Nude sat while clearing his head. Then, seeing Marsengar cradling his injured tentacle, Dr. Chalmis’Noud’Ourien hopped down from the table, wincing, and insisted on checking the Foren’s injury.
“Captain, you may continue your exploration of the ship. I will endeavor to find the proper equipment and supplies to treat our injuries. Go. We will be fine.”
Kalen hesitated before nodding. “Holler if you need me. I don’t know if I’ll hear, but….”
He shrugged and headed down the main passageway. He checked every compartment for survivors, but found none in the first dozen he checked. Several were sealed shut, evidently holed from without and automatically sealed against pressure loss.
Then he found a Melphim female in the aft armory, and a male Blensian in the galley, covered in a red sauce that he mistook for blood at first—until he remembered that Blensians have blue-green blood. He had to help the froglike creature limp back to the medical bay for treatment. The Melphim, despite two broken arms and a dislocated shoulder, made it back on her own.
Finally, Kalen reached the engine room. The back half was crushed in, destroying the sublight drive, but amazingly the room was still airtight. So much for flying home.
Kalen discovered a woman sitting on the floor and leaning back against part of the hyperflight drive, coughing up blood. She had a two-foot length of parasteel pipe sticking out of her abdomen.
“Di-did we….” She coughed up more blood. “...win, sir?
Kalen couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. Without a working sickbay and proper medical equipment, there was no hope of saving her. He sat beside her and put his arm around her. “Yes, Mary-Lou,” he said softly, “we kicked their asses up one side and down the other.”
“Goo-good,” she gurgled. “Damn pirates….” She shuddered once, and was still.
Kalen closed her eyes and wiped the blood from her mouth. Then he laid her gently on the deck. Closing his own eyes, he briefly allowed himself the luxury of tears—not only for her but for all the crew he’d lost over the past three years.
“I think I figured out what happened to the ninth Unity ship, Tarl.” Ishtawahl paused with a triumphant expression on his face.
“Well?” Penrod, asked after a beat. “Are you going to make me guess?”
“Look at this holo footage one of the salvage ships just sent back.” He clicked the remote control button for the viewscreen opposite Penrod’s desk. The wall lit up with a view of torn and flattened metal jutting from the face of an asteroid.
“So? I see wreckage. It doesn’t look any different from the footage I watched earlier.”
“It’s not. But keep watching.” The holocam panned across the debris field. The Alberian paused the footage. “See the markings there?” He pointed to the center of the screen.
“Sure. It’s the tail number of the ship.”
“Right. Now keep watching as the cam passes over the wreckage.” He advanced the holo slowly and then hit pause again. “There. See that?” He pointed now to the top left edge of the screen.
“Again, tail numbers.”
“Exactly. Now watch.” He manipulated the controls to split the screen and rotate the two images. “On the left is the first set of markings we saw and on the right the second, digitally enhanced.”
“They’re different. But….”
“Exactly. They are not from the same ship.”
Penrod nodded with lips pursed. “Good catch.”
“Thank you, sir.” He neglected to point out that it was a crewmember of the salvage ship that actually spotted the discrepancy.
“So that’s it, then. They were both crushed against the asteroid. End of story. End of salvage.”
“No, sir.”
“No?” Penrod wore a frown. “I don’t follow.”
“The debris field here is no thicker than anywhere else a ship crashed.”
“So…what? This is just a piece of the tail of the ninth ship, and the rest is elsewhere?”
“No, this is the tail of the ninth ship. See here?” He pointed to the top edge of the screen, and then to the bottom. “What you see is part of a crevasse in the asteroid—a small ravine, if you will—mostly obscured by the wreckage from the smashed ship. What I believe happened is that the ninth ship was hurled into the ravine, prow first and wedged between the walls, like a stopper in a bottle. The narrowing walls would have slowed the ship and then stopped it, perhaps before reaching the bottom of the crevasse. Then the other ship smashed into the asteroid crosswise, forcing the ninth ship further into the crevasse and nearly covering the entrance to the ravine and the tail of the ninth ship.”
Penrod’s eyebrows shot up. “And that’s why we see only part of the tail of the ninth ship, flattened. Excellent. So, perhaps most of the ship is in one piece. What do you think are the odds?”
Ishtawahl shrugged. “Impossible to say, sir. It all depends on how deep the ravine is. The prow may be smashed flat, or not.”
Penrod nodded. “If not, we may be able to access the ship’s computer and access its data. There’s no telling what we might learn. Do we know if this ship fired its nukes?”
Ishtawahl shook his head. “It is too soon to tell which did and which did not. There is a definite radiation signature in the area consistent with at least two nuclear warheads; however there is no way to tell yet from which of the two ships the radiation is emanating.”
“By all means, let’s see if we can recover them. Nuclear-tipped missiles would make an excellent addition to our munitions stockpile. I daresay we could find a use for them.” He smiled. “Continue salvage operations. Let’s open that tin can and see what’s inside.”
With everyone patched up, the seven survivors aboard Adventurer gathered in the medical bay. Nude and the Blensian, Fesel Pharetha Shoh, were arguing about something trivial.
“Aren’t we a sorry excuse for a crew,” Kalen interrupted. He shook his head in frustration. “Two humans, a Chan’Yi, a Blensian, a Foren, a Melphim, and an Alberian, all of us injured to one degree or another. Still, we’re all we have—and yet we can’t seem to get along. That’s going to stop right now. If we’re to stand a chance of surviving this debacle, we have to work together as a team.
“With more than ninety of our comrades gone, we’ve all lost friends. I’d like to have a moment of silence to remember them.” He bowed his head.
The nonhuman crewmembers grieved in their own ways. Fesel skipped the customary throat-sac thrum customary to his people, in deference to his Captain’s wishes, and limited himself to changing the color of his skin in creative patterns designed to soothe the soul. Senten Po, the Melphim, began mouthing what Kalen took to be an epic poem she was composing in her head, honoring her fallen comrades. Nude likewise did nothing outwardly visible, however Kalen knew he’d be remembering something special or noteworthy about each of those he was close to. Gort expanded and contracted his dorsal fringe in the ritualistic funereal pulse of the Alberians.
The angry flush on Hal’s face, visible out of the corner of Kalen’s eye, told him his pilot’s idea of honoring his fallen friends was to get back at those responsible.
After a lengthy pause, Kalen looked up again, fixing each member of his crew in turn with a firm gaze. “Thank you, my friends. Now, then, let’s figure out what we’re going to do to keep ourselves alive.”
“Have we gotten inside the ninth ship yet?” Penrod, ever impatient, hovered in the doorway to Ishtawahl’s office.
“Not yet, Tarl. There’s a lot of debris blocking access to the ship. It takes time to move that much material, especially when it’s embedded in the surface of an asteroid. In some places we have to cut through many layers of armored steel. In others, it’s easier to blast it loose from the rock. In still others, we can use the salvage ships to rip the debris loose. And then we will have to cut our way into the ship. We are almost done, but it will be at least an hour before we are inside.”
Penrod sighed and then nodded. “Ver
y well. Keep me apprised.”
Ishtawahl frowned at his boss’s retreating back. Do I not always?
“We can forget about restoring power to the ship.” Hal looked to Gort Ashredahl, who nodded his agreement. The seven had gathered in the medical bay again for a status report.
“That means no air circulation, no water purification, no electricity, no heat, no engines, no weapons, no shields, no communications, no nothing. Even the emergency backup generators are busted up. The only power we have is via batteries and fuel cells. We have flashlights and hand tools. That’s about it.”
“On the plus side,” Ashredahl contributed, “we have thousands of liters of water for drinking and bathing. Although, without power for the pumps it might be hard to get to.”
Kalen acknowledged the information with a nod. “How long before the air gives out?”
Hal shrugged. “A day, maybe, unless we can crack open some air tanks without power. But it’ll get deathly cold long before that. We’ll need our EVA suits for heat before too long, and their fuel cells won’t last forever.”
Kalen looked to Senten Po, the Melphim armory officer, and Marsengar, the Foren tactical officer who’d acted as Po’s hands.
Po’s right arm and left wrist were both splinted and the right one was in a sling. “We have dozens of hand weapons. Nearly all survived the crash in their cradles. There are energy weapons and slug-throwers, as well as thousands of rounds of both armor-piercing and frangible bullets. We are well equipped to fight a hand-to-hand battle. Of course, there are only six of us in shape to use them to fight off a pirate attack.” She looked embarrassed at her failure to be among the six.
“Thank you, Senten. Fesel?”
The Blensian galley cook stood to the full extent his meter-and-a-bit height would allow. “Much of the food and drink was destroyed or contaminated in the crash. However, there is enough left to last us for several weeks—longer, if we are frugal.”
“We won’t starve or die of thirst anytime soon, then. That expands our options, anyway. Thank you everyone. Now, as I see it, there are two possibilities: either the pirates will come for us or they won’t. Without a functioning hyperflight drive, or even a sublight drive, we’re not going anywhere, and we have no way to call for help.
“So, it looks like our only hope for survival is the pirates.”
This pronouncement produced the expected jumble of objections from several sets of lips. Only Hal was silent, nodding.
Kalen raised his hands to quell the hubbub. “If you have any other ideas, I’m open to suggestion.” He paused for several seconds, but nothing was forthcoming from the others.
“I don’t know what happened to the pirate fortress that was supposed to be here—maybe it was all a ruse to lure us into this trap—but clearly the pirates have a lot of ships at their disposal. Even if the Unity were to send other ships to find out what happened to us, I don’t see how they could find us where we are, deep inside the inner shield wall of asteroids. And that’s assuming they survived attack by the pirate ships in the area. Have you forgotten the pocket battleship that picked our fleet apart?” The mixture of anger and frustration on the others’ faces told him they hadn’t.
“So it’s either the pirates or we hide here inside Adventurer until we suffocate or freeze. Is that how you all want to go out?”
“But sir,” Marsengar countered, “is surrendering even an option? How do we know they won’t just kill us on sight?”
Kalen shrugged. “We don’t. We plan for the worst and hope for the best. We’ll take our cues from the pirates. We know they’re coming, from the vibrations we felt through the hull earlier. It’ll take them a while to get to us. If they enter the ship with guns blazing, we fight for all we’re worth. Maybe we can take out a few of them before they get us. On the other hand, maybe they’ll be reasonable and we can negotiate a peaceful surrender. Believe me, I’m not looking forward to a life of slavery any more than the rest of you. But that’s better than death, isn’t it? At least it gives us an opportunity to escape or win our freedom later.”
The thoughtful nods he saw told him the others agreed.
“Very well, then. Everyone put your suits back on and arm up. We have to be ready for anything. When they come, it’ll probably be at either the fore or aft access hatch—or both. We’ll split up into two groups and guard the hatches. I never thought I’d be saying these words, but let’s hope the pirates get here soon.”
“We’re almost through, Tarl,” Ishtawahl reported. “I have people cutting through all access hatches. We should be able to penetrate the interior quickly—in case anyone is alive inside and objects to our presence.”
“Excellent, Jern, excellent! From the holo footage I’ve seen, the ship seems to be in pretty good shape structurally. There’s no telling what we might find inside. I’m as giddy as a schoolgirl. I can’t wait to find out what’s salvageable in there. And maybe we’ll come up with some slaves after all.”
“Perhaps so—assuming they do not fight back.”
“Yes, well, if they do, don’t waste time. Get rid of them with all haste. I want those nukes, if they’re recoverable.”
“Yes sir. That is what I expected you to say. I have already instructed the boarding parties along those lines.”
“Good, good. Let’s get going, then.”
“Here they come,” Hal whispered. He, Marsengar, and Gort Ashredahl, wearing spacesuits, guarded the fore access hatch, where the pirates’ plasma torches had nearly cut through the airlock’s hinges. Most of the ship’s air had whistled out through the cuts during the last twenty minutes.
“Remember, no one fire unless they fire first, and then give them all you’ve got.”
Each crewmember had a weapon in each hand and a pile of others nearby. Once the shooting started, there wouldn’t be time for reloading. The crew hid behind a barrier of metal furniture and equipment, hauled and shoved into place for that purpose—not the easiest feat in zero gravity. Another jumble of debris partially blocked the hatch. If the pirates were going to get into the ship, they’d have to climb around or through it while fighting the defenders.
Hal wished he could wipe the sweat off his palms and said a quick prayer.
“Any second now.” Kalen looked at his tiny crew, what there was of it, and resisted the urge to sigh. All he had to stave off a pirate attack through the aft door was a Chan’Yi doctor sworn to protect life, a Blensian—never the bravest of souls, and a Melphim who barely had use of the fingers on one hand and no use of the other hand at all.
If it came to a firefight, they didn’t stand a chance.
The access hatch blew in, partially dislodging the debris in front of it, followed by a flash-bang grenade. Due to the near vacuum now in Adventurer, the noise was barely noticeable, but the intensely bright flash had the desired effect. In a split-second, Kalen was rendered blind and disoriented. Through his tightly closed eyelids, he couldn’t tell who fired first, but the flashes from one or both directions were apparent even in his confused state. Realizing he had no choice, he shot back with both hands. Although firing blind, at least he didn’t have to worry about hitting any of his people, who were on either side of him.
Heaven help us.
CHAPTER TEN
“How do you think the battle’s going, sir?” Undercommissioner Spelvin Mynax had stopped by his boss’s office to ask the question on the minds of all the senior Unity officials.
Commissioner of the Fleet Boutan’Mourn’Froul shrugged, just as antsy as his second-in-command, and paused in his pacing. “There is no way to tell. Until the fleet returns we are completely in the dark. Whatever happened, I imagine it must be over by now.”
The main advantage the defenders had was that the access hatches were wide enough to admit only two people abreast. Even a few defenders could choke off those ingress points with a torrent of fire from energy weapons. Of course, there was an equally steady stream of fire returning from the other direction, with mor
e pirates firing around the edges of the hatches at once than Adventurer had in total. Worse, the energy weapons the seven defenders had wouldn’t last forever.
Senten Po was the first to fall. Although the big Melphim armory officer was by far the best shot of the survivors, with her injuries she couldn’t manage the same rate of fire as the others. As a result, there were longer gaps the pirates could fire through. And with such a large target to aim at, it was inevitable a shot would find its mark.
The first energy bolt got her shoulder. A split-second later another energy burst penetrated her helmet and hit her full in the face. She was dead before she bounced off the back wall.
At the other access door, Gort Ashredahl was the next to go. A freak deflection of a slug off the edge of a panel hit him at an angle, clipping the bridge of his nose, perforating his left eye and exiting through the side of his head at such an angle that it missed the brain entirely. It was a grave but not mortal wound—at least, not until his suit’s air bled out. However the pain caused him to rear up and roar like a giant thunderbeast from his race’s primitive past. Two more shots hit him in the chest within a quarter-second of one another. Either would have been fatal.
Dead pirates accumulated even faster on the other side of the access hatches, but the pirates had many more bodies to throw into the fray than did the crew of Adventurer.
As a former fighter pilot, Hal was used to being shot at. But seeing his opponents’ faces at such close range was a new and unsettling thing for him. So was the tingle of high-energy bursts passing near enough to his head to make his hair stand on end inside his helmet. Even though firing handguns was for ground-pounders and not pilots, Hal gave a good account of himself, taking out at least three pirates that he was sure of.
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