Another lurch of the ship caused her to impact a huge vat of beer and she eased her feet to the deck, letting her boots latch on. Going would be slower, but at least she wouldn’t be flung about so easily.
There were lights and voices ahead, and she turned the lights of her own vacsuit helmet on.
“Who’s there?” a voice called.
“Mongoose,” she answered and went closer.
Three men — no, not all, Sills and Paskell, who’d been with her aboard Nightingale, and Coburn, one of the women hired aboard at Penduli — were struggling to corral a crate floating about between them.
“Stay back, sir,” Sills said. “Bugger’s small, but has a lot of mass.”
Paskell ducked out of the way as the crate knocked against another vat, then the three grasped it and got its momentum stopped.
“More rations for the aft boats,” Paskell said.
“Bring it and come with me,” Alexis said. “We’ve not seen Isom, Cook, nor any of the ship’s servants at the boats.”
“Aye, sir.”
The four made their way aft, past the deserted and locked purser’s station and the carpenter’s, similarly locked up tight, to the aft companionway and then down to Mongoose’s very bowels.
The magazine was a half level above them, the keel, fully retracted for normal-space,took up nearly all the space forward. Alexis and the others squeezed into the narrow carpenter’s walk, a space that ran the length of the hull, barely wide enough for a man to go by edgewise, and meant to access and repair any breach of the hull. The space was still aired, so there was that, but Alexis noted the others kept their faceplates halfway closed — ready to flip closed in an instant if they were exposed to vacuum.
The hatch to the little space the servants went to in action was still closed and Alexis tugged at it, but it refused to open.
The ship shuddered. One of the pirates, at least, had noted that while Mongoose’s lights might be dead, the ship had launched no boats and had a crew aboard. They weren’t taking chances that the ship’s plight might be some ruse to escape or attack.
“Come give me a hand,” Alexis ordered and the others leapt to, pulling hard on the hatch. Alexis pounded on the hatch and called out, “Isom! Cook! Watford! Are you in there?”
Paskell braced himself and heaved at the hatch. “It’s stuck fast, sir, warped in the frame just there.”
Alexis looked where he was pointing and her blood chilled. Part of hatch’s frame was indeed warped and she could see a bubble where the thermoplastic had melted and reformed. That meant heat, and the source of heat was likely a bolt of shot come through the engineering spaces.
“Isom!” She watched Paskell tug again to no avail. “There are tools in the carpenter’s locker, come on!”
Back up the companionway, her fingers trembled as she keyed the locked hatch of the carpenter’s workspace, hoping the batteries on such spaces were still working — all the time picturing Isom, who’d been so loyal, a hand to steady and guide her, even though he had no business at all even being aboard a ship in action. If the space had been breached from aft and there was no word from the inhabitants over their suit radios, what did that mean? She couldn’t bear the thought.
Paskell and Coburn caught up cutters and flung themselves ahead, Alexis and Sills close behind. They were already at work when Alexis approached.
“Best close your helmet, sir,” Sills said, doing so himself, “in case there’s vacuum.”
Alexis did, her faceplate darkening against the glare of the cutters working their way around the hatch. Sills set the companionway hatches so that they had a bit of an airlock to work with if the space was in vacuum — an open hatch to the companionway, then the hatches up and forward closed.
In a moment the hatch was free and air rushed by. The space beyond was dark. Paskell and Coburn tossed their tools aside and entered, then began passing out bodies. Alexis couldn’t tell for certain who was who, but the suits looked intact, their helmets sealed. Another figure was passed out, this one missing an arm, but the suit looked to have sealed around the wound.
Alexis took each in turn, passing them along to Sills who was nearest the exit. She tried to get a look through the faceplate to see who was who or at the suits tell-tale lights to see if the person inside was alive, but didn’t delay. She recognized Cook being handed out next, from his size, and passed him along.
“That’s the lot, sir,” Paskell said over the radio, he and Coburn exiting. “Bit of shot come all the way through, though what put them all out, I couldn’t say.”
“Get them to my boat and get aboard yourselves,” Alexis said.
“Aye, sir.”
They each grasped one or two of the limp forms and started for the hatch.
Mongoose shuddered and spun wildly. Alexis’ helmet struck a bulkhead and she saw flashes of light.
“Hurry, sir, we’re bloody skeet for them this way!”
She grasped the hatch edges and pulled herself through, Paskell sliding the hatch behind her.
Then she heard something — or thought she did, a soft chittering not possible in the vacuum, but —
Bloody hell …
She glanced back at dark space, her helmet lights playing over shadows as the hatch slid.
I could be rid of the thing …
She felt a pressure on her chest, like a bundle of limp, warm fur, and then a cold dot on her neck, as though a tiny nose nuzzled her.
“Damn me — belay that!”
Through the gap of the nearly closed hatch and into the tiny dark space. Her helmet lights caught the shape of the little box, vacsuit gloved fingers fumbled with the latches to release the clamps that held it tight to the deck, then she was back and Paskell slid the hatch shut and dogged it.
“Can’t believe we nearly forgot about Boots, sir!” Sills said.
“Here,” Alexis said, shoving the case into his arms. “Take the vile thing and get it aboard a boat.”
Sixty-Six
The boats were loaded and all but hers already away when Alexis and the others reached the boarding hatch. She waved the others aboard and slid into the cockpit — there was a seat for her aft, but she wanted to be able to see what was going on around them.
“Get us away, Gutis,” she said, sliding into the seat to his right.
“Aye, sir.”
There was a muted thump as the boat released from Mongoose and pushed away. The boat, at least, had its own power and grav generators, so it was only the spinning of the stars outside the viewscreen that she had to deal with. That soon eased as Gutis brought the boat under control and out of Mongoose’s uncontrolled tumbling.
The first sight of her ship brought a lump to her throat. The hull was pocked and lumpy from being hit, and the ship itself was dark, as though already dead. She supposed it was — a ship might have a soul, but her crew was the lifeblood and Mongoose’s was streaming away in their boats.
Gutis backed further away, leaving Alexis to watch Mongoose tumble into the distance. She shook away the sadness — most of the crew, save those struck down in the fight, were aboard the boats, and that was the most important thing. The boat’s console was tracking Mongoose’s path, and that would be as predictable as any other — they wouldn’t have to worry about her being blown willy-nilly by darkspace winds and broken up on some shoal. Once they’d dealt with the pirates, they’d almost certainly be able to find and recover her — if the plant could be repaired, even to support half its capacity, then Mongoose might yet live again.
“Still, I imagine Dansby will be quite cross with me.”
“What was that, sir?”
“Don’t mind me, Gutis, see to your board.”
“Aye, sir.”
Gutis’s eyes had remained on his board throughout, Alexis noted, turning the boat about and putting it after the others, which were already streaming toward the planet.
A planet which was, she saw, quite closer than she’d expected. The time since Mongoose’s
fusion plant had shut down seemed like an eternity. She quite expected them to be past the planet, past the pirates coming from L4, and possibly even past that point itself.
Instead, they were very nearly even with Erzurum, only a little ahead of the other private ships, which were in the last bits of making their orbit and dropping their own boats.
“Signal — no, I’ll do it. You take us toward the planet — we’re still after your original target.” Alexis reached for her side of the console and laid communications lasers on the four other boats. “All right, lads, we may not have the ship in orbit, but we’ve more aboard our boats than expected and we can still make our targets. Stick to the original plan, aye?”
A moment after she received an acknowledgement from the other boats, Nabb slid the cockpit hatch open and came to her side.
“Them you brought back’re all settled, sir,” he said. “Isom’s took a blow to the head, but looks t’be all right soon as he comes to — thought you’d like to know.”
“Thank you, Nabb. The others?”
“Cook lost an arm, but the suit sealed right. Snow shot through the leg, but the same. Looks t’be the banging about what put them out — that and air loss. Likely not clamped down or have their face plates shut, thinking they were safe as any down there.”
Alexis nodded. At least they were all alive.
“Boots is shook up, but not a hair harmed — that crate Isom found is padded well and sealed.”
Alexis grunted. “Thank you, Nabb. We’re headed for our original targets on the surface, so will you see the lads are all armed? With so many more aboard, you’ll likely have to open the arms locker for it.”
“Aye, sir.”
That done, Alexis turned her attention to what was happening around Erzurum.
The private ships were either in orbit or nearly so. Scorpion and Osprey, Lawson and Kingston, had put themselves alongside the battered frigate in orbit and were boarding. Alexis hoped they were right about the ships the pirates had left in orbit and there was not too large a crew aboard — both Lawson and Kingston had let loose their own boats, so their ships were lightly manned. No more still aboard than could fight the guns and maneuver in orbit.
Gallion had taken up position between the planet and L1, the closest of the Lagrangian points, and was engaging the pirates approaching from there — a captured merchant and two gunboats.
One gunboat, as Alexis watched the other peppered with shot from Gallion’s broadside, went dark and started its own tumble. Gallion rolled to fire again and the remaining ships veered off — thrusters and engines firing to send them far wide of the planet, perhaps to join up with their fellows.
Shot continued to come in from those other pirates, though, and some of it close to Mongoose’s boats, all of which were flinging themselves about to make the targeting more difficult. The little boats could accelerate and decelerate much faster than the massy ships in normal-space, they needed only a few more minutes before they might be close enough to the planet that the ships themselves were more tempting targets for the attackers.
It was minutes they didn’t have, as shot streaked through their formation.
One of the boats was struck midway down the hull. The off-gassing thermoplastic set the boat to tumbling and the pilot tried to right it, but the tumble continued. Alexis nearly cried out, wondering who was aboard and who was now dead, as the shot had gone straight into the aft compartment which would be crowded with Mongoose’s crew.
“’At’s Shallcross, sir,” Gutis said, eyes never stopping their dance from console to screen and back again. “He’s a deft one, him.” His own fingers sent their boat in even harder evasive maneuvers, even as his half-heard mutters seemed to be coaching the other. “’At’s it, Shallcross, a bit more … fire a port-aft … there y’go, lad, there y’go … y’got her, y’do. Handsomely, lad, handsomely …”
Indeed Shallcross did seem to. The boat was under control and heading now toward Scorpion and the boarding of the orbiting frigate.
“See, sir?” Gutis asked. “Easy as —”
Their boat jerked hard to port and down, so fast and far that Alexis thought she could hear a whine from the inertial compensators and she was actually lifted from her seat, held in place only by her belt.
Shot flashed past where they’d been an instant before, visible only as alerts on the console.
The boat spun end for end and Gutis fired the boat’s own guns. Tiny things, useful only for other boats and ground targets, really, and controlled directly from his console, which was why they were even less useful in darkspace.
Gutis settled them back on course to Erzurum, which had grown quite large. They were nearly within the orbits of the ships and minutes away from atmosphere.
The pilot patted his console.
“’Er guns might do no more’n tickle ‘em, sir, even up close, but I’d not think we’re toothless, all entire.”
Alexis grinned back. “No, Gutis, I’d have no one think that of us.”
“Should be the last sent our way though, sir.” He jerked his head aft. “Bigger fish ‘tween us and them now.” He twisted the boat in space to line up with the planet and studied his board. “Just have to get us where we’re to put down now …” He watched his board, then reached for the throttle. “Just there and —”
The boat shook, their view of the planet spinning away, only to be replaced by stars and then the planet again. Alarms sounded, each trying to outdo the other, and the console was awash with red, flashing and strobing.
“Where’d you come from, you bloody bugger’s fart!”
The boat spun, shook again, then dove, and Alexis was pushed back into her seat.
A shape flashed past the viewscreen and Alexis had barely time to register another ship’s boat before Gutis had theirs in a sharp turn to starboard.
He began a muttered, cursing litany of the red flashing on his console, but Alexis didn’t need to hear that the inertial compensators had been all but destroyed — that she was being flung about with every maneuver told her that. Her gorge rose as Gutis spun the boat end for end vertically and went into a diving roll.
“Best get yer harness on, sir,” Gutis said. “This’ll be rough.”
It already was, and she said a silent prayer for the crew in the back, hoping they’d all been strapped into their seats before this started. She struggled with her seat’s shoulder harness and managed to click it into place just as they turned sharply to port and went into a corkscrew that had her gorge rising again.
“Helmet back on too,” Gutis muttered.
Alexis struggled with that, finally clicking it into place against the stresses of the boat’s twists and turns.
She saw that Gutis’ vacsuit helmet was still attached to his seat and wondered if she’d be able to stretch far enough — or even raise her arms in some of these gyrations — to help him with it. If the boat was close to being deaired, he’d need that, but was busy with piloting.
“Keep yer helmet on, sir … can’t be worrying about your puke flying about my face.” Gutis shot her a quick look. “Full respect, an’ all, o’course, sir.”
Alexis didn’t bother to answer, merely swallowed again, hoping she wouldn’t have to experience another episode of that within the limited confines of her vacsuit helmet — once as a midshipman was quite enough — and managed to sort out what the boat’s board was telling her.
They were in-atmosphere now, the edges of it, at least, and under attack not by the pirate’s ships but by another boat. Likely from a captured merchant ship, held back at Erzurum when its ship was sold off to provide transport on the colony — and now defense against the attackers.
She could see that some of the other boats from the private ships were similarly engaged. Here and there the sky, now blue as they descended farther into atmosphere, showed a dark cloud where a boat, attacker or defender, she couldn’t tell, had been blotted from the sky.
The private ships all had boats better arm
ed and armored than the typical merchant, though, so the thought had been they’d carry the day.
They were spinning more than dodging up and down now and the boat shook as it was struck again.
“Grav’s barely holdin’,” Gutis muttered. His fingers danced over the controls. “Right, then, follow this, y’bastard.”
The bottom of whatever had held the boat in the air dropped out and the boat with it. Alexis’ throat filled with what seemed to be her entire insides and she clenched her jaw against it.
The boat dropped straight down, but spun to put the cockpit pointing up.
The sky above was blue at the edges, but turning purple and still dark just above, stars barely visible still, until they were blotted out by the shape of the attacking boat.
Gutis’s eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened on a trigger.
“Come straight at us but we ain’t there,” he muttered. “Got this for you, though.”
Flashes appeared along the boat above as Gutis fired. The atmosphere between the two boats sparkled as dust vaporized. Great clouds of steam and liquid hull material gushed from the boat above, very nearly like blood, then an explosion rocked its stern.
The boat dropped very nearly like Mongoose’s had, arcing slightly from its momentum, but mostly falling now.
“Ha!”
Gutis spun the boat again, this time to face the planet, and their fall slowed. He cut his glance from the viewscreen to the console.
“They’re done, but we’re not much better, sir.”
The boat leveled off, moving forward some now, but still dropping quickly. Too quickly for comfort.
“Inertial compensators all but gone and the grav with it — enough to slow us, but we’ll not make our destination.” He glanced at Alexis. “Near a settlement or no’s the best choice I can give you, sir.”
“Near, but not too,” Alexis said. The decision was sudden, but they’d need transport to get to the men and boats from the other private ships once on the surface. She looked at Gutis, and saw that he was tense now, where he hadn’t been while fighting the other boat. His jaw was clenched and his face white, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow despite the still cool air in the cockpit.
Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5) Page 38
