by Peter Grant
Steve choked up a little as he wriggled around and offered his hand. "Thanks, Vince." He allowed himself to use the Bosun's name for the first time in his life. "Here's hoping we'll have many more good times together when this is over."
"Sure - but if we don't, at least we've had what we've had. No-one can take that away."
"Yeah."
The Bosun gripped his hand more tightly. "One more thing. If I go down, don't stop fighting! Like Shakespeare said, we all owe God a death, sooner or later. Our job is to release the prisoners and help 'em take back this ship. Nothing else matters - not even our own survival, because if we fail, we'll die along with everyone else in here. Got it?"
"I - I've got it, Bosun."
"One last thing. If I don't make it, send word to my brother Henry and my sister Elise about this, will you? Visit them if you can. They're back on New Brisbane."
"I - I'll do my best."
"All right, get ready." He released Steve's hand. "I'll watch that bastard on the monitor. As soon as he's positioned right, I'll squeeze your leg, then follow you out."
Chapter 19: May 19th, 2838 GSC
Steve poised himself as best he could, one hand holding the stabbing spear, the other touching the locker door, ready to thrust it up and push himself through the opening. He braced his bent legs against the rear of the locker, trying to inhale and exhale slowly, quietly... but the hammering of his heart and the pounding of the blood in his ears betrayed him, forcing him to take gasping breaths.
Suddenly the Bosun's hand squeezed his thigh. Move!
He shoved the door out of the way and thrust hard with his legs, sliding halfway out of the locker. Above his head the startled guard began to turn as he heard the noise, sliding a bead carbine from its strap on his shoulder. Before he could complete his turn, Steve stabbed upward with his spear, its point spiking through the man's trousers and deep into the inside of his right thigh. He let out a yell of pain and clutched at his leg as blood spurted, carbine sliding down his arm on its sling. Steve struggled to his knees, working the point of the spear back and forth in the wound, trying to immobilize the man through pain - and suddenly the Bosun was there, slugging the pirate powerfully across the jaw with his right hand while his left grasped the carbine, ripping it free.
Cardle looked across at the startled prisoners, who were jumping to their feet. "We're on your side! I'll explain in a moment! Get down!"
"Do as he says!" a tall, willowy female officer snapped. She wore a single ringed planet on both sides of her shirt collar. The spacers in military-style utilities immediately obeyed, but the merchant spacer prisoners, more casually dressed, didn't move fast enough. The Fleet spacers grabbed them and pulled them down as the Bosun and Steve ran to the door leading to the crew compartment, leaving the injured guard writhing on the deck. Already his movements were growing weaker as the pool of blood beneath him grew larger.
The other guards had clearly heard their comrade's scream - they could hear their startled yells and the pounding of their feet as they rushed towards them. The door slammed open and the first guard rushed through, carbine lining at Steve. Before he could fire, the Bosun's carbine cracked once. The pirate's head snapped back as a bead slammed into his forehead, spraying blood and brains behind him. He collapsed limply, dropping his weapon. As he fell Steve thrust his spear through the gap behind him, taking the second pirate in the stomach, twisting it in his guts to draw forth a scream of agony. His victim folded forward around the spear head as he fell.
The last pirate was too quick for them. He skidded to a halt before he reached the doorway, and aimed his carbine through it at the Bosun. Both weapons fired as one. The pirate spun around and fell as Cardle's bead scored another direct hit on his head - but the Bosun staggered back as the pirate's round struck him in the chest.
"Vince!" Steve screamed, tugging his spear out of the stomach of his victim.
Cardle shook his head. "No time!" He wavered, trying to keep his feet, looking around desperately at the Fleet officer. "Pick your best shots! Give them... carbines! Help me get... to pilot's console!" His voice was hoarse, filled with pain. "I've got to... disable the ship's security systems... to give you... chance to take it back! Steve will explain!"
She didn't hesitate. "Mason, Desrojiers, Karnak, Hauptmann, get those carbines! Kravjik, Simpson, with me! Help this man to the console! The rest of you, stay put until further orders!"
Four spacers rushed forward - all of them wearing NCO stripes, Steve couldn't help noticing despite his stress - and grabbed the carbines, checking them expertly. Two others helped the officer support the Bosun through the door to the pilot's console. Steve followed them.
"Put me in... pilot's seat!" the Bosun gasped. They gently lowered him into it, and he reached for the controls, tapping commands. As he worked, he said brokenly, "I set up... fake feed... for security cameras... " He called up a number of screens in succession. "Looks like... bridge crew of five... including their boss... twenty eating... four more guarding our crew... you've got to get... weapons of those eating... to take the rest... nuclear charge... in boat bay... ask Steve... "
As he finished entering the last commands, the security displays he'd called up suddenly flickered, then steadied. Steve knew they were now recycling recorded images, giving them a few priceless moments to make their move before anyone suspected something was amiss.
Cardle looked up. "Go! Go now, Steve!... talk later... "
Impulsively Steve leaned forward and hugged him. "I'll get back as soon as I can! Stay here and don't move! We'll get you to the sick bay ASAP!" The Bosun tried to return his hug, but he could only get his arm halfway up from the console. Steve's heart almost broke to see it.
He whirled around to face the officer. "Ma'am, we need three parties: a big one to take on twenty pirates in the mess hall, a smaller one to tackle five pirates - including their boss - on the bridge, and another to take out four armed guards and release our crew."
"Stand by." She ran back into the cargo area, followed by her two spacers. Steve heard her issuing rapid-fire orders to her crew. He glanced back at the Bosun. Cardle's eyes were closed. His breathing was rapid, shallow. A bloodstain was spreading ominously over his chest. Steve hesitated, torn... but he remembered the Bosun's words. Don't stop fighting! Nothing else matters - not even our own survival! With a strangled sob, he turned and followed the officer.
She turned as he approached. "Who are you?"
"Spacer Second Class Steve Maxwell, Ma'am. That's Bosun Vince Cardle in there. He was a Senior Chief Petty Officer in your Fleet."
"I figured he was former Fleet. It shows. I'm Lieutenant-Commander Esquivel. We're going to leave rescuing your crew until later - we don't have enough armed spacers to split them between three targets. You'll take two of them, plus a couple of dozen others, and lead them to the mess hall to take out those twenty pirates. Get their carbines, then report to me. I'm going to lead a party to the bridge and take out their boss. As soon as we've done that, we'll check on what their other ships are doing. We may have to make an emergency hyper-jump in any direction to get away from pursuit - I can control that from the bridge, if necessary. We'll send some of my crew to take over the Engineering spaces while we do that, and release your crew. Others can hunt down the rest of the pirates on board."
"OK, Ma'am. Two things. First, there's a nuclear demolition charge in the docking bay." Steve briefly explained de Bouff's intended use of it. "He didn't want you alive to give evidence against him, Ma'am. If he finds out you've taken this ship, he'll blow us all out of space rather than let you get away. Second, we've got some knives and a couple more spears for your people." He bent and pulled them from the locker where he and the Bosun had lain concealed.
"Well done, spacer! You and your Bosun have given us a fighting chance. We won't forget it. Chief Petty Officer Mason!"
"Here, Ma'am!"
"Take charge of your party, give them half of these weapons, take this man to guide you,
and deal with the pirates in the mess hall. On your way!"
"Aye aye, Ma'am! Come on, Spacers - let's go!"
Steve led them through the airlock, out of the docking bay, and into the main companionway. As they ran, he gasped to the Chief Petty Officer at his side, "Tell 'em to move more quietly! I saw on the security vid feed that the mess hall door is open. They may hear us coming. As we get closer, I'll signal."
"OK. Once we get closer, those of us with weapons will creep forward to surprise 'em and hold 'em down, then we'll call in the others to disarm them." He half-turned as he ran, looking back at the others, putting a finger to his lips, then moving his hand up and down, palm downwards. Obediently his spacers slowed their pace, opening their mouths wide to breathe more silently, trying to move as quietly as possible.
As they drew near to the mess hall, Steve grasped the Chief's arm. "We're close!"
Instantly Mason held up a hand, and his spacers halted. He motioned with his hand, and those carrying weapons - a second spacer with a carbine, and four more with spears, knives and machetes - mustered behind him. He looked at Steve.
"Where?"
Steve used his stabbing spear to point to an open door, from which came the rumble of conversation and the clatter of cutlery against food trays.
"OK, let us take the lead with our carbines," Mason whispered. He moved forward, looked around, nodded, then thrust himself through the door. His shipmates followed, Steve bringing up the rear.
A sudden burst of astonished shouts greeted their entrance, cut off short as if by a knife as the Spacers lined their carbines and brandished their weapons. Those with blades, including Steve, moved swiftly down the rows, standing behind the pirates where they could threaten them without blocking the line of fire of their comrades with bead carbines.
"Nobody move!" Mason warned in a harsh, commanding voice. "You move, you die!" He raised his voice. "The rest of you, get in here and take their weapons!"
The Spacers in the corridor came inside, moving in tight, disciplined single file. They spread out, keeping low, seizing the carbines leaning against the tables, taking others from where they were slung on the backs of pirates. As each took a weapon he moved back against the bulkhead, checked it, made sure there was a round in the chamber, and clicked off the safety catch.
Almost all the pirates had been disarmed when a group of three, furthest from the door but closest to Steve, suddenly decided to fight. They grabbed their weapons from where they leaned against the table and tried to line them on the spacers. The other pirates dived for the floor.
"You damn fools!" Mason triggered three rounds into the chest of the nearest resister, knocking him backwards - but that provided protection to the other two, his body absorbing some of the rounds aimed at them as they fired at their attackers. Steve thrust himself forward, his spear taking the second pirate in the stomach. As he did so he felt a sudden blow on his right side, as if someone had punched him hard. He fell to the deck, landing on top of a prone pirate, hand clutching at his ribs, coming away red with blood. He stared at it uncomprehendingly, then moaned as the pain suddenly hit him.
The last of the three pirates went down beneath a hail of carbine fire. Mason hurried over and bent to look at Steve's wound. "How bad is it?"
"Don't... know," Steve gasped. "Never mind me! Get to... bridge! Help your officer!"
Mason nodded. "You're right. There's no time to waste." He looked up. "Dillon, Hubert, Roxall, stay here and guard the prisoners. Kill them if they so much as look at you funny! You heard what this man said about that nuclear demolition charge - they planned to murder us all, so I don't give a damn whether they live or die. Toynbee, help him. Try to stop the bleeding. The rest of you, bring those weapons and follow me!"
Steve watched them race through the door. He tried to raise himself from the floor as a spacer - presumably Toynbee - tugged at his arm, but the movement sent a shrieking wave of agony through his ribcage. He cried out, and everything went dark.
###
There were voices far away, echoing strangely in his ears, as if he were hearing them through a curtain of running water.
"Will he make it?"
"I reckon so, Sir. We don't have imaging facilities, but I think he's got two or three broken ribs. Judging from the entrance wound, the bead hit him sideways - it must have bounced off something hard before hitting him, which deformed and slowed it. It was probably fired by one of our guys, trying to hit one of the resisting pirates, I'm afraid. He was lucky it came in at a shallow angle - it bounced off his ribs instead of penetrating to his internal organs."
"Thank God for that! Why isn't he in a med unit?"
"The ship only has one, Sir, and I had to use it for the most critically injured person. Right now it's keeping the Commander alive. The best I can do for Maxwell is to keep him sedated and his wound dressed, Sir. He'll do better lying still and not moving."
"Do as you see fit, PO. You're the only medic we've got! How about the others?"
"They're doing as well as can be expected, Sir, but I'll be a whole lot happier when we get to Vesta and can hand 'em all over to a proper hospital... "
The voices moved away. Steve tried desperately to open his eyes, to call after them, How's Bosun Cardle doing?... but the coils of darkness surged upward once more, pulling him down into their misty embrace.
###
There came a time when the darkness receded, hesitated, then slipped further away. Somehow Steve knew that this time, he'd be allowed to wake up. He lay in a dreamlike state, halfway between sleep and consciousness, until voices sounded once again.
"How's he doing?"
"Not too well. I've strapped his chest as tightly as I dare, but it'll take doctors and a hospital to set those ribs properly. His wound's become infected, too, and we're almost out of antibiotics and nanobiotics. I'm keeping an eye on him, but with all these others to care for as well, I'm badly overloaded."
"I know you're doing your best. The Fleet Hospital at Vesta will fix him up."
Steve opened his eyes, blinking. Tomkins stood next to his bed, beside another man he didn't recognize.
"Hey, he's awake!" Tomkins exclaimed, pointing.
"Yes, I figured he'd come round about now." The other man picked up a container and held a straw to Steve's lips. "Here, drink this. It's water."
Steve sucked at the straw. He was rewarded by a wonderful spout of moisture, soaking the dryness away from his cheeks and tongue. He drank greedily.
"That's enough for now," the other said, taking the container away and setting it down. He glanced at Tomkins. "I'll give you a minute with him - no longer, OK?"
"Thanks."
"Wha - what's... happening?" Steve managed to croak.
"We're on our way back to Vesta," Tomkins informed him as the other man moved away. "We'll arrive in two days. You're going to be all right."
"What... about... Bosun?"
Tomkins' face fell, and he lowered his eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry, Steve. The Fleet spacers fought a running battle with the remaining pirates to take back the ship. Their boss had to make an emergency five-light-year hyper-jump to get away from de Bouff while the fighting was still going on. She was shot herself, and badly hurt - her second-in-command's in charge now. Everyone was too busy fighting to get back to the Bosun, and... I'm sorry, Steve. He bled to death before we could get him to the sick bay. I'm real sorry to have to be the one to tell you."
Steve couldn't help tears springing to his eyes. "He... he was the finest man I've ever known. I wish I could have died instead of him."
"He wouldn't have wanted that, but I know what you mean. He wasn't our only casualty. Eleven Fleet spacers were killed in the fighting, and seventeen of the pirates, and there are several more wounded. It could have been a whole lot worse. We wouldn't have made it at all if you and the Bosun hadn't made it possible to disarm so many of the pirates in the mess hall. We owe it all to you, buddy. We're all real grateful."
Steve shook his hea
d. "What... what about our crew? The Captain? Why isn't he in command again?"
"The ship was recaptured by Fleet spacers, so she's a prize of the Fleet. I'll explain more about that later. Cabot's crew is OK, thanks to you and the Bosun. They got us out safely after killing our guards. Some of them tried to take us hostage and hide behind us, but we dealt with them." Tomkin's voice was grim. "All that karate training you gave us came in real handy!"
The other man returned. "That's enough for now, Bosun's Mate. He's still very weak. He needs to rest."
"OK, thanks, Medic." Tomkins looked back at Steve. "I'll come and see you again soon, and we'll visit you in the hospital. I'll get your personal possessions from your cabin, too, and secure them for you. You concentrate on getting well, you hear me?"
"I... OK."
The medical orderly bent towards Steve. "I'll pull the curtains around your bed. You're in a temporary sick bay we set up in the mess hall. There are several others in here too. Don't try to get up - in fact, I'd prefer you not to walk at all until a doctor can check you out."
He tugged at some white drapes hanging from ropes stapled to the deckhead. They were difficult to move smoothly, Steve noted, but he managed to pull them closed, shutting out the view of other sets of drapes on either side of the bed. He guessed mattresses had been laid on the mess tables to accommodate the wounded.
Steve turned his head to one side and closed his eyes, unable to hold back the tears.
Dammit, Vince! Why did I ever leave you?
Chapter 20: May 27th, 2838 GSC
Steve was sitting up in his hospital bed, nursing his aching ribs, when he heard footsteps approaching down the corridor. He recognized the voice of the nurse who'd brought him his medication that morning. "He's in this ward. He's doing much better now."
Captain Volschenk's voice replied, "That's good to hear. I've been worried about him."
"So were we at first, Sir, but they've got the infection under control now."
