by Henry Vogel
“Martin, there’s got to be something we can do to give all of us a fighting chance!”
Rupor fell in beside me as we backed down the corridor and away from the door. Overeager, the pirates inside the captains’ box rushed into the corridor and smashed into the other pirates’ front line. It was a golden opportunity and the marines took full advantage of the confusion. Swords flashed and men screamed. Seconds later, nine pirates lay dead or dying and the pirates paused to regroup.
In the comparative silence, Martin didn’t have to shout. “I’ve got an idea for getting all of us away from here.”
Martin’s tone was as casual as possible under the circumstances, but there must have been something in his look that gave Callan pause.
“What kind of idea?” she demanded.
“It’s simple. We take advantage of the confusion and everyone retreats into the duct!”
Before us, the pirates were already regrouping. Their confusion hadn’t lasted nearly long enough for Martin’s plan to succeed.
“And what, exactly, is going to cause this confusion?” Megan asked.
“David and I will,” he replied. “When we attack the pirates while Boosted.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The advance of the pirates slowed as the pirates argued over who would be on the front line. It appeared everyone wanted the first crack at us. That gave Callan and Megan time to express their opinions of Martin’s plan.
“Isn’t that always the plan?” Callan asked. “Danger looms, David Boosts, and his life gets shortened because Boost abuses his body. I didn’t marry the man just to watch him Boost himself into an early grave!”
“And, speaking as the expedition’s bard, do you have any idea how hard it is to find rhymes for Boost?” Megan added.
“There’s always loosed,” Martin said. “As in ‘The men did Boost, and death was loosed.’"
“Dearest, I’d have starved years ago if I had your way with words!” Megan replied.
“That’s it!” Callan exclaimed. “Megan, words and images are your livelihood. Why not tell the pirates exactly what will happen to them if they attack us again. Be as colorful and graphic as you like.”
Megan grinned, grabbed Martin and me by the arm, and stepped toward what would soon be the line of battle. “Come on, boys, let’s put on a show.”
Facing the pirates across ten feet of corridor, she began singing in gal base. Seriously, Megan sang to a blood-thirsty gang of pirates!
Come one, come all
To the crimson ball!
I’ve a Scout to my left,
And a Scout to my right,
And Boosted they’ll be,
When they join in the fight!
With a wink and a glance
They’ll ask you to dance.
Then their blades will flash,
They will cut and slash!
Then your heads will fly,
And you each will die,
As we paint the hall red
With the blood of your dead!
So come one, come all
To the crimson ball!
I found the grisly song all the more jarring for the spritely tone Megan used. But she abandoned that tune for the last two lines. Those were delivered in a tone so menacing I felt a shiver run up my spine!
“All fun aside, boys,” Megan said into the silence, “you will end up looking just like a girl’s dolls after her spiteful little brother finishes playing with them — heads and arms scattered everywhere. Look at the bodies you just dragged aside. Hacked and slashed as they are, those are pretty corpses compared to what David and Martin will leave behind if they Boost!”
Turning toward the air duct, Megan looked back over her shoulder. “Or you could just say we slipped away when you eager lads from the arena crashed out into the stalwart fellows in the corridor. It’s such an easy story to remember and who could say otherwise?”
With a parting smile, Megan began walking away.
“Let’s go, everyone,” she hissed. “They’re non-plussed right now, but I don’t know how long that can last!”
While Megan sang, two marines had pulled the grating up from the air duct. One by one, we jumped into the duct. Dropping down last, I yanked the grating back in place. Bending double, we hurried through the duct, unsure where it would lead!
The hubbub surrounding the arena faded as we rushed away from it. Martin slipped around everyone to take the lead while I stayed at the back to guard against pursuers.
“That was nicely done back there, my love,” he said to Megan. “When did you have time to come up with that song?”
“I just made it up as I sang it.”
“Callan,” Martin said, “could I suggest you have Megan appointed as the official bard of the Mordanian Court when we get home?”
“Please ignore Martin,” Megan said to Callan. “My songs are meant to be sung in taverns, on trails, and on street corners, not cooped up in a stuffy palace filled with stuffy nobles!”
Megan suddenly remembered she was talking to a noble who lived in the palace. “Um, no offense, Your Highness.”
Callan laughed. “None taken, Megan. I hope you’ll agree to perform at the palace someday, but you have too much wanderlust to be happy stuck in one place. How fortunate for you that Martin shares your love of the itinerant lifestyle. You’ll give us enough advance notice to catch up with the two of you for the big day, won’t you?”
“What big day?” Megan asked.
“Your Highness, has anyone told you that you are much too observant?” Martin said.
“I am sorry, Martin,” Callan said, contrition creeping into her voice. “You’ve always been one to act once you made up your mind, I just assumed...”
“Would someone mind letting me in on this big secret?” Megan said, her voice rising.
“I’d hoped to be on one knee rather than bent double running through an air duct, but it seems the universe had other plans.” Martin looked over his shoulder. “Megan, will you marry me?”
“Oh, is that what this is all about?” Megan asked. “Sure, I’ll marry you.”
“Until we have more time, please consider yourself thoroughly kissed, my dear.”
“Consider my heart to be all aflutter and me near to swooning, dear heart.”
“You’ve made me the happiest man in the air duct!”
“My congratulations to the both of you,” I called. “But can you see a way out of this duct, Martin? My back is killing me!”
“David, you’ll be my best man, of course,” Martin called back. “And I see a grating about fifty feet ahead.”
“I’d be honored,” I said. “Do you hear any sounds from ahead?”
“Excellent!” Martin called. “I don’t hear anything. We can assume there isn’t any fighting above the grate, at least.”
“We might as well complete the wedding party while we’re down here,” Megan said. “Callan, would you be my matron of honor?”
“Matron makes me sound so old! I’m only twenty-three, you know.”
It was Megan’s turn to laugh. “There is a specific connotation to the term ‘maid.’ Unless you’re saying David and you have not-”
“Matron it is,” Callan interrupted. “And, like David, I’d be honored.”
“My compliments to the happy couple,” growled the marine sergeant, “but could I suggest you hold off setting a wedding date until we’re back aboard the ship?”
“Good idea, Sergeant,” Martin said. “The corridor above sounds empty. This is as good an opportunity to get out of this duct as any.”
At a nod from me, Martin lifted the grate and climbed out. Two marines followed him before Chapman’s voice rang out.
“There they are, Captain Quint! Just like I told you!”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Rupor, who was about to ascend into the corridor, sighed. “My apologies, David. I shouldn’t have suggested you try to save that snake Chapman. I don’t know what I was thinking.�
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“You were thinking about the woman you love, Rupor,” I said.
Rupor’s eyebrows shot up. “Is it so obvious?”
Moving up next to Rupor, I pulled myself up into the corridor. “I’d wager all of the women on the ship have probably figured it out. The men are probably as clueless as I was before you sent Heidi back to the ship.”
Rupor rose from the air duct to join us in the corridor. “Then, if the chance presents itself, you know why I must be the one to kill Chapman.”
“He knows nothing of the sort, Rupor!” Callan called from below. “David, don’t let Rupor kill that slime unless there is absolutely no other choice.”
“Martin, I expect you to help David with that!” Megan sang out.
“But I-” Rupor began.
“Your Highness,” growled the sergeant, “a wise man listens to what women have to say concerning affairs of the heart!”
Rupor stared at the marine for a second.
“I’ve been married nearly as long as you’ve been alive, Prince Rupor,” the sergeant said. “After that many years, a man either learns a few things about women or spends a lot of cold nights on the couch. I’ve never slept on the couch. Now, gentlemen, could I suggest we turn our attention to these pirates?”
Our section of the corridor got quite crowded as two more marines climbed up to join us. One more marine, the young private I’d fought next to only a few minutes ago, prepared to join us.
“Stay down there, Harris,” the sergeant ordered. “If we can’t break through the pirate lines, it’s your responsibility to get the women back to our ship.”
“Yes, sir!” Harris replied.
We turned our attention back to the pirates. Two groups stood to either side of us, blocking all exits except the air duct. Despite having the numerical advantage, the pirates just milled about. Quint, arms folded, glared at us from behind one group. Chapman, eyes bright and looking all the world like a weasel, stood next to Quint.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” one of the marines asked.
“Quint’s probably waiting for even more men to arrive so he can overwhelm us,” Martin said.
“Then let’s not wait for them to attack us,” I said. “Marines, stand aside and give Martin and me clear paths to the pirates.”
Stepping forward, I looked in the eye of each pirate on the front line. Switching to gal base, I said, “There’s a warlike indigenous race living on my adopted planet. Do you know what their name for me is?”
The pirates exchanged confused glances before one responded, “Um, no?”
“Pay him no never mind, boys!” Quint called. “We got ‘em outnumbered.”
“Then why aren’t you attacking, Quint?” I said. I turned my attention back to the front line. “They call me the Hand of Death. If you don’t stand down, my hand will deal your death!”
The four on the front line exchanged nervous glances.
“Ignore his yammerin’!” Quint commanded. “He be outnumbered. Ain’t no way he attacks!”
Sword raised, I charged!
The eyes of every pirate watched me. None of them saw Quint’s face go slack and his eyes go wide when I attacked. Slowly, he backed away from his men, opening his mouth twice before finding his voice.
“Ha!” It sounded more like a cough than a laugh. “I goaded him right good. Twenty thousand credits to the man what deals the death blow!”
The gleam of greed replaced fear in many of the pirates’ eyes. They stopped backing away and readied their blades. Over their heads, I saw Quint and Chapman turn and run back down the corridor. I wanted to Boost, jump over the men, and chase Quint. But there were too many men to leap and the ceiling was much too low. I’d have to settle for Boosting and taking my frustration out on the pirates standing before me.
“Boarding party discipline, sir!” called the sergeant from close behind me.
That made me pull up short of the pirates’ line. A second later, Rupor, the sergeant, and a private stood beside me.
“Hold to the drill, gentlemen,” Rupor said, “and we’ll set this rabble on their heels!”
The sudden change in tactics sent the pirates edging back again. With Rupor calling the cadence, the four of us stepped forward in unison and engaged the pirates.
The popular image of pirates is one of vicious bands of cutthroats swarming throughout a ship, cutting down all who dare to stand in their way. For once, the popular image matched reality. But ‘vicious’ is nothing more than an attitude and ‘swarm’ is a tactic long abandoned by military-minded men. Pirates never fight trained military units unless they’re cornered or can overwhelm them through sheer numbers.
The pirates outnumbered us five or six to one, but the confines of the corridor kept the number of men actually fighting us to four. We advanced, slashing and stabbing with coordination and an economy of motion strange to the pirates. Unsure how to react, the pirates fell back on their preferred fighting styles. They hacked and slashed with big, strong strokes which were as likely to get in each other’s way as they were to force one of us to block the blow.
Within seconds of the first clash of steel, blood dripped from our swords and four new pirates stood before us. Rupor blocked a pirate’s attack and immobilized the blade.
“Bind!” he snapped.
The private’s blade stabbed into Rupor’s pirate as the sergeant and I shifted into defensive mode, covering the two men dealing with the immobilized pirate.
“Clear!” Rupor called as the pirate fell away from him.
Five more pirates fell before the rest of them realized they didn’t have the skill or tactics to win against four blades working as one. Our opponents turned and ran, abandoning the three men still engaged with us.
“Your fellows have left you,” Rupor said. “Be smart chaps and drop your swords. If you do, I give you my word we won’t kill you.”
Three swords clattered to the deck.
“That’s the first smart move I’ve seen all day,” I said. “When you see your fellow pirates, tell them we simply want to get back to our ship, nothing more. If they don’t get in our way, we won’t kill them. Now, scram.”
Pirate footfalls faded quickly and we headed back to the air duct. Martin and his marines finished routing their pirates as the sergeant called to his man.
“Harris? It’s safe to come up now!”
Harris didn’t answer. Heart leaping to my throat, I rushed to the opening. A dead pirate lay below in the air duct. There was no sign of Harris, Megan, or Callan!
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Afraid of what I’d see, I leapt into the air duct. Martin was right behind me. A quick look around told the story well enough.
Up toward the arena, a new opening yawned in the side of the duct. If I looked through the opening, I was certain I’d find a metal plate and a maintenance tunnel. I assumed Chapman told Quint about the tunnel and Quint sent men through it to either cut us off or attack us from behind. The plan would have worked, too, except the pirates found easier, more tempting prey waiting for them in the air duct.
“Looks like Harris killed one of the pirates and then took off with Megan and Callan,” Martin said.
“And the pirates chased after them instead of attacking us,” I added.
Bent double, I set off down the duct as fast as the cramped conditions would allow. Martin was right behind me.
“Keep up with them, lads,” the sergeant ordered. “Our captains won’t be thinking clearly ‘till their women are safe!”
Part of my brain — a very small, very remote part — knew the sergeant was right. The animal part of my brain and the husband part of my brain already pictured me hacking every last pirate into very small pieces for what I feared they’d done to my wife.
“Harris is a smart lad, sir,” the sergeant called, perhaps trying to convince Martin and me to show more caution. “He’ll run if he can and fight if he has to. He’ll keep the ladies safe.”
It was a good try and
might have worked if we hadn’t come across the blood stain. It wasn’t much, a smear of blood on the side of the duct. It might not even have been Harris’s blood. Even if it wasn’t, it was evidence of more fighting.
Rounding a bend, we saw the duct end in the side wall of a hallway. As we drew closer, I saw the grating leaning crookedly against the far wall of the corridor, red blood shining from a spot in the middle of the grate. Harris must have barreled into it without slowing down, clearing an exit for Callan and Megan. It also told us Harris was wounded.
Exiting the duct, Martin and I rose to our full height and looked both ways down the corridor.
“There!” I shouted and set off running to the right.
A knot of pirates hacked and slashed at Harris, who stood resolutely between the pirates and the two women. With every stroke he exchanged with a pirate, Harris and the women retreated a step. The marine bled from half a dozen minor cuts and a wound to his left shoulder.
We were fifty yards away, shouting to draw the pirates’ attention and running as fast as our feet could carry us. The sounds of their own battle must have drowned out our voices, because none of the pirates turned our way. Then Callan and Megan ran out of room to retreat and Harris was forced to stand and fight. The pirates pressed the attack for a couple of seconds then suddenly pulled back. One of the pirates hit a control on the wall and a heavy door slid between the pirates and the trio.
The pirates had driven the three of them into an airlock!
Harris obviously realized it, too. Through the window in the airlock door, I saw him spring forward. He was too late. Steel hit steel as the door finished closing. Without taking his eyes from the airlock window, a pirate slapped the control to open the airlock to the void of space!
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Through the small window in the sliding airlock door, Callan caught sight of me racing down the corridor. For a second, hope flared in her lovely face. But as Harris lunged toward the closing door, she realized there was no way I could reach her in time. Hope gave way to despair before my view of her was blocked by pirates crowding around the window to watch the three meet their doom.
