Air Pirates of Krakatoa

by Dave Robinson

  “And you don't need that pretty head.” His face twisted. “It was so perfect. I already had the Spinners to kill you; all I had to do was drive you to her shop and I’d be rid of her too!”

  Vic laughed.

  Feng leaped.

  Vic just wasn't fast enough, and Feng bowled her over before she could get the bayonet up. He drove into her with his shoulder, hitting her left side again, and ripping the rifle from her hand. More pain lanced up her left arm, and now it just dangled at her side.

  She scrambled to her right, trying to get out of the way before he could turn. Vic reached the case and dragged herself upright just in time for Feng to land beside her, knocking the toolbox off the case with a clatter. She fell to the floor, but it was enough to keep her out of his reach for the moment.

  Feng towered over her, gears whining as he moved. Not knowing where her rifle had landed, Vic reached for anything she could use to defend herself. Stretching out, she found something, a wooden handle that rolled away from her fingertips. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself towards it.

  Feng's smile widened as he slowly raised one leg, twisting to get it over Vic.

  The crack of a rifle interrupted his movement as he staggered from the bullet's impact. The round whined, ricocheting off the case on his back.

  Vic rolled away from him, barely dodging his metal-plated boot. Her left arm swung wildly, bringing tears to her eyes, but she managed to see that what she'd found earlier was a screwdriver.

  Grabbing the screwdriver, she turned to see Feng twisting away from her.

  “You!” he bellowed, glaring towards the far side of the chart room, where Ming leaned against the hatch, fumbling one-handed with a rifle. She had the barrel clamped between her knees and her right hand across the receiver pulling on the bolt.

  The sight galvanized Vic into motion. Feng had his back to her now, all his attention seemingly focused on Ming. Everything went into slow motion; Feng crouching and Vic rising, her hand closing around the screwdriver like a dagger.

  Ming wasn't going to get the rifle reloaded in time.

  Standing taller than Feng, Vic drove the screwdriver into his neck, putting all her weight behind it. Blood spurted as the steel bounced off the framework of his exoskeleton, cutting through control wires, and down into his chest behind the collarbone.

  Yelling in mixed pain and rage, Feng leaped toward Ming, but only his left leg moved. Instead of leaping forward, he jumped sideways through the window in front of the wheelhouse and down toward the deck.

  The glass was still flying when Vic ran for Ming, dropping the screwdriver from her bloody hand.

  Ming dropped the rifle just before they came together in a clumsy one-armed hug.

  A moment later, Ming had her good arm on Vic's chest and was pushing her back. “Are you all right? What did he do to you?” She bit her lip as her eyes roved over Vic's body.

  “Just my left arm, I'll be fine.” Vic put one foot on the rifle and worked the bolt right-handed. “Takes more than a man in metal to stop me.” She picked up the rifle in her good hand, and took a look over the bridge.

  The whir of rotors caught her ears, and she stepped back just in time to see a bloodied Feng rising from the deck towards them. The casing on his back had split open to reveal twin rotors extending over his head. He looked half-dead with the blood covering his chest, but what drew Vic's attention was the rising pistol in his right hand.

  Grimacing, she flipped the rifle up with her good hand and pulled it into her shoulder. Her whole world shrank to a line drawn from the muzzle of her rifle to Feng. Letting gravity do the work, she waited until the barrel fell level with his chin and squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked her in the shoulder, just as a burst of red blossomed at Feng's throat.

  He hung there in midair for a moment, the pistol falling from his hand and arcing in the sunlight on its way down to the deck. At first it seemed as if his body was going to keep hanging in mid-air forever, but then the machine on his back must have registered some input because it tilted the rotors and flung itself and Feng's body into the sea.

  Vic barely heard the splash before she led Ming back inside the wheelhouse.

  She knew how to handle most vehicles, at least the basics, and this ship wasn't that much different than one Doc had ended up with a few years earlier. If nothing else she could probably radio the Dutch for help.

  Then Vic got a good look at the case that had replaced the ship’s wheel. It was a black metal case with a locked panel on its back and glass window covering the top. A map scrolled beneath the glass, with a pointer following an inked path that lead around Java, ending somewhere near Krakatoa.

  “That doesn't look good,” Ming's voice came over Vic's shoulder.

  “I'm sure we can find some way to take control of the ship.” Vic ran her hand over the case, looking for the panel Feng had opened earlier.

  “I mean your back.” Ming cuffed Vic lightly in the back of the head. “You have a dislocated shoulder and I expect at least two broken ribs.”

  “So you want to add a broken head?”

  “Your head's tough enough to take a little swat.”

  Vic started to shrug, but winced. “Let's find the radio room.” Most of these ships had the radio room behind the wheelhouse, and she was sure this was no exception. Stepping through the hatch into the radio room, all she could see was chaos. The key was still there, but it was the only thing left.

  Glass from broken tubes covered the room; the radio looked like someone had taken a fire axe to it. Everything else was smashed, even the radio operator's chair. Bent metal covered the table, someone had even smashed the radio coils as well as the tubes.

  Vic met Ming's eyes. They would have to get off the ship before they reached Krakatoa.

  #

  Swimming the tunnel took longer than Doc had expected, or perhaps he was just losing track of time. Whatever the case, he was surprised to see that it was almost dark by the time they reached the mouth. Staying inside the mouth, Doc took hold of a branch that hung down over the opening and looked out over the lagoon.

  The Wing floated serenely in the calm water, surrounded by half a dozen open boats. Doc was surprised to see it still there. A faint clanging wafted across the water, but everything else was still.

  Tigress smiled.

  Doc raised an eyebrow. “You expected this?”

  “Before I was “escorted” off, I had my mechanics start a complete tear down on the engines.” She tilted her head towards the Wing. “It sounds like they got quite a bit done before Van Houten took over.”

  “Let's hope they still have more to do.”

  “I don't think Van Houten has all that many mechanics; they should be a while longer.”

  “Good.”

  Doc looked to the west, trying to get an idea of the height of the Sun, but it was already below the island. At most there was another hour of daylight, but he couldn't be sure if it was closer to an hour, or a quarter.

  “Let's move.” Doc let go of the branch and sunk low in the water. “What's the best way to get close?”

  “There's an inspection hatch on the left pontoon, near the aft end. It's for the water steering gear.”

  “Off we go, then.” He pushed off, using the breast stroke to keep the water still.

  The water was a little warmer as they crossed out of the shadow, but it didn't make Doc any more comfortable. His stomach growled, twisting to remind him that he had not eaten since the night before. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Tigress and Ilsa following quietly, leaving barely a ripple in the water.

  It was almost completely dark by the time they reached the Wing. Water lapped against the hull as they slipped in between the two pontoons. The clanging had stopped, but at least the engines weren't turning over yet. The hatch was about three feet by four, with a recessed handle on the left side, towards the rear of the Wing.

  The hatch wasn't locked, so they were quickly able to slip aboard, finding themse
lves in a small compartment that felt a lot smaller the moment Ilsa came out of the water. At least she didn't shake herself like a dog. Tigress had pushed herself up against Doc's back, making the compartment feel even smaller.

  “Do you have a plan?” she whispered into his ear.

  “Free my people, take the plane, and then try to rescue Vic.”

  “And Li Ming,” Tigress hissed, surprising Doc who hadn’t mentioned Ming’s family name.

  Doc nodded. “Her too.”

  The other hatch wasn't locked so Doc slipped it open quietly. There was no guard at the foot of the ladder, which surprised him. He grabbed the keys that were hanging on a hook and opened the door to the cells. They were empty.

  All the doors were open, and the cells that had previously held his companions were all bare. It was as if it had never been used. Even the cots were bare, with nothing but a thin mattress; no sheets or bedding anywhere in sight. His people were gone. At least

  Shaking his head, Doc turned so quickly that he bumped into Tigress, who was following behind him. “I hope they didn't take them into the base.”

  She shook her head. “If they did, they would have been right beside us. Carving cells out of solid rock is hard work.”

  Doc smiled. “If my people are still on board, we'll find them.” He laced his fingers and stretched out his arms until his fingers cracked. “Van Houten has no idea who he is dealing with.”

  Letting Tigress bring up the rear, he headed for the stairwell. As he did, the whole craft began to rumble as twenty massive engines turned over far above their heads.

  A squawk from a speaker grille caught Doc's attention, and then Van Houten's voice blared over the public address system. “All hands, prepare for take-off. We have a fleet to sink.”

  “A fleet?”

  Tigress pursed her lips. “The Dutch East Indies squadron sortied yesterday. They're supposed to be doing anti-piracy exercises in this area all week.”

  “How many ships?”

  She grinned fiercely for a moment, but then her face fell. “If my intelligence is right; all of them; the cruiser Sumatra and three destroyers.”

  “Can the Wing defeat them?”

  “They don't stand a chance.” She pointed upwards. “I have, had, three pursuits armed with aerial torpedoes and four turrets with twin cannons on each. There is also a rotary launcher with six 2,000-pound stand-off bombs for anti-shipping work.

  “Van Houten can sink any ship he wants from five miles out, and there’s not a thing Captain Doorman can do to stop him.”

  Doc laughed. “Then we'd better take this thing away from him before he gets that close.”

  He led the way up the round stairwell toward the next deck.

  #

  Vic winced as they returned to the wheelhouse, drawing a look from Ming. “Don't worry, I'll be fine.” A stabbing pain from her ribs put the lie to her words, but she forced a grin anyway. There was no need for Ming to worry any more than she already was, so Vic just tried to breathe shallowly so her ribs wouldn't ache so much.

  Once in the wheelhouse, she dragged up a seat and sat down, pointing to Ming to do the same. It was already getting late. They had searched the ship finding no radio, but they had been able to rustle up something to eat. Ming had also provided a couple of canteens of tea, which she had spiked with just a little rum.

  “Enough to taste it, not enough to get drunk,” was the way she had put it when she corked the bottle. “We need it more as an antiseptic anyway.”

  The worst news had come from the rear hold. Unlike the one they had been held in, it wasn't full of rocks. Instead, it held a massive iron casing, that on further inspection Vic had realized was a bomb. Worse, it was surrounded by enough shrapnel that when it blew any ship in a hundred yards would be lucky to be afloat.

  A look at the map showed her they might have two hours before the ship exploded. Vic heard something, and leaned her ear against the casing.

  Di di di dah dah dah di di di… three dots, three dashes, repeating.

  There was a radio inside the case and it was sending a distress call.

  “What's that sound?” Ming asked, gesturing with her good hand toward the case.

  “It's a distress signal.”

  Ming's shoulder's sagged in obvious relief, and then she tensed again. “But will anyone get the message?”

  “I don't know,” Vic replied. “Maybe there's a freighter in range. The bigger question is why send a distress signal when you're going to blow up the ship anyway?”

  “Unless they're using it as a lure?”

  “That's it.” Vic threw her good arm around Ming. “This ship's a trap, not a target. This is more than just insurance fraud.

  “Now all we need to do is get off this tub before it blows and warn off whoever answers the distress signal.”

  Ming nodded.

  Giving the smaller woman a smile, Vic set off on another search of the ship, looking for anything that could serve as a life raft. The Sun was already falling, as the short dusk of the tropics grew closer.

  It was Ming who first spotted Feng's real targets. White smoke was the first sign, and then three long grey hulls came into view like greyhounds on the water.

  The Royal Netherlands Navy had arrived. The cruiser Sumatra had the lead, with a pair of Admiralen class destroyers following close behind.

  They still hadn't found a lifeboat, but Vic had come across a couple of cork rings that might be enough to keep them afloat. She also grabbed the stained white tablecloth from the wardroom table.

  Sliding her good arm through the ring she put it over her head. A piece of rope then served to tie it to her belt. She gave it an experimental tug, and then turned to Ming. “Do you think you're ready for this?”

  Ming shook her head, but then looked up to meet Vic's eyes. She was pale and her shoulders shook, but her gaze was firm. “I'm more ready than I am to stay on a ship that's about to explode.”

  Vic grinned. “There is that.”

  It didn't take long to get Ming similarly accoutered with her own cork ring, this one bearing the name SS L'Amour.

  Once both were equipped, Vic led the way to the main deck, the tablecloth over her shoulder. Sumatra had already caught up, and was steaming a parallel course about a hundred yards away off the starboard side. Water danced at her bow as she maintained a steady ten or so knots.

  By the time they had reached the deck, Vic could see a boat crew getting ready to lower a gig. A signal lamp flashed from the bridge wing, but she ignored it. Leading Ming, she headed aft, looking for an opening in the gunwales. Luckily, there was a spot beside the rear cargo crane where the gunwale dipped to deck level, leaving only a railing. Vic quickly found the cargo ramp, and opened the gates.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to Ming to see how she was doing. “Hold on to the other end of the cloth when we jump so they can see us.”

  Ming nodded and held up her good hand, clutching the tablecloth so tightly her knuckles were white. She gritted her teeth and moved up to stand beside Vic at the bulwark.

  “All right, on three.” The water was calm, half way between green and blue in color. It would be an easy leap, even though the ship was steaming faster than she liked. Vic took one last look at Ming. “One, two, three… Jump!”

  “I can't swim….” Ming's voice came over her shoulder as Vic plunged into the water.

  Pointing her toes, Vic plunged downwards as the cork ring pulled at her belt. Kicking furiously to slow her descent, she opened her eyes and twisted around, trying to see what had happened to Ming. At first, she couldn't see anything, but then a trail of bubbles heading for the surface caught her eye.

  Ming hung below her, sinking slowly, her face obscured by long dark hair. She still had a grip on the cork ring, but had lost her hold on the white cloth. Vic kicked out, forcing herself down against the pull of her own cork ring. Still kicking, she undid her belt, letting the ring pull it free as she dove towards Ming.

  H
er own chest was bursting as she caught up to Ming, hanging limp in the water. Wrapping her good arm around the smaller woman, Vic kicked upwards. A moment later, Ming's eyes went wide, and she squeezed in against Vic's body. She looked lost, then Vic felt her move as Ming started kicking upward as well. Seconds later they broke the surface and gasped for air in unison.

  Vic started to laugh at their synchronicity, but it turned to coughing and spitting as she caught a mouthful of warm seawater. She finally got her mouth clear, just in time to catch a line from the oncoming gig.

  Ten minutes later, she was sitting in a towel in the ship's medical compartment with one arm wrapped around Ming, trying not to wince as a Dutch naval doctor examined her ribs and shoulder. “Ow, I don't speak Dutch!” Vic gritted her teeth as he probed her left shoulder, chattering away to Ming in rapid-fire Dutch. “We need to get away from that ship before it explodes!”

  Pain spiked up from her shoulder, as Ming interrupted her own discussion with the doctor. “He wants you to hold still while he puts your shoulder back.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” Vic worked her arm experimentally, swinging it in a large circle. “But we need to talk to the captain.”

  “Captain Doorman is directing rescue operations,” the doctor explained in clear but accented English. “He will get to you when he can.”

  “There's no one else on board to rescue!” Vic shouted, struggling to get up. “That ship's nothing but a trap for whoever tries to salvage it.”

  The doctor put a hand on her shoulder and tried to push her gently back down. Despite his white tropical uniform, he was sweating heavily. He was about the same height as Vic, maybe five-ten, but had a good hundred pounds on her. “I know your injuries were stressful, but you are safe now.” He smiled down at her. “We have the situation in hand, you need to let the professionals deal with it now.”

  Vic slapped the doctor's hand away.

  “You professionals don't have a clue!” She reached down to pull Ming to her feet beside her. “If we listen to you we'll all be back in the water and she can't swim!”