The Gates of Hell

by Chris Kennedy

  A bonus was coming for sure this month. They had nearly half a cargo container of gold in the bay. Pops had been right. They’d hit a vein of the good stuff once the cutter was running again. Hopefully the old cutter would hold up long enough to see if they got lucky again. It would be nice to have a full container to sell.

  The proximity alarm went off, startling Waldon as he was dozing. He looked at the screen in front of him and realized it didn’t show him the ship’s sensor screen. He’d left it on the internal systems check. Whatever ship was out there, it hadn’t been detected until it set off the alarms. That could only mean one thing. The ship was about to be locked with another, and probably boarded.

  He hit the button on the comms to warn Pops. Before he could say anything, the signal dropped off. He tried it twice more and realized the ship was being jammed. He thought it had to be the same pirates who’d robbed Stinky.

  Waldon reached for a strap and pulled himself out of the control seat. He quickly swapped the screens to show what was outside the ship. Near the rear of Pop’s ship was an old freighter. It wasn’t much more than twice their size, so the profit margins on hauling legitimate goods was close to zero. No wonder they’d chosen pirating instead.

  He felt the ship shudder when the boarding tube connected with the cargo ramp. They’d force it open or cut their way in. Either way, that gave Waldon a little time. He pushed off the bulkhead toward the back of the control compartment and the hatch. Pops kept a small armory hidden in a panel in the passageway between berths. Depending on the race attempting to gain entry, having a weapon might mean surviving the raid. If they didn’t take the whole ship.

  He made it to the panel before the boarders gained entry. He decided he had time to put on one of the emergency suits stored in the same false panel. He’d hold off on the helmet and sealing his suit until he had a little more information on the unwanted guests. He clipped the helmet to his side and grabbed a flechette rifle. The darts would damage most suits and cut deep into flesh, but they wouldn’t cause an outer hull breach.

  Before he closed the panel, he activated the lock-hatch protocol. Several hatches leading to the control compartment slid closed and locked. The hatches couldn’t be pried open because the sides of each were within the bulkheads. If you didn’t know the code and where the override panel controlling them was located, the only way through would be cutting them. Waldon was no longer annoyed at Pops for being suspicious by nature and insisting he knew about all the security features installed on Naydeen.

  Thankful the suit had magnetic boots, Waldon made his way to the cargo hold and crouched down behind the waist-high, half-full container. He set his rifle down and held his helmet in his hands. He waited to see if the boarders would enter wearing their own suits, or if the connecting tunnel was pressurized with atmosphere. It didn’t take long for him to find out.

  With a series of screeches, the small hatch in the center of the ramp was forced open an inch at a time. Whoever was doing it had a powered prybar. Waldon checked the display on his forearm. There was no loss of pressure, and the oxygen content remained steady. He put his helmet down and picked the rifle up. Unless they’d scanned the ship before boarding, he’d be a surprise. Especially if they’d been watching for the return of the small shuttle normally stored in the bay adjacent to the cargo hold.

  Once the hatch was open enough, the first boarder put a bar in place at the bottom of the opening to keep it from closing and slipped through. Waldon hesitated. He was surprised to see the orange and black of a tiger. The pirates were Pushtal. This is not going to be good, he thought. The Pushtal had a reputation for being ruthless. Once they found him, they would kill him, leaving no survivors.

  He fired the rifle…and missed. He was a technician and a mechanic, not a trained soldier. The dart hit the ramp and ricocheted back to hit the container he was hiding behind. Waldon fired three more times, and the final shot hit the pirate in the shoulder. It dropped below his angle of fire. As he stood slightly to take another shot, he was spun around by several of the same type darts hitting him in his upper arm.

  Waldon fell to his side, bleeding heavily. He looked at his arm. The suit was ripped open, and he knew the muscles were torn up pretty badly. The blood was dark, quickly soaking his sleeve and running across his chest as he lay on his side. Feeling lightheaded, he reached up and pulled the tab below his armpit, enacting one of the suit’s tourniquets, and passed out.

  * * *

  Pushtal Ship Ragged Edge

  The Pushtal growled softly as his mate dug in his shoulder with one of her claws. After a moment she pulled the flechette from the bleeding hole. Several of the crewmembers watched as the rough surgery was performed. They nodded in appreciation of their captain’s pain tolerance. None of them would have cried out, or so they each thought.

  “Damn that Human,” Kilthak said. “I should have shot him again instead of leaving him to bleed out.”

  “He’s surely dead,” his mate consoled him as she wrapped the shoulder. “He was hit in the arm and the chest. There was much blood over his upper body. I don’t know how much Humans have inside them, but he was covered in most of his.”

  Kilthak reached up with his good hand and ruffled the fur between her ears. “You’re right, Meetha. The pain is made all the more bearable with the thought of the gold in our hold. We’ll be able to upgrade and hire more crew. Perhaps the down payment on another ship is possible.”

  “Two ships is the beginning of a fleet,” she answered as she gathered her things to leave him to his decisions.

  “Blythin, target the engines,” Kilthak decided. “If we can’t get to the operations center, no one will. Let it burn into the moon. The type of ship I have in mind will be better suited to our needs than that one, anyway.”

  “Firing two missiles now,” answered his younger brother.

  “Take us back into the asteroid field while we plan our next move. The fools in this system continue to be ripe for the slaughter,” the pirate captain said.

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  Pops picked up a rock and threw it at the cutter. It bounced and went sailing off in the light gravity. It didn’t make the cutter start working again, but it made him feel better. He eased over to the break in the cliff to see if there was any sign of gold or platinum. He didn’t see any, not even traces of the type of rock found near veins of gold. Once Waldon fixed it again, he’d try somewhere else. Hell, maybe we’ll find red diamonds, he thought. Nah, I ain’t that lucky.

  He opened the panel on his forearm and called Waldon. There was no answer. He tried several times, then decided to move the cutter back into the shuttle and try again with the shuttle’s communication system. A mineral in the area he was mining could be blocking the transmission.

  “Probably the same dang thing that kept me from getting his call a while ago,” Pops said out loud. No one was within hours of him to hear him.

  The cutter wasn’t hard to move. The lack of gravity helped him. He made sure to move slowly and deliberately. With his tether still secured in the cargo hold, he engaged the reverse spin on the two anchors, and they twisted themselves out of the rock and dirt. Once they were free, he made his way into the hold and closed the ramp. After it was up, he retracted the two tie-down anchors.

  He tried again to call Waldon from the cockpit of the shuttle. There was still no answer, and he was concerned. Waldon was on the same time schedule he was, so at worst, he was taking a nap. The incoming call had always woken him before. Pops pushed the shuttle past the recommended thrust as he left the thin atmosphere of the moon.

  When he reached the designated orbit of his ship, he entered it and chose a direction. He’d catch up to Naydeen in no time. He watched his sensors for signs of the ship. Once he’d made a complete orbit, he knew there was an issue. Either the ship was gone, or it was damaged and drifting closer and closer to the moon. It would take some time before there would be an issue with burn in, but if Waldon was
hurt, or worse, he need to get to it fast.

  He dropped lower in orbit and made the trip again. On his eighth pass, closer to the moon each time, he caught a flicker of something on the edge of sensor range. He entered the adjustments into the helm and pushed it even harder. He flipped the shuttle and began slowing, timing it to match the drifting ship.

  When he got within viewing range, he saw the damage. The engines were destroyed. Very little atmosphere was venting from the powerplant, though. The compartment had sealed itself, by design. His sensors indicated the ship still had some functioning power, but no mobility.

  Pop’s slammed his fist on the console. Thinking quickly, he landed the shuttle on top of his ship and engaged the magnetic landing pads. Once the two were locked together, he increased thrust, and slowly pulled the ship from its descending orbit and up into open space.

  When the movement was nearly stopped, he disengaged the magnetic pads and flew around to the side of Naydeen. He activated the shuttle bay door, and to his surprise, it slowly slid open. He landed inside, shut down the shuttle, and waited for the bay to seal and regain pressure. Once the indicators showed it held steady and was safe, he moved as fast as his old legs could carry him. The magnetic boots of his suit kept him on the deck. He had to find Waldon.

  He found him lying in dried blood, his suit crusted with it. His knees were up, the soles still connected to the deck. Fearing the worst, Pops knelt beside Waldon and felt for a pulse. He found it. It was weak, but it was steady. He pulled the nanite kit from his thigh pocket and opened the hard case.

  He felt Waldon’s chest and could find no penetration signs in his suit. When he checked his arm, Pops noticed the discoloration of Waldon’s hand. Shaking his head, he probed the upper arm. He knew the tourniquet was the only thing that could have saved his friend. It hadn’t saved his arm, but it had saved his life. He injected the combat nanites above the tourniquet, knowing they’d begin to heal the end of the part of his arm that was still alive.

  Pops moved Waldon to his berth and inserted a line for a bag of artificial blood to make its way into the unconscious man. It had been years since he’d had to do that type of first aid. Still, he was happy with the results.

  He sat by his friend and waited with a bulb of water ready. A half hour later, Waldon stirred and moaned. Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked. His good hand reached across, only to be stopped by the IV line pulling.

  “Take it easy, Wally,” Pops said, “you’ll pull the dang needle out. It took me three tries to get it right. You might be a bit bruised there.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Waldon whispered. “I’m just glad to be alive.”

  “Who did it?” Pops asked. “Who’s the sumbitch what needs killin’?”

  “It was a Pushtal,” Waldon said. His voice broke, and he tried to lick his lips.

  “Here,” Pops said as he held the straw of the bulb up for Waldon to drink. “Sorry. I shoulda done that already.”

  “Thanks,” Waldon said, his voice stronger. “I said, it was a Pushtal. They’re the pirates.”

  “Well, hell,” Pops said. “Them’s the sumbitches what are fixin’ to die, then.”

  Waldon looked down at his hand. He tightened his lips in a grimace. “That one’s gone, I guess. Not much use for a one-armed mechanic.”

  “Bullshit,” Pops argued. “I seen plenty of mercs operate with a fake ‘un. After I kill them bastards and get the gold back, I’ll buy you the best on the market.”

  Waldon brightened. “Really? That’s great. There’s one that’ll allow you to attach tools to it. Screwdrivers and sockets. I’ll have a power ratchet on me at all times. If I can get more attachments, I don’t need the synthetic flesh. That’ll save some credit.”

  “We’ll get you whatever you want,” Pops said, standing. “Don’t you worry ‘bout the credits none.”

  “I think I hit one,” Waldon said, after a moment.

  “You did,” confirmed Pops. “I seen the blood near the ramp. You rest now. I need to see about the engines. It looks like she took a missile or two.”

  “Well, dang,” Waldon said. “Just when I had all three running good.”

  “Three?” Pops asked. “You got the backup engine running?”

  “Well, yeah,” Waldon said. “I been tinkering with it. I haven’t been running it ‘cause we ain’t needed it. If they fired missiles using sensors to target the engines, we still got one. It ain’t as powerful as the others, but it’ll land and take off from Aspara.”

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  Pops sealed the passageway to the power plant and put his helmet back on. Once he was in the green on his readings, he disengaged the safety override and opened the hatch to check on the engines. One was worse than the other. The missile aimed at it had hit it directly. The other engine was damaged, but not beyond repair, given time.

  He lifted the deck panel that led to the small compartment below and looked around. The backup engine was undamaged. The light in the bulkheads below came on when he lifted the panel. They were in business. He closed the panel.

  He used four cans of emergency sealant spray and sealed the powerplant where the missiles came in. The damage had been too great for the automatic systems to completely seal it. It would still need repair, but it was safe as long as they didn’t put too much stress on the hull of the ship. As he took his helmet off, he wondered why there wasn’t more damage than he could see. The missiles hadn’t exploded on impact. Instead, they’d simply penetrated and did kinetic damage.

  “That’s how they get most of their ships,” he said out loud. “They damage ‘em, but not more than can be fixed.” He looked around the compartment and realized he’d been talking to himself more and more these days. I’m getting old and crazy, he thought. Nah.

  Pops made his way to the control compartment and sat down at the helm console. He stood back up and took his protective suit off. He put his boots back on and paced back and forth, thinking, skinny legs in the tight bodysuit constantly moving. Suddenly it dawned on him. He knew where the pirates were hiding. He went to Waldon’s berth.

  “Hey,” Pops said as he stepped through the hatch. “You reckon you’ll be alright for a few more hours, or you want I should take you down to the planet and see a doc?”

  Waldon looked over at Pops, his eyes glassy. “I guess. The nanites are doing their thing. Some of them must have released a painkiller, ‘cause I feel fine. We know there ain’t no worry about infection now.” He made an effort to focus his eyes. “What the hell are you wearing? That suit liner is skintight. Your knees are bigger around than your thighs.”

  “Never mind my dang knees,” Pops said. “I’m talking ‘bout skinnin’ cats.”

  “Well, I can wait,” Waldon said. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

  “I think them sumbitches is hiding in the asteroid belt,” Pops answered. “I aim to go give ‘em what for.”

  “Good,” Waldon said, nodding slowly. “The sooner you do, the sooner I get an arm. This one is dead, you know. Doc’s gonna have to saw it off.” He started to sit up straighter. “Say, you want me to fly? I can do it with one arm, no problem.”

  “Hell, no!” Pops exclaimed. “You’re higher than a circling buzzard. You’ll get a feller killed. We’ll hit every asteroid in the belt.”

  “Well, okay then,” Waldon said, settling back. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’m gonna fine tune the sensors and find ‘em,” Pops explained. “The dang sensors won’t find us heavy metals on the surface of a moon through rock anymore, but I bet they’ll find a big ass ship floating among them. We just need to get close, and I’ll pay ‘em a visit in Lucille.”

  “Your mech?” Waldon asked. “You’re really gonna attack their ship with your Mk 7 CASPer?”

  “Damn right I am,” Pops confirmed. “She stays charged with a rack full of missiles on one shoulder and the MAC on the other’n.”

  “But I haven’t seen you run that thing in the last
three years. Well, ever.” Waldon argued.

  “That’s ‘cause I ain’t as young as I used to be,” Pops said. “Besides, I ain’t had a reason to climb inside. I been saving her to send to a great niece one of these days. Her grandma tells me she’s sweet as sugar and mean as a snake at the same time. I’m betting she takes the VOWS one day and scores better than I did. Anyway, it’s like riding a horse; it’ll come back to me.”

  “Well alrighty then,” Waldon murmured as he started to doze. He opened one eye. “I’ll help you fix her if you wreck her. I’d hate for you to send her to your kin all busted up.”

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  Pops eased Naydeen along the edge of the asteroid ring, not that the ship could move at anywhere near the speed she did with her main engines. He moved slowly to allow the sensors time to scan. He didn’t think the Pushtal ship had the same capabilities his did, so he wasn’t concerned with them sensing him.

  The screen he was watching flashed. A steady tone came from the overhead speakers. He checked the shape to compare it to the footage and readings in the security file. It matched the ship that had docked against Naydeen. He eased away from the closest asteroids on the edge of the belt and set the auto pilot. It was time to break out his pride and joy.

  He made his way to the shuttle bay by pushing off bulkheads and using hanging straps. When he got to the bay, he edged along one side until he reached a certain panel. He pushed on the upper corner, and a small, unseen door opened. He punched in his code, and the entire panel slid back several inches and shifted to the side, out of sight. In the ready room, his CASPer waited for him.