by John Bowers
He glanced at his wristwatch. After midnight, local time. He blew on his hands and lowered his head, wrapping himself with his arms.
"Fighter Queen, Fighter Control."
Rico’s head jerked around. The SpectraWav had crackled, scaring the hell out of him. The message was repeated.
"Fighter Queen, Fighter Control. Come in, Fighter Queen."
Rico scrambled for the headset and pressed the button.
"Fighter Control, this is Private Martinez. Go ahead."
The male voice on the other end hesitated just a second.
"Private Martinez, are you the one who reported the Fighter Queen down?"
"That's affirm. The captain is right here. Go ahead."
"Okay, listen carefully. Is the captain able to move?"
"Negat. She has a leg wound. Her leg may be broken."
Another hesitation, then a new voice came over the speaker, older and more authoritative.
"Listen up, Star Marine! Can you get her out of that capsule?"
"I dunno, sir. I may need help. I'm not trained in handling wounded."
"Well, do your best. We're sending a ResQMed to your location in about twenty minutes. It is imperative that you have the captain outside the capsule when it gets there. The ResQMed will only be on station for about a minute, and that's all. Do you understand?"
The signal was breaking up, and Rico had to ask him to repeat it. He did.
"Yes, sir. Message understood."
"Get on it, Private!"
" Aye-aye, sir."
Onja was looking at him when he turned around, her pale white brow furrowed with pain. Her eyes seemed clouded.
"You can do it, Martinez," she said between clenched teeth. "You don't have any choice."
Rico checked his wristwatch again, and wondered how long he should wait before he tried to move her. If he did it now, and they had to wait outside for long, she could freeze to death. On the other hand …
"Okay," he said. "Here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to open the hatch, then we both slide over toward it. Our combined weight should roll the turret over until the hatch cover hits the ground. Then we can crawl out."
She nodded, biting her lip.
He reached for the hatch control, hesitated, and looked back at her. "You ready?"
"Do it," she said.
He hit the blue switch and the hatch whined open. Icy air swept through the capsule, accompanied by swirling snowflakes.
"Shit!" he gasped. It was a blizzard out there!
Her leg had swollen painfully, and each movement was agony. He could see some deformity now, even through the pressure suit, but that didn't necessarily mean the bone had separated. It might just be swelling due to blood leakage into her tissues. He moved toward the hatch, carefully, and tried to place himself where his weight alone wouldn't cause the capsule to roll. He took hold of her ankles and held them down firmly.
"Okay, try to scoot toward me."
She did, an inch at a time. The pain caused sweat to pop out across her face, and each time she breathed the exhalation was explosive. Slowly, inch-by-inch, she moved toward him across the gun turret's slanted deck. When she'd reached a critical point, they both felt the capsule start to tilt, and Rico leaned forward to grab her shoulder so she wouldn't slide forward all at once. The motion shifted his center of gravity and the capsule rocked back.
He stopped, letting out his breath. Damn, this was tricky!
"This time," she said, "we just do it. Catch me the best way you can."
Rico nodded and consolidated his grip on her bad leg with his right hand. Taking her shoulder with his left, he took a deep breath.
"Here we go."
He inched backward, still holding her, and once again the capsule started to roll. He felt it roll on over, and for an awful moment thought it was going to throw him backward, dumping her on top of him. If that happened, she could suffer worse injury to the leg. But it tipped slowly and continued its motion. She began to slide, and he held her at arm's length as they both slid toward the hatch together. Onja grimaced and cried out, but Rico's back slammed into the hull and he stopped suddenly; his locked elbows took up the pressure of her weight and she stopped at the same time, still two feet from the hatch, panting like a woman in labor.
Braced against the hull, Rico now let her down slowly until her good leg made contact with the hull; he was able to shift her sideways until her right shoulder also made contact. The injured leg now rested against the other one, cushioned from stress.
"Jesus!" he muttered. "Okay, I'm going out —"
"Wait! If you do, won't it roll back? With just my weight to hold it?"
He stared at her, considering that. He wasn't sure. He ducked his head to peer out the hatch, and all he could see was snow. Another two feet had fallen since he entered the gun turret.
"Damn! I've got to dig that snow out of the way. Neither one of us can get out if I don't."
"Where are you going to put it?"
That was a good question. He looked around — maybe he could haul it inside the turret. Its weight would help keep the thing from rolling back again. But it would take some time, and not much of that was available. They'd already eaten up five minutes — good thing he'd decided not to wait.
"If I had some way to melt it," he said helplessly.
"Here, on my belt." Onja leaned to the left and tugged at something. Rico looked and saw her service-issue laser pistol. He reached for it and pulled it free of her belt. She sagged back, gasping.
"Thank God for small favors!" he murmured. He pressed the charge button and listened to the weapon hum for a few seconds. The green light flickered on and he went to work. The laser was a 44mw antipersonnel weapon, and threw enough concentrated light to burn a hole through an unarmored vehicle. It took less than a minute to burn away enough snow that they could crawl out. He switched the laser off and laid it aside.
"Okay, Captain. You first."
"Is there room?"
"Just barely. We're running out of time. Come on."
He helped her slide closer to the hatch, making sure their combined weight rested against the down side of the hull — it would be disastrous for it to roll back now. Onja squeezed out tears of agony as he helped her position herself to crawl out, and as she got her head and shoulders started, he tried to hold her leg to minimize her pain. He was less than completely successful.
"Hand me the pistol!" she said when she was halfway out. "Just in case."
He obeyed, and she dug her elbows into the snow, pulling herself with more determination than courage until her feet were outside the hatch.
Almost immediately, Rico felt the turret begin to roll back again. His first instinct was to throw himself against the side and bring it back down, but barely in time he realized that doing so might bring the hatch cover down on top of her. Instead, he grabbed an overhead support and leaned the other way, letting it roll away from her. When it stopped, the open hatch was directly overhead. Snow swirled madly through the hole.
He sat there panting, wondering if she was clear. He called to her, but she didn't answer. In the distance, above the shriek of the wind, he heard explosions.
* * *
James Carson understood the necessity of obeying orders, even when one didn't understand or agree with them. The theory was that, somewhere, someone always knew more than you did, and hopefully had your best interests at heart. So you did what you were told, and did it to the best of your ability. And then everything would be all right.
It was a nice theory. But he hadn't been born in an incubator.
Sometimes the brass didn't always know best, and sometimes the commander in the field had to improvise based on his own observations. And sometimes, command decisions weighed the possibility of saving some at the risk of leaving others behind, like ignoring an unknown number of Star Marines who might need help in the interest of saving one very famous turret gunner.
Carson approached the high mountain valley
with his running lights off. He knew he was on enemy radar because he was recording their scans, but the Fighter Service conveniently sent their next strike to coincide with his rescue mission. Hopefully, the enemy would ignore him in the face of the greater threat.
"I've got the transponder on screen, Captain," Lt. Ho said tersely. "Relaying to your HH."
Carson glanced at it. It was just twenty miles away, and he adjusted course slightly to head for it. His atmosphere boosters were running full bore, and he should be there in less than a minute. He wondered idly how long the space strike could last.
In the back, McGarrity and Carrington waited in the airlock, already dressed in arctic gear. McGarrity had tried to order Carrington to stay behind, but the junior man had refused — he wasn't about to miss a chance to meet the Fighter Queen. Of the rest of the crew, only Capt. Ferracci remained on board; Louise Chin, Luis Grijalva, and Willie Wolters had been left behind.
"Prepare for touchdown!" Carson told his crew. "ETA twenty seconds!"
He fired reverse thrusters and began slowing, shedding altitude as he nosed toward the snowfield ahead. As he did, the night suddenly came alive with lasers, dancing all about him. He realized with a shock that the Vegans hadn't been totally preoccupied with the space strike after all. They were shooting at him!
He switched on his forward IR and the ejection capsule was suddenly displayed on a video screen in front of him. Using that as a guide, he threw the ship into a full hover and managed to set down parallel to it, keeping it on his portside so his rescue people had less ground to cover. Snow swirled around the ResQMed and he felt the landing gear touch down. They started to sink, but he increased the hover — he wasn't about to bury up in all this snow.
"That's it, Gunny! Go get her!" Carson yelled.
McGarrity and Carrington leaped into waist-deep snow and struggled forward. The capsule was fifteen yards away, and they couldn't see a living soul. Lasers flashed overhead and in their reflected light McGarrity could see the open hatch on top. He picked up one leg at a time and tried to step over the snow, but it was an effort. He sank into it each time, and took a painfully long time to cover the distance.
And he still could see no one, even with his IR contacts.
"Talk to me, Gunny! How's it going?"
"No good, Kept'n! No heat sigs anywhere! Plyce looks deserted!"
"We got maybe two minutes, Gunny. Those lasers are coming closer!"
"Better turn on the lights, sir!"
"And give them a target? No, thanks!"
"Shields, then."
Damn! Why hadn't he thought of that? He couldn't use shields during flight, but they were on the ground now. He spoke to the computer.
"Input: topside only, shields up. Execute!"
Instantly the air around the little ship seemed to shimmer. Snowflakes that had swirled before his cockpit window now fell straight down, and no more appeared. Lasers still streaked past, but they were too high.
McGarrity reached the turret and called out. Receiving no answer, he worked his way around to the other side. And found her.
She was lying facedown in the snow, partially covered by a dusting of snowflakes. His IR contacts told him she was alive, or had been until a few minutes ago. The heat signature was that of a person who was still breathing.
"Over here, Dennis!"
A laser spanged off the turret with a sound like an explosion. Both men ducked as fragments went flying.
"Is she alive?"
"I think so. Come on, we got to get her outta here!"
They each grabbed an end and heaved her up between them. Carrington had her legs, and kept them clamped together — their information said she might have a fracture. Together, laboriously, they turned back toward the ResQMed, sticking to the trail they'd already forged. The going was easier.
"We got her, Kept'n!" McGarrity reported. "On our way back. Get ready to drop the shields!"
They were halfway back when a massive laser bolt struck the ResQMed's shields, and lightning seemed to flash all around them. They staggered, but didn't drop their patient. They did speed up their pace.
"Okay, Kept'n, we're at the shields!"
"Input: shields down, execute!"
The shields disappeared, and the two men staggered inside where they had been; instantly Carson ordered them up again. Carla was waiting in the airlock, and as they heaved their burden onto the deck, she pulled the wounded gunner away from the edge. Carson was already winding up the jets as the two men climbed wearily on board. Carrington stabbed the door control and the airlock's outer door slid shut. Carla was bending over her patient, pulling the eyelids open. The gorgeous blonde was beginning to stir.
Carson saw the airlock light go out and revved his jets. The ResQMed began to rise.
"Let's get her into sickbay," Carla said urgently. "She's suffering from hypothermia."
The two men reached under to lift her again, and the pain forced her eyes open. She gasped, and looked up at them in panic.
"It's okye, darlin'," McGarrity cooed as they carried her through the inner airlock door toward sickbay. "You're syfe now. It's okye."
But the near-frozen blonde cast about with anxious eyes.
"Wait!" she cried. "Where's Martinez?"
* * *
Rico waited until he thought Onja had time to crawl clear of the hatch, and started to rotate it again. But once again he stopped; what if she'd passed out from the cold? Maybe she was still in the same place. She should have given him some kind of signal, and she hadn't.
He felt panic rise in his chest. He was responsible for her, in her present condition. He couldn't afford to risk injuring her, and yet he couldn't leave her out there alone. But how the hell was he supposed to get out now?
It took him a couple of minutes to figure out how to climb up to the hatch without rolling the entire capsule back down on top of the injured gunner. He kept to the opposite side, stepping on the electronics as he pulled himself up. Fragile things crunched under his boots, but he couldn't help that. He had to get out. When he reached the top he would lean to the right, away from where she'd crawled free. Hopefully the capsule would roll that way, throwing him clear. His only worry then was that, when his weight was no longer there, it might rock back the other way and still fall on her.
He had to risk it.
He'd just got both hands onto the edge of the hatch when he heard the rescue ship hovering outside, its jets louder than the distant explosions and screaming fighters. He tried to haul himself up, and had just got a purchase with one elbow when something hit the capsule with explosive force. Outside he saw a flash of light, and knew the Vegans were firing this way. The shock of the laser hit jarred him loose, and he tumbled wildly, smashing his knee against a protruding video screen. He landed in a heap, ringing with pain and temporarily helpless.
He struggled to his knees again, hoping his knee wasn't broken, panting fiercely against the pain. When he tried to stand on the leg, the knee held. It was still intact. He started to climb again.
But it was harder this time, took longer. Minutes crawled interminably by. He kept going with the desperation of terror, and was finally rewarded by the feel of the edge of the hatch under his hands again. With a last supreme effort, he hauled himself up and wormed his way outside. Freezing wind and snow pelted his face, and he lost his breath, but shook it off and forced his eyes open against the stinging snow.
The first thing he saw was the ResQMed, just fifteen yards to his left. It was lifting off.
* * *
Carson held the rescue ship steady ten yards above the snow and increased forward thrust. He wasn't about to try to climb out, not with those ASC lasers back there on that mountain. He would run away from them, straight up the valley toward where the Star Marines were dug in. It was several miles, but once he got up to speed he could cover it quickly, and only when he'd put some mountain peaks behind him would he attempt a climb back to altitude.
Another laser bolt flashed
past, and he felt his testicles crawl a little higher into his belly.
"Kept'n!" McGarrity said in his headset, his voice sounding odd under the circumstances. "Kept'n, we gotta go back."
"What?" Carson and Ho exchanged a horrified glance. "Why?"
"She says there was a Star Marine back there," McGarrity told him. "Says we left him behind. She wants us to rescue him."
"Is he wounded?"
"I dunno, sir. But she won't leave without him."
"I don't think she has much choice. I'm flying this bucket!"
The next voice he heard was the Fighter Queen's. It wasn't a pleasant experience.
"Captain, this is Onja Kvoorik. There's a Star Marine back there where you picked me up. He risked his life to help me, and I am ordering you to go back and get him!"
Carson felt his skin crawl.
"Captain Kvoorik —"
"Did you hear me?" she snapped, iron in her voice.
"Captain Kvoorik, I —"
"Did you hear me, goddammit!" she screamed.
Carson grimaced unhappily.
"My orders specifically said no Star Marines —"
"Fuck your orders! I am a personal friend of General Jiro Osato, Captain, and if you disobey me I promise you I will convince him to star-court you and your entire crew! I will ask him to personally strip you naked in front of your entire squadron and make you explain why you left a Federation fighting man to die in the snow! Now you turn this fucking boat around and go get him!"
Carson felt scalded. Like every other man in Federation uniform, he'd heard of the Fighter Queen for years, had admired her from a distance; had always wondered what it would be like to meet her, had secretly dreamed of sleeping with her.
He had no idea she was such a hypercat.
Oh well, everybody had to die sometime.
He turned the ResQMed into a sharp bank and headed back.
* * *
Rico leaped down into the freezing snow and stood helpless and shaking. Shaking from subzero temperature, shaking from terror. Above the waist he was wearing only his fatigue sweatshirt and his laser vest. It wasn't nearly enough. What the fuck did he do now? The rescue ship was gone, and presumably, the Fighter Queen with it. Jesus! The enemy wouldn't have to kill him; he would freeze to death out here. In just a few minutes!
