Knight Errant

by Paul Barrett

  As soon as Ship passed the threshold of the freighter, her electrical systems fell dead as the larger craft’s static generator went to work. Inertia carried both Ship and the two frigates forward. Ship, having already calculated the approach based of the freighter’s tractor beam pull, passed rapidly through the vessel’s hold and straight out the newly created portal in the forward hull.

  The Frigates did not fare as well. Their energy net, larger than the freighter’s opening, struck the outer edge of the ship, unaffected by the electrical dampening field. The Frigates, unable to adequately compensate for the speed increase, continued forward. Like rocks on the end of a bolo, they swung inward, their energy net holding them captive.

  They collided with the freighter halfway down its length. Cutting through it like shears through an aluminum can, they rammed head-on into each other. Trey watched the monitor with horrified fascination as two explosions briefly lit up space, followed quickly by a third flash as the freighter’s power plant detonated. Within ten seconds the explosions stopped and the fragments of the three vessels scattered into the void.

  “Good job, Ship,” Gerard said. “Where’s the Corsair?”

  “Leaving,” Ship said, lighting up the Corsair’s position relative to theirs on the star map. The dot rapidly moved away.

  “Perfect,” Gerard said. “Send two missiles their way to drive home the point and then let’s head for the planet. It sounds like they’re going to need us.”

  Wolf tugged on the cable, pulling Laura toward the shuttle faster than the winch could manage.

  On his HUD, Ashron saw ten more armed men pour onto the fortress’s roof. Bullets whined by the shuttle. “Laura”

  “Stop yelling,” Laura said. “My shield is back on. Just hurry up, before I pass out.”

  “I’m getting tired of these pricks,” Ashron muttered. He engaged the autopilot, then reached into his large black bag and pulled out five eight-inch-long missiles held together by a metal rack. With a series of taps on the attached computer panel, he programmed the rockets. A glance back showed Wolf pulling Laura through the hatch. A lucky shot hit Wolf in the shoulder. His skin deflected the glancing strike; the slug hit the roof with a thin clang.

  Once Laura was inside, Wolf slammed the hatch door shut. Bullets pinged harmlessly against the shuttle’s bottom.

  “Okay, we’re gone,” Ashron said. He pushed one last key on the computer pad, flung the missile pack out of the shuttle’s missing windshield, and kicked in the craft’s engines.

  The missiles detached themselves from the metal pack and headed for five separate points along one of the fortress’s outer walls.

  The concussion from the small, powerful missiles rocked the shuttle with noise and force. Ashron checked his rear scope and saw that the wall, which had been fifteen meters tall and at least twenty-five long, had become a smoking, leveled ruin. Bricks, brick dust, and two shattered bodies filled the air and rained to the ground. Suddenly, several more explosions lit the night and buffeted the quickly departing shuttle.

  Ashron smiled. Secondaries, he thought. What a pleasant surprise. Putting his concentration back to piloting the craft, he said, “Guess it just wasn’t your day, boys.”

  “Hawk, Laura, Ashron,” Gerard’s voice came over the speakers. “Are you there? Hello?”

  “We’re here,” Ashron said as the noise of the explosion died down.

  “We thought you were blown up,” Trey said.

  “No, just me playing with some of my toys.”

  “Is everybody okay?” Gerard asked.

  Hawk sat on the bench, bleeding, his eyes half-closed. “You have command,” he told Laura, and then passed out.

  “We’ve got some problems,” she told Gerard. “Fly Ship to that large field just beyond the spaceport. The Star’s flying erratically and I don’t want to take any chances on Ashron landing it in town. No offense,” Laura said aside to Ashron.

  “No complaints here,” Ashron said, fighting the shuttle’s sudden urge to bank right.

  “Trey, warm up the med bay and have blankets standing by when we land.”

  “Roger.”

  They heard the clatter of Trey’s feet as he ran from the bridge and Gerard said, “Sitrep.”

  “Wolf has several minor wounds. Hawk’s body armor is punctured near his kidney, and he may have some broken ribs. Yoseph and Patishi are in shock. Thomas has a third-degree burn on his abdomen and pelvis, and a puncture wound through his right lung.” She paused. “I’m not sure Yoseph and Thomas are going to make it.”

  “What about you?” Gerard asked.

  “Not bad. My legs are numb, but I’ll be moving by the time we get to you. Wolf, get me the medkit.” Laura grabbed her knife and cut her black pants away from the wounds, gritting her teeth at the pain. Blood flowed freely from her thigh wound and pooled on the shuttle’s deck. She needed to fix it first.

  Wolf opened the kit and sat it beside her. Laura grabbed a square pack of synthskin bandaging and a can of sterilizer. She limped over to Yoseph, who lay unconscious beside Hawk. She opened the pack, unfolded the translucent grafting material, and placed it over the boy’s chest. He hissed and sucked in a breath as the patch sealed to his chest, coating it with anti-bacterials and painkillers. The hiss encouraged Laura. If Yoseph could feel pain, he wasn’t too far gone. Assuming they could return to Ship’s med bay, she had a chance to save him. She applied a burn foam to Thomas’s stomach and pelvis, and a coagulant to the hole in his chest. He didn’t move. It was the best she could do for him until they reached Ship

  She returned to the medpack and ripped the can of regenerator from its holder. Popping the top, she sprayed her leg. Yellow foam formed over the cut. Biobots encased in the nutrient liquid burrowed into her skin as they sought out the intrusive metal slug. She took deep breaths and thought of warm sunshine and fresh water, willing the pain away as the tiny organisms did their work with almost magical speed. The foam disappeared as the last of the bots slipped into the injured flesh. Laura grabbed a sealer spray and coated the hole in her thigh. It would stop the bleeding until the biobots could finish their repairs.

  “Shit,” Ashron said as Laura repeated the process with the less serious wound on her left leg. “We’re not out of this yet.”

  “What is it?” Laura asked.

  “Two-seater gunship.”

  “Gerard, how far away are we?” Laura asked.

  “Two minutes from the field,” Gerard answered

  “What’s your position?”

  “We’re preparing to land.”

  “Ship.”

  “Yes, Laura.”

  “Prepare to fi- damn.”

  The craft shuddered as a laser blast scored, searing a large hole in the side and sending bits of liquefied metal raining into the cabin. Some hit Patishi; she screamed in pain, waking instantly. Ashron made a sharp bank to the right, the shuttle groaning in protest at the unorthodox maneuver. Warning lights blinked.

  “Any more like that and she’s going to shut down,” Ashron said.

  Hawk fell from the bench and woke up to find himself laying on a cold shuttle deck, his chest thrumming with pain and a chill wind whipping through the craft. “What the hell’s going on?” He shouted over the wind’s roar.

  “We’ve got a light gunship preparing to atomize us,” Ashron yelled back.

  “Is that all?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Ashron said. He sent the ship into a steep dive as a missile flew past. A side panel hummed ominously for a second and then blew up, showering sparks and sending a chunk of metal past Wolf’s ear.

  Hawk pulled himself up to rest against the bench, wincing as more pains called for his attention. “How far to Ship?” he asked.

  “About a minute-fifteen.”

  “Ship, vaporize this thing behind us.”

  “There are buildings in the way, Captain, and I have no straight line shot. If you can make it to the clearing, I will honor your request.”


  “Wolf,” Hawk said, “get one of the laser cannons out and mount it on the hardpoint. We need to swing around and take these guys down.” He started to pull himself up as Wolf walked toward the back of the shuttle. “Whose idea was it to go in with the weapons stored.”

  “Yours,” Laura reminded him. “‘In and out. No fuss. Nothing to slow us down.’ Remember? Don’t move; you’re in no condition.” The bullet fell from her left leg with a small metallic clink. She flexed it slightly and winced.

  “Should have had both weapons mounted from the start,” Ashron said.

  “Yeah,” Hawk said, “that wouldn’t have raised any red flags.” He couldn’t see the short Lorothian in the pilot’s chair. “Our lives are in your hands, Ashron. Screw up and you’re fired.”

  “I can’t begin to tell you how much that worries me,” Ashron said. Another laser glanced off the side, sending the ship careening downward. Ashron struggled to bring the raft back to level flight. He succeeded just as the whine of the engines died out.

  “Great,” Ashron punched the emergency glide key. Short stabilizing wings popped out of either side. “You can leave the laser in the locker; it’s scrap metal now.”

  Wolf slammed the locker door, the giant cannon untouched. Patishi crawled over to Laura, who wrapped her arms protectively around the little girl.

  “How far to the clearing?” Hawk asked.

  “About another thirty seconds. Without power, we’re sitting ducks.”

  “These guys are beginning to irritate me,” Hawk said.

  “Funny, I said the same thing a few minutes ago,” Ashron told him.

  Hawk stood and hobbled to the front of the shuttle, ignoring Laura’s protests. He reached into Ashron’s bag and pulled out one of his grenades. “What’s the delay on these things?”

  “Three seconds,” Ashron said. He banked left as another laser cracked past the helpless craft. “You don’t really think you can hit them, do you?”

  “No, but it might shake ‘em up.” Standing on the co-pilot’s chair and ignoring the screaming from his ribs, Hawk leaned out the shattered window and poked his head above the roof; the cold wind whipped his hair into his face. Through the flailing strands, he watched the small gun craft as it zigzagged, trying to keep up with Ashron’s erratic maneuvers. Hawk pressed the button on the grenade and tossed it, trying his best to aim at the craft. His side twitched in protest at the sudden movement, and a wave of pain almost pulled him under.

  Though the grenade fell far short of the small gunboat, the vehicle’s pilot obviously wasn’t expecting the massive explosion that flared in front of and underneath his vessel with a cacophonous boom. He peeled his craft upward.

  “That should throw him off for a moment,” Hawk said as he carefully lowered himself back into the shuttle.

  It did more than that. The pilot of the gun craft, in pulling up to avoid the explosion, cleared the highest building, bringing his vessel within sight of Ship’s tracking sphere.

  “I’ve got him,” Ship said. The air crackled as red fire from her pulse laser briefly lit up the night. The gun craft exploded into chunks of molten, blazing metal. “They won’t bother you anymore,” Ship said.

  “Good.” Ashron had followed the laser trail backward and spotted Ship in the clearing. The roof of a frighteningly close and tall building lay between them and the field.

  “Strap in, everyone, this is going to be rough.” He pulled back on the stick, nudging the craft into an upward angle, painfully aware of the possibility of stalling.

  He did not stall; they cleared the roof by less than a meter.

  “Now comes the tricky part,” Ashron muttered. He launched into a sharp dive and leveled off at ten meters. Gerard and Trey stood outside Ship, next to the large, black armored personnel carrier from Ship’s cargo bay. Concern danced on their faces.

  The Little Star was descending rapidly. Ashron suspected they were about to learn what was meant by the term “controlled crash.”

  At least, he hoped he could control it.

  The shuttle hit hard and slid along the ground, creating a deep trench in its wake as it flung aside mud and grass. They skidded twenty meters before the dead vehicle dug its nose into the side of a small hill and came to an abrupt stop. The unbuckled Ashron slammed against the joystick. The impact snapped it in two, forcing the air out of him. He lay against the dash panel, stunned. They stopped two hundred meters away from Ship.

  Laura’s legs had finished healing. She carefully stood up, still clutching the frightened Patishi.

  Hawk headed for the door, his hand pressed to his side. He pushed the door open, grunting with the effort. The deep hum of the approaching APC drifted into the cabin.

  “Wolf,” Hawk said, leaning against the doorway and breathing heavily. “Get the Maratais. I’ll get Yoseph.”

  “You get in the carrier.” Laura sat Patishi down. “You’ve probably got some broken ribs, and you’re begging for a punctured lung.”

  “Okay,” Hawk said. He was captain, but he trusted his second’s diagnostic ability. When she took on her Medical Officer voice, he listened. “Come with me, Patishi.” The frightened girl staggered over to him, and they left the shuttle. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Ashron, you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he answered, giving his head a shake and rubbing a hand across his long snout. “Just a momentary lapse of breathing capability.”

  “Can you get Yoseph and Thomas?”

  “Affirmative.” He walked over to the unconscious boy and gently lifted him.

  With a stiff gait, Laura stepped out of the raft and passed Trey, who held out the medkit. He quickly turned around and followed her into the ATV. “Trey, help Hawk out of his chem armor.”

  Hawk sat near the back with Patishi standing beside him, so Trey headed aft.

  Ashron stepped into the car, Yoseph’s bloody body resting in his arms. Wolf squeezed in behind him, a Maratai over each shoulder.

  “Up here,” Laura said to Ashron, moving to the front where Gerard waited with a second kit. “Trey, get a blanket for Patishi first.”

  “Okay.” Trey set a small silver can next to Hawk, then grabbed one of the soft blankets off the rack and gently wrapped it around the scared child. Hawk slowly removed his shirt, groaning at the pain.

  Ashron laid Yoseph down on the APC’s couch and left the shuttle. Laura opened the kit, removed a small diagnostic computer, and attached the diodes to the boy’s forehead.

  Ashron returned carrying Thomas and put him in a sitting position on the couch. The transport had become cramped

  Laura picked up a pressure hypo and extracted a dose of Metanastin, an anti-shock drug. Taking Yoseph’s arm, she gave him the injection. Gerard hopped into the driver’s seat, keyed the door shut, and kicked the APC into drive.

  “How does he look, Trey?” Laura asked, catching the acrid smell as Trey sprayed armor remover on Hawk’s chest.

  “He’s got one bullet hole, and I think some ribs are broken.”

  “That’s what I figured.” She tossed an insti-dose bottle of triptamorphine to Trey. “Give him that.”

  Trey put the small bottle against Hawk’s arm and pressed the red button on top. There was a whoosh of compressed air as the bottle’s contents injected themselves.

  “Ouch,” Hawk said. “You’d think with today’s technology they would have developed a non-painful shot.”

  Ashron smiled. “You’d think a man who could walk around with a couple of broken ribs and a bullet hole in him wouldn’t let a shot bother him.”

  “We didn’t get Moran,” Laura said.

  “What do you mean?” Hawk said. “You put a laser through his eye.”

  “And I blew up a fortress around him,” Ashron said.

  “I saw sparks,” Laura told them. “He had something under the patch. And his body was gone.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Hawk said.

  “Maybe the building fell on his head,” Ashron offered.

&nbs
p; “I’m not going to count on it. He’s alive until someone proves otherwise. I need a body or a pile of melted bones.”

  Gerard drove the APC into its cradle and stopped. With a hiss of hydraulics, the cradle began its ascent into ship’s hold.

  Laura picked up Yoseph and stood by the APC’s door, foot tapping. “Everyone to the med bay,” she said.

  “Okay,” Gerard said. The rest of the crew gathered themselves to depart. Ashron picked up Thomas.

  As soon as the cradle shuttered to a stop and the APC door slid open, Laura dashed for the elevator, Yoseph cradled to her chest.

  12

  Deadly Recovery

  “I think that’s the last of them.” Laura dropped another piece of metal into the plastic dish that sat on the medtable. It clinked against its brothers before settling in the dish. “Fifteen slugs and eleven laser burns. That’s a record for you, isn’t it?”

  Wolf’s mouth straightened in what passed for a smile on his dour face. “It is. I can feel every one of them.”

  As Laura put her instruments in the sterilizer, Wolf lifted a gallon jug of salt water and drank. As he slept, his body would metabolize the salt and repair the damage to his protective outer skin.

  “Put on your shirt,” Laura said, “and let’s join the others. I could use a drink.”

  With another straight-mouthed grin, Wolf held the jug toward her.

  Laura returned his smile. “Thanks, but I prefer mine with olives.”

  They had been back on Ship for four hours. Laura had tended to everybody, Gerard assisting after he and Ship took them into orbit. Laura had managed to stabilize Yoseph after an hour and several units of blood, followed by a coagulating agent and a fresh synthskin patch applied to his ravaged chest. She felt confident he would live but would require major surgery to remove the chest scar.