flexible.”
“Could you cut open that
hatch?” asked a passenger.
“We could, if we didn’t keep
the welding gear in the converter room.” Several less-practical suggestions
were tossed at the captain. He dealt with them calmly. Billy’s request to try
the airlock met a gentle reminder that the airlock hatches were as easy to jam
as the deck ones. When acrimony broke out among the astronomers over who should
have been protecting the gadget from Mussa the captain let his mate handle
calming it. He took Bobbie and John aside for another discreet chat. “I hope it
doesn’t come to this but I have a firearm. I can lend it to you if you’re a
better shot.”
John answered for them. “Thank
you, but we’re equipped.”
“Offnet capable?”
“Yes.” John was too
professional to take offense at the accusation he could be that naïve.
“Good. You’re welcome to
shift to my cabin. Left-hand door at the end of the corridor. Access combo
one-two-three.”
“Thanks again. We’ll do that
if we need to. For now I’d rather be where we can see what’s coming.”
“Your business. Let me know
if there’s anything else I can do.” Schwartzenberger went back up to the
bridge, stopping at his quarters on the way. He filled Mitchie in. She took it
more calmly than he’d expected. A quick test confirmed that Mussa had taken the
converter out of action.
“I could run the maneuvering
thrusters off the auxiliary. But we’d get less than a grav out of them,”
Mitchie said.
“Don’t bother,” the captain
replied. “At this point we’re just hoping the Navy gets here in time. Well—if
you see a boarder coming do that. We can try to run his jetpack dry.”
“I’ll keep an eye out. But
this place is going to be in full dark in a couple of hours.” The chasm was lit
only by sunlight reflecting off one rim already. “It’ll be seven hours until
sunrise then.” Schwartzenberger grunted. “But I’ll watch for any torch plumes,”
she promised. A loud buzzing started up. “What the hell is that?”
“A reaction mass pump running
with no load,” growled the captain. “Mussa’s figured out how to cover the noise
of us getting boarded.”
“That must be really loud in
the hold.”
“Probably. I’ll go help Bing
hold down the panic.” By the time Schwartzenberger reached the hold everyone
was calm if tense. The tension kept going up as they waited.
The first one to snap under
the strain was the pump. The steady buzz became a rhythmic beat. “Great. Now
we’re going to have to completely replace that,” groused the captain to Bing.
She reassured him that it would be covered by Bobbie’s insurance. He replied, “ If we get her home.”
The sought after passenger used
the beat to sing along to. She and her friends were veterans of the same
camping program. The campfire songs were close enough for the pump to count as
accompaniment. One of the grad students offered a boy’s version of a song. Soon
most of the passengers were singing non-parentally-approved verses.
Only John noticed when the
deck hatch popped open and a grenade flew out. “Eyes!” he yelled, covering his
own.
The grenade’s flash was
bright enough to briefly blind anyone looking that direction. Even the
reflection off the walls was enough to leave victims looking at green
afterimages. The deafening shockwave spread out too much in the huge hold to
stun anyone. The viewing window held. Two meter long cracks appeared at each
corner.
John fired into the hatchway
before the spacesuited boarder came through. A few bullets hit the boarder but
no blood appeared. John leapt for Bobbie. The intruder returned fire at John.
Heavy bullets left a line of stars in the window. He stopped firing when John
got close to Bobbie. John grabbed her away from her clutching friends,
scattering them, threw her toward the upper hatch, and kicked off to follow
her. More bullets followed him. The last couple hit the wall instead of the
window.
The
“Could you cut open that
hatch?” asked a passenger.
“We could, if we didn’t keep
the welding gear in the converter room.” Several less-practical suggestions
were tossed at the captain. He dealt with them calmly. Billy’s request to try
the airlock met a gentle reminder that the airlock hatches were as easy to jam
as the deck ones. When acrimony broke out among the astronomers over who should
have been protecting the gadget from Mussa the captain let his mate handle
calming it. He took Bobbie and John aside for another discreet chat. “I hope it
doesn’t come to this but I have a firearm. I can lend it to you if you’re a
better shot.”
John answered for them. “Thank
you, but we’re equipped.”
“Offnet capable?”
“Yes.” John was too
professional to take offense at the accusation he could be that naïve.
“Good. You’re welcome to
shift to my cabin. Left-hand door at the end of the corridor. Access combo
one-two-three.”
“Thanks again. We’ll do that
if we need to. For now I’d rather be where we can see what’s coming.”
“Your business. Let me know
if there’s anything else I can do.” Schwartzenberger went back up to the
bridge, stopping at his quarters on the way. He filled Mitchie in. She took it
more calmly than he’d expected. A quick test confirmed that Mussa had taken the
converter out of action.
“I could run the maneuvering
thrusters off the auxiliary. But we’d get less than a grav out of them,”
Mitchie said.
“Don’t bother,” the captain
replied. “At this point we’re just hoping the Navy gets here in time. Well—if
you see a boarder coming do that. We can try to run his jetpack dry.”
“I’ll keep an eye out. But
this place is going to be in full dark in a couple of hours.” The chasm was lit
only by sunlight reflecting off one rim already. “It’ll be seven hours until
sunrise then.” Schwartzenberger grunted. “But I’ll watch for any torch plumes,”
she promised. A loud buzzing started up. “What the hell is that?”
“A reaction mass pump running
with no load,” growled the captain. “Mussa’s figured out how to cover the noise
of us getting boarded.”
“That must be really loud in
the hold.”
“Probably. I’ll go help Bing
hold down the panic.” By the time Schwartzenberger reached the hold everyone
was calm if tense. The tension kept going up as they waited.
The first one to snap under
the strain was the pump. The steady buzz became a rhythmic beat. “Great. Now
we’re going to have to completely replace that,” groused the captain to Bing.
She reassured him that it would be covered by Bobbie’s insurance. He replied, “ If we get her home.”
The sought after passenger used
the beat to sing along to. She and her friends were veterans of the same
camping program. The campfire songs were close enough for the pump to count as
accompaniment. One of the grad students offered a boy’s version of a song. Soon
most of the passengers were singing non-parentally-approved verses.
Only John noticed when the
deck hatch popped open and a grenade flew out. “Eyes!” he yelled, covering his
own.
The grenade’s flash was
bright enough to briefly blind anyone looking that direction. Even the
reflection off the walls was enough to leave victims looking at green
afterimages. The deafening shockwave spread out too much in the huge hold to
stun anyone. The viewing window held. Two meter long cracks appeared at each
corner.
John fired into the hatchway
before the spacesuited boarder came through. A few bullets hit the boarder but
no blood appeared. John leapt for Bobbie. The intruder returned fire at John.
Heavy bullets left a line of stars in the window. He stopped firing when John
got close to Bobbie. John grabbed her away from her clutching friends,
scattering them, threw her toward the upper hatch, and kicked off to follow
her. More bullets followed him. The last couple hit the wall instead of the
window.
The
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