He flashed a smug grin. “It’s amazing what you can do with an asteroid when you equip it with sublight engines.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Salvage operations are under way, Tarl.” Jern Ishtawahl smiled to himself, hours later, pleased with how everything had turned out. He’d been instrumental in developing the defensive plan for the fortress and it was satisfying to see everything come together as designed.
They did have a few surprises for us, of course. But what conflict does not? We did not expect those piggyback power generators that gave their shields and energy weapons so much strength. That cost us many ships and people. And the electromagnetic pulse from the nukes burned out many of the defensive sensors and weapons in the area.
He shrugged mentally. Ships and equipment can be replaced, and fewer pirates mean fewer ways to split the obscene profits we can expect to reap from this victory. Besides, soon we will be beating off new candidates with a moofbah stick. There are opportunists and sycophants aplenty in this universe.
Now that Smuggler’s Cove had been returned to its rightful place at the center of the sphere surrounded by the inner shield wall, Ishtawahl watched the large holoscreen in the command center as the salvage ships closed in on what was left of the first two Unity vessels.
“Good, good,” Penrod replied, only half paying attention. He was already nose-deep in the quarterly earnings report he was preparing for the stockholders.
“Next year should be a record-breaker.” He looked up and smiled. “In fact, every year from now on should be a record-breaker.” His smile broadened. “After all, who can stop us?”
“Not the Merchants’ Unity, certainly.” Ishtawahl snorted. “The few ships we let scurry home with their tails between their legs will spread the word of how crushing their defeat was. It matters not that we lost two-thirds of our ships as well. We can rebuild. The Unity as a fighting force is effectively done.”
Penrod nodded. “I agree. They’ve got a couple of dozen ships left that they held back, so we may run into one now and then, but there’s no way they’ll be able to convince their membership to come up with the money to build another fleet from scratch. Not after this debacle. No, you’re right—the Unity is dead but not yet buried.”
“O-o-o-o-o-h-h-h-h-h, my head.”
Hal tried to put a hand to his temple to stop the pounding. It moved less than four centimeters before coming to a sudden stop against something hard. That made Hal open his eyes. He saw no more with his eyes open than he had with them closed. Omigod! Am I blind? He blinked several times to be sure. Nothing changed.
He tried to move his right hand again. It was able to move a few centimeters up and down or left and right, but there were obstructions in every direction. He pulled his arm back, only to find an obstruction behind his elbow. What the hell’s going on?
He tried the exercise with his left hand and discovered that his arm was pinned by something unyielding. In fact, there was something tight across his chest as well, keeping him from moving much at all.
Crap. Where am I? What happened? Clearly something bad.
For several minutes he strained to remember. Then the smell of burnt electronics, human sweat, and the cinnamony scent of Chan’Yi assailed his nostrils. That flushed the fuzziness from his brain.
The nuke! But why are we still alive? Then a scary thought hit him. What if I’m the only one still alive? The idea of dying slowly and alone in a steel coffin terrified him.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? H-e-l-l-o!”
Not even an echo replied. The ship was as silent as the tomb it resembled more in Hal’s mind with each passing second.
Now panicking, he struggled to escape from his blind prison.
Got…to…get…out…of…here!
Hal found that his legs were pinned in place as well—pinned or paralyzed, he couldn’t tell. He tried to wiggle his toes, but couldn’t decide if he actually felt them or only imagined it.
After two minutes of futility, he finally stopped.
This is pointless.
“Get a grip on yourself, Hal! Struggling aimlessly is getting you nowhere. Be methodical. Feel around a bit. Maybe you’ll find something you can shift to get you out of here. But whatever you do, focus!”
Once he stopped thrashing and concentrated on what he was doing, he realized that the queasiness in his stomach indicated not hunger, but the lack of gravity.
Okay, so the power’s out. That explains why it’s so quiet. No equipment hum. And maybe it’s dark because the lights are out, rather than me being blind.
That thought calmed him further.
All right. Time to get myself out of here.
With the limited range of motion available to him there wasn’t much he could do. He tried pulling his right arm back. Again he hit his elbow against something unyielding. This time, he tried bending his wrist to bring his fingers as close to his wrist as possible.
Maybe I can slip my hand out of this if I….
His knuckles came up hard against the ragged edge of something metallic.
Come on…just a smidge more.
He forced his fingers to move just the tiniest bit, mindless of the pain of torn skin and the smell of blood.
Just a little…there!
His hand slipped free from its cage, perhaps lubricated by his blood.
He brought his torn knuckles to his mouth and sucked the blood from them. That hurt, but the pain reminded him he was still alive. And if he was alive he had a chance to escape. Except, to where, he had no idea.
Hey, where there’s life, there’s always hope.
Using his free hand, he felt all over his upper body, wherever he could reach, looking for injuries. His scalp and forehead were sticky. He sniffed his fingers. More blood. I hope I have enough to go around. He felt across his chest and abdomen. They felt intact. Then his hand encountered what was restraining his chest. My harness! You mean I’m still in my seat?
He depressed the latch in the center of the five-point harness and it unlatched. By twisting his torso, he was able to wiggle enough to free his left arm, which was pinned against the armrest by what felt like a girder. There was more blood on his hand and wrist from several cuts and abrasions, but nothing serious. He flexed his hand and wrist. “Ow!” The wrist is definitely sprained, but I don’t think it’s broken.
Next came his legs. Hal hesitated before touching them, fearful of what he might find.
Come on, Hal, you’re a big boy. You can handle whatever cards you’re dealt.
He took a deep breath, reached down to his right thigh and pinched.
“Ow!” He rubbed the spot vigorously.
Well, at least I know I’m not paralyzed. Now I just have to figure out whether there’s any way out of this mess.
Carefully bending down so he didn’t hit his head on the girders and scrap metal crisscrossing in front of his face, he ran his hands down his legs until his hands encountered a metal bar across his ankles. It pinned his feet tight against the base of the pilot’s couch, which was in its upright chairlike position, not in the usual extended easy-chair configuration. He tried to lift the bar, pulse pounding in his temples with the effort. The debris crisscrossing in front of his chest made it difficult to reach that far. When lifting failed, he tried pushing the bar away from his body. No go; not enough leverage.
Great. I’m gonna die here because my feet are stuck? No freakin’ way!
Hal felt around his seat, looking for anything that might provide leverage.
C’mon! All I need is a piece of girder, a broom handle, anything.
There was nothing usable within reach. He reached down and grabbed the bar again, straining with everything he had. “
Eee—yah-h-h!” He screamed with the effort, before finally giving up in frustration.
That’s it, then. I’m only going to get weaker with time. If I can’t get myself free now I never will.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
Not with a
bang but a whimper, eh? He chuckled. “Not exactly how I saw myself going out.”
“HaHal? Is that you?”
Hal sat up straight. “Who’s that? Who’s there?”
“Kalen.” His voice came from somewhere across the bridge, not from the captain’s seat next to Hal’s.
Hal sighed in relief. “Thank God. I thought I was alone. Are you all right?”
“I-I think so. I’m dizzy and nauseous and my shoulder hurts. I think I have a couple of cracked ribs, but nothing life-threatening. How about you?”
“Just cuts and bruises, a sprain. But I’m trapped. There’s a steel bar pinning me to my seat. I’ve tried, but I can’t move it. Can you get over here?”
“Ye-yeah, I think so. Keep talking so I can find you.”
“Sure. What happened? Why are we still alive? Any idea?”
“Not a one. That close to a nuclear warhead, we shouldn’t be having this conversation.” His voice was closer now, and steadier.
Creaks and clatters from off to Hal’s right told him where Kalen was coming from, hand-over-handing his way through the wreckage in zero-gee.
“Well, I’m certainly not looking this particular gift horse in the mouth. Of course, there’s the slight problem of figuring out how to stay alive.”
“What? Just because we’re trapped in a dead ship surrounded by bloodthirsty pirates who want us dead, too? What could possibly be the problem?” His short laugh, followed by, “Ow!” came from directly in front of Hal.
“Yeah. Broken ribs hurt like a son of a bitch, don’t they?”
“You said it. Okay, where’s that bar? Ah; found it. Between my shoulder and my ribs, and in zero-gee, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”
“Well, whatever you and I can do together will be more than I’ve been able to do by myself. All right. Let me get a grip. You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. On three. One…two…three!” Both men grunted, Kalen’s turning shrill with pain.
“Stop, stop!” Kalen grunted. “This isn’t working. Let me see if I can find something else to use for leverage.”
“I hope you have better luck than I did.”
Hal had to sit and wait in the dark, chewing his lower lip as he listened to the sounds coming from various parts of the bridge.
“Aha! I think this might do.” There was victory in Kalen’s voice. At this point, even small victories were worth savoring. A moment later, he was by Hal’s side. “All right. I’m going to slide this pipe down beside your foot, behind the bar. You’ll need to scoot your butt to your left so I can use your seat as a fulcrum. Grab the pipe and pull back. I’ll get behind your seat and brace my feet against the back.”
“Sounds good.”
“On three, then. One…two…three!”
This time the bar shifted. Hal tried to raise his right foot. It moved slightly, then caught. “Harder!” He pulled with all his might and tried his foot again. This time it slid free of the bar. He tried to pull his left foot out. It was still stuck fast.
“Stop!” He panted from exertion. “It’s no good. I got the right one out but the other’s still stuck.”
“That’s progress anyway. Let’s try shifting the rod over. Maybe we’ll have better luck.”
“Sure. I— Ow, ow, ow!”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hal chuckled. “Just pins-and-needles. Give me a minute to massage some blood back into my foot.”
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
“That makes two of us. Okay, I’m ready. Let’s give it another try.”
“Give me a second to move the bar.” A pause. “All right. On three.”
This time, the girder shifted enough that Hal slid his foot out easily.
“Got it! Thanks, Kalen.”
“Hey, what are friends for? Besides, I needed you to help me find a light somewhere. All this thrashing around in the dark is very annoying.”
Hal chuckled. “Give me a minute to massage this foot and I’ll be happy to help you. Ow!”
“More pins-and-needles?”
“Yeah, but my foot really hurts, too. I don’t think it’s broken, but it’s badly bruised. I’m not sure I can walk on it.”
“Good thing you’re weightless, then.”
“Yeah. Guess so. All right, captain my captain, let’s have at it.”
“Good. You start on the lef—”
“Hel-help!”
“Who’s that?” Kalen asked.
“It is me, sir. Marsengar.” The Foren’s voice came from the left of the two men.
“Are you all right?”
“I am injured sir. My left fore-tentacle. I am trapped under debris. I cannot get out. How long have I been unconscious?”
“I don’t know, Mars. Hold on; we’re coming.”
“If the three of us made it,” Hal mused, “I wonder how many other survivors there are.”
“Make that four,” said a deep voice from across the bridge.
“Well, Jern?” Penrod entered his second-in-command’s office on Smuggler’s Cove with eyebrows raised.
Ishtawahl shrugged. “Nothing much so far; just a lot of scrap metal flattened against the asteroids and odd chunks that deflected back into space. The impact smashed the ships so hard against the rock the shield generators and inertial dampeners failed almost instantly. They provided little protection for the equipment and crew inside.”
“Pity. Is it worth salvaging what’s left, or should we just leave it there?”
“It is too soon to tell. At the very least, we need to clean up the large pieces floating free inside the shield wall. They will be a hazard to navigation once we move this fortress back there. Plus there’s the fissionable material from the warheads. It might be worth tracking down.”
“Good point. All right, then. Continue salvage and cleanup operations for now.”
“Ow!” Kalen yelped. “Hey, watch that!”
“Sorry, sir.” Environmental Systems Specialist Gort Ashredahl turned the flashlight away from his Captain’s face. “I did not realize you were there.”
“It’s okay. Just be careful. Our eyes are pretty damned sensitive after all this time in the dark. I’m just glad you found a light finally. We need to assess the situation and we can’t do that if we can’t see.”
“Yes sir.” The Alberian turned the light in a circle around the bridge. “By the Eggs of Merad!”
The devastation was incredible. Hardly a piece of equipment was where it was supposed to be. Nearly everything had been torn free and dashed against the forward bulkhead of the bridge. Had Hal not closed the blast doors over the immense viewport before the nuke detonated, everyone on the bridge would have died from decompression. As it was, only four had survived among more than a dozen.
“Jeez.” Hal saw the pilot’s couch amidst the debris and laughed. “When I woke up and found myself still strapped in, I thought all that stuff had piled up around me. I had no idea I was part of the rubble!”
“Same here,” Kalen agreed. He pointed to the command chair halfway across the room, near the outer edge of the debris. “I’m amazed my head’s still attached.”
The hull was squeezed inward in places near the prow, as if crushed between gigantic Herculean fingers.
“How the hell did we survive that?”
Kalen shook his head at Hal. “Beats me. Adventurer’s a good ship. I guess she’s a lot tougher than we knew.”
He ran his fingertips along a railing that miraculously remained in its original position. “Well, we’re still airtight—at least on the bridge—for now, anyway. That’s something. And who knows? Maybe some survived on the other ships, too. Get pressure suits and flashlights from the storage lockers and let’s check out the rest of the ship.”
“Aye, Captain!” Gort Ashredahl and Marsengar said almost simultaneously.
“Roger that,” Hal chimed in.
“We need to see if we can restore power somehow
. This air is going to get stale pretty fast if we can’t get the environmental systems back up and running. Gort, that’s your job.”
“Aye.”
“Hal, go with Gort. If and when we get power restored, tie into the ship’s systems and run diagnostics on everything. We need to know what’s working and what isn’t.”
“Roger.”
“Mars, you’re with me. Let’s see if anyone survived outside the bridge.”
“Tarl?”
“Yes, Jern?” Penrod looked up from the console in his office.
“We have finished examining the wreckage of eight Unity ships. As expected, little can be salvaged other than scrap metal. We recovered one survivor who managed to climb into a pressure suit before the ship lost all atmosphere. The doctor says she is unlikely to survive her injuries and radiation exposure, however.”
“Ah well, that’s the way it goes. Too bad. Are you shutting down the salvage operation?”
Ishtawahl shook his head. “Perhaps you did not hear me correctly. I said we have finished examining the wreckage of eight Unity ships. As you may recall, nine ships penetrated the inner shield wall. We have found only eight wrecks.”
“Eight?” Penrod frowned. “I don’t understand. They were all caught in the same explosion, weren’t they? So where’s the ninth ship?”
“Unknown, sir.”
“Over here, sir!” Marsengar pointed with two of his three good tentacles. A pile of debris in a corner of the medical bay seemed to writhe.
Kalen rushed to the spot and helped Mars pull tables and equipment off the blue form underneath. “Nude! Are you all right?”
“Not-not entirely. It feels like I have several broken toes and my shoulder hurts. However, I do not believe I am seriously injured.”
“Good man!”
“Sir, please. Insults are uncalled for.”
Kalen laughed. “Yeah, I guess you can’t be feeling too bad after all.”
He helped the Chan’Yi to his feet, and then to an examination table that had somehow escaped the carnage.
My Other Car is a Spaceship Page 12
