His nose flared. He’d seen the ‘mercy’ of the royal family. He and his crew had a better chance with the black hole. At the moment, though, his ship was caught between the two of them.
Cal rubbed his chin. He needed to think this through; but first, he needed to understand what he was really dealing with.
He leaned back in his chair. “It’s only energy. The prince is manipulating space, but how?”
Doc typed into his panel. “It’s like he’s solidifying the lack of matter…making something out of nothing. It’s impossible.”
Cal clenched his armrests. The giant hand widened, ready to grab them. Whatever this was, it was solid. If it is was solid, it could be destroyed. “Hit it with a particle beam.”
Ethan shook his head. “We don’t have enough energy to turn the ship. I sure as heck can’t give you a particle beam.”
Cal clenched his teeth as the hand reached them. He glanced at Alanna. “You can’t get a lock to jump us safely, right?”
Her eyes widened. “No. There is too much interference.”
“Then just jump us anywhere.”
She shook her head. “We could end up in the black hole.”
Or they could end up somewhere safe. They had a fifty-fifty chance. If the prince got them, they’d be executed. “Do it.”
Her fingers trembled, but she still called up the ring of blue light and started spinning the gears.
“Here we go.” She scrunched her face and tapped the center of the floating circle.
Space stretched. Cal’s stomach heaved, but he closed one eye to steady himself. Someone slammed to the floor—Doc, maybe. Light blasted out on all sides before they stopped.
Cal took a breath. “Where are we?”
Alanna blinked. “Shoot! We only moved a few feet.”
“What?” A few spans away, the giant hand closed down on the empty space where the Renegade used to be.
Technically, they’d gone nowhere, but they’d gone just far enough.
The ship rumbled. The stars started to stretch out again.
Cal looked over his shoulder. “Alanna, are you jumping us again?”
“It’s not me.”
Ty spewed out a colorful collection of expletives.
“What?” Cal asked.
Cal’s first mate pointed out the window. The ship tilted, leaving them peering down the gaping maw of an enormous swirling vortex of red, blue, yellow, and green.
Alanna had moved them out of the way of the attacking prince, but closer to the black hole.
The lights gleamed, beckoning, promising joy like a twinkling tree on winter solstice morning.
Until they started to spiral.
Alanna screeched.
Loose pieces of the ship and personal items took flight. Something slashed against Cal’s face, followed by something larger. “Can anyone stabilize us?”
Ty answered, but the rattling of the ship covered his words.
The lights outside blended into one solid wall of white. They hung limp in space before dropping into another vortex of blue and black.
Someone retched, and something warm and wet hit Cal’s hand. The stench of vomit filled the room. At a bare minimum, that meant he wasn’t the only one still alive, and for now, he’d take whatever good news he could get.
The ship banked right, and the vortex turned red, then blue, then yellow before they dropped into normal space again. The navigational computers beeped in warning, flashing their inability to locate their position.
Cal blinked away the glossy sheen blurring his vision as they careened toward a massive wall of scrap metal in the distance. The sensors on his console swirled through databases, unable to identify the metallurgy.
Of course they couldn’t. They’d just dropped out of a black hole. They could be anywhere, and that junk could be a million years old.
He tried to inhale, but his lungs refused to fill with air. Flashes of light exploded before his eyes. He needed oxygen. He needed to breathe. But…how did you do that?
His mind whirled. He knew he needed to fill his lungs, but his brain refused to comply.
The ship listed left, still careening toward the debris field.
His chest ached, and his vision blurred before his body twitched, remembering.
He drew in a deep breath, then another.
A dull hum filled his ears. Ty and Alanna lay over their stations, unconscious. Doc lay crumpled in the corner, his neck at an unnatural angle. Ethan moaned, trying to push himself up off the floor before collapsing back to the tiles.
Cal blinked away the last of the fog as the yellow light started flashing on the pilot’s panel, illuminating Ty’s lax face.
The massive hunks of metal hung like a wall in the distance, confirming that this time, the flashing wasn’t a shorted fuse. It was an honest-to-goodness proximity warning. The mind-numbing blast of the alarm followed, and bright lights flashed around him.
Still, the crew didn’t stir.
Taking another deep breath, Cal typed in his override codes and took the helm from Ty’s station. He engaged the thrusters, but nothing happened. He pressed the button again and again as they advanced on the wall of metal.
Cal considered the massive hunk of debris filling his screen. Ethan had said they couldn’t take another hit to the hull, and now Cal was staring at a giant metal mallet aimed right at them.
They’d come so far—survived an attack by a royal cruiser, and the throat of a black hole. He wasn’t about to let them die on impact in some sort of cosmic junkyard.
He scanned the bridge, looking for something…anything to help them. Without power to the engines, though, there wasn’t much he could do. Unless he could find something that didn’t need an outside energy source.
Hydraulics.
Hydraulics didn’t need power to work. It was a long shot, but a long shot was all he had at the moment.
He opened the emergency panel on the wall and rerouted some of the oxygen to the hallway and hydraulic storage area.
He waited, breathing heavily, before the other compartments turned from red to green.
Thank the stars something was finally going in his favor.
Sprinting from the bridge, he slid down the ladders to the lower decks.
The ship lurched. The artificial gravity sent him stumbling backward. Cal grabbed on to a side panel, pulling himself up like scaling a hill rather than walking down the hall. The hull thumped against something, and he froze, but there was no telltale hiss signaling the venting of air. He still had time.
How much, he had no clue.
He dragged himself forward, and the ship shifted in the other direction. Finally, fate had joined his team! He darted through the hall, now running downhill until he reached the main cargo bay.
A new set of alarms went off. Deeper and louder, as if he needed more of a reminder that they were about to die. Something squeaked, like metal scratching against the outer walls.
They’d reached the debris field. He was out of time.
36
Cal
Grabbing a manual crank from the emergency panel, Cal pried open the doors of the primary cargo bay.
Inside, seven hydraulic lifts still held freight containers overhead. That might be just enough weight to save their lives. All he had to do was get the machines to release their payloads. Then—he hoped—the ship would drift in the direction the weight had dropped, pushing them enough off course to float right past the debris.
It was only a theory, and he wished he had Doc’s big brain to back it up, but for now, he could only rely on his instincts.
He sprinted to the first lift and slammed the heel of his hand onto the big blue release button.
Nothing happened.
“Come on!”
Cal stumbled back. His head pounded as the alarms screamed overhead. The last thing he needed was all that star-blasted noise!
He made his way to a control panel and disengaged the speakers. He needed to think. There had to be somethin
g in there to help.
And there it was…like a beacon of hope…an old-fashioned yellow card hanging off the edge of the last machine. Safety Protocols. He scanned over the first paragraph. To make sure none of the cargo drops accidentally…
Screw accidentally! What if you wanted to drop it all on purpose?
The screech against the hull deepened. If the Star Renegade rolled—if that hunk of metal out there hit the damaged side of the ship—they were done for.
He read further. Safety, safety…more stinking safety…then, finally…
‘It is unadvisable to hit the red, then blue security buttons in a gravity-present setting, as this will cause the immediate retraction of the levitation planks. Be sure to disengage artificial gravity before…’
That was it!
The ship rumbled about him. He looked closely at the machine. “Buttons, buttons…” He leaned around the side. “Where is the star-blasted red button?”
Then he realized there was a blue button, and a yellow button on this machine. The yellow looked reasonably new…probably replaced with spare parts.
He punched the yellow and then the blue. The base of the lift over his head started to retract.
“Yes!” He punched his fist in the air before jumping to the next machine.
On this one, he found the red and then the blue. Pressing both, he moved on to the next machine, then the next, and the next.
He stepped back. The scraping against the hull turned to a rumble. The ship started to spin.
It was rolling to the right, to the damaged side of the ship!
“Come on!” he screamed at the lifts.
This was his only chance.
How many times had this crew saved his hide? If he got out of this alive, he swore he’d spend more time with Doc and Ethan. He’d learn more about the ship, about engineering, and any of the other insane random stuff Doc knew about. He’d make sure he’d be a worthy captain, and not just a lucky son of a fading star.
The first lift dropped its cargo. The container smashed to the ground, exploding on impact. White goo sprawled across the deck—dead center—not enough to make the ship list.
His heart rattled in his chest. He started looking for anything else to use as ballast.
Another rasping screech echoed through the cargo hold, followed by a pop.
Cal’s chest cinched as a hissing sound filled the chamber.
The air!
Sweat instantly drenched his shirt as the airlocks slammed down, sealing him off from the rest of the ship. That would give the rest of the crew some time, if any of them were still alive and conscious.
The air chilled around him, worsened by sweat. His hands started to ache. If he didn’t find a way out, he was as good as dead.
He pushed the thought away. He still had one goal: save the ship. Getting out of this room was secondary.
Red lights flashed on the next lift and then the next as each apparatus dropped its containers on the deck. The cartons smashed down, the boxes hitting others and starting a chain reaction, plowing row after row of cargo toward one side of the ship.
The next dropped its cargo, knocking into another lift that fell over into a wall of shelving.
Cal choked on the freezing air. If he lived through this, Ty was going to kill him for making such a mess.
The ship creaked like prickly fingers were scratching on the outside of her walls.
The Star Renegade tilted in the direction of the spilt cargo, and Cal stumbled to the port window. Metal screeched against metal as the Star Renegade listed, scratching the wall of debris before jarring loose.
Cal leaned as close to the glass as he could and breathed a sigh of relief as they left the debris behind them.
They were free!
The damage had been done, though.
Nuts and bolts took flight, soaring across the room and slamming into the wall. They jammed into a small hole, plugging it partially. A slight weave of energy shimmered around the aperture as the ship’s emergency shielding tried to seal the breach. It was probably the only reason Cal was still alive, but like everything else on this ship, it was failing, and the hiss of evacuating air and falling temperatures told him he had precious little time.
He picked up a plate of sheet metal, but it flew out of his hand and slammed against the hole.
Still, air hissed away into the vacuum of space.
The metal air shields that had sealed him in creaked. Cal gritted his teeth. Those doors worked on the limited supply of backup power. Which meant that if the hole in the ship widened, those barriers would give way, putting the whole ship at risk. He couldn’t do this alone.
He hit the comm button. “Ethan! If you can hear me, I need you to send any possible power to the emergency air shields of the main cargo deck.”
Cal waited, but there was no response. Stars, he hoped they were still alive up there.
Moving into the center of the room, he took a deep breath. He’d seen every member of his crew ferret themselves out of ridiculous situations by keeping calm and thinking things through. This was yet another puzzle. Cal just needed to figure it out. Unfortunately, this time, he was on his own.
The hiss sliced through his ears, promising a slow, frigid death. He shivered. Would he freeze first or pass out from lack of oxygen?
No! Think like Doc… Clear your head and look at the problem.
The ship listed again and he stumbled, tripping into the pile of goo that had fallen from the first container. He tried to regain his footing, but his boot caught on the edge of the mound. He toppled over the pile and slammed into the hard, bumpy surface.
Holding his forehead, he stared at the glob of spilled cargo as his head spun.
That material had been liquid when it had fallen to the deck. Why was it so hard?
He ran his hand over the glassy surface. What in the name of Venus was this stuff?
He scrambled to the broken container and looked at the markings. Polymer Sealant.
That shouldn’t have dried that quickly…but maybe the cold had sped the process. Could Cal get that lucky?
His fingers trembled as he reached into the broken shipping carton, looking for more. Every drop was a hardened ball.
He slammed his fist against the edge of the container. This wasn’t fair! He needed to…
A small bit of the polymer under his fist chipped off. It glistened as it hit the floor, then fogged over and hardened.
The material was still wet underneath where the chill hadn’t hit it. He just needed to get to the part that hadn’t reached the air yet.
He slammed his fist into the mound. His knuckles bled, but the polymer didn’t budge.
His eyes grew heavy.
No, no, no, no, no! He blinked hard. “Don’t go to sleep, Cal.” He drew in an icy breath.
Okay, this was an impossible situation. Normally, he’d look to Doc, and his resident genius would pull something crazy out of a hat. Cal stood slowly. His legs buckled, and he steadied himself.
Mind over matter, Cal. Your feet are there, even if you can’t feel them.
Doc always had a bag of tricks. He’d use things a normal person wouldn’t think of. Cal scanned the debris. In the corner, a red plus sign caught his eye—a medical kit.
He stumbled forward, falling three times before ripping the box off the wall. The contents fell out. Wisps of paper caught air and drifted toward the hull breach. Bandages, pain killers, a laser scalpel, burn ointments.
Come on! There had to be something in there he could use.
A blue packet rolled out. The words Hot Pack scrolled across the front in big letters.
“Yes!”
Cal cracked the package open and squeezed the two pouches inside. They snapped, and glorious heat met his fingertips.
He ran the packs back to the mound and pressed them against the polymer. If he could just get it to melt, he might get enough to seal the leak.
Lights danced in front of his eyes, like little will-o-the
-wisps in the stories his babysitters used to read him as a child. Maybe the people who’d written those books had nearly suffocated to death.
His lids started to close, and he jerked himself awake.
No! There was still a chance his crew was alive. With the emergency air shields down, there would be no way for them to get into this room to stop the leak. And if those doors gave way, the rest of the ship would be in danger. Cal was their only hope.
He pulled the pouches away, but the solid polymer stood firm, mocking him.
“Dammit!”
He nearly threw the pouches but kept it together enough to tuck them into his boots. The sweet warmth rushed to his toes.
He needed something hotter. Something that could cut through polymer.
Cut through…
His gaze fell on the laser scalpel.
How stinking daft could he be? His hands shook as he grabbed the chilled metal instrument. He flicked off the safety, pointed at the mound, and pressed the trigger. A small beam of light shot out. The polymer started to shine, then melt.
His eyes started to close again. His head dipped, and he caught himself before dropping the scalpel. A small puddle had formed in the polymer. It wasn’t a lot, but it would have to do.
Using the edges of the busted container, Cal scooped up the polymer and raced it across the room.
The edges started to dull in the cold air. He tried huffing his breath on it, but he had barely enough warmth to keep himself going.
Making it to the hole, he pried off the slab of sheet metal and poured the goop right over the nuts and bolts. When the main glob of the goo started to lose its glossy sheen, he shoved the rest into the nooks and crannies with his fingers.
The hissing stopped.
Cal stared at the repair, holding his breath. He needed his luck now more than ever.
The hiss started again. Cal growled and punched the wall.
“K-Keep it together, C-Cal,” he muttered. “This is g-going to work.”
Stumbling back, he lasered another glob and added it to the rest of the repair.
The hiss stopped.
He knew better than to trust that, though. He staggered back to the polymer, lasered another blob, and added it to the already hardened mound over the breach.
Renegade Magic (Star Renegades Book 1) Page 25