My Other Car is a Spaceship

by Mark Terence Chapman

  OOOWEEE-OOOWEEE-OOOWEEE!

  “Captain!” He called over the intercom. “Sensors have detected smoke in Cargo Hold 9. I’m dispatching a firebot to the area.”

  “Very good. Does it look serious?” Captain Perenfar asked.

  “I’m still— Whoa! Captain, I have a fire alert. I don’t know what happened, but it flared up suddenly. Sensors indicate that it’s still small but growing quickly. I don’t think the ‘bot can handle it alone. I’m dispatching the other ‘bot, but I think we’re going to need some people there to help.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Captain! It’s really spreading fast. You’d better get everyone down there, in suits, ASAP. I’ll take care of everything from here.”

  “Good.” Perenfar opened the intercom to the shipwide channel. “This is the captain. We have a fire; repeat, we have a fire in CH9. Everyone grab their suits and meet me there immediately. Move it!”

  Solanmar and the cargo officer dashed off the bridge, leaving Hal alone.

  Three minutes later, Hal watched on the interior holocams as the nine crewmembers burst into the hold. Prodigious quantities of black smoke pushed past them and out the door.

  “Stay together!” the captain bellowed over his EVA suit radio.

  They all turned on their high-intensity suit lamps. The lights barely penetrated the dense smoke. Two of the crew grabbed the fire-suppressant-foam hose nozzles by the door and began running toward the fire, which was visible to the infrared sensors built into the suit helmets. Two others picked up coils in the middle of the hose and followed the first two. Another pair turned on the foam from the wall panels. Then they and the remaining three grabbed shovels and took off after the first four.

  The nine made their way through the murk to the source of the fire, well toward the back of the hold where a sack of pseudowheat blazed. The sack was well segregated from the other grain, so there was no danger of the fire spreading.

  It took only seconds to extinguish the blaze.

  “Hal,” Perenfar’s voice came over the radio, sounding confused. “I don’t understand. I thought the sensors reported a major fire. This is nothing one person couldn’t have put out. And where are the firebots?”

  “I’m afraid I owe you an apology, Captain. We’re making a little detour.”

  “Detour? Stand down mister. You are relieved of duty. Sel, take over for Mr. Nellis. Gev, Por, please escort Hal to his quarters. He is to be confined there until I can sort this all out.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Captain. I’m in a hurry. I think you’ll find that the cargo hold doors are malfunctioning. But don’t worry, your suits’ air supplies will last until the ventilators clear the smoke out of the hold. And I’ve left you plenty of food to last you until we arrive at Jorseen.”

  “This is piracy!” Captain Perenfar bellowed.

  Hal chuckled at the irony. “I suggest you take it up with the Merchants’ Unity when we arrive.”

  “But…you gave your word!”

  “I promised not to act against the best interests of this ship and crew. The way I see it, this is in the best interests of the ship and crew. You’ll come out ahead in the end, after you get paid by the Unity and the pirates are defeated.”

  “That is self-serving rationalization! We have contracts, deadlines! That long a delay will hurt our reputation as a dependable shipper!”

  “I’m sorry about that, but this is too important. If the pirates go unchecked, no ship anywhere will be safe, including yours. I’m looking at the bigger picture here. I’ll see if I can get you an official explanation or something from the Unity that you can show to your clients. Maybe a commendation for helping to fight the pirate threat, or something.”

  “This is unacceptable! Sel! Take control of ship’s systems. Cut him off!”

  “That won’t work either, Captain. Sel is currently limited to standby access. I also gimmicked the ship’s computer so you can’t override my authority. You really need to upgrade your system’s security protocols.”

  “He is correct, Captain,” Groshu confirmed. “I cannot open the door or affect the ship’s course.”

  “I’m truly sorry, Captain. You’ve been nothing but kind to me in my short time here, but I had no choice. I had to do this now. It couldn’t wait.”

  He shrugged, even though the captain couldn’t see him. “You might as well relax. You can have your ship back in a couple of days. Until then, think of this as enforced shore leave, but without the fun part.”

  Hal cut the intercom to spare himself the cursing and shouting.

  He settled back in his couch for a long stretch at the helm, but what other choice did he have? Kalen, Nude, Sue, and Merry needed him. The Unity needed him. Hell, it seemed this whole damn spiral arm of the galaxy needed him.

  Hal “Mongoose” Nellis was determined not to let the galactic arm down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The new base of operations for Kalen’s Kadre, as the escaped prisoners now called themselves, was deep in the warren of abandoned tunnels that Kalen called the maze. It would have been too suspicious to have more than a dozen people constantly coming and going in the warehouse, even if the locks hadn’t been about to be changed.

  Before the breakout, Kalen, Nude, and Sue had transferred food, clothing, and bedding materials to three unused chambers in the maze, far enough apart that if guards discovered the escapees hiding in one chamber, the others would have a chance to escape.

  When the Kadre was not engaged in a raid, Kalen, Nude, Sue, and Merry occupied one chamber and the nine surviving prisoners divided themselves between the other two. (One of the Sestrans was killed the day after the breakout.) During raids, Nude stayed behind with Merry. As a doctor, he refused to take a life except in self-defense. That meant the Kadre consisted of only eleven fighters: four Thorians, two humans, two Sestrans, two Chan’Yi, and one Foren.

  Grossly outnumbered, the Kadre had had to resort to guerilla tactics, not direct confrontations. Traveling in twos and threes, they hit rooms secured by only one guard, pounced on people and equipment being escorted by pairs of guards, and otherwise harassed and obstructed the pirates as often and as hard as possible.

  The badges they took from fallen guards were deactivated as soon as the fact was reported to the command center. If they were to be used to gain entry into restricted areas they had to be used immediately. However they served another equally important purpose: misdirection. If a prisoner wearing a work coverall and an ID badge casually walked up to a guard in an open corridor, by the time he got close enough for the guard to tell that the picture on the badge didn’t match the face of the wearer, it was already too late for the guard.

  After losing nearly twenty guards that way in less than an hour, security had changed their protocols. Now the guards traveled only in pairs, and anyone getting within ten meters of a guard was challenged before he got too close. The dead Sestran prisoner had learned of the change in procedure the hard way.

  “Move it!” MekFensal shouted at the security team rushing out the door. The thrice-damned spawn of Fet had killed another pair of guards. His guards, damn it!

  MekFensal snatched a blaster from its cradle along with a spare powerpack. The walls were lined with weapons of various sizes, shapes, and types—from handguns to rifles, from shaped charges to lethal or incapacitative gas canisters.

  Antennae twitching in agitation, MekFensal rushed out the door, letting it sigh shut behind him. Seconds later, before the door had a chance to close all the way, a tan-and-beige-furred arm reached in and tripped the safety mechanism. The door hissed open again.

  “Hurry up,” Mez Ovlu hissed, waving his fellow Thorian into the weapons locker.

  Col Somul slipped in right behind him. Knowing they had little time to spare before another guard came in for a replacement powerpack or weapon, they quickly dumped the half-filled sacks of tubers they’d carried on their shoulders.

  Col concentrated on explo
sives, gas canisters, and gas masks, while Mez went for the blasters and powerpacks. With no way to recharge the blasters “in the field,” the prisoners had to resort to replacing the weapons or powerpacks whenever one went dry.

  In less than a minute, each had filled up on what he’d come for and were out the door, sack over shoulder once more, and one hand stuffed in a pocket that held another blaster—just in case someone saw them leave the locker.

  Four minutes later, chatting like two buddies on the way home from work, they slipped from the side corridor into one of the many entrances to the maze.

  “We’ve arrived, Captain,” Hal reported over the intercom. “Jorseen orbit. I’ll be aboard the space station in a few minutes and I’ve programmed the computer for an out-system jump shortly after that to put you back on your original course. The timer will unlock the door to CH9 and let you out in an hour. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I did what I did with the best of intentions. This may be our last chance to stop the pirates. I couldn’t let it get away.”

  “I have had plenty of time to think about what you said,” Captain Perenfar replied. “You left me little else to do while we waited.” He snorted with dark humor.

  “I understand why you did what you did, but I still am displeased. You have disrupted our timetable and possibly damaged this company’s reputation, and for what? A fool’s errand that will probably get you killed? Face it: there is no Unity to come to the rescue. You cannot take on the pirates by yourself. It is suicide.”

  Hal shrugged. “Perhaps so, but I can’t just sit around on my fat ass doing nothing while they kill thousands of innocent people. Did you hear what Captain Tro did to the town on that last planet before he sold me to you?”

  Perenfar was silent for a moment. “Yes, but not until after Tro’s ship departed.”

  “Then you know why I have to do what I have to do.”

  Captain Perenfar sighed. “Yes. But I still do not like it. What will I do for a pilot once Sel retires?”

  Hal chuckled. “There are likely to be plenty of Unity pilots out of work on Jorseen. Pick one. Besides, you said you’d rather hire a pilot than buy one, right? Here’s your chance.”

  “Tarl, I have squads of guards patrolling the corridors with orders to shoot on sight anyone not wearing a valid ID badge.” Ishtawahl stood in the doorway of Penrod’s office, strapping a blaster harness around his waist. “I will be joining a squad myself. All security personnel are on duty until further notice. These raids will stop.”

  Penrod frowned. “So you keep saying, but I’m still waiting for results! Those bastards are seriously disrupting our operations now. Everyone’s afraid they’ll be shot by the escapees or get caught in the crossfire. It’s impossible to get any work done with one eye looking over your shoulder. We need to get this taken care of and get back to the business of doing business. If you have to, give guns to the dockworkers. Just get it done!”

  “There they are!” The Melphin guard pointed at the backs of the fleeing prisoners. “Shoot!”

  He and the other three guards opened fire. The headshots missed the ducking escapees, scorching the granite wall beyond. Several workers sharing the same corridor scattered at the first shots.

  The prisoners ducked around the corner before turning and firing back. There were three of them, a Sestran, a Chan’Yi, and a Thorian. Their shots missed as well.

  The guards took cover in doorways. Both sides traded blasts. Several exchanges produced no results except for damaging the fused stone surface of the corridor.

  The Sestran hit one of the guards in the left shoulder. A moment later the Thorian grazed another guard before becoming overconfident and leaning out a bit too far. A third guard shot him full in the face. He died before he hit the floor.

  The two remaining prisoners pulled back around the corner.

  The guards charged the intersection with fingers on triggers, but the prisoners were gone.

  The senior guard toggled his communicator. “Base, this is Vensin Sho. My team engaged three prisoners in corridor 137, at intersection 22. We managed to kill one of the prisoners, a Thorian.”

  “Good work, Sho,” MekFensal replied. “Any casualties on your end?”

  “Two of my team were injured, but not seriously. I am taking them to the med center for treatment.”

  “Very well. Take the dead prisoner with you and then get back out on patrol as soon as possible. We need to eliminate all of them.”

  “No, damn it!” Vanderwaal shouted, his dark eyes glinting. “We should be trying to get out of this place in one piece. We kill however many pirates it takes to reach the docks, steal a ship and get back to family and friends.”

  All the escapees sat huddled in the dimly lit chamber. Sue held Merry on her lap, attempting to quell the girl’s tears.

  “Keep it down, Steve!” Kalen said to the other human member of the group.

  “These tunnels echo like crazy. Look, we’ll never get out of here alive unless we do something to seriously disrupt their operations. For one thing, they have a lot more people than we do.” He made a sweeping gesture to include the rest of the combatants, now down to eight, not counting Nude and Merry.

  “We can’t just rush the hangar and steal a ship. They’re too well guarded. And even if we managed to get a ship, we can’t leave a stockpile of nukes in the hands of pirates. We already know they’ll use them. They could kill millions of innocent people. Could you sleep at night knowing you might have prevented it but didn’t even try? I know I couldn’t.”

  The slender Vanderwaal nodded vehemently. His long black hair flapped like a raven testing its wings. “Damn straight I could! It’s not my job to save the universe. I’ve got enough on my hands just trying to keep my family safe. The other families will have to take care of themselves. My wife and kids are out there, somewhere.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “I have to find them. The rest of the universe can go to hell for all I care.”

  “I understand how you feel—”

  “The hell you do! Your wife and kids aren’t god-knows-where hoping you’ll come rescue them.”

  “No,” Kalen replied with a chill in his voice as counterpoint to the heat in Vanderwaal’s. “You’re right. I have no wife and kids waiting for me. Pirates murdered my wife before we could have children. At least you have a wife and kids. I’ve been fighting pirates a lot longer than you have, and I’ve seen what they can do. Terrible, horrifying, heart-rending things that would give any sane man nightmares. That’s why I can’t just walk away and leave the pirates with working nukes. I have to try to stop them.”

  Vanderwaal was undeterred. “That’s fine for you. Fight the damn pirates; die trying to stop them. You’ve got nothing to lose. I’ve got a family waiting for me. I have to get back to them.”

  The two men stood almost nose to nose, seething, angry that the other refused to see reason.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Steve,” Kalen said at last. “But we can’t afford to do what you want. It’s too risky and the chances of success are too slim.”

  “Oh, sure,” the other retorted, dripping sarcasm. “The odds of taking on the entire pirate army are so much better.”

  “Well, at least we’re not going to try to take them on all at once. Guerilla tactics have worked so far, haven’t they? Get in quick, get out quick. We’ve only lost two people, compared to more than two dozen of the pirates. But your idea would get us all killed before we got anywhere near the ships. All it would take is a couple of guards hiding behind some crates to pin us down long enough for reinforcements to surround us, and then we’re all dead.”

  “Not if we hit them hard and fast.”

  “Steve, there’s no way we can get this many people all the way down to the hangar without setting off alarms somewhere along the way. They’re on the lookout for groups of people.”

  “Then we’ll go in ones and twos.”

  “Oh, and what are the first few people to arrive at the hangar sup
posed to do while they’re waiting for the last few to catch up—tap dance? Ask for directions? The guards will wonder why all these people are congregating in the hangar for no apparent reason. They’re bound to get suspicious.”

  “Fine! We’ll figure something out!”

  Kalen shook his head. “No we won’t. I’m sorry, Steve, but it’s just not feasible. We have to stick to the plan. It’s worked so far, hasn’t it? We’ve got the pirates running around in circles, looking for us instead of doing whatever evil things they would have been doing otherwise.”

  “Yes! We have them confused. That’s why this is the perfect time to attack the hanger and get the hell out of here.”

  Kalen sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s too risky. I can’t allow it.”

  “You can’t allow it. Who put you in charge?”

  “I am the only Unity officer here.”

  “Bullshit! The Unity’s dead! Haven’t you heard? You’re just another civilian like the rest of us. Maybe it’s time someone else was in charge. I say we attack the hanger, now, and hard. We steal a ship and get the hell out of here. Who’s with me?” He raised a hand above his head.

  He paused and looked for a show of hands. After a moment’s hesitation, five other hands rose, two Thorians, two Sestrans, and one Chan’Yi.

  That left only one Thorian, the Foren, Kalen, Sue, Nude, and—of course—Merry, who didn’t count.

  “This isn’t a democracy, Steve. I’m in charge here. Now let’s get back to wor—”

  “To hell with you, Captain,” Vanderwaal sneered. “We’re leaving, and taking weapons with us. If you won’t join us, we’ll just do it ourselves.”

  “Are you insane, man?” If a dozen of us couldn’t storm the hangar, six have even less chance of succeeding.”

  “So you say, Kalen. I happen to think otherwise. Two groups of three might fly under the radar and reach the hangar only seconds apart. We could be on the guards before they know what hit them.”