Escape Velocity

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Escape Velocity Page 11

by Christopher Stasheff


  Sam turned her back to him. Dar checked her connections, then turned on her air supply. When the meter read in the blue, he tapped her shoulder and turned his back. He could feel her hands fumbling over him; then air hissed in his helmet. He took a breath and nodded, then turned to the hatch, wrenched it open, and waved Sam in. She stepped through; he followed, and pulled the door closed behind them, wrenching it down. Sam had already pushed the cycle button. When the air had been pumped back into the reserve tank, the green light lit up over the side hatch. Dar leaned on the handle and hauled back; the three-foot circle swung open. Sam stepped through, and Dar stepped after her.

  He sat down, stretching the web over his body. Sam leaned over to touch helmets. “How about the pilot?”

  “He's on his own—got his own lifeboat if he wants it.” Dar punched the power button, and the control panel lit up.

  “You know how to drive this thing?”

  “Sure; besides, how can you go wrong, with two buttons, two pedals, and a steering wheel?”

  “I could think of a few ways.”

  Dar shrugged. “So I'm not creative. Here goes.” The “READY” light was blinking; he stabbed at the “EJECT” button.

  A five-hundred-pound masseur slammed him in the chest, and went to work on the rest of his body. Then the steamroller lightened to a flatiron, and Dar could breathe again. He sat up against the push of slackening acceleration and looked around through the bubble-dome. It had darkened to his right, where a sun was close enough to show a small disk and kick out some lethal radiation. But that didn't matter; the silver slab of pirate ship filled most of the starboard sky. “Way too close,” Dar muttered, and pressed down on the acceleration pedal. The flatiron pressed down on him again, expanding into a printing press. He glanced behind him, once, at the silver-baseball courier ship, then turned back to the emptiness before him.

  Sam struggled forward against the pull of acceleration. “Any chance they haven't spotted us?”

  Dar shrugged. “Hard to say. We'll show up on their detectors; but they might not pay attention to anything this small.”

  Then the silver slab began to slide toward them.

  “Do they have to be so damn observant?” Dar adjusted his chair upright and tromped down on the acceleration pedal. The masseur dumped the steamroller on him again, shoving him back into the chair; he could just barely stretch his arms enough to hold onto the wheel.

  The silver slab picked up speed.

  “Somehow, I don't think we can outrun them.” Dar turned the wheel left; the port-attitude jets slackened, then died, as the starboard jets boosted their mutter to a roar, and the lifeboat turned in a graceful U, throwing Dar over against Sam. She sat huddled back in her chair, face pale, eyes huge.

  No wonder, Dar thought. He'd feel the same way if he were a passenger in a boat he was driving. He straightened out the wheel and held the pedal down, sending the little ship arrowing back toward the courier ship, which was taking advantage of the pirates' preoccupation to try to sneak away.

  Sam struggled forward, adjusting her chair upright, and laid her helmet against his. “Shouldn't we be going away from them?”

  Dar shook his head. “They'd have about as much trouble catching us as a lean cat would have with a fat mouse. Our only chance is to hide.”

  “Hide? Behind what? There's nothing out here!”

  A bright red energy-bolt exploded just behind them and a little to their right.

  “YEOW!” Sam shrank down inside her suit. “Hide behind something! Fast!”

  “As fast as I can.” Dar threw the wheel hard over Sam slammed hard against his side.

  “What're you doing?”

  “Evasive action. They might get smart and hook that cannon up to a ballistic computer.” And Dar proceeded to lay a course that would have given a triple-jointed snake double lumbago. They rattled around inside the lifeboat like dice in a cup.

  “We're winning,” Dar grated. “We've got it confused.”

  A fireball exploded right under their tail.

  “YEOW! Learns fast, doesn't it?” Dar tromped hard on the accelerator and pushed on the wheel. They dived, and a great gleaming curve slid by overhead. Then they were out, with open space before them. Dar pressed down on the deceleration pedal, and threw himself and Sam forward against their webbing.

  Her helmet cracked against his. “Why don't you keep on running?”

  “ ‘Cause they'd catch us.” Dar turned the boat, sent it racing back toward the silver sphere and the slab that loomed over it like a tombstone.

  Sam stiffened in her seat. “Don't ram it!”

  “No fear.”

  Blue sparks spattered up all around the courier. “I think they just mistook it for us.” Then Dar pushed on the wheel again. The lifeboat dived, and the bottom of the silver sphere swam by overhead again.

  “Why?” Sam fairly shrieked.

  “Because.”

  The little ship spat out from under the courier, darting across the gap toward the silver slab.

  Sam took a deep breath. “Correct me if I'm wrong—but aren't we supposed to be trying to get away from them?”

  “Yes—and we are.” The silver slab loomed right above them, so close it seemed they could almost touch it. Dar shoved on the deceleration pedal again, slowing the lifeboat by deft touches till the pitted silver plates above them were almost motionless. “There!” He sat back and relaxed. “We've matched velocities. With any luck, they won't have noticed us jumping under them; they'll have been too busy taking potshots at the courier.”

  “Why wouldn't they notice us?”

  “Because it would make a lot more sense for us to be still hiding behind our mother ship.”

  “Definitely.” Sam glanced up at the pirate with apprehension.

  “Even if they do start looking for us, they're apt to overlook us—unless they've got their ventral detectors on.”

  “Which they probably have.”

  “With our luck, of course. But even if they do, they probably won't see us—we're too close to their skin, in their detectors' shadow.”

  “Nice theory.” Sam settled back. “What happens if you're wrong?”

  “Well, in that case, they shoot away from us faster than we can go, leave us sitting here, and play skeet shoot.”

  “Now I know why I always sympathized with the clay pigeons.” Sam shivered. “What're they doing?”

  Dar turned around, looking out over the tail. “Still trying to shoot through the courier . . . whup!”

  “ ‘Whup,' what?” Sam asked with foreboding.

  “The courier's moving away—‘streaking' would be more likely. Brace yourself—the pirates're going after him, and fast! Even damaged, that courier's quick!”

  Sam frowned. “Then how'd the pirates catch 'em in the first place?”

  “Lurking in ambush.”

  “Lurking where? There's no cover bigger than a hydrogen atom out here!”

  “Whup! There they go!” Dar spun around and set himself as the silver slab slid away toward their rear. Dar pushed down the acceleration pedal, heading sunwards.

  “We . . . can't . . . possibly outrun . . . them,” Sam grated against the pull of acceleration.

  “Not if they're going . . . our way,” Dar answered. “But at the moment . . . they're going . . . out, and we're going . . . in.”

  “Why bother?” Sam spoke more easily. “As soon as they're done with the courier, they'll come after us.”

  “Assuming we're big enough to bother with. But by that time, maybe we can find a place to hide.”

  “Hide? Where?”

  “Wherever they did, while they were lurking . . . there!” Dar's forefinger stabbed out, pointing ahead, at a string of pierced diamonds backlit by the sun. “Asteroids! They confused the ship's detection system; it thought the pirates' ship was just a large rock, closer than the others!”

  Sam stared. “What're they doing here?”

  “This is not the time to ask qu
estions.” Dar craned around, looking aft. “They're still going after the courier . . . they've overhauled it, they're gonna fire a warning shot. . . . NO! They're starting to slow and turn!”

  Sam stared. “Why?”

  “Because they're not interested in the courier, obviously! They just took a peek, saw our boat's pod was still empty and we were nowhere in sight, and started scanning for us!”

  Sam frowned, shaking her head. “I don't get it. You make it sound as though they want us.”

  “Guess what?” Dar said dryly. “What I'd like to know is how they knew we were aboard?”

  “Maybe they didn't,” Sam said hopefully. “Maybe they think we're somebody else.”

  “You'll pardon me if I don't stay around to find out.” Dar swerved and jammed the deceleration pedal; the ship bucked as the nose rockets spewed superheated steam, slamming them into their webbing. The shiplet danced and curvetted as Dar tried to avoid the smaller chunks of stone and metal. The ship rang like a cymbal in a percussion solo, but nothing holed them. Dar managed to match velocity with an asteroid a little larger than the lifeboat. The ringing diminished to an occasional dong.

  “So far, we're fantastically lucky.” Dar killed all power. “As long as we don't run into a really fast-moving pebble astern, or a slow-moving one ahead, we're okay. This lifeboat's got enough armor to take care of most of the debris.”

  Sam released a long, shaky breath. “Taking a bit of a chance, weren't you?”

  Dar shrugged. “I had a choice? Now, as long as we don't get our engines smashed, we're okay.”

  “And if we do?”

  “So, which would you rather be—a prisoner, or an asteroid?”

  Sam frowned. “Let me think it over.”

  “Sure.” Dar leaned back, folding his arms. “You'll have plenty of time.”

  The asteroid's path had carried them considerably out of the pirates' path; the huge silver slab flashed by overhead and well behind them.

  “Just like that?” Sam looked about her, puzzled. “They just go by and leave us?”

  “Wrong,” Dar said grimly. “They saw us curve off and join the asteroids, you can bet on it. But they couldn't decelerate fast enough to follow us—we do have an edge in maneuverability. They'll be back, though, don't worry.”

  “Thanks for the reassurance.” Sam sat very still. “Why'd you kill the power?”

  “Because at least one of their detectors searches for it. Right now, that's the only thing that makes us different from an asteroid, unless they happen to get close enough to eyeball us.”

  “Don't we reflect a lot more light?”

  “I chose a bright asteroid to hide next to.”

  “Here they come!” Sam yelped.

  Dar poised a finger over the power button.

  The pirates couldn't hear them, of course, and they both knew it—but the rabbit reflex took over, and they both sat rock-still as the silver tombstone drifted slowly over them in a prowling zigzag. It cruised closer, closer, and Dar felt an urge to shove his tiny boat to starboard, to nestle up against the comforting bulk of the asteroid. The pirate zagged to the right—and, as it zigged past them, it was out beyond their covering asteroid. It loomed closer and closer, but slanting away now. It crossed their path a good half-mile in front of them, and kept on going.

  Sam collapsed back against her chair with a sigh. “Thank heaven.”

  “Yeah.” Dar felt himself beginning to tremble as he lowered his finger from the power button. “I never thought I'd be so glad to be inconspicuous.”

  “As long as it worked.” Sam eyed him with dawning respect.

  Dar felt his pulse quicken—after all, she was the only woman for several million miles. Sam stiffened, pointing ahead. “Look! What're they doing?”

  Dar stared. A giant hatch had opened in the stomach of the silver tombstone.

  “They're gonna send down their scout boat for a closer look!” Dar lunged at the power button.

  Sam caught his arm. “No! You said that was a dead giveaway!”

  Dar paused, his eyes on the pirate ship. “Wait a minute! They're thinking it over.”

  A shuttle hung halfway out the huge hatchway, motionless. Then it started to rise back up into the mother ship, and the huge doors swung shut.

  “But why?” Dar bleated. “They had us dead cold!”

  “That's why!” Sam jabbed a finger toward the back window.

  A huge, truncated pyramid came hurtling toward them. A vast eye seemed to float above it. The pirate ship slid into motion, gathering speed, and streaked away.

  Dar winced in sympathy. “I'd've hated to've taken that slap of acceleration . . . But they didn't have much choice, did they?”

  “Why not?” Sam stared at the approaching pyramid. “What is that megalith?”

  “The cops.” Dar shrugged. “Which ones, I'm not sure—but it comes out to the same thing. For once, I'm glad to see them.”

  “Yo! Over here! Whoa! Help!” Sam tried to stand up, waving her arms frantically. “Damn! Don't they hear us?”

  “Sound waves don't travel too well through vacuum,” Dar pointed out.

  “I know, I know,” Sam groused, dropping back into her seat. “Just carried away by the heat of the moment.”

  “So are they,” Dar noted, watching the police ship zip by.

  “Now what do we do? Get out and walk?”

  “Well, presumably we're in the Haldane system, since that's where we were going. And at our top speed, it can't be more than three or four months to the nearest habitable planet.”

  “I don't think I can wait that long for lunch.”

  “Oh, I'm sure there're some rations tucked away around here somewhere. But I don't think we'll have to wait that long. I expect the police ship to be coming back this way pretty soon.”

  “Why?” Sam frowned. “For reinforcements?”

  “Oh, they don't need any. Did you see that 'eye' on top of their ship? It is one very powerful blaster.”

  “Oh.” Sam chewed that one over. “That why the pirates ran?”

  Dar nodded. “With that ‘eye,' the police have the pirates out-ranged, no matter how many guns they mount.”

  “So why'll the police be coming back?”

  “Because the pirate ship also mounts an isomorpher, and I strongly suspect that police ship is purely local. As soon as the pirate goes into H-space, the police'll be homeward bound.”

  “Oh.” Sam thought it over. “But couldn't the police catch the pirates before they isomorph?”

  “They could,” Dar said judiciously, “but I don't think they will. Those pirates're going to be very good at running. If they're not, they lose profits. So they'll take risks the police won't.”

  “Like going into H-space too soon?”

  “That's possible. If you see a big explosion, you'll know they tried it.”

  They waited, staring ahead, where the police ship had dwindled to a glint of light.

  After a while, Sam ventured, “I don't think they tried it.”

  A speck of light glinted in the distance. Dar's finger sprang out to the power button again.

  “Not yet!” Sam cried. “We don't know who won!”

  “I bet we're gonna find out, though.” Dar waited, tense.

  The glint grew into a dot, and kept growing.

  It became a triangular dot.

  “Victory!” Dar stabbed the button, and the engine roared into life. “Let's hear it for the good guys!” He hauled back on the wheel, and the boat sprang up out of the plane of the ecliptic, toward the police ship.

  “Shouldn't we identify ourselves? So they don't think we're attacking?”

  “Not as ridiculous as it sounds,” Dar said soberly. “For all they know, we could be a torpedo. There oughta be some kinda distress beacon around here. See if you can find it, will ya?”

  It was labeled “Distress Beacon,” and it only had one button. Sam pressed it, and waited.

  “How do we know if it's working?” sh
e said finally.

  “How do you know God listens?” Dar retorted. “It's got radio; we don't.”

  “Faith,” Sam grumbled. “Does it always have to come down to that?”

  The pyramid loomed up toward them—and disappeared in a cloud of steam.

  “They heard us!” Dar yelped. “They're decelerating!”

  The fog cleared, and the police ship towered over them.

  Sam shrank back. “I can't help it—I feel as though it's going to fall on me!”

  And it did. The great pyramid sank toward them, giving them a fly's-eye view of a giant foot. Dar opened his mouth to scream just as a hatch slid open in the huge silver wall above them, swooping down to swallow them up.

  “Saved?” someone croaked. Dar would've thought it was Sam, but it was coming from inside his own head.

  “Just glad we were nearby.” The captain poured two glasses of brandy and held them out to Sam and Dar. His insignia gleamed on the breast of his doublet—an eye-topped pyramid with “Space Police” inside it in cursive script. Arcing above it were the words, “Hal. IV,” and, below it, “Falstaff.” It stood out in a sea of ocher—no, maybe an ocean. The captain was obese, to say the least. So was his crew—the smallest of them was at least four feet around, and all were shorter than Dar. The captain also had the typical Haldane IV face: florid, with long curly hair and a jawline beard.

  Dar accepted the brandy eagerly, but Sam held up a palm. “Thanks, but I don't believe in alcohol.”

  The captain blinked in surprise. “I assure you, it exists.”

  “We were lucky you were in the neighborhood,” Dar said quickly.

  “Well, it wasn't entirely luck,” the captain admitted. “We have had reports about pirates trying to ambush merchantmen at the H-space jump points. But last week a freighter full of pickled herring that was supposed to come through this way, didn't—so we decided to guard this jump point. We only have this one patrol cruiser, so you'll understand that we couldn't guard all the points.”

  “And the load of pickled herring was that important?” Dar said in surprise.

 

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