Stepping Up

by Robert Culp

  As the grenades go through, I get a glimpse of the intruders. I hope Gorb didn’t see what I saw. The door closes, and the grenades hiss their universal neuro-pathogen. The intruders are unaffected. They continue to move in our direction. “Looks like the bad guys have APE suits or respirators also,” Freddie says. “I hope it’s not armor.”

  “Would you board an unfriendly ship without armor?” Stan asks him.

  “Aren’t you just the cutest little ray of sunshine?” Freddie asks him sarcastically. He turns to me, “Sonia, see if you can shut off gravity and oxygen to that corridor. If not, we’re going in blasting.” Freddie and Stan verify the rounds in their chambers.

  I send a situation report to Aria: Unknown intruders, three in number, approaching Maneuvering. Gas grenades had no effect. I’m going to shut down local gravity and seal that section of corridor. Once that’s done, we’ll pump the air out.

  “Gorb, get the iris door behind them shut.” I start working the gravity controls.

  I look to Freddie. “What happened, how did they get aboard?”

  “How the hell should I know? I slept through all my physics classes. You’re the one with all the education. Both of you fall back.” Gorb now has the corridor video monitors up and running. One of the aliens raises a weapon and fires a blast at the iris valve into the maneuver drive room. Predictably, it shatters.

  They move into Maneuvering.

  We get direction from Aria: “There goes the local depressurization idea. Sergeant Call, you and your battle buddy take them out. We have no troops to reinforce you. We have at least twelve up here to deal with.”

  Freddie tells us, “If you have armor and weapons, get it on and get locked, cocked, and ready to rock. Stay here unless and until we call you.” He and Stan get ready to take a maintenance tube over to the maneuver drives and hopefully surprise the aliens there.

  “What you see is what I got. Go do some of that mindless killer stuff.” They nod and duck through the opening.

  I have an idea. “Gorb, do we still have those suits of Strike Armor we were experimenting with down here? If we do, and they aren’t too broken down, we’ll get into them as best we can. Then hunker down and wait for Freddie’s roar of triumph.”

  “There are the three suits that you have been working on in workshop 2. One is still in pieces. We should be able to get two of them functional. Coolers don’t work yet, though.”

  Freddie is on my perCom’s earpiece. “I heard that. Sounds like a good plan. This is nothing new to us, squatter. Watch your back if we go down, hear me?”

  “You watch your own back. You still owe me five pick up lines no man can resist.” I hope I sound braver than I feel.

  The intruders have moved deeply into the maneuver drive area, and appear to be running scans of the drives, either trying to see what they can disable without destroying the ship, or to get propulsion design schematics. Gorb and I get into the experimental armor.

  “I’m scared, Shownya, but I will help you if you get hurt! Gorb loves to help!!”

  “I’m scared too, Gorb. But we’re gonna make it through this, hear me? Everything will turn out okay.” Again with the feigned bravado.

  We pass the ship’s status board. It’s lit up like a starry winter night. There are reports of significant damage, probably from skirmishes, on the upper decks. The intruders are clearly trying to disable and capture the ship, but just looking at where things are happening, they may be trying to make their way to the bridge or the Captain.

  Maybe if we sour the milk a bit. “Gorb, what would it take to force a coolant leak in the maneuver engines? Can we make that happen from here? If we can bake one or two of the bandits, that would be one or two fewer for Freddie and Stan to worry about.”

  “Release valves zulu 4 and golf 992. We’ll have to block them open to defeat the safety interlocks. I anticipate a coolant cross feed pressure differential bolus. That should do it.”

  “Get on it,” I tell him. While he’s doing that, I strip off my APE suit for the untested Strike Armor. I wish I had put on my jumpsuit now. This thing is going to chafe something fierce.

  We hear a furious firefight ensue between Freddie/Stan and the aliens. There are two explosions, and the main maneuver drive panel shows propulsion capacity has dropped by 28 percent.

  Freddie reports: “Stan is down. Aria, drop the knitting needles, and get me some help down here! Sonia, grab your shotgun, load it with plasma rounds, and come in through the south door. Get rid of this bastard in the main drive room, and I can take care of the other two.”

  “I’m on the way. Move away from the inboard capacitor coils—big red cabinets—hold your breath, and watch yourself. We’re going to try to boil one of those…things. I’m wearing that Strike Armor you’re so fond of, so don’t shoot me. Which way is south? Stern?”

  “ACK, yes, sternward. Turn on your positioning system in the suit. Are you naturally blonde and that’s a wig? You had me thinking you were smart.” I hear a lot of firing over the channel.

  There’s a small control unit on my left wrist. I toggle over to PS and am instantly aware of my position on the ship. The ship’s computer is also feeding me the enemy’s positions. There’s a small map over my left eye that gives me a diagram of where I am and the corridors and furniture associated with it. Pretty cool.

  “Gorb, release the valves; make it happen. It may be even easier now. Are you armed? Do you know how to use it? I have to go help Freddie.”

  Gorb’s face twists into a pained expression. “Gorb does not hurt people!!! No, no, no, Shownya! Gorb helps, not hurts!” He’s on the verge of hyperventilation. The inside of his helmet is fogging up. Opening it is not an option; I feel my armor inflating. The ship has depressurized.

  I report to Aria, “Maneuver drive is going down. I’m moving to back Freddie up.”

  “Acknowledged. Lock Gorb in a closet or something. He panics when he sees blood. He is useless in a fight but too valuable to be left exposed.”

  “Roger.”

  I tell Gorb, “Okay, okay, calm down. Breathe…that’s it. First I want you to open the valves like we discussed. Then I want you to go into this closet. I want you to stay very still and very quiet. Do not open the door until I come get you; do you understand me? This is very important.”

  “Okay, Shownya. I trust you ’cause you’re my friend...”

  My helmet keeps flashing signal loss from primary weapon port. I shut down port 3 so it will stop giving me the message. Sadly, my shotgun will not interface with the aiming system. And, with my helmet on, I will be shooting from the hip. I load my SP-10 with plasma rounds and move towards the fight. I head into the maneuver drive area through what used to be the iris valve. I can see the alien that is pinning Freddie down. I have a clear shot. I ripple off two rounds. At the same time, I hear and see the coolant cross feed rupture through the containment system. There’s a big gray cloud to my right front, also a high-pitched whine, like a scream. I hope it’s not Freddie. I feel the heat wave blaze across my armor.

  “Outstanding, Squatter, scrap another bug. One is down, the other is acting like a worm in bleach.” Good. His voice sounds strained though.

  My first shot hits the alien in the thigh. The projectile buries itself before it explodes in a very small (in principle) nuclear explosion. His thigh and one-third of his abdomen disappear. He drops to the floor howling. He reels around and gets a shot off in my general direction. His chest catches my second round. It finishes him off. His aimless fire goes nowhere near me. But it does hit several conduits. We now have some very real unplanned leaks, which will need attention. Good thing we depressurized, with no air there are no fires.

  Freddie lets loose with a barrage of fire that would make the most hardened soldier quiver. I’m not a hardened soldier, and I do a lot more than quiver. I wish I’d finished the liquid waste collection system. The intruders take as good as they gave. Between us, Freddie and I kill all three of them. But there’s a cost.
Freddie must have thrown a plasma grenade at the last invader. There’s a horrific explosion. There is no way he could have gotten clear in time.

  I make my report while manually closing some valves, restoring coolant pressure to the engines. If we repel the boarders and lose the ship anyway, our situation has not improved. “Bridge, Engineering. Three enemy KIA.”

  “Roger, Engineering. Friendly status?”

  I hear a call from Freddie. “S-S-Sonia. Get over here. I’m in bad shape...”

  “Medical team report to Maneuver drive room 2. One wounded, one non-responsive.”

  I go around the corner and see Freddie. His left arm is missing. His APE suit is venting blood. I snatch his first aid pack and place a field pressure dressing over the singed stump. The dressing matches to the APE suit to help address depressurization but he is going into shock. “Hang on, fudge-packer, help is on the way. I hear the hoof beats of the cavalry already.” I do what other field first aid I can. No need for a tourniquet. The wound was all but cauterized by the heavy laser blast of the alien’s weapon. But the minimal pressure pulled the blood through the damaged skin. Ironically, a glancing shot that cut through his suit may have been more damaging. I look around, find the arm, and lay it across his chest.

  Stan! “Stan, this is Sonia. What’s your status?” No reply from Stan. Freddie shivers violently—it may have been a convulsion—then passes out.

  The Med Team arrives and loads Freddie onto an anti-grav stretcher for transport to Medbay. They put his arm on the stretcher with him. Hopefully, it will be reattached.

  I prowl around looking for Stan or more aliens. As I recall, Freddie had already taken out one of the other two, but I want to make certain of that. And if Stan is down, I want to see how bad he is. On the way I put a standard 000 buckshot round into the head of each invader.

  I find Stan dead with two direct shots in the sternum and abdomen; he was dead before he hit the floor. There are two very large holes where his heart and intestines should be.

  I call Gorb, “I’m coming to let you out; don’t panic.”

  I open the storage locker I had told him to hide in. “Hi Shownya! Are you okay? I was sad that you might not be okay.”

  Aria is speaking on the allCom: “All hands secure from battle stations. The threat is neutralized. The ship is repressurizing.” The surviving maneuver engines kick on, and Night Searcher is underway again.

  “Well, I’m not hurt. I don’t know about ‘okay’ though. It looks like we have quite a mess to clean up. Let’s get this armor stowed and get busy assessing and evaluating.”

  I call Aria with my report: “If you don’t already know: One of the Troopers, Stan, is dead. There were some explosions in the maneuver drive room. One was initiated on my authority and at my direction. We’re going to get on them and get the other engines functioning unless you tell me something else takes priority. And I have pieces of three dead boarders down here. Can you send me a spacer to help with the heavy lifting when convenient? Gorb isn’t able to do that.”

  “Roger, Engineering. OPS agrees with your assessment and priority of effort. A MOPBOT is on the way.” Gorb is beside me, bouncing from foot to foot.

  “Need a dose of chocolate to settle your nerves, buddy?” (A proper chief engineer always keeps a tube of something sweet in her pocket. One never knows when it will come in handy.) I could do with a dose myself. I break the bar in half and let him choose which piece he wants. I eat the other one.

  “Umm, Shownya! Good!!”

  Soon a MOPBOT enters the maneuver room. It is a large robot that cleans up spills and throws material larger than a soda cracker into a hopper that pulverizes it and shapes it into small cubes that can be easily spaced or incinerated.

  Aria calls me: “Sonia, special Captain’s meeting in twenty minutes, bridge conference room.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m on my way.” I run a quick systems check for my report to the Captain. The programs in my notepad are already gathering data.

  I tell Gorb, “Keep doing what you were. I have a meeting to go to. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He nods, his mouth full of chocolate.

  Ginny enters as I’m going back to workshop 2. A submachine gun hangs from her side. She has blood on her APE suit, but I can tell it’s not hers. It looks like we’ll all have some war stories for the campfire. She looks appreciatively at my armor. She gives me a thumbs-up.

  I shed my armor and primp as much as I can which isn’t much more than redoing my ponytail. My nose drifts past an armpit. Whoa! That will definitely need to be addressed! Praise Isis I keep a spare jumpsuit down here.

  It is unusual for the Captain to attend staff meetings other than the monthly updates. Typically, Aria will gather the information and present him with a summary. There are, of course, exceptions. This is clearly one of them. The Captain sits in his big chair with all the control buttons and dashboard readouts on the arms. After collecting our reports, he sits back and looks at us.

  “Thank you for your diligence, my friends. But one of you is a very talented saboteur. In a moment I will know who. You can save us all some trouble by confessing. Anyone?” He pushes his hood back, his ice blue eyes staring at us. He takes the respirator assist from his neck and sets it down. I’m terrified. I can only look at him. I know how the rabbit feels when the rattlesnake’s eyes lock on it. His visage is terrifying. He gazes at each person seated at the table for about thirty seconds each. When he looks at me, I break into a cold sweat. A wave of—ecstasy is the best word that comes to mind—sweeps over me. I tingle all over. I feel my heart’s tempo increase, my breath shallow. My palms are sweating. And as quickly as it starts, it is over.

  After a complete circuit of those at the table, his gaze settles on Nordon Beloit, the ship’s treasurer. “So it is you.” The Captain’s eyes narrow. Nordon grabs his throat as he falls to the floor, gasping for breath. The veins in his head and neck are on the verge of exploding. He literally turns purple, rolling on the floor. He keeps gasping and choking as the Captain speaks. “This traitor sabotaged the sensors. That caused us to make unnecessary changes in the fuel mix parameters. That appears to have created and then pushed us through a wormhole of some kind. We have no idea where we are, but we are close to a planet. Aria, you will take Chief MacTaggert, Troopers Watson, Jones, and Ralston in cutter twelve and determine if this is a place from which we can obtain materials to build a long range sensor array. We will be in cutter range in less than twenty-four hours. Drag this clod of Rison droppings behind your ship when your team is ready. The atmosphere can cremate him. Dismissed.” He puts his respirator collar back on and leaves.

  14 SHORE PARTY

  I have a Captain who can kill with a thought and appears to place little value on life in general. Something terrible must have happened to him. Before leaving the conference room, I brief Aria on engine status, then head back to the Maneuver drives. Hopefully, there will be a minimum of functional damage, no structural damage, and only a lot of painting needed. Yeah, in my dreams. En route to work I, perCom Avi: “Did you weather the attack okay?”

  “I’m okay, but we’re busy. Fortunately, casualties were pretty light. You?”

  “Nothing a hot shower and some sleep won’t fix. How’s Freddie? I think his last name is Call.”

  “He’s stable. I gave him something to put him to sleep. It seems you made quite an impression on him; he couldn’t stop bragging about you. He wasn’t the worst wounded, so he hasn’t gone into surgery yet, but he probably will within the hour. We’re optimistic about his arm.”

  “Good to hear. I’m not sure what my timeline is yet, but how about a nightcap followed by an early breakfast? I’m on the away mission coming up tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a deal to me, darling. Estimates have us full bore until the critical are stable, so wait for me in the lounge. I’ll join you there, and then we can make more plans for afterwards.”

  “Sounds good.” Bleep. “Hang on, sweetie.” I push the ho
ld/answer button. “Chief MacTaggert.”

  It’s Aria. “Sonia, we will all meet in the Ship’s Boat Bay at 0700. We will check everyone’s gear and head down.”

  “I’ll be there. Anything out of the ordinary that I need to bring?”

  “Yes, comfortable clothes along with normal gear and weapons. Bring your best ‘come hither’ outfit as well. We may have to do some ‘negotiating.’” Oh great, first a Trooper is pimping me, now the Ops Chief is pandering me. Well, if this Engineering thing doesn’t work out for me, maybe I have a future in the gentlemans escort and entertainment area.

  “Roger. I can do that. I have one in my closet and I may be able to borrow another. MacTaggert out.”

  Bleep. “Avi, are you still there?” He isn’t. To be fair though, the med bay is sure to be swamped. I do have a text message from him though: If you get there before I do, wait for me. I hope not to keep you waiting too long. And if I’m there before you, I’m okay with it. You’re worth any wait. –Yours Forever, Avi

  When I get into Engineering, I find Gorb looking at a whiteboard with many items hastily scrawled on it. “How bad is it?” I ask as I look over his shoulder.

  “That’s what Ginny and me found. What’s firstest?” All of it is important; half is urgent; thankfully none of it is critical.

  I pick up a different color marker and number things in as close to priority as I can figure. Ginny wanders over; her face and coveralls are already grimy. The three of us look over my prioritizing. We discuss and decide. I make a few changes. My notepad beeps. My inbox is flooding with work orders from all over the ship. I drop the device in a cargo pocket. “Then let’s get busy.”

  Before long, we’re all up to our elbows in whatever needs attention. I keep an eye on Gorb though. I’m not worried about him making a mistake. I’m worried about him working himself stupid. Ginny and I take breaks from time to time. But we’ve been at it steady for four hours, and Gorb hasn’t stopped yet. It’s time for another command decision.