Tramp Wars: The Enemy

by Larry Roberts

  “OK! All right all ready. I’m up.” Mark turned over trying to sit up as Tom stood back and sat down in Mark's one chair. Looking around Mark frowned. “What happened to the gal that was here? Where did she go?”

  “You had a girl here last night on your first night?" Tom stared at him wide eyed. "Damn I am going to ask for my own bulkheads before my birthday in six months if that is all it takes. Who was it? But then I did not think girls where allowed in the men’s birthing dorms.”

  “I ah don’t know. It was really late and it all seems like a dream. Godstar I am starving and it is after 9 so I missed breakfast damn it. We got anything left in the shop? No. we eat it all last night didn’t we?” Trying to remember for sure. “Tell me you have something hidden someplace right?”

  “You are in luck, I grabbed a sack of donuts this morning out of the galleyand stuffed them in my locker. But you better hurry before the guys eat them all.”

  Mark jumped up already dressed as he was and slipped on his shoes before he headed for the door. Half way out he stopped. Turning back into his room he stepped into the head. Give me a minute; time to test the facilities. Oh shit I am late for work on my first day damn it. I can‘t go clean anything out.” He just wished he could remember which work space that was supposed to be. He looked around at the clock on the wall with the date.

  “I already told someone in the engine room you have to help clean out the hold. It has priority.”

  The construction crews had been remodeling K-Hold’s Dungeon of storage compartments into berthing compartments for some time. They had started by the elevator and worked their way around both sides of the donut shaped deck to end at the cargo hatch machinery room on the far side of the ship. Mark and Tom left the cabin and raced down the passage way, out of the dorm compartment into the passageway running around the hull. Dodging around workmen converting the next pie shaped compartment, they raced into the chain room that ran up and down next to the cargo hatch, to find lights flashing and the chain stopped. “What the heck?”

  Over the PA they heard an announcement repeating itself in the chain room. “L-Hold main cargo hatch is opening. Attention all personnel remain clear of Cargo hatch Hold-L. L-Hold main cargo hatch is opening…” The announcement kept repeating itself.

  “Well the Chain is frozen until they get done opening the hatch so we may as well drop down and watch. See what heavy equipment they are loading this time. Oh. I hear a load of weapons was booked. Maybe it will be them.” Mark walked back out into the passageway, turned down the passageway that ran around the Cargo hatch’s machinery room to the other side of the cargo hatch and into the first between hull hatch he came to. Inside, big faded K-0’s were painted on each of the bulkheads with a pair of ladders nestled against the outer hull with their own deck and overhead open hatches leading up and down. The ladders ran the full length of the chain on the other side of the hatch. Supports for the ladders where attached from the bulkhead to the center of the rungs of the ladder instead of the outside hand rails. With the automatic hatches between decks left open and no obstructions, a person could slide up or down the ladders holding onto the smooth outer rails as a guide at a fairly rapid pace in zero gravity. With gravity pulling a person down it was easy to get up a good amount of speed and it was not uncommon for a person to break bones when one finely fell off the ladder on a long slide, or hit the lip of a hatch or even the deck. More than a few had died at the sudden stop at the end some 70 decks below the mess deck. Mark's best friend being one of them a few years before.

  Pulling his tee-shirt off over his head Mark wrapped the ends around his hands and grasped the side rails as he stepped onto the ladder. Moving his left foot’s instep against the side rail while tucking the instep part of the heel against the rung to hold his weight he put the other foot's instep against the other rail and again pushed the corner of the heel against the rung. Turning his head to face Tom just getting on the other ladder he twisted his heels off the rung. “See you in L-hold slowpoke and don’t slip cause I ain’t catching ya.” The old joke was as old as the ship, possibly space travel itself.

  Mark slid down through the bottom hatch of deck K-0 catching a glimpse of Tom starting his slide down through the hatch just before his head dropped below the deck. Picking up speed rapidly, he was just sliding through the hatch of the next deck down, L-4, as Tom’s legs where just entering from K-0 above. Using his hand’s firm friction inducing grip to keep from free falling he slid down through L-3 deck. Even with the cloth of his shirt protecting his hands he was feeling the heat by the time he was approaching deck L-2. He realized with a smile that for the first time he did not have to worry about his mother seeing the two rub stains on his shirt and chewing him out for being reckless. Just before going through the lower hatch of L-2 he dug his instep heels into the rungs to start braking with a rumbling sound and managed to come to a complete stop just as his heels hit the bottom deck rung of L-1 (L-holds main deck). The secret was to slightly bend your knees and not to turn your heels to far into the ladder rungs. You wanted to turn them in just enough to start catching the instep edge of your heels for a series of little rumbling jarring thumps as your legs absorbed the impacts that would slow you down without knocking your foot off the ladder causing you to fall and break something. Stepping off, he took the 3 steps to the hatch as Tom rumbled to a stop behind him on the other ladder.

  His sour arms and inside thigh muscles told him it had been a long time since he had done the slide. Since the last time he raced someone down the ladders. Fact was. Since he won a bet by sliding the whole distance from the mess deck to the truck deck. But then he had cheated with a little hand clamp with friction pads he had installed in his gloves to make it easy to hold onto the rail and keep his speed down and metal fingers with friction pads sticking out of the instep of his boots to guide and again act as brakes. And even then he had misjudged the almost none existing stopping power of the red hot pads in his gloves and boots after sliding down some 70 decks to slow himself at the end and almost broke his legs as he hit the bottom deck still going much too fast. It had taken weeks for the burns to heal and then his best friend tried it. Criss had lost control going much to fast just short of the bottom and panicked, decapitated his head from the neck up on the rim of the hatch above the bottom personnel airlock deck.

  Remembering the growing pool of blood from the headless body almost made him sick, retching then coughing to clear his throat as he walked toward the hatch into the hold. How could he have been so stupid! Not only had he almost died but his best friend would not have even thought of trying it if he had not done it first and then bragged about it for two weeks afterword’s rubbing it into Chet’s and his peon’s face every chance he got, (while safe on the school decks). But he could not blame the morons like Chet and even his best friend Criss that had goaded him into doing it in the first place because he knew better. It was all his fault his friend had decided he had to do it. Shaking his head to clear it as he grabbed the sill of the hatch for a few seconds to keep from falling. Finely he pulled on his shirt as he stepped out into the hold flexing his hands trying to work the cramps out as he tried to forget the images of finding his buddies head impaled on the rim of the hatch ring as he climbed up the second ladder to get away from the gory mess blocking the exit hatch bellow only to find Chris’s head staring at him with open eyes. Not caring anymore if the blue of his shirt obscured the rubbing stain marks on his back. The ribbing of the older kids about the four eyed moron being too stupid to do it and even the disbelieving accusations of cheating after words even though there were no rules and padding was essential, long forgotten except for the shame for listening to them and causing his friends death. Though the names and taunts stopped bothering him after that. Every time he would start to get upset, a picture of his friend would pop into his mind. Not that they did not hurt, he just took them more as ravings of morons to be ignored. Most of the time but not all.

  The big cargo hatch was st
ill lowering, half way down, as he finished pulling on his shirt and noticed that some kind of pedestal was being built in the middle of the hold and that a big hole in the overhead had been cut directly over the pedestal as Tom joined him. With Cargo stacked around the outer hull running completely around the hold from one side of the loading hatch around back to the other side of the loading hatch again, with a narrow passageway between stacks to the personnel elevator at the back of the hold. There was a couple of men working at and on the platform built up about a foot or so high. They were running grinders and drills in a rush to finish up the pedestal.

  "What the heck is going on here?" Tom said as they walked.

  "Sorry but I don't have a clue." The open area was a good hundred feet across in the center of the hold giving the workers plenty of room to work. At least he knew where all the container boxes were from that were stacked around the ship. Walking towered the center of the hold Mark studied the hole above. He could see ends of large 8 foot high beams spaced about every 30 degrees around the far side of the hole. As he studied it, faint outlines of a latticework of bulkhead beams grew in every direction like spokes out to a ring about 50 feet from the center then more spokes radiated out from that ring making up the living quarter’s compartment ringing around the outside of the holds deck. His cabin was suddenly highlighted above him as he looked. Workers were busy in the pie shaped compartment next to his dorm.

  Turning he noticed the bright spot of a cutting torch at the end of a ghostly figure working on cutting out a round section of the deck plating of the upper hold as other ghosts moved around or worked at other jobs. Mark walked forward marveling at the detail being revealed with each step. Looking down he could see the bulkheads under the deck of this hold. Being the last or bottom hold it did not need another 8 foot thick spoked beamed deck to hold it up over an open hold. Instead a series of bulkheads making up square storage tanks and equipment compartments honeycombed the space below the hold. With new reinforcement beams arching out from under the new platform below the deck to distribute whatever forces the pedestal was supposed to support evenly to the lower deck's supporting bulkheads. Mark followed the maze of bulkheads out to the ship’s hull trying to guess what was in some of them as a few details stated to appear but only vague impressions that told him little about most of them though he had to know what they were from years of exploring every nook and cranny of the ship. But he was more interested in what he could see instead of what he knew was there.

  “Mark!” The strange girl's voice demanded. “One of the cables attached to hold the deck plate up when it is cut from the deck above has a flaw in it. There is a 96% chance that it will fail when it’s percentage of the weight of the foam steel plate is put on it. There is a 100% chance that when the first cable fails the second cable’s attachment eye weld will also fail from a flaw in it as side forces twist if off, with the third cable's welded eye when pulled sideways and bent will not be unable to support the plate by itself with a 100% chance of it breaking as well. At this time there is a 99% chance that if the plate falls this worker on the pedestal will be killed unless he moves before then.” A worker kneeling down grinding on a weld to flatten it down smooth, lit up. The only other worker at the pedestal was on the other side standing off to one side working at a small access hatch on the short side of the pedestal.

  "Oh come on you, can't be serious! How would you know all that?" Mark started walking in that direction.

  "I could hear the steel as it expands with the heat of the plasma torch indicating a flaw. I then probed the steel and cables analyzing the flaw and then the fittings several times using different tests, getting the same results. The steel plate will fall and kill the crewman below if you do not warn him to move."

  “What? Who? Ok. How long before the deck plate is cut free?” Mark started walking faster.

  “Roughly 15 seconds Mark.”

  Mark started jogging towered the pedestal. “Are you sure? I can’t even see it clearly from here.”

  “Yes Mark! 13 seconds. You need to run to make it to him in time.”

  “What? You have got to be kidding. Oh shit.” Mark started running halfheartedly. “Hey Mr. You need to move!” He yelled, then, a name appeared above the man.

  “10 seconds Mark.”

  “Hey John! Move!” Mark yelled again but he realized that all the grinding and drilling noises made it impossible for the man to hear. And he had a good 100 feet to go and started putting some effort into running.

  “8 seconds Mark. Another cutting torch has been added to cut the plate. Mark you cannot make it in time. 5 seconds. You must stop or you could be killed.”

  Mark sped up sprinting trying to give it all he had.

  “3 seconds. You must stop immediately Mark.”

  Mark looked up at the plate that was clearly visible now and then back at the man working diligently grinding and tried to go faster. His breath starting to come faster.

  “1... Mark stop!”

  Mark heard a loud bang fallowed by another and several pops and zings as cables flew away from the plate. He was still 10 feet away as anther bang resounded around the hold. “Oh shit!” The heavy foam steel plat slowly tumbled as it fell down out of the hole.

  Taking two more steps he leaped at John tackling him around the waste then rolling across the pedestal as the corner of the heavy steel plat hit the deck next to the pedestal where the man had been kneeling with one leg on the deck. With the man still in his arms Mark kept rolling first on top of the man and then as he rolled to the side he tried to throw the man over him toward the edge of the platform as he watched the plate topple towered them. He knew they were going to get squished and tried to roll faster. The plate slapped down onto the pedestal just as Mark rolled off half pulled by the inertia of the man after throwing him off the pedestal. The Foam Steel plate slapped Mark and John down onto the deck with a resounding bang that echoed around the hold.

  Mark with the wind knocked out of him laid there trying to breath at the edge of the 16 inch high pedestal; the steel foam plate hanging out a good 4 feet from the pedestal into empty air. Completely hiding him from sight. John promptly started screaming as he clawed his way out from under the steel plate over hanging the pedestal. Pushing and kicking Mark as he made his way out from under the steel plate, the high speed grinder still clamped firmly in his wildly gesticulating hand still winding down inside the safety cover. Jumping to his feet John started running, bowling over anyone in his way as he screamed his lungs out in panic. The man working on the side hatch looked up with his nose only inches from the side edge of the plate and hurriedly backed up a couple feet on his butt. His mouth hanging wide open. His eyes as big as gulf balls staring at the plate

  Mark laid there unable to move. The deck only inches from his nose. Perfectly happy to stay there not moving as he took stock and tried to breath. His lungs begging for air after running half way across the hold. At least he did not have to worry about anything else falling on him or being interrupted. He knew why his shoulder hurt as that is where the steel plate had hit him along with his butt and he was pretty sure that it was the grinder John had refused to release that had gotten between his stomach and John’s butt that knocked the wind out of him. Thank Godstar that the grinders shield had kept the blade from cutting something off. While he had not felt any of the blows John had landed as he fought his way out from under the plate, he was pretty sure he could feel both arms and both legs. But for some reason he could not move anything except his head did not want to lay back against the deck and kept falling up until his forehead hit the deck plate. And though he knew that should worry him Mark was just happy to lay there trying to at least breathe again until the pain went away. He did not notice the faces that kept peeking under the plate and then cursing before they disappeared.

  “Emergency in Hold-L!” came the Public address system. “Emergency in Hold-L! Duty medical crews to Hold-L Stat. Emergency in Hold-L! Officer of the watch and emergency carg
o handling crew to hold-L immediately! Officer of the deck to Hold-L Please. Duty Doctor to Hold-L Stat.”

  Damn. It sounds like I did not make it in time and poor old John got flattened. Mark thought to himself. But wait, John got out screaming didn’t he? Looking out from under the plate he realized that he was staring at the deck and not the overhead plate. That he was hanging from something face down. “Oh shit. I wonder who got hurt? Must have been the other guy on the side got hit by the plate.” He moved his right arm around in front of his face and moved his fingers. Then he moved his right leg and foot and something dug into his chest and he realized he could only take short breaths as his lungs begged for air. That his left arm was numb. Turning his head his nose came up against the pedestal. “Godstar! My arm must be crushed under the plate.”

  “Mark. Your arm is…”

  “Mark!” Yelled a loud demanding voice. “Look at me Mark!”

  Mark felt a hand move his head around to look out at the most beautiful face he had ever seen sticking under the plate only a few inches from his nose and recognized it as the girl from the night before in sickbay when they had thought he had gotten the implants. “You did good Mark. John is alright. He is fine. Do you remember me Mark? My name is Diane. We will have you out of here as soon as possible but you have to stay very still for me ok.”

  “I can’t… Breath.” He gasped. His head was getting heavy so he let it sag toward the deck until the top of his head touch the deck and he was looking back under his chest (several inches off the deck) to where his knees touched the deck. His right side away from the pedestal drooped as well. “Now isn’t that the funniest sight you ever seen? He whispered.” He found out rather quickly that the pain was not as bad and that he could breathe better if he used his right arm and leg to hold his right side and shoulders up against the plate.

  Suddenly his head was lifted and he was looking at the face again. “There is that better Mark?”