Ship's Boy

by Phil Geusz

implement it. Or we should’ve had plenty of time, rather. The whole thing almost came unstuck when the captain learned that there wasn’t a single trained man left aboard the ship healthy enough to don a Field suit, nor any undamaged suits left for them to wear even if they could. For several long minutes Sir Leslie stared off into the distance as his skin turned a ghostly shade of white— attempting to grapple an enemy vessel without the protection of a Field suit was just a fancy way of committing suicide. And, of course, in the absence of proper gear it’d just about have to be Sir Leslie himself who made the crucial, lethal hookup—he could never ask anyone else to do that. Then Sergeant Wells reminded the captain that I still had a working unit, and suddenly everyone was shouting at everyone. “He can do it, sir!” Sergeant Wells declared over and over in the face of every objection. “I’ve seen him on EVA with my own two eyes. He’s a brave little bunny, that one is! And smart as a whip, too!” Finally I got tired of them all being so silly about it and told James that if anyone asked for me, I was off suiting up. Which proved to be easier said than done, because a lot of corridors were closed off and one unavoidable passage was half-flooded with drinking water. I tripped over something while trying to make my way down that one, so that I ended up sopping wet from my eartips to my toes. At first I was going to dry myself off, then I realized that I didn’t have any special conductive powder to dust myself with. Humans don’t need powder when wearing a Field suit, because their body-hair is practically non-existent. But we fur-wearing types were capable of building up quite a charge between our suits and skins. Dad had the stuff specially made for he and I, and the nearest bottle had long ago burnt up in re-entry over Marcus Prime. Maybe the wet fur would work instead? There was only one way to find out for sure. Besides, I didn’t have time to go back and find my blow-dryer anyway.

  They were still arguing about me when I arrived back at the auxiliary command center, though Chief Engineer Leeds was polite enough to cut himself off in mid-sneer when I stepped around the corner.

  “We have no choice, Pierre,” Captain Blaine declared, his face once more flat and hard. “Your objections are duly logged and noted.” Then Sir Leslie turned to me and ran a critical eye up and down my gear. “Is he wearing that thing correctly?” he finally asked the Engineer.

  “Silly fellow’s soaking wet!” Pierre declared, shaking his head. He was sitting in a wheelchair, with both legs in splints. “What kind of fluff-brained idiot gets into a suit like that?” Then he scowled. “But otherwise… Yes.”

  The captain scowled and began to speak, but I beat him to it. “The main barracks corridor is flooded, sir,” I explained. “There wasn’t time to dry off.”

  “Sounds perfectly sensible to me, sir,” Sergeant Wells interjected.

  Captain Blaine closed his mouth and looked away. “He’ll have to make the attempt,” he repeated. “There’s simply no other choice.”

  Then Pieter smiled at me. “Do you know anything about superconductors and Field dynamics?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Any two objects connected by a superconductor effectively become one, so far as a Field is concerned.” I wrinkled my brows, and suddenly a light dawned. “You want me to hook a superconducting cable to the cruiser, then?”

  Pieter’s smile widened. “That’ll anchor us together, sure as can be. Plus, the resulting Field geometry will be so unfavorable that their coils will be useless. So they won’t have any shield effect, either.”

  I blinked. “But, if they try to energize anyway…”

  Chief Engineer Leeds smiled up from his chair, his blue eyes like ice. “Then the connections’ll arc like Satan’s own fireworks display. Which will kill anything within ten or twenty meters. Unless it’s wearing a Field suit. And even then, the splash effects won’t do them any bloody good.”

  Then Sergeant Wells spoke up. “I’ll be right there with you, David. Just as close by you as I can stand to be.”

  I shook my head, confused. “But why, sir?”

  The Sergeant’s face grew hard. “Because, son, it won’t take very damned long at all for the Imperials to realize that they can’t maneuver so long as they’re grappled. Which in turns means that unhooking the superconductor is going to be their prime objective.” He leaned over and laid his hand atop my helmet. “So… I bet you don’t know how to use a hand blaster, do you?”

  I shook my head, still a bit confused. “No, sir.”

  “No worries,” he reassured me. “It’s not that hard.” Then he turned to the captain. “Permission to leave the bridge, sir? For both of us? We’ve got a lot to do.”

  17

  Sergeant Wells was right—using a hand-blaster was easy. Or at least it was easy when you equipped it with a triple-magazine and set it to “full-power, wide-dispersion”. “This configuration is bulky as all hell,” the head marine explained as he handed me the kludged-together result. “And much too heavy for most purposes, as well. But since you won’t be boarding with the rest, you’ll be fine. It’s just the thing for fighting in null-gee.” He smiled and showed me how the trigger and safety worked. “Normally we spend a week training a recruit on one of these things, and even then he’s only authorized to use low power. But in the end it’s all about common sense, see? Don’t point the weapon at anything you don’t mean to kill, ever. If you can manage to keep that straight in your mind, well… The rest will come naturally.”

  The grapple itself didn’t require much explanation, either. It was simply a long, braided carbon-fiber rope with a superconducting core. As soon as we went EVA the sergeant would clip one end to Hummingbird’s hull; then he and I would leap together across space to connect the other end to the enemy cruiser. Then, it’d be our job to keep it connected for as long as was necessary. The sergeant half-filled each of our EVA pouches with spare clips, just in case.

  Then, it was time to go. There was quite a line at the main airlock when Sergeant Wells and I arrived there—everyone on the ship who both possessed a working suit and was able to wear it had been told off for the boarding party. Not a single able-bodied soul was being left behind save for James and Pedro, neither of whom had proper gear. “Oh, my heavens!” Pedro gushed when he saw me all gussied up and ready for vacuum. “Ship’s boys aren’t supposed to even touch the suits, David! Put that back where it belongs, right now! Or else you’re going to get into terrible trouble!”

  Fortunately James was standing right there. “This is special,” he explained, reaching around the lapine and offering a reassuring squeeze. “And David is a very special Rabbit.”

  “I don’t know…” Pedro complained, shaking his head dubiously. I couldn’t help but smile—he hadn’t even recognized the bulked-up blaster among all my other gear. Which was just as well; if he had, the poor old bun might’ve had a heart attack and died on the spot.

  Then James was looking at me. “I wish I could come help,” he said.

  “I know, sir,” I replied, looking down at my feet. “If there was any possible way, I’m certain you would.”

  “I’ll take good care of Pedro,” he promised. “My family developed slavebunnies, you know. Long, long ago. So nowadays we consider you all to be our special responsibility. Every last one of you.”

  My head tilted to one side, despite myself. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really. And it’s a responsibility that we take quite seriously, I assure you. So we have another special connection, besides just being best friends.” Then he smiled. “I know better than to tell you to be careful, David. So...“ He shrugged, clearly at a loss for words. “Good luck.”

  Then out of nowhere Captain Blaine appeared, wearing a gleaming gold-ornamented suit. “My lord!” he complained. “You belong down in the hold, where it’s safe!”

  James smiled, and for an instant I felt as if I could read his mind. Nowhere’s truly safe, he wanted to reply. But perhaps for the first time on the whole voyage, James bowed to the baronet with genuine respect. “Of course, sir,” he rep
lied. “I just wanted to wish David here the best of luck. And you as well, of course. You’re both being very brave, and I’m sure my father would be proud of you. I only wish I had a suit so I could go with you.”

  The captain’s eyes glittered in steely pride as he returned the bow, adding a graceful flourish. “Someday I’m certain that milord will make an excellent officer,” he replied. “You’ll command thousands if not millions, and if your noble bloodline runs true you’ll lead them well indeed.” He smiled and placed his gauntleted hand atop James’s head. “But for now, you’re much too young for combat. The heart may be willing, but the flesh has yet to grow strong.”

  Once again I could see that James wanted to say something, most likely regarding the fact that he was a bit older than I was. But again he was able to see that it wasn’t the correct time or place, so he just bowed again, smiled at me, and left to go hide with Pedro.

  “Bye!” the Rabbit cried out to me as James gently led him away. “I hope you don’t get into too much trouble for wearing the suit!”

  The captain snorted at this, then looked down at me. His face was once more distant and cold. Then, self-consciously, he squatted down so that we were eye to eye. “Do you understand what you’re to do?” he asked eventually.