Profit & Peril

by Charissa Dufour

“No. We’ve confined life support to the bridge.”

  “Understood. My pilot is making final approach. Prepare for a jolt.” Jack lowered the comm. device. “Oden, use the forward hatch.”

  The pilot glanced at him briefly before turning back to the ship’s controls. Oden worked with practiced ease as he switched off their primary engines and reverted to thrusters. With thrusters, he maneuvered the ship forward until the forward hatch sealed with the other ship.

  “Seal completed. We’re attached.”

  Jack nodded. “Oden, stay aboard.”

  Katrina, the ship’s new XO, came stumbling onto the bridge. “Captain, Randal just informed me what was going on.”

  “Randal shouldn’t have had to inform you of anything, Kat. The minute you felt the engines slow you should have been up here. Randal was here in seconds, and he’s not my bloody XO.”

  Kat stared at Jack, taking the tirade with her shoulders thrown back and her face stony.

  “When we are finished with this situation, Captain, perhaps you and I can speak privately?”

  “I think that would be good. Oden, you have the bridge.”

  “Wait,” called Kat, grabbing Jack’s arm. “I’m here. You’re giving the bridge to Oden… the second pilot?”

  “First of all, he’s the first pilot on this ship.”

  Oden gasped, doing his best to hide the surprise on his face. Bit felt her eyes go wide, feeling just as surprised as Oden.

  “Second, I know Oden will get the job done. So far I’m not so sure about you. So, yes. Now get out of my way.”

  Kat stepped aside, her eyes focused on anything but the captain. Jack charged out of the bridge after Randal.

  Bit closed her eyes, willing herself to shrink into the lockers. This was all her fault. If only she hadn’t fallen asleep. After a long wait, Bit slunk down to the living level. Jack, the security team, and Forrest stood in the central room, working to dress themselves in their EV suits—or Environmental suits.

  “Bit, I saved the smallest suit for you, but it will still be too big,” Jack said, bringing her to a halt.

  Her eyes grew wide with fresh fear. “You want me to go too?”

  “You need to learn how to walk in EV suits, and this is as good of time as any. Besides, we’re in this mess because of you. You can help clean it up.”

  With the ease of years of practice, Jack finished connecting his EV suit to his oxygen tank. He watched the others working to dress. Bit’s fingers shook as she tried to follow Randal’s instructions. Finally, Randal took over joining the sections of the suit.

  Jack wanted to slap Bit upside the head—like he would with any other crewmember who fell asleep on duty—but held back. Unlike the others, she hadn’t chosen this life or this job. She had been forced into it by a cruel fate. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in charge of anything so important.

  Then again, she would never learn unless he gave her challenges. He knew Bit had the potential to become a truly beneficial member of his crew. But Jack knew she would only reach that potential if she applied herself. He ran back over their time on the bridge, remembering her joke about him not being able to fire her. The joke suggested something about her view on life aboard the ship was wrong, but he couldn’t define it.

  “You look deep in thought, sir,” Forrest said from within his suit, their short-range comms. already switched on.

  Jack tried to nod, causing the suit to shift uncomfortably. “There’s always something to stress about as captain.”

  “I can only guess.”

  “And one last thing,” Randal said as he held up a sidearm for Bit.

  Jack wanted to intervene, but shut his mouth at the last second. Who was armed and was not was under Randal’s jurisdiction. Everyone else in the little boarding team had a sidearm. Whether Jack wanted to admit it or not, it was only logical for Bit to have a weapon too.

  Jack just wished they had the newest technology—technology like the ship’s laser cannon shrunk down to the size of a sidearm. Such miniaturized technology was still only found aboard military vessels, the equipment still too expensive for the low-lifes of the universe, including himself. Therefore, they contented themselves to the old guns and flechette bullets—hard enough to penetrate a human body and soft enough not to breach a ship’s hull.

  Randal and Bit turned toward them, her suit finally finished. Jack would never admit it, but she looked adorable in the oversized gear—like a child playing dress up with her father’s astronaut suit.

  “Let’s go. Remember, keep your eyes peeled. We don’t know what to expect over there. Nor do we know this crew, so until I say otherwise, we suspect them of foul play. Got it?”

  Each person gave their affirmative through the comm. system.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  They all followed Jack down the stairs until they reached the lowest level. Wedged between the ship’s enormous trash compactor and the ship’s life support engine sat a little hatch. They squeezed themselves into the tiny airlock and closed the door.

  “Everyone’s suits secure?”

  Again, they all gave their confirmation.

  “There will be minimal life support within the cargo bay,” Jack said as he worked the controls. Once the airlock decompressed, Jack opened the small hatch, leading into the cargo bay.

  They each took turns crawling through it onto the catwalk that overlooking the enormous cargo hold of his ship. When Jack reached the other side and had the hatch secured, he found Bit leaning over the railing to see the cargo below. He realized she had never seen this part of the ship. While his ship was out-dated in so many ways, it did have one of the largest cargo holds of all the freighters running trade between the various planets. At least he could be proud of that.

  Forrest led the way across the catwalk to the bow of the ship and opened the door leading into the front bay, where one of two skiffs sat attached to the three-story tall wall. When needed, the entire front of the ship opened to release the skiffs. In the top corner of the enormous door was a smaller, human-sized door where another airlock protected them from the infinite vacuum of space.

  Again they wedged themselves into the airlock and waited for it to decompress. At last, the opposite door slid open.

  They crossed into the next ship, their magnetic boots clunking against the metal flooring. Working with EV suits meant every step, every gesture took longer than normal. As much as he wanted to disengage the electromagnets in the soles of their boots, he had no idea if the grav-platting was functioning in this portion of the ship. He knew the life-support was off, so it seemed likely that they had deactivated the artificial gravity as well.

  Jack and his small team emerged from the airlock to find themselves in a dark room. They flipped on the lights attached to their helmets and surveyed the space. From what Jack could tell, it was the ship’s cargo, or at least part of it. The walls were lined with smaller crates, the stacks rising above their heads. Safety straps held them firmly in place.

  They turned toward the nearest stairs and headed down onto the catwalks of the larger cargo bay where enormous containers sat in neat rows. They found another flight of stairs leading down from the catwalks, bracketed by two bulkheads left open. Jack led them towards the bow of the ship, past the entrance to the ship’s shuttle on one side and the ship’s missile bay on the other. They paused for a second, glancing into the missile bay.

  “Randal?” Jack asked.

  “What sort of freighter company can afford this level of weaponry.”

  “I know of a few, but they sure as hell don’t fly Renaults,” murmured Jack.

  “Exactly,” agreed Randal. “Let’s have our weapons at the ready.”

  Like the others, Jack pulled his sidearm free from its holster and flipped the safety off. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Bit doing the same thing. She wasn’t smooth about her actions. In fact, he spotted her searching for the safety.

  At least she remembered it has a safety, he th
ought to himself as he followed Randal past the missile bay and up the next flight of stairs. A short hallway stretched out before them, with a few narrow doors lining the walls. At the far end, Jack spotted an emergency bulkhead.

  “Clear the rooms,” Randal ordered as they inched forward.

  Jack reached the first door and tapped the release, a wave of jealousy washing over him. While the Lenore had emergency bulkheads at each door, they were old and never-used. He dreamed of the day when he could afford a state-of-the-line ship. Maybe a few more illicit deals and he could, assuming he didn’t have to repair much more on the Lenore.

  The door swished open and Jack stepped in, scanning the muzzle of his gun from the left corner to the far right. The room was empty, except for the discarded possessions of a crew member. Jack stepped in and eyed the personal possessions. Ratty clothing lay strewn over every flat surface, including the desk that held a port to the ship’s central computer.

  Jack stepped across the pile of dirty clothing and tapped the screen. It flickered to life and the main menu appeared.

  “Find something, sir?” asked Forrest from the door.

  “Not sure. The other rooms cleared?”

  “Four crew quarters, all cleared, and all looking a bit like this one.”

  “Don’t you think a freighter would have some sort of encryption on a port to their central computer?” asked Jack as he tapped the screen a few more times.

  “You’d think… unless…”

  “Unless what?” Jack turned as best he could in the confines of his suit to look at Forrest.

  Forrest stood in the doorway, tilting his body backwards in order to look up at the far corner of the room, near the ceiling. Jack pivoted back and followed Forrest’s gaze to a tiny little box tucked into the corner.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Jack asked.

  “I think so, sir. The question is, is it working.”

  Jack looked back down at the computer port and tapped a few more places on the screen, eventually finding the ship’s security system. He turned immediately, retracing his steps over the piles of discarded clothing as he motioned for Forrest to exit too.

  “Everyone back to the ship,” Jack ordered as he reached the corridor.

  “What’s up, Cap?” asked Nathyn as he appeared in a doorway near the far bulkhead.

  “It’s a setup. Everyone get out.”

  “Disengage your boots,” Randal suggested as he reached forward and messed with the controls on Bit’s leg.

  Bit let out a little squeak of surprise as she drifted upwards. The others followed suit and used the walls to propel themselves towards the staircase. Jack waited for them to pass before he released his own boots and floated off the ground.

  Just as he reached the stairwell, where the others waited, a loud hissing sound filled the ship.

  “What’s that?” cried Bit.

  “Atmosphere,” announced Forrest

  Chapter Seven

  Jack and his small contingent navigated their way past the stairwell of the enemy ship when the distant bulkhead leading into the cockpit opened and gunfire erupted around their heads. Jack jerked to the side at the sting of a bullet grazing his arm. Another hissing sound invaded his senses as the sleeve of his suit tore open and air escaped.

  Randal turned back, using the railing of the stairs to rotate his floating body, and opened fire on those crowding the airlock. Jack used the cover to drag himself down the staircase.

  “Move,” Jack ordered as the others hesitated, waiting for their crewmates.

  They reached the catwalks, Jack and Randal taking turns to fire back in an effort to provide cover. Jack turned back to make sure they were moving when he noticed Bit floating over the cargo bay, the floor ten feet below her.

  “No, Bit!” he called just as their enemies switched on the grav-plating.

  Bit dropped before his eyes, disappearing over the edge of the cat walk while the others fell no more than a foot or two. Even his short fall hurt as he collided with the metal plating. From the bottom of the cargo bay, Jack heard Bit’s whimpers through their comm. system.

  “Move!” he repeated as he hit the controls for the emergency bulkhead.

  The enormous door slid shut, cutting them off from their enemy. Jack took his gun and fired at the control panel. The special bullets they used for in-ship fighting did little damage to the controls.

  “Allow me,” Forrest said from his side as he pulled a knife from a sheath on his suit.

  The engineer quickly went to work deactivating the control, leaving Jack the freedom to race down the stairs into the cargo bay. He ran past Nathyn, who stood guard at the bulkhead, ready to protect Forrest while he worked. Randal was already halfway down the stairs, a few feet ahead of Jack.

  They found Bit lying on her stomach, draped across the corner of an enormous plastic container.

  “Bit, you okay?” Jack called as he and Randal skidded to a stop next to her limp body.

  She began to move, raising her head to turn the enormous helmet. Fractures raced across the duroglass of her helmet. Like Jack’s suit, she was no longer protected against the vacuum of space. Even through the dim light, Jack could see blood flowing down the side of her face from a gash above her eyebrow.

  “Ow,” she said as she pushed herself off her stomach. “Help me down.”

  Jack and Randal holstered their weapons and reached up for her just as Nathyn and Forrest charged down the staircase. Nathyn kept his gun trained up the staircase while the others helped Bit climb off the container.

  Once they had her on the ground, Jack grabbed both of her shoulders. “Bit, where are you hurt?”

  “I think it’s just bruises. I’m okay. Let’s just get out of this hell hole.”

  Jack suspected she was more hurt than she let on, but he didn’t argue with her. If she could fight through the pain, then he would let her. They raced to the second set of stairs and descended them into the bowels of the ship, where the airlock waited.

  Just as they reached the lowest level, they heard the hiss of the atmosphere once again being pulled from the ship’s compartment.

  “Need to hurry,” Jack said, painfully aware of the tear in his suit.

  “Is that life support?” Bit asked.

  “Yes, and you and I have damaged suits.”

  Forrest skidded to a stop as they reached the lowest level and began digging in his small tool bag.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Jack.

  Forrest produced a role of all-purpose repair tape, quickly stripping off a piece. “Where’s the tear?”

  “My arm.” Jack turned to reveal the hole in his suit.

  Without any caution, Forrest slapped the tape over the tear, unaware of the gunshot wound below.

  “Ow,” bellowed Jack as he grabbed his throbbing arm.

  Forrest ignored him and tore off another strip of tape applying it to the worst of the fractures in Bit’s helmet.

  “Now, move,” Forrest ordered as he dropped the tape into his bag and hoisted the bag over his shoulder. “That will only slow decompression.”

  As they took off, the grav-plating failed again and they floated off the floor, most of them nowhere near the walls. Each one struggled as they used whatever hand holds they could find to propel themselves toward the airlock. A second later, the electronic straps holding the small crates released, disappearing into the walls and flooring.

  Jack found himself floating away from the airlock with half a dozen crates hovering between himself and his escape, just as his EV suit began to beep, warning him that he was almost out of oxygen. As Jack floated to the ceiling, he pushed off with all his might, snaking downward and bumping into the floating crates. He reached the railing of the staircase leading up and used it to propel himself through the dense cloud of crates. With a thud, Jack collided with the wall, at least four feet away from the airlock where the other’s waited. Using the wall, he pushed himself toward the airlock.

  Forrest
hovered in the doorway, one hand gripping the railing of the airlock and the other outstretched to catch his captain. Jack collided with Forrest’s outstretched arm, nearly dragging the engineer away from the airlock.

  Out of nowhere, Randal’s arm grabbed the tank on Jack’s back and, between the two of them, they dragged their captain into the airlock.

  “Where’s Bit?” Randal asked as they shoved the captain toward the far end of the airlock.

  “I’m coming,” Bit announced through the comm. system.

  Forrest and Randal tried to peer through the floating crates, looking for any sign of her. Just as Jack began to feel the effects of carbon dioxide poisoning, Bit appeared near the lower levels of the airlock. She was using the small buckles of the straps still poking out from the floor as hand-holds to drag herself through the maze of crates. Randal dragged her into the airlock as Forrest hit the button for the ship’s door to close. A second behind the ship’s door, the airlock’s door slid closed, double-sealing them from their enemies.

  Nathyn reached over Jack’s prone body and hit the controls for the grav-plating and the pressurization of the airlock. They all dropped to the ground, half of them cursing as they rubbed their backsides.

  It took another thirty seconds for the small space to pressurize. When it did, Nathyn smacked the last control and tumbled into the Lenore. The others followed and they retraced their steps through the cargo bay, back into the ship proper.

  “Here, Cap,” said Randal as he grabbed Jack’s suit and dragged him through the small hatch.

  Bit limped after them, looking rather pitiful.

  Once they were all through, Nathyn slammed the hatch shut and spun the old gear, locking the hatch.

  “Cap, that you?” Oden called down from the staircase. “That was fast.”

  “Oden, get us out of here. Nathyn, go to the cannon,” Jack ordered as he worked to strip himself of the damaged suit.

  A second later, the sound of the airlock detaching from the other ship filled the narrow hallway, followed by the supplementary thrusters grinding to life. Once free of his suit, he raced up the stairs to the bridge. Nathyn was already climbing the ladder into the cannon turret atop the ship, his suit still on.