight fair, you Pommy bastard! he howled in outrage, and he came up
short against the steel cabinets that lined the far side of the control
room. The astonished electrician dived for cover under the control
console, scattering tools across the deck.
Vin Baker lay for a moment gathering his lanky frame, and then, as
Warlock swung hard over, rolling viciously in the cross sea, he used her
momentum to hurl himself down the steeply tilting deck, dropping his
head again like a battering ram to crush in Nick's ribs as he charged.
Nick turned like a cattle man working an unruly steer.
He whipped one arm round Vin Baker's neck and ran with him, holding his
head down and building up speed across the full length of the control
room. They reached the armoured glass wall at the far end, and the top
