It was less than a minute before they heard the captain again. Her voice was resigned, “…the damage has been confirmed. There is now no doubt the ship will not survive. I also regret to report our transmissions have been jammed so we cannot send word to Berralton to apprise them of our present situation; I am afraid that we cannot expect assistance.”
“Therefore, by captain’s authority, I order the Keeper of the Way and her passenger to go immediately to their assigned lifeboat. The estimated time before our shields fail is ten minutes. We will try to stretch that time by…” The captain’s voice abruptly cut off and was replaced with crackling static then silence. They never heard what the captain had been planning to do.
Now looking at Owens with renewed focus, Sharné saw sitting before her, her people’s salvation. Her thoughts immediately regained clarity. He was here, and in danger because of Golstar’s need. She knew she was not afraid to give her own life in defense of her people, but Owens had not asked for this. He had come to the Golstar system without full knowledge of what would be asked of him. He was her responsibility and she was determined to see that he survived.
But how? Unbidden, bits of his background dossier came back to her. His abilities were well documented and she remembered from the files that he was no stranger to unexpected confrontations. In his job as a police investigator, he proved to be a quick thinker, able to react effectively in rapidly changing situations. And had he not just survived two attacks from space? Yes, he persevered and those who attacked him had not. By assisting him in any way she could, perhaps his experience and talent would serve to save them both.
Another loud boom brought the present danger back to the forefront of her thoughts. She was wasting valuable time with these distracting thoughts and now noticed Owens was starting to fidget and seemed on the verge of speaking.
Owens had sat still, closely watching Sharné for what seemed to be an eternity, but what was actually only about a minute. Although she had shown no outward sign, he knew that she was in distress. Before the captain’s last message, he couldn’t gauge how serious their situation was becoming and had been afraid to push her. She knew the ship and where to find the lifeboats; their survival depended on that knowledge. However, he had no way of knowing when and how she would respond, so he resisted pressing her, for the time being. He hoped he could wait for a short time for her to gather her wits.
At first, she looked at him with glazed, unseeing eyes. The seconds had continued to tick by and she still remained transfixed. Owens had begun to sweat while he waited and watched her. When he had shifted in his seat, the chair creaked in protest and her eyes refocused. With a sense of relief, he thought she would rouse and would finally lead them to safety. But when she didn’t say anything, he started to ask her about the lifeboat.
She held up a hand before he could begin and in a deceptively calm voice said, “You heard the captain of the Light Saber. This ship is lost. If we are to survive, we must obey her last order and get to the emergency craft. If you want to live, you must follow me quickly now. We have little time.”
He saw that she was indeed back to her old commanding self. Owen had the presence of mind to note wryly she seemed oblivious to the fact they had lost vital time while she was woolgathering. Without saying anything further, she rose and went quickly over to the door. The door seemed to hesitate, and then reluctantly opened as the power fluctuated in the door’s mechanism. Sharné looked over her shoulder to see if Owens was following. Assured that he was right behind her, she kicked off her shoes, lifted the hem of her dress and took off at a run. He followed, close on her heels.
To Owens, the sounds of the weapons strikes against the Light Saber’s overloaded shields seemed to be getting louder. Some of the energy from the attacking weapons’ fire must have made it through the Saber’s energy shield defenses and struck its thick armored hull. As the thunderous sounds intensified, Owens was reminded of an approaching storm. With each hit, the vibrations deepened. Owens could now smell ozone overlaid with an acrid tang of overheated circuitry. He figured the ship’s shield dampers and inertia-canceling fields were probably already approaching redline. He could not guess how long they would hold against the attackers’ barrage. He could only hope the ship would hold together long enough for them to make their escape.
They entered the outer corridor and Owens saw that the suspended light globes were all extinguished and swaying on their support rods. Should they begin to fall and shatter, Sharné’s feet would be severely cut. If that happened, it would be necessary for him to carry her. He was thankful the emergency lighting was still working. Dim, blue-light bars attached at intervals along the corridor’s walls provided just sufficient illumination to see the deck. He didn’t relish running down a pitch-dark corridor of an unfamiliar ship.
At a full run, her hair billowing behind her, she took the right branch of a connecting corridor with Owens following as close as possible. The emergency lighting began to flicker, creating a disorientating strobe effect, and with the accompaniment of the thundering sounds, the feeling of a violent storm intensified.
Adding to the confusing flashes of light, Owens was having difficulty in slowing his pace to match Sharné’s. He found himself bounding rather than running and was forced to slow himself down to keep from running her over. He regretted not putting the weight harness back on when he had had the chance. He concentrated on shortening his stride as they ran down the corridor. It seemed to help smooth his progress and more closely match the pace of the desperately running dignitary.
All the while, mysterious thuds and loud crashing noises were adding to the muffled booming painfully assailing their ears. The ship suddenly bucked and shuddered with particular violence. Sharné immediately lost her footing, stumbled and fell to the deck. She gasped with the impact. She quickly tried to get back to her feet, but her legs had become entangled with her dress and she fell back to the deck in a tumble. Owens made a quick decision. Barely pausing, he bent low and scooped her up in his arms. He straightened and started to run again.
“What are you doing?” she sputtered. “You cannot…”
Over Sharné’s protest, Owens grimly adjusted his grip on her as she started to struggle. He could barely hear her over the background noise of the ship’s ongoing battle. He shouted, hoping to be heard, “I think your captain overestimated the time we have left. The shields themselves may hold, but it looks like the dampers and inertia canceling will fail before they do. If they do fail, the hull might remain intact for a while longer, but we’ll be bounced around the interior until we’re battered to pulp. But before that happens, this pounding and bucking will get a lot worse, and it will be harder for you to stay on your feet. Just let me carry you. Believe me, as a Loder I’ll make better time. Just point me in the right direction.”
She had never been held by a stranger and had involuntarily recoiled at his touch. Owens appeared not to have noticed. She could just make out his words over the din. She immediately saw the reason for his actions and stopped her struggles to squirm out of his grasp. She tried to relax her stiff bearing.
She shouted back, “Keep going straight, then at the end of this corridor take the left branch. The life craft docking bay is just beyond.” She had barely finished when she felt him increase his pace. His gait was smooth and measured. She felt as if she were flying down the corridor. He seemed to run effortlessly. He held her close to his chest and she could feel the smooth movement of his muscles, his steady beating heart and even breathing.
Owens had felt Sharné initially stiffen as he picked her up, but after she stopped fighting him, she had gradually relaxed as he ran with her in his arms. Even under these calamitous circumstances, he couldn’t help but notice that the firm body cradled in his arms was definitely feminine. Her hair brushed his cheek and smelled of citrus and wildflower.
His thoughts were quickly brought back to the present when a particularly loud sound of tearing metal and crackling electrical di
scharges came from somewhere up ahead of them. A haze of thickening smoke was beginning to mask the ceiling and the harsh smell of burning insulation intensified. The ship shuddered again but Owens barely slowed. He knew that time was rapidly running out. He reached the end of the long corridor and quickly turned left as Sharné had directed.
Almost losing his footing, he was just able to stop in time to avoid disaster. They both looked in dismay at the corridor ahead. Instead of a clear path to the lifeboat dock, the corridor was caved in. A solid mass of twisted metal was blocking their way. He shuddered to think what would have happened had he not been able to stop. Sharp and pointed pieces of broken metal protruded from the pile of debris.
He stared blankly at the destruction wondering what to do next. Blue-black smoke curled from shorted circuitry and mangled cabling peeked throughout the wreckage. There was a corresponding ragged hole in the corridor’s wall adjacent the blockage. Well, he thought, now at least he knew where the loud noise had come from. It probably blew an energy coupling, Owens thought. As he surveyed the damage, something nagged at the back of his mind. He quickly dismissed it for later, gauged the mass of wreckage and decided that even his Loder muscles would be insufficient to clear the tangle of shattered bulkheads and broken supports in time. They would not go on in this direction.
He looked to Sharné and saw that her composure remained intact. Still resting in his arms, she tried to think of an alternate route. Try as she might, she could not think of one. They were so close, but they could not make it beyond the blockage. She looked at the adjacent hole in the corridor’s wall and saw what might have been a storage room with its ceiling partially collapsed, making it impassable as an alternate route.
She was mildly surprised to find she was not frightened by this turn of events. Instead, she felt only regret and sadness; regret for things never to be realized; a heavy sadness for her people. She felt like weeping but could not muster the tears.
She took a deep breath and then slowly turned her head to face Owens. She put her mouth close to his ear and said, “You may as well put me down now. I do not know of another route. I can think of no clear path to the emergency ship. We have nowhere else to go; this was the sole location of the only working emergency craft with engines onboard. I am sorry. I regret that you have taken such a long journey only to meet with…” She found that she could not finish.
Her statement surprised Owens. He couldn’t believe there was only one working life-craft in their vicinity on a ship of this size. Surely, the Golstar military didn’t take ‘going down with the ship’ that seriously. But Sharné had said it with such finality that he had to accept her words, but another idea had already occurred to him.
He still held her and her face was close to his. He inhaled her sweet fragrance. It had a bracing effect on him. No lady, he thought, I don’t give up that easily, at least not while we’re still breathing. You forgot that we do have an alternative. Then with some reluctance, he gently put her down and leaned toward her ear.
He raised his voice to be heard over the noise, “I’m not quite ready to throw in the towel. There may yet be a way out.” He brandished his ship’s comp-link that was still attached to his wrist. He raised the comp-link, which had been beeping furiously since the attack began. It was barely loud enough for him to hear it over the cacophony; he had ignored it until now. As he activated it, he bent down and fingered some of the debris littering the corridor in apparent distraction.
He picked up a piece of the wreckage and looked at it. He turned the ragged piece of metal over when the signal verification tone warbled and Hec came on the comp-link. He dropped the shard and rubbing his hand on his thigh, he straightened. With an apologetic expression aimed at Sharné he said, “Hec, you can drop the AI act. What’s the ship’s status?”
Hec immediately responded, “Where are you? All hell’s breaking loose out here. This Golstar ship is taking one hell of a pounding and from what I tell, the attack is originating from more than one ship.”
“Never mind that,” Owens ordered. “What about the Holmes?”
Hec quickly responded. “That’s the good news at least. The Holmes is fully functional and in the green across the board. We’re lucky to be positioned on the backside of the ship, away from the attackers. The Golstar ship is effectively screening us. I have the shields raised and re-activated most of the ship’s systems. I think that our hosts have their hands full and are too busy to care what we do right now. The bad news is that we are still anchored tight to the docking rig. I don’t know if I can break us away on my own.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough, Hec.”
“Does that mean you are coming home, Boss? I don’t know what exactly is going on, but I can tell you that unless the cavalry comes to the rescue, this ship isn’t going to last much longer.”
“I know. We’re on our way. Make ready for a fast getaway.” Owens dropped his arm. He looked at Sharné. “Can you guide us back to my ship?”
“I think so, yes,” she replied. “You really do think we can use your ship to escape?”
“That’s the plan,” Owens quickly replied. Without warning, he again unceremoniously picked her up and asked, “Which way?”
She found herself not minding being in his arms this time. She started to tell him what he needed to know. Before she was finished giving him directions, he began running down the corridor once again.
New sounds assailed her ears and the bucking vibrations continued to increase. She knew that she was hearing the beginning of the Light Saber’s death song. In addition to weapon strike booms and shudders, the ship’s superstructure groaned loudly under the incredible stresses brought on by the failing dampers and inertia canceling generators. They were finally succumbing to the unrelenting assault. Metal supports cried in seeming anguish at the inexorable stresses they were being forced to endure. But before she could grieve the ship’s impending fate, she felt a change in Owens’ pace as they raced down the corridor.
This time Owens held back nothing. A mental clock counted down in his head and he knew there couldn’t be much time left. He felt they were making good progress when a portion of the corridor gave way with a thunderous crash. They were showered with falling debris, most of it light insulation. But there were some larger pieces of metal paneling and struts that Owens had to dodge.
He was almost through the obstacles when he encountered and barely avoided a large falling girder. He managed to twist aside, shielding Sharné. But in doing so, he rammed into a jagged piece of metal protruding from a broken wall panel. He could feel the metal pierce his flesh, a sharp stab of pain making him gasp. He pulled back and glanced down. He saw a long gash in his left shoulder, just starting to bleed. He couldn’t tell how deep the cut or how much blood he would lose, but he knew it would eventually take a toll on his strength. Sharné demanded to be put down so she could inspect his wound, but he ignored her, feigning that he couldn’t hear and increased his pace.
Twice more they encountered blocked corridors and were forced to backtrack. Fortunately, Sharné knew of other routes. Unfortunately, the noise of the ship being battered had become so loud that she was reduced to gesturing and pointing, forcing Owens to slow his pace while he concentrated on her hand signals.
The alternate paths they were forced to take were delaying their escape. At times Owens had to climb or descend to different decks to maintain their forward progress. All the ship’s lifts were in emergency shutdown and Owens had to use the maintenance stairwells. He agonized at the time they were losing. The delays were costing him precious energy he could not afford to lose. He didn’t know how long he could maintain his frantic pace. The pain from his throbbing shoulder had become more intense and the weeping wound further drained his strength. What was worse, the conditions he was running under had continued to deteriorate.
Along with the incessant pounding, the ship’s emergency lighting was beginning to fail. Owens had to navigate carefully the patches
of dark shadow, trying to avoid hidden obstacles from newly fallen debris. He railed against the additional time it took to traverse these new impediments as his energy continued to ebb.
Finally, they reached an area where the lighting still functioned. But the ship was falling apart. Broken lines bled oily hydraulic fluid while others spewed steam and noxious gases.
He was staggered again and again as the two attacking ships pounded the Saber. He thought it impossible, but the vibrations continued to grow worse. A back part of his mind was amazed the Saber remained in one piece. Somehow, he managed to stay on his feet but the bucking deck, slippery from leaking lines, and Sharné’s added weight were beginning to take a more noticeable toll on his strength. Sharné was now frantically holding on to him for fear of falling. She could feel his breathing become ragged as his heart thudded in his chest. But still the great pistons that were his legs continued to pump, relentlessly driving them forward.
Signs posted in the corridor indicated they were finally nearing the grand entryway and were approaching the inner lock to the docking bay that held the Holmes. Sharné was thankful they were close to their objective.
His strength almost spent, Owens was forced to let Sharné down. She would have to travel across the last corridor on her own. He had come to the end of his endurance. His left arm was covered in blood from his flowing shoulder and had gone completely numb. The gash might have been a little deeper than he had first thought, he mused dazedly.
They staggered to the dock and he foggily asked Sharné how to release his ship. She looked at him blankly, barely able to hear him. She realized he must have assumed that she knew how. But before she could answer, the Light Saber shook under another barrage. This time the vibrations did not abate, but were increasing in magnitude. The ship was finally beginning to surrender to its ultimate fate.
Owens unexpectedly felt lighter; then abruptly, the gravity returned to normal. He knew the Saber’s gravity generator was starting to fail. If the Saber’s life-support systems were built along the same lines as Confederated Planets ships, the gravity generator was likely protected by the mass of the ship. It was usually located near the core. For the gravity to start to fluctuate, serious damage was taking place deep within the bowels of the ship. The Saber was in its final death throes.
Shadows of Golstar Page 24
