The Margrave of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

  chapter forty-four

  "I have a communicator request, Sir," Hopper said. "From Canopus."

  "I think we can stand to talk to them," Franklin said. "Hello Canopus. This is Margrave Nyman."

  "This is Chief Engineer Louie, commanding."

  "Louie?" Franklin shouted, "what's going on over there?"

  "Ship accepted a shell from the pirate. Traveled through the bridge. Simmons dead. Daphne in sick bay."

  "How's the ship, Louie?"

  "The ship says it's fine. How are you?"

  "Quit fooling around, Louie! This is serious."

  A choking sound came from the copilot's seat. Franklin glanced over at Hopper who was struggling to maintain a straight face.

  "The ship is fully capable. Status of the pirate is unknown. He took a close hit."

  Franklin put his face into his hands. "I knew I shouldn't have left her in command."

  "I project a rendezvous in forty-five minutes," Louie said. "Do you conquer, oh Margrave?"

  Franklin looked up with a puzzled look on his face. "Conquer? Oh, concur. Yes, that sounds about right, Louie. Prepare a docking tube for us."

  "Well do," Louie replied. "Toodles." And he broke the connection.

  Franklin looked over at Hopper. "What was the old saying? Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse?"

  Hopper raised an eyebrow. "That's what it sounds like to me also, Skipper. If Louie was smart, he would just skedaddle. And that's what we should do too."

  "Then our pirate friend would just stage another raid on Hepplewhite," Franklin said. "Besides, we're just not that smart."

  "You said it, Skipper. You know what they say when you're going for a colonoscopy?"

  "What? No, I don't know."

  "I don't know either. I've never had one." Hopper said. "But I had a friend who had one. They shaved his legs and wrecked’em.”

  "Shut up, Hopper."

  "Yes, Sir."

  “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “I don't know, Skipper. When I get nervous, it just starts popping into my mind.”

  “As opposed to rational thought,” Franklin murmured.

  Franklin looked down at the flight instruments again. "I just can't believe that about Simmons. And I hope Daphne is all right."

  "I know you don't want to talk about it," Hopper said, "but, maybe we should pray for Daphne."

  Franklin looked over at Hopper with his mouth open. "Can't you stay on one subject?"

  "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm nervous. I mean, we could all die out here."

  "You can do whatever you want. I've got to figure out a way to outsmart Higginbotham. And, I'm afraid he's smarter than I."

  Hopper folded his hands and bowed his head. Franklin stared at him for a moment, then snorted as he turned back to study the tactical display. "The Lord helps them that helps themselves, Hopper," he said.

  The clock wound down as the shuttle approached its rendezvous with Canopus. Franklin adjusted the course several times to bring them in closer, and finally came alongside. Franklin and Hopper looked out the right side as a docking tube extended itself from the destroyer.

  "All right, Hopper, it's time to swim with the fishes," Franklin said as he unbuckled himself from the pilot's seat.

  "Right. I wish we had had time to bring a couple of spacesuits."

  "We've got our suits on Canopus. Another five minutes and we'll be aboard. Did your communion with the Almighty help?"

  "For some reason I don't think that's very funny anymore, Sir. But, I do feel better."

  As they stepped out of the cockpit, neither heard the squawking in the headphones. Franklin watched through the port as the tube became rigid as it was pressurized.

  "Good seal, Hopper," Franklin said as he checked the warning lights on the hatch. He tapped a code on the keypad next to the hatch then pressed his thumbs on the green buttons on both sides of the door. With a hiss the hatch slid open. Their ears popped as the pressure equalized.

  "All right," Franklin said, "let's go. Louie’s going to send through a crew to fly the shuttle over to Hepplewhite. There's no room in the shuttle bay here."

  Franklin launched himself into the tube and let his momentum carried him a good third of the way up towards the destroyer. Hopper followed more sedately.

  "I don't like the weightlessness much, Sir," Hopper said.

  "Franklin glanced back to see a distinctly green cast on Hopper's face. “If you dump your lunch in here, Hopper, you get to clean it up. Stay with me now."

  Franklin looked ahead at the open hatch into Canopus. Two space suited figures waited in the door. At least they're following procedure, Franklin thought. As he was watching them, he heard a loud pop behind him. Hopper began screaming. Franklin felt his ears pop and he whipped around. There were holes in both sides of the tube. Hopper's leg had been torn off above the knee. Blood was boiling out of the stump and drifting towards the holes in the tube. In the few seconds he watched, the holes tore open further.

  Hopper looked at him with his eyes wide in terror. "Go, go, go!" he screamed.

  Franklin felt himself beginning to drift backwards. One of the space suited figures dove into the tube as Franklin began pulling himself up. The other crew member waved frantically to him to come on. The overstressed boarding tube finally ripped away as the shuttle drifted apart from the destroyer. The heavy wind of depressurization ebbed and Hopper's screaming faded into sibilance.

  Franklin's Navy training took over. He opened his mouth and let the air boil out of his lungs. He felt, rather than heard, the air flatulating out of his intestines. He pulled himself into the airlock and the door quickly closed. The air flowing in as the airlock pressurized was a relief.

  The inner door opened with two crewmen standing there to help him. "Sir, you must get in here quickly so we can get your Steward into the airlock.”

  Franklin quickly stepped into the utility bay so the airlock door could close again. There was a porthole on the bulkhead, and he leaned over to look outside. Hopper was slowly spinning away from the ship, propelled by a stream of vomit exiting his mouth and nose, and the blood boiling away from the stump of his leg. The other space suited crewman was rapidly overtaking him.

  Franklin bend over and vomited onto the deck plate. He straightened up, choking. "You've got to get him in here! Get him in here right now."

  "Skipper, were doing the best we can. The CHENG needs you in auxiliary control just as soon as you can get there."

  Franklin shook his head. "Of course, I'm sorry." He straightened up and immediately walked out of the utility bay. Once he was in the corridor, he began jogging towards the tail of the ship.

  Five minutes later Franklin limped into auxiliary control, breathing hard. Chief Sabbath, the helmsman, jumped out of his chair and walked towards Franklin. "Skipper, are you all right?"

  Sabbath helped him into the command chair. "I think I got the bends from trying to breathe vacuum," Franklin said. "Where's Louie?"

  "He stayed in engineering. I've been holding down things up here."

  Franklin pushed a button on the command chair.

  "Engineering, Chief Engineer Speaking."

  "Hello, Speaking. This is Franklin. I have the ship."

  "Welcome back, Shipper. I am transferring command."

  Franklin pushed the button to close the connection. "Okay, what's the tactical status?"

  Ensign Kane spun around in his chair. He was in his space suit, and the helmet was racked on the back of the chair. The spacesuit was covered in blood and gore. "Sir, we took two projectile hits; one was in the boarding tube, and the other glanced off the hull. No further damage."

  "And Santa's Workshop?"

  "He's volleying projectiles at us, but no longer seems to be pursuing."

  "You think he's been hurt too?"

  "Unknown, Sir."

  One of the ratings walked in to the auxiliary control room carrying a space suit. “Sir,” Sabbath said, “You need t
o get into this.”

  “Okay, let me get out of these clothes.”

  Franklin looked down and studied the tactical display. Canopus was somewhat nearer the planet than the Santa's Workshop was. Aerean Venture had moved outside of the gravity well and apparently halted. "I guess Captain Smirnoff is waiting around to see what happens. Probably wants his shuttle back. Is the ship ready to answer the helm, Chief?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Weapons status?"

  "One projectile tube is down," Kane said, "but everything else is nominal."

  "And we have what, eleven ship-to-ship birds left?"

  "Ten, Sir. One is down with a fault."

  Franklin nodded. He was standing next to the command chair as the rating helped him into the space suit, and rubbed his hand over his mouth. After thinking for a bit he pushed the communicator button on his chair.

  "Sick Bay, Specialist Oakman."

  "This is the Skipper, Oakman. Is the SBA available?"

  "Sir, they just brought Hopper in. The Lieutenant is busy with him."

  "So he’s still alive then?"

  "Umm. So far, Sir."

  "He doesn't need me looking over his shoulder right now. Ask him to call me whenever he comes up for air, but don't bother him now."

  "Aye, aye, Sir.”

  “We have another volley coming in, Skipper,” Kane said.

  Franklin looked down at the tactical display at his knee. The shells were clearly visible, despite their small size. The shuttle showed up as another marker, which was drifting off towards Hepplewhite. He sat down in the command chair to begin pulling the space suit up his legs.

  “Looks like that round is going between us and the shuttle. Watch closely, Kane, in case he sneaks a missile in there. That would ruin our whole day.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Chief Sabbath, ready for a course change?” Franklin said.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Let's go vertical to the plane of the ecliptic. Bring the nose up ninety degrees and then come port about fifteen. Then take us to eighty percent power. I want to put some distance between us.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir. Ninety up, then fifteen port. Eighty percent on the power settings.”

  Franklin watched as the helmsman smoothly maneuvered the ship. Canopus responded with the grace and agility of her lean breed.

  “Another volley, Sir,” Kane said. “This will come close.”

  “I see it,” Franklin said as he studied the display. He stood up to slide his arms into the suit.

  “Chief, let's tighten the curve a bit – say another five points to the port. If he wants to keep shooting off his ordnance, I'm happy to oblige him.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir. Coming five degrees port.”

  “Okay, Sir,” Kane said. “That generated a miss.”

  “Is the bogie still drifting?”

  “Yes, Sir. At this acceleration, we'll be out of missile range in ten minutes.”

  “Fine. Chief, let's cut our acceleration to five percent. Kane, go passive on the sensors. We're beyond the point where I think he can see us.”

  Both responded and the ship eased down to where it was barely accelerating.

  “Sir…” the rating said uncertainly as he held up the end of the catheter.

  “Er, right. I can do that,” Franklin said. “Not that I really want to.”

  He looked at the tactical display again. “Chief, hold this bearing for fifteen minutes, then bring the nose up ninety. That will start working us back towards him indirectly.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  The rating finished the zippers and connections for Franklin’s space suit. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

  “No. Thanks for your help, sailor. You can return to your duty station.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  Franklin slid into the command chair and studied the tactical display as well as the telemetry from Canopus. After a while he stood up, and pulled his helmet from the holder. “Kane, can you handle the conn for a bit?”

  “Yes, Sir, if I can do it from here.”

  “Yes, Kane, I want you there. I'm going to Sick Bay. Give me a toot if our friend out there tries anything new.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  Franklin stepped into the corridor and walked over to the transit car. This moved him back up amidships to where the Sick Bay was located. When he walked in, Lieutenant Strange was removing a pair of bloody rubber gloves.

  “Skipper, I'm glad you're back aboard,” he said. “I'm right at the edge of my capabilities.”

  “How're the patients?”

  “Stabilized... I think. Hopper is in the tank. His lungs are a mess.”

  “What about his leg?”

  “Not life threatening, other than the blood loss. If we have a decent surgeon in Cambridge, all it needs is some cleaning up and he can be fitted with a prosthetic. No, I'm worried about whether or not he'll ever breathe again. We're directly oxygenating the blood stream, since his lungs are currently hors de combat.”

  “What's in the tank?”

  “Combination of nutrients to stimulate his body to start healing itself, and something to seal the injuries so as to prevent further damage.”

  “What do you think, Lieutenant? Is he going to make it?”

  Strange shook his head. “I'm not qualified to guess. He was conscious when they brought him in – that was a good sign. He croaked out that he had made his peace with God and that I should tell you, Sir.”

  Franklin sighed. “Okay, keep me posted on his condition. We've got to take care of this pirate before I can get him to a hospital. What about the Exec?”

  “Not much better, but at least she's lucid. Would you like to see her?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Strange turned around and walked into the infirmary, assuming Franklin would follow. Daphne was in one of the beds. She was heavily wrapped in bandages. Equipment glugged, sighed, and clicked. Franklin walked to the side of the bed.

  “Welcome back, Skipper,” she whispered.

  Surprising himself, the SBA and Daphne, he started weeping. “Oh, Daff,” he choked out, “I am so sorry. I should have been here.”

  Daphne moved her arm slightly and grasped Franklin's arm. “You would've just screwed it up, Franklin.”

  He stifled a sob and struggled to pull himself under control. “Already done. I got Simmons killed, you hurt and nearly killed Hopper.”

  “Hopper?” she whispered.

  “We took a shell through the tube when we were transferring over from the shuttle. He was breathing vacuum for a couple of minutes.”

  “Manfred?” she asked.

  “We've gone stealth. I'm going to try to sneak around and get a free shot at him. You may have gotten a piece of him with that last missile.”

  “Need to get up.”

  Strange was standing there. “No you don't, Exec.”

  “Daphne, you're down for the duration,” Franklin said.

  Oakman stuck his head in the room. “Skipper, the bridge is calling.”

  “Gotta go Daff. Just rest, now.”

  Franklin turned and walked into the outer office. Oakman handed him the comm.

  “Nyman.”

  “Skipper, this is Kane. The pirate has started radar sweeps. He shot a couple of volleys up our old course, so it's pretty clear he doesn't see us.”

  “Okay setup a couple of missiles and a volley. Set the first bird for maximum blast – I want to blind his sensors. Send the volley first so we can get his attention. Slip the second bird in behind everything else and on a dog-leg. Got that? But don't fire unless it's clear he got a skin paint off of us.”

  “Clear, Sir.”

  “Okay, I'm going to Engineering. Remember, if we catch a sweep that's above detection values, don't wait for me. Go ahead and fire.”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper.”

  “Good. I should be back up there in fifteen minutes or so.”

  He handed the comm back to Oakman. S
trange was standing there too.

  “How bad is Daphne, Lieutenant? Really?”

  “She's torn up inside. She really needs a hospital.”

  “Keep her alive. I need to take care of business. Then we can get back home.”

  Franklin walked out, grabbed an intra-ship car, and headed back to the Engineering decks.

  chapter forty-five

  Franklin walked into engineering; Louie was off to one side explaining something to Ensign Chaplin. When he heard the door open, Louie spun around to see who was coming in. When he was sure he had made eye contact, Franklin pointed to the small office Louie kept in the engineering section, and walked over to it. Louie glided across the floor with that weird gait characteristic of Woogies. His spacesuit didn't seem to slow him down any.

  "Okay, Louie, report."

  Louie's five tentacles were writhing in the air, and Franklin detected a distinct odor of vanilla from the open helmut. He spun around twice and his vocoder emitted a squawk.

  "Just relax, Louie. I know it's not your fault."

  "But the Daphne hurt. Simmons dead. Now Hopper hurt. Margrave stop the dying?"

  "I'm going to do my best, Louie, but I need to know what happened."

  "Detectors picked up pirate ship. Crew was aboard and left orbit in thirty minutes. Slipped in under stealth, and passenger liner helped too. But it wasn't enough. Daphne hurt. Simmons killed. The Woogie took command."

  "And you did very well, too," Franklin said.

  "Hopper got hurt. Endangered skipper. The Woogie is a lover, not a fighter."

  Franklin chuckled. "Where did you hear that last little tidbit?"

  "Not know. Saw somewhere."

  "All right, then. What's the status of the ship?"

  "Engineering nominal. One gun tube down. Repair crew is on the bridge. Pressurized again, and ready for reoccupation within a day."

  "Very well. I should get back to Aux Con. Lieutenant Kane is probably getting nervous by now."

  "Nervous as a bride…"

  "Louie!" Franklin interrupted. "Where do you get this stuff?"

  "Vocoder acting up again."

  Franklin shook his head. "That is not your vocoder. Now quit playing games!"