StarShip Down

by Darrell Bain

“Not a thing. But we're being taken way, way off. I couldn't even find out where but I know enough to be certain we need to make a try for this tender if we're ever going to see civilization again.”

  “We're going to the other continent.”

  “I won't ask how you know but that makes taking the tender even more imperative.”

  “More what?”

  “Urgent. We've got to do something when we land.”

  “Yeah, big man. You gonna go first?”

  Be honest, Fondez told himself. “No, but I don't mind taking a few risks. Anyway, we're both big men. We ought to be able to throw a couple of weaklings at the guards and follow up behind them. I'd rather die than be marooned without a chance of ever hitting back at them.” That was honest enough and if they could take over the tender, there was always a chance to sneak back somehow and do something toward gaining some respect.

  “I never thought of it that way,” Morehill said. “All I was wanting was a chance at the fucking guards and their guns. They said they'd leave us a few but I don't trust ‘em. Besides, we'll need more than a few to survive. Goddamn bastards.”

  “Well, start thinking. I'll be right beside you, I promise.”

  “It might work,” Crag admitted to Fondez. “Tell me more about this so-called following you got.”

  For the next hour the two whispered back and forth. Eventually Morehill agreed with Fondez's request to pass the word to the others that once they landed and began debarking, everyone should rush the guards. The politician also heard him tell the nearest convicts that he would kill anyone who didn't rush them when he gave the order.

  “Can you think of anything else that'll give us an edge?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but no one else needs to know it yet but you.”

  Fondez listened. He was astounded when Morehill told him of the female guard who had promised to help him escape and take the tender if he could.

  “Great. That ought to give us a good chance. He gave the idea some more thought and again whispered to Morehill for another word to be passed along. Don't kill the female guards! Only six of the twenty-eight convicts aboard were women and only a couple of them could be said to be anywhere close to attractive.

  “That'll stir them up,” he said and grinned at his convict partner.

  “Damn right,” Morehill agreed.

  * * * *

  “It's a good thing the ship's power plant wasn't damaged,” Terrell said to Travis and Johannnsen as they watched the laser beam turn a swath of knee-high vegetation beyond the ship to smoking black stubble then repeat the process with another strip next to the first and one more beyond that. The ship had fortuitously come down in a perfect position to use one of the laser cannons to clear some prairie of the tough growth in preparation for planting. There was no danger of a forest fire. It didn't burn well and the ground was saturated from a recent rain in any case.

  “How long can you use it like this?” Travis asked the weapons officer.

  “We're firing microsecond pulses but we can't keep that up long. It will swivel only so far anyway so we're about done, which is good. Without the impellers going, it uses too much energy. Sandy's monitoring it while it's working. She's an ace with that thing, which is why she's up there instead of me.”

  “So I suppose any more clearing will have to be done by hand?”

  “The fusion plant will work a long, long time so long as the ancillary equipment is maintained properly and we can machine the spare parts for those that fail or wear out,” Terrell explained. “Which means the cannons are good until something we can't fix goes south. They just can't be used much with the power we have available and besides, it would be a major undertaking to move the ship after these stretches are cleared.” He pointed to where the aft cannon had cleared as much land as it could reach.

  Travis nodded agreeably. Anything was better than tackling that stuff by hand or even with such equipment as they could rig. The forest was a slightly different case. Already one member of the exploration team had been killed by a predator that had an uncanny ability to camouflage itself by laying on its back and sticking its eight appendages straight up in the air, then change their coloring and shape to resemble seedlings of the taller vegetation. Once in range the bony claws shot out of the end of the “seedlings” and the creature used all eight of its legs to claw and slash its prey to pieces. The stuff of the forest would burn, if slowly, and Travis refused permission to use the cannon on it for fear of starting a fire they wouldn't be able to put out. They didn't need more land at the moment anyway. Just planting and keeping unwanted vegetation out of what the lasers had cleared would keep them as busy as they wanted to be for a long time.

  Water might be a problem for the crops, he knew. The nearest stream was a hundred meters away and the nearest river was almost a kilometer from where the ship rested. Already there were plans to dig wells and carve irrigation ditches.

  A shot from a heavy rifle sounded from behind, causing them all to whirl and reach from their side arms. Two more followed in quick succession before the octogrizzly fell. The forest was close enough and the predators fearless enough that guards had to be on duty every single minute anyone was outside the ship.

  “I guess eventually we'll kill enough of them that they'll begin to fear us,” Travis said as he slid his pistol back into its holster. Already he was beginning to feel somewhat like the semimythical gunfighters of the Old American West must have.

  “Then something else will come along and take their place, or we'll kill enough of them so the animals they hunted before we landed here will multiply enough to be a menace,” Addie observed as she joined them.

  “Hi, Addie,” he greeted her. “So what do we do in that case?”

  The xenobiologist shrugged and pointed to where a detail under guard was already starting to field dress the animal. “Well, we sure can't let critters like that attack us, so unless we can think of a method to drive them off, we'll have to keep killing them and see what happens. Maybe it won't be too bad. It must take a large territory to keep a beast that big fed.”

  “At least it's good to eat,” Travis said. He had tried some after it was ruled safe but he didn't particularly care for the taste.

  “Marginally,” Johannsen said then laughed. “I put a lot of sauce on the piece of it I had for dinner.”

  “Yeah, me too. Still, it could have been worse. We won't starve, whatever happens.”

  “True,” Addie agreed. “By the way, I just finished the chemical analysis of the prairie grass. The top of it that looks like thick crumpled paper is part of its reproductive system. It also contains a lot of the vitamins we need.”

  “How does it taste?” Johannsen asked.

  “The mice have turned their noses up at it so far but maybe they're not hungry enough yet.”

  “Probably used to leftovers,” he observed.

  Travis suddenly remembered Addie had been headed directly toward him. Maybe she needs me for something, he thought. “What can I do for you, Addie? Anything?”

  “I just came out to watch the burn and to get away from work for a while.” She turned her eyes toward the spots still smoking from the laser burns then toward the forest where a breeze was stirring even the large leaves. They were big but very lightweight.

  He grinned, taken down a bit. “That's really what I came out for and I'm glad I did, now. I got to see how fast those damn octogrizzlies can move.” He glanced down at her waist. “Addie, you aren't armed.”

  “Whoops! Sorry, Captain. That's going to take some getting used to.” She turned and began heading back toward the ship. He had made a rule that anyone not being specifically guarded must carry a laser or firearm for protection. The octapedal carnivores were incredibly fast on their feet and had yet to learn how deadly humans could be.

  “Wait up,” he called to her. “I'll walk you back.” He was wasting time and there were things that needed to be done. Always.

  * * * *

  “What
are you so fidgety about?” Esmeralda finally asked after noticing the big security guard had been jumpy as a grabberhopper ever since they took off for Little Con with the convicts.

  “I'll just be glad when we get there,” Sarah said. Reflexively, she touched the pistol at her waist and thought of what she'd told Crag. She still wasn't sure she could make herself do it but the alternative meant losing his love forever. Her thoughts strayed to the times she had allowed him to touch her through the bars and she felt herself blushing.

  “Your face is red, too. Maybe you're coming down with a bug.”

  “Not a local one, I hope.”

  “Not much chance. Alien bugs usually don't like our taste.”

  “I've heard it happens, though,” Sarah said, glad to move on to a safe subject.

  “Not often. Look, no one is giving us any trouble. You want to go lie down until we land?”

  The notion of going to sleep and forgetting about the prospective hijacking was appealing but thoughts of a life without Crag overrode it.

  “No, I'll be alright, but thanks.”

  Esmeralda shrugged and left her alone. Sara hoped the sergeant would just think she was a strange woman. She knew she was, in a way. She was quiet and usually didn't join in the small talk, especially since agreeing to help Crag. She was scared but a sudden determination to carry through overwhelmed her. What else did she have gong for her? The security guards still weren't trusted that much since Chief Havers had been killed. She didn't know if she believed the story about how he met his death or not. It didn't matter, though. She wasn't going to be around the ship's crew much longer. Thoughts of being with Crag after he was loose caused a shiver to run through her body. It localized in her groin, making her quiver. God, it's been so long, she thought. Too goddamned long.

  * * * *

  The thrusters died and the tender settled into place, ready to offload the convicts and head back to Big Con. It was Sarah's signal and she felt herself begin to tremble. She made an effort at calm and was able to take some deep breaths and still it, mostly. It didn't go away entirely but it was no longer visible to anyone who was the least bit observant.

  “I'll help roust them out, Jerry,” she said. She had been taking a break in the passenger section while the other twin and a female corporal were in the cargo bay on guard.

  “Have at it,” he said. “Those are some mean dudes, though. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  She opened and dogged the hatch then stepped inside. The convicts were already unfastening their safety straps and sitting up. Tom, the other twin was standing alertly just inside with his hand on the handle of his pistol. He glanced at her for a second then turned back to the prisoners.

  She glanced back over her shoulder and saw she was clear. She drew her gun and stuck the barrel in the small of the army private's back.

  “Don't move. Don't say a thing.”

  Crag ran forward and quickly appropriated the soldier's weapon. “Turn back the other way,” he ordered. When the soldier didn't move fast enough he thumbed off the safety of the hand gun. “Move or die. And don't shout.”

  Tom turned around, moving as slowly as he dared, hoping some of the other guards would notice what was happening.

  Sarah stood mute. She had done all she'd promised. It was up to Crag now. She watched as one of the politicians ran forward and took her own gun from her hand. She neither helped nor resisted. Her eyes followed Crag and the politician as they prodded the private from the bay, using him as a shield. She wondered how ... Fondez? Yes, Fondez. She wondered how he had gotten involved so quickly but it was a minor matter. Crag was who counted.

  * * * *

  By the time Esmeralda got the feeling that something was wrong, it was almost all over. Using Jerry as cover, Morehill and Fondez had managed to get out of the bay and cover two other soldiers but all she saw at first was PFC Jerry Smith. He was looking pale and sick. Someone was behind him. Holding him up? No! It is the big convict named Morehill and he has a weapon! Other convicts were crowding forward. Fondez was there, too, damn him.

  She ducked behind a seat and yelled, “Jimmy! Close the cabin!”

  A laser beam scorched past the back of the seat sending off waves of heat. She rose up and took a snap shot at one convict then ducked back down as she saw her bullet tear through the man's head and explode blood and brains over the ones behind him.

  Corporal June Sillers was well over to the side and had just finished opening the airlock from the bay to the outside. Esmeralda saw that she had heard when she cried out to the pilot. An instant later a shot boomed out, horrendously loud in the enclosed space. She had no idea who it was aimed at but Sillers turned and began to draw her weapon. It was too late. Morehill saw her and pushed his captive forward with a brutal shove. He ran into her and they all fell into a heap. Esmeralda could do nothing because she couldn't get a clear shot, then more laser fire made her keep her head down again.

  “Cover them!” She heard the big convict order. She heard him moving forward cautiously after she heard a shot from behind her. It told her that she and Jimmy must be the only ones still resisting the takeover but damn it, he should have been busy getting the tender into the air! She thought grimly that the convicts would need the pilot and wouldn't want to kill him. They wouldn't kill her either if they could keep from it. She was a woman.

  “Hey!” Morehill called to her. “I've got all your friends. Come on out or they're dead!”

  “Shit!” she muttered but she stayed where she was.

  “Bring two of the guards up here. Keep them in front of you,” she heard him say but she could think of nothing more to do from her position. The tender wasn't moving either. A quick glance back and she saw the cabin door was closed. Apparently Jimmy had finally saw their only salvation was to quit fighting take off, even if the air lock was open. So why hadn't he taken off? She had no chance to find out because Simpson and one of the Smith twins were shoved into view.

  “See? Now come out with your hands up or they're going to die! And don't fuck with me ‘cause I don't give a damn which.”

  Esmeralda saw it was hopeless and there was no sense in letting the two men be killed. She stood up slowly. If her eyes could have killed she knew Morehill would be a dead man. Instead he grinned. “That's good. Now throw down your gun. Don't worry, sweet stuff, we're not gonna hurt you.”

  Once she surrendered, Jimmy was easy. A single shot destroyed the flimsy lock of the cabin door. Morehill motioned a man even bigger than him forward.

  “Kick the door in.” He grinned evilly. “Don't worry. I'll keep one of these fucking guards right by you so the pilot won't fire at us.”

  The door flew open. Jimmy took one look at the former prisoners with drawn guns and holding hostages in front of them. He quit what he was doing with the controls and slumped back down into his seat

  “Just stay where you are, young man,” Morehill ordered. “Here in a little while, you're gonna fly us to a new location. Somewhere the man don't know about.”

  Esmeralda felt an emptiness inside her. She recalled her training in case she ever became a prisoner of war. This could turn out to be worse, though. Much worse.

  * * * *

  Travis was in the midst of helping Sissy undress and enjoying it immensely when his official com chimed.

  “Shit! What could that be at this hour?” He paused with her bra dangling from his hand, torn between desire and duty.

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “You'd better answer it, sweetie, or they'll be at the door next.”

  He smiled wryly. “Don't go anywhere. We're not finished yet.” He hurried into the office of his cabin and answered with audio only. “Captain speaking.”

  “Sir, Brandon here. The tender with the convicts is overdue and we can't raise them.”

  “Oh, damn. Was there a Mayday or anything?”

  “No, sir, but ... it had landed then the tech monitoring it lost touch when the satellite passed out of range
. When it came back again, he couldn't raise them.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, sir. That's all we know.”

  “All right. I'll meet you in the control room. Ten minutes.”

  “What is it?” Sissy asked. She was sitting on the side of the bed naked from the waist up.

  “The tender with the convicts is missing.”

  “Oh, shit! Oh my, poor Maria. Jimmy was piloting it. They were going to get married.”

  “Yeah. Those Smith twins were in it, too. They were hooked up with one of our weapons techs.”

  “That's right. Sandy Johnson?”

  “Uh huh. I'm going to the control room and see if we can find out anything else. Do you want to go or stay?”

  “Why don't I stay for now? Someone will have to notify Maria and Sandy in case you can't get away. Call me when it's definite or if you find out there are survivors.”

  “Okay.” He finished tugging on his tunic, bent to kiss her and hurried out. It seemed there was no end to his worries. He hated to think of what might have happened to the tender and its crew.

  * * * *

  “Don't kill them yet,” Fondez said, touching Morehill's arm.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “We may need them later.”

  “Fuck it. I say kill them.” He raised his weapon.

  Fondez had been doing nothing but thinking since strapping into his spot in the cargo bay of the tender, fortuitously next to Morehill, the one person who he thought could help him out of the mess he now blamed Montingham for causing. He had realized the potential of the convict as a leader who might be manipulated despite his brutality. He also knew they would need a reservoir of goodwill from their former captives if they ever intended to rejoin the others. And last, he knew there was room for only one politician in a group this small.

  “There's the man we need to kill,” he said and pointed at Montingham.

  “Hey, I didn't do anything! Don't listen to him!”

  “Nothing, hey? It was you who brought up the idea of throwing us out into the jungle to Callahan, you bastard. You're the reason we're here.”

  “Is that right?” Morehill asked. His shrewd brain knew there was a ploy going on but not exactly what. He was also aware there was a need for more bloodshed before asserting full control of the group of former convicts and the others who were now their captives. Some of their reservoir of pent-up violence had to be released before they would settle down and take orders.