by Huw Powell
“Hey, Farid,” said Jake. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.”
“What is it?”
“Why doesn’t James Hawker like you?”
“What makes you think he doesn’t?” asked the first mate.
“He suggested that you play Reus roulette.”
“Oh,” said Farid. “I used to serve under him on the Lost Soul, before I joined the Space Dogs. Captain Hawker never forgave me for switching crews. He expects the Starbucklers to remain loyal, which makes me a traitor in his eyes.”
“Why did you leave?” asked Jake.
“Granny Leatherhead offered me a promotion. I think she only did it to make him angry.”
“Why would anyone want to upset James Hawker?”
The intercom crackled.
“Brace yourselves, boarding party,” said Granny Leatherhead. “We’re coming into firing range.”
Jake heard the unmistakable sound of Old Lizzy spewing out laser bolts as the Dark Horse swooped down on the supply ship. He peered through the air-lock window and caught sight of the Divine Wind flying alongside them with its pink cannon blasting. The aim was not to hit the supply ship, only to scare its crew. But then something bright flashed past the air-lock window.
“Those corporate creeps are firing back,” screeched Granny Leatherhead. “Kodan, wipe out that laser cannon. Nichelle, take evasive action.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The cargo hauler lurched to the side, causing Jake to bump into Nanoo. There were several more bursts from Old Lizzy before the multibarreled laser cannon fell silent.
“Good work, Kodan,” said Granny Leatherhead. “They’ve cut their engine. Nichelle, move us closer.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Amber lights flashed on the ceiling of the air lock.
“Warning, air-lock door opening,” announced the speaker on the wall.
Jake stowed his weapons and checked his lifeline. His heart raced as he thought about leaping into space. Who knew what was waiting for them inside the supply ship? Scargus had told him that no job was without risk—there was always a chance that someone would get hurt. His space dock fantasies of being a swashbuckling space pirate seemed so naive now.
The huge air-lock door cracked open and all of the oxygen escaped through the gap. Jake held on to a wall strap to steady himself. He could tell that the Dark Horse was still moving by the stars flying past the opening. The Divine Wind drew level and Jake caught sight of Kay standing in her air lock with her boarding party. He smiled at her pink skull-shaped space helmet, yellow combat suit, and knee-length space boots. Around her waist she wore a lace tutu, and in her hand she waved a feather duster.
“That g-g-girl really is crazy,” stuttered Woorak.
The Dark Horse slowed and the supply ship appeared beneath them. Jake spotted a gnarled black stump that had once been a laser cannon. Farid attached his lifeline to the spare tow cable and jumped into space feetfirst. Maaka and Woorak followed, brandishing their swords as they slid through the stars.
Jake was next to attach his lifeline to the tow cable. He kicked off the edge of the air lock and hurled himself into space, spiraling toward the supply ship below. Through the protective mesh that covered his eyes, Jake spotted a second tow cable. Kay slid confidently into view along with her shipmates.
Farid, Maaka, and Woorak were the first to reach the metal surface. Jake squeezed the tow cable with his padded gloves to reduce his speed. He landed with a magnetic thud and unclipped his lifeline. Kella and Nanoo touched down moments later, followed by Kay and the Luna Ticks. Woorak had already started work on the air lock with his laser cutter.
“Ahoy-hoy,” said Kay, skipping across the hull with a string of palm grenades in her hand. “A laser cutter will take too long. Let’s blast it open.”
Farid held up his hands. “No way! Those things are too unpredictable. If we damage the air-lock door, we won’t be able to enter the ship. It’s safer to remove the control panel.”
“Spoilsport,” said Kay, wrapping the string of palm grenades around her waist.
Jake watched the laser cutter eat into the thick metal surface. After a few minutes, a small panel toppled into space and Woorak opened the air-lock door. Maaka drew his laser pistol and entered, followed by Farid and Woorak. Jake, Kella, and Nanoo joined them in the narrow air lock. Kay was the last to squeeze inside before the outer door closed and the compartment filled with oxygen.
“Is everyone ready?” asked Farid.
Jake, Kella, and Nanoo drew their weapons.
Farid opened the inner air-lock door and tossed out a smoke grenade. He waited for a few seconds and then charged after it with Maaka and Woorak. A medley of shouts and laser fire broke out. Jake, Kella, Nanoo, and Kay stepped cautiously into the smoke-filled corridor, where visibility was limited.
“This way,” said Jake, heading toward the shouting.
A stray laser bolt tore through the smoke and glanced off his helmet, knocking him backward. He dropped to the floor and came face-to-face with a damaged robot, which lay twitching on its side, with several holes in its chest plate. The smoke cleared, and Farid came charging up the corridor.
“We’ve taken the ship,” he said.
Jake looked past him and saw more robots strewn along the corridor. “Where are all the people?”
Maaka laughed. “Do you really think that the Galactic Trade Corporation would pay people when they can use cheap robots to deliver their supplies?”
Jake stood up and regarded the damaged robot with a mixture of fear and pity. He knew it was just a machine, but it reminded him of the battle droid, Vigor-8. Sparks sputtered from its broken body and the robot stopped moving. Jake watched its lights fade, and he knew it had ceased operating.
With no time to waste, the boarding party entered the capacious cargo hold, but there wasn’t much left to steal.
Kay glanced around the sparse walls. “What, no crystals?”
“It doesn’t look like it,” said Farid. “If this ship was carrying any treasure, it has already been dropped off.”
“Let’s just t-t-take what’s left,” stuttered Woorak.
“I’ll carry some food,” said Kella.
“And I get fuel cells,” volunteered Nanoo.
Jake picked up a crate of drinks and turned to the door, but as he did so, a robot guard limped into the cargo hold, clutching a laser pistol. Its leg was damaged and one of its arms was missing, but it was still functioning and programmed to kill.
“Look out,” cried Jake, dropping the crate and reaching for his gun.
The robot fired first, narrowly missing Kay. Jake took aim and blasted the robot with three laser bolts to the head. It collapsed in a smoking heap of metal and wires. The shots echoed and faded, leaving an eerie silence.
“That was close,” said Farid. “Nice shooting, Jake.”
Before he could reply, the captain’s voice flooded their helmets.
“Attention, boarding party,” she croaked. “We’ve got incoming craft on the long-range scanner. Leave the supply ship and get your butts back here, on the double.”
Jake could tell by her tone that she was worried.
“Aye, Captain,” said Farid.
“What about supplies?” asked Nanoo.
“Grab food, drink, and fuel, but leave the rest.”
The seven of them quickly attached a variety of bags, bottles, and boxes to their combat suits and headed to the air lock.
“What are you waiting for?” screeched Granny Leatherhead. “There’s a squadron of Gork fighters heading this way. If you’re not back inside this cargo hauler within five minutes, I’m leaving without you.”
Chapter 17
Space Battle
Farid, Maaka, Woorak, and Kay entered the narrow air lock.
“There’s no more room,” complained Kella. “It’s not big enough for all of us and the supplies.”
“It’s okay,” said Jake. “Let them go first.”
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Farid nodded and closed the inner door.
As it slid shut, Kay threw her feather duster to Jake and shouted, “It’s for luck!”
Jake caught the duster and the door sealed. He heard the outer hatch open and then close again a moment later. It took another minute for the oxygen levels to restore before they could finally open the inner door.
“This is taking too long,” said Kella anxiously.
Nanoo checked his wrist computer. “We have only three minutes to get back to Dark Horse.”
Jake, Kella, and Nanoo entered the air lock and closed the inner door. A few seconds later, the outer door opened, and they were scrambling back across the hull to the tow cable.
“Look,” said Nanoo, pointing into space. “Gork fighter craft.”
Jake peered through the protective mesh and spotted at least twenty shapes speeding toward them. He checked the tow cable and saw that the others had almost reached the ship.
“How long do we have left?” he asked, connecting his lifeline to the thick wire.
“Just over a minute,” said Nanoo. “It not enough time to climb tow cable.”
Jake refused to give up. “There has to be a way.”
“We’ll never make it,” said Kella. “The Dark Horse is too far away.”
Jake glanced at the approaching Gork fighters and then at the feather duster in his hand. Why was he still holding the wretched thing? What was he supposed to do with it, tickle the enemy? It looked ridiculous, like a little nebula cloud on a stick.
“That’s it,” he said. “Do you remember how Callidus and Capio used compressed air to propel themselves through the Tego Nebula? We can use our oxygen tanks in the same way.”
“Don’t we need them to breathe?” asked Kella.
“We’ll still have a bit left in our combat suits once we disconnect the tanks.” Jake tucked the feather duster into his belt. “It should be enough for two or three breaths.”
“If we link suits, we need only one oxygen tank,” suggested Nanoo.
“Good idea,” said Jake.
Kella and Nanoo attached their lifelines to his belt.
“Whose tank are we going to use?” asked Kella.
“It was my idea, so we’ll use mine,” said Jake. “And there’s no time to argue.”
Ignoring their objections, Jake took a deep breath and disconnected the metal canister. He flipped it over and pointed the nozzle at the hull of the supply ship. It took him three attempts to open the valve before a jet of compressed air exploded from the end. He locked his fingers around the tank as it blasted into space, dragging the three of them behind it.
“Hold on,” he said, using up his first breath.
Jake’s lifeline scraped along the tow cable in a shower of sparks as they rocketed toward the Dark Horse. Farid, Maaka, and Woorak were watching them from the edge of the air lock.
“It working!” cried Nanoo.
The Gork fighters were closer now, and Jake could make out their chubby midnight-blue hulls. He took his second breath when they reached the halfway point and was surprised to find that the oxygen had already thinned inside his combat suit. It made him feel light-headed, and his fingers loosened around the metal canister.
“We’re almost there,” encouraged Kella.
Jake’s head was spinning and his vision started to blur. He could see hazy amber lights flashing above the open air-lock door.
“It’s going to shut,” he wheezed. “It’s going to . . .”
“We can make it,” said Kella.
“I . . .”
The universe became distorted and shrouded in a thick fog. Jake felt the oxygen tank wriggle free and slip through his fingers, but he was too weak to catch it. His whole body numbed, and before he could stop himself, he lost consciousness.
When Jake stirred, he was strapped into a bed in the medical bay. At first, he thought there was something wrong with his eye implants, but then he realized the lights were red. His lungs expanded with stale oxygen, and something rumbled in the distance. It took him a moment to remember what had happened. How did they get back aboard? A sharp headache swirled around his skull as the Dark Horse rocked from side to side. What was that rumbling noise? It sounded like explosions and laser cannon fire . . . the space battle had started.
Jake unclipped his straps and tumbled into the air.
“Where are you going?” asked Kella, entering the room with an armful of blankets.
“I need to get to the rear cannon,” he said. “What happened outside the ship? How did we get back inside?”
“You passed out and let go of the oxygen tank, but Nanoo caught the nozzle and steered us into the air lock.”
“Nanoo? Magnifty.” Jake scanned the floor. “Where are my gravity shoes?”
“Jake, you’ve had a nasty—”
“I’m fine,” he lied. “I’ve got to help defend the ship. Where are my . . . oh, forget it.”
Jake pushed himself off a cabinet and floated through the open door. It had been a while since he had negotiated his way through the ship without gravity shoes, and his arms ached by the time he reached the top deck. Without knocking, he entered the captain’s quarters, flew across her bed, and climbed into the rear turret.
Jake gripped the laser cannon saddle with his knees and powered up the weapon. The gun port slid back and the cannon rolled forward. Jake was greeted by splashes of bright light, like a deadly firework display. Gork fighters weaved around fragments of wreckage, firing their twin laser cannon, while Nichelle plunged the Dark Horse into deep rolls.
“No more mistakes, Kid Cutler,” he said to himself.
His body tensed as he released the safety catch and gripped the rubber handlebars. The Gork fighters were as fast as ever, but at least this time his display screen worked. Jake picked his first target and squeezed the trigger. The laser cannon fired and the Gork craft exploded.
“One down,” he muttered.
A pair of Gork fighters tore past the turret, blasting the cargo hauler’s shields on either side of him. Jake spun his laser cannon around and fired a series of short bursts, catching one of the crafts and knocking out its engine. In the distance, the Divine Wind lost one of its gun ports as it collided with a damaged fighter.
Two more Gorks swooped down on the Dark Horse, their weapons blazing. Jake returned fire, but he was careful not to overheat his laser cannon. His shots took out one of the fighters and damaged the other. The cargo hauler’s shields had weakened, and its hull had gained several new scars.
“Right, that’s it, we’re leaving,” said Granny Leatherhead. “Kodan, clear a path for us. Nichelle, set course for the fourth solar system as planned.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Kodan finished off a damaged fighter, and Nichelle resumed course to the fourth solar system, closely followed by the Divine Wind. Jake scanned the stars for more targets. It was up to him to cover their rear and he was not going to let down the crew. He picked off the pursuing craft one at a time, as though he were playing a stellar-net game. His confidence grew with each shot, and it wasn’t long before the last of the Gork fighters fell back.
“That’s it,” cheered Farid. “We’re in the clear.”
“Nice shooting, Kid Cutler,” said Granny Leatherhead over the intercom. “We’ll make a gunner out of you yet.”
Jake wrote another message to Callidus and Capio to let them know about the gathering on Santanova. When he had finished, he paced the guest quarters while Kella and Nanoo rested on their beds. It was nearly three days until the gathering, and there was a lot to think about.
“I’m going to wear my Altian uniform,” he said. “It will go well with the seal and sword of Altus.”
“What about the missing crown?” asked Kella.
“I’ll ask Scargus to make me one out of scrap metal and spray it with gold paint. It won’t be perfect, but it will be better than nothing.”
“What you say to other leaders?” asked Nanoo.
&nbs
p; “That’s a good question.” Jake remembered how Hector Rumpole had reacted at the mention of a galactic war. “I need to write a speech.”
Jake had tried public speaking on Altus. He had stood in front of huge crowds, reading out messages written for him by professional speechwriters. Most of these had gone okay, but none of them was as important as the speech he had to deliver at the gathering.
Jake rummaged in his bag for some pens and paper, which the cyber-monks on Shan-Ti had given him. He got to work on his speech over the next hour, but the words did not come easily.
“You need more about Altus,” said Nanoo, looking over his shoulder. “You not explained it real planet.”
“My head hurts.” Jake scooped up the paper. “Let’s take a break and go to the engine room.”
The three of them made their way up the corridor to visit Scargus and Manik.
“Hello, Space Pups,” said Scargus, his hands wrapped around a cup of pirate tea. “How’s it going?”
Jake held out a piece of paper with a drawing on it. “Can you make me this?”
Scargus took the sketch. “A crown?”
“Yes, I need one for the gathering.”
“I could probably knock up something out of spare parts,” said the engineer, squinting at the design. “But it won’t be anything fancy, no jewels or engravings, like in your picture.”
“Thanks; I knew I could count on you.” Jake held up another piece of paper. “Now all I need is a speech. Any ideas?”
“Sorry, Jakey-boy, I can’t help you there,” said Scargus. “I never was any good with words.”
Jake turned to Manik.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I’m lousy at public speaking. I tried to make a speech once, when I was training to be a mechanic. It was for the graduation ceremony, and I had to stand up in front of all the other students and their families. I spent weeks preparing for it, but instead of sticking to my notes, I panicked and ended up rambling on and on and . . . oh, there I go again, talking too much.”
