Текст книги "Midshipman's Hope"

Автор книги: Дэвид Файнток

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“You may encounter a Captain with a sadistic streak. You’ll have to live with him.” I paused to make sure he was listening. “Derek, someday you’ll command squads of sailors.

How can you understand what you’re asking of them unless you can obey orders yourself?”

“I’m never going to command.” His tone was bitter.

“Look at me!”

“You’re going to make it. Hang on; do whatever he asks.

That’s all it takes.”

“I obey orders. He just gets crazier. The things he’s done to me... I can’t stand it! I want out!” Tears flowed anew.

“You can’t quit!” I said angrily. “I warned you before you took the oath.”

“Then–brig me for insubordination, or whatever you do.

I can’t take any more!”

I put both hands on his shoulders. “Derek Carr, I promise you: try your best. Your very best. I’ll know, and I’ll make you midshipman. But it has to be your best. Give it your all.”He looked into my eyes a long while. His breath shuddered.

At last he nodded reluctantly. “I will. But not for him. For you. Because you have the decency to ask, not demand.”

“Whatever you choose to call it. When I’m certain you’ve done your best I’ll make you an officer. Now, this conversation never happened. Cadets don’t cry, and Captains don’t comfort them. Go back to the wardroom, apologize to Vax for your tantrum–”

“I never had a tantrum!” Derek said indignantly.

“I saw you in there, quivering. Not Navy at all. Apologize, and do as he says.”

Derek took a deep breath. “Aye aye, sir.” He swallowed and made a face. Then he saluted. “Thank you, Captain Seafort.”

I returned his salute. “Dismissed, Cadet.”

“Lord God, today is July 23, 2195, on the U.N.S. Hiber-nia.We ask you to bless us, to bless our voyage, and to bring health and well-being to all aboard.”

“Amen.”

I nodded affably to my companions. Mr. Ibn Saud, seated with me by my invitation for the second month in a row, the Treadwell twins, my old friend Mrs. Donhauser. Other guests: Lars Holme, an agricultural economist going to Hope Nation to work for the administration; Sarah Butler, a friendly young lady of nineteen, with whom I hoped to become even friendlier. And Jay Annah, an astrophysicist going on to Detour to set up a new project. Something about wavelengths and timelines; I couldn’t begin to understand him.

Many passengers now sought invitations to the Captain’s table; after the affair with Darla’s memory banks had become known, my long siege had lifted. It would have been politic to include Yorinda Vincente, but I indulged myself, and did not.Rafe Treadwell asked brightly, “Captain, why are we Defusing tomorrow?”

I’d long since stopped wondering how everyone aboard ship knew our doings as soon as I did. “A navigation check, Rafe. To sight on Miningcamp.”

“Are we near?”

“Not close enough to see it,” I said, and his face fell.

“But if we Defuse where we expect, we’ll be only a few days from landfall.”

He chewed his bread, gathering his nerve. “Captain–sir... could I watch us Defuse? Please?”

“Sorry, no. Anyway, there’s not that much to watch. You can look out a porthole and see the same thing.” That wasn’t really true; the simulscreens gave a view the naked eye couldn’t capture. In any event, passengers weren’t allowed on the bridge, especially when the ship was maneuvering.

The youngster tried to hide his disappointment.

Well, what was the point of being Captain if I couldn’t bend the rules? “All right. Permission granted.”

His face lit up. “Wow! Zarky! Can Paula come too?” I wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of two joeys on the bridge instead of one, but looking after his sister should be rewarded.

I consented.

So the bridge was more crowded than usual: the Pilot and I; the two Treadwells, whom I’d placed behind me in the center of the cabin where they couldn’t touch the console; and Vax, shepherding Derek Carr, who was being taught the elements of standing watch. Carr, squeaky clean, in a crisp spotless gray uniform, observed everything with curious, roving eyes, standing at ease as ordered.

I took the caller. “Bridge to engine room, prepare to Defuse.”

“Prepare to Defuse, aye aye, sir.” A pause. “Engine room ready for Defuse, sir. Control passed to bridge.”

“Passed to bridge, aye aye.” My finger touched the top of the console screen and traced the line from “Full” to “Off”.

A blaze of stars filled the screen. Paula Treadwell gasped with delight. Derek took in a sharp breath.

“Confirm clear of encroachments, Pilot.”

“Clear, sir.”

I took in the splendor in the simulscreens. Finally realizing they couldn’t proceed until I gave the awaited command, I snapped, “Mr. Haynes, plot our position. You too, Cadet.

Mr. Holser, correct his mistakes.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The Pilot ran his calculations, using the star charts in Darla’s memory. I followed, on my own console. Our positions agreed. Derek misread his figures, but corrected himself when Vax stirred with a growl. He too emerged with a plot that agreed with ours.

“Prepare new coordinates, Pilot,” I said. “Cadet, you also.” At least I’d get to watch Derek sweat over the console, as I’d once done under Captain Haag’s disapproving eye.

To my chagrin, Derek ran through the complicated exercise without error. His figures agreed with the Pilot’s to four decimals. A raw recruit, faster than I was. Muttering under my breath, I worked through the figures, confirming each step for myself. This time no one commented on my delay.

“Proceed.”

The Pilot entered the coordinates. “Received and understood, Captain,” Darla said.

“Chief Engineer, Fuse, please.”

“Aye aye, sir. Fusion drive is... on.” The screens darkened.

“Oh, it was beautiful!” Paula Treadwell stood entranced, her feet riveted to the spot in which she had been placed.

Her brother swallowed. A few of the vanished stars remained in his eyes. “I didn’t know it was so... wonderful.”

His voice was soft. His eye flickered around the bridge. “I wish I could work here, running the ship.”

“Me too.” Paula looked reflective. “Captain, does Miningcamp have a recruiting station?”

I laughed. “Only I could sign you up. No, don’t even bother asking.”

“Why not, sir?” Rafe.

It was getting out of hand. “Because you’re a couple of joeykids and we already have four midshipmen.”

“We’re both good at math, you know,” Rafe said. “Better than you think.”

“That’s enough, you two. Dismissed. Cadet, take them down to Level 2.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Derek’s voice was strong and confident.

He saluted. “Come with me, please.” He ushered them from the bridge.

I turned to Vax. “Well?”

“Yes, sir. He’s ready. I asked him for fifty push-ups yesterday. He gave me sixty.”

“That’s an old trick. Sandy or Alexi could have told him.”

“Yes, sir. He keeps his bunk spotless. When I give him one chapter to study, he reads two. I did the thing with the heat last week. After a while he was getting up voluntarily to check it before I asked him.”

“Very well. Tell him he’s appointed midshipman one week from today. Give him a few days to look forward to it.”

“Aye aye, sir.” After a moment he asked, “What about Last Night, sir?”

“Within reason, Vax. Within reason.” Traditionally, on a cadet’s last night, the upperclassmen hazed him unmercifully to remind him how lucky he was to graduate to a midshipman.

The harassment was followed by a party by which the middies accepted the cadet as one of their own. I made a note to send a flask from the infirmary to the wardroom.

Vax’s voice was tentative. “If you don’t mind I’d like to go easy on him, sir. He’s had enough.”

“Very well.” Vax, taking pity on a cadet? Times had changed.

19

I got out of bed and made myself ready for the day. It was my eighteenth birthday, but I was the only one who knew. I toasted myself with a cup of coffee, then sauntered to the bridge.

I took my seat, prepared to Defuse.

“Engine room ready for Defuse, sir. Control passed to bridge.”

“Passed to bridge, aye aye.” I ran my finger down the screen, Defusing for the first time in inhabited territory. The simulscreen burst into light. A dull red star glowed, brighter than the rest. Somewhere nearby floated Miningcamp, fourth of five dead planets orbiting a failing sun.

“Clear of encroachments, sir.”

“Very well, Mr. Tamarov.” I thumbed the caller. “Comm room, signal to Miningcamp Station.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Our radionics had been useless while we’d been interstellar; even if we Defused to transmit, our signal could travel no faster than the speed of light and we would outrun our broadcast. But now we were within Miningcamp system, on auxiliary power. Our messages would reach the orbiting station in seconds.

Our outgoing signal repeated itself endlessly, on standard approach frequency. “U.N.S. Hiberniato Miningcamp Station, acknowledge. U.N.S. Hiberniato Miningcamp Station, acknowledge.”

Long minutes passed.

“Miningcamp Station to Hibernia.Where are you?” The voice was sharp, with an undertone of anxiety.

I picked up the caller. “Hibernia.We’re approaching on auxiliary power from sector 13, coordinates 43, 65, 220.

Approximately one day’s sail.”

A dozen seconds passed. “What’s going on, Hibernia?”That was not how communications were passed, by the book. “Identify yourself, Miningcamp Station. Your question is not understood.”

A longer pause. After half a minute the voice came back.

“General Friedreich Kail, U.N.A.F.” That was as it should be; Miningcamp was run by the army’s Administrative Service. “The November barge never showed up,” he added.

“And Telstarwas due from Hope Nation January 12. She didn’t come either. What’s going on?”

No wonder General Kail was nervous. Unlike Hope Nation, a planet with breathable air and fertile ground, Miningcamp was a cold, airless island whose inhabitants depended on interstellar deliveries of air, food, and supplies.

Miningcamp’s environment was too primitive, its population too large for recycling to sustain them indefinitely. The miners and their administrators could only scan the dark skies for the ships upon which they depended. Without them they would perish.

The ore barges, great hulks manned by skeleton crews, arrived at intervals from Earth or Hope Nation, to carry away the metals mined during the past months. A series of barges was always in the Fusion pipeline between Miningcamp and Earth; the barges’ immense capacity made them far slower than Hibernia.Because they sometimes docked over Hope Nation to exchange crews before leaving again for Miningcamp, the barges weren’t always on schedule; engine problems, sickness, or other problems could delay them. But an eight-month lapse was unusual.

The nonappearance of Telstar,another ship of the line on the Hope Nation-Earth route, was also disturbing. I shivered, picturing Celestinadrifting abandoned in space.

I said, “I have no idea why your supplies were delayed, General. The ore ships are still coming out of the pipeline back home.”

“When did you leave Earth, Captain Haag?”

“Captain Haag is dead. I’m Captain Seafort.” The title was still awkward on my tongue. “We left Earthport Station Sept. 23, 2194.”

“We’ve been a long while without supplies. Can you take some of us off?” The voice was strained.

“How many?”

“One hundred forty-five.”

“Negative. But I have supplies for you, and I’ll be back from Hope Nation with more in a year’s time.”.

“We need evacuation, Captain. Your supplies won’t last a year.”

“There are more barges and supply ships in the pipeline from Hope Nation. In the meantime I’m delivering air, energy, and materials.”

Another long pause. Finally the voice resumed. “Very well. We’d still like you to evacuate some of us, if you can.

Relieve the pressure on our recyclers. We’ll prepare to dock you.”

“Affirmative.” I signed off.

Over the next two watches the ship remained on a steady course for rendezvous with Miningcamp Station. I called up Darla’s simulations of the station one more time, reviewing its design. The next morning, about ten hours out, General Kail contacted me again, asking how many men I could evacuate. I temporized; I wanted to hear more about their problems before I agreed to crowd aboard more passengers.

I understood the strain of the miners’ lonely vigil. Upheaval on Earth, disaster on Luna, any of a dozen causes could strand them far from home with little chance of survival. Miners, recruited from the dregs of society, were sent out for one fiveyear shift and no longer. The pressure on the administrators must be nerve-wracking; they had to deal not only with their own anxieties but their surly and sullen miners as well.

Four hours before our scheduled arrival, Pilot Haynes reported for watch. By plan, he had been off for several shifts and was well rested.

“Pilot, you have the conn.” My words formally turned the ship over to him for docking maneuvers. Nonetheless, I would remain on the bridge, nervous as a middy on his first watch until Hiberniawas safely docked. As Captain, I was ultimately responsible for any mishap.

Vax shared the watch, and as a special treat I called Derek forward as well. Elegant and proud in his new blue uniform, middy’s stripes freshly sewn, he saluted smartly. “Permission

to enter bridge, sir.” “Granted, MidshipmanCarr.”

Derek grinned despite himself.

On the simulscreen we watched Miningcamp’s orbiting station drift ever closer. At the moment it was just visible without magnification; we were still two hours from docking.

“I wouldn’t care to be one of them, sir,” Vax said. He gestured at the dark brooding hulk of Miningcamp planet.

I grunted. “A rough life. Three shifts work around the clock, and they’ve nothing but barracks to look forward to.”

I had watched the holovid documentaries.

Derek asked, “How long can they go without supplies, sir?”

“How would I know?” I tried to repress the annoyance in my tone. “On emergency rations, if they cut energy and air waste, probably quite a while.”

Vax wondered, “Why are they panicked, then, after only eight months?”

A good question. It was probably the uncertainty; they couldn’t know why their supply ship hadn’t arrived, or when it ever would. I said as much.

Vax said, “Captain, if we took even a hundred of them, we’d be–”

“You midshipmen are distracting me.” The Pilot’s tone was sharp. “Mr. Carr, Mr. Holser.” It was petty of him; he wouldn’t have anything to do for at least another hour. We fell silent, acknowledging his control of the bridge.

Vax observed me with interest. I suspected the Pilot’s remark had been a calculated insult. Though Mr. Haynes had ostensibly addressed Vax and Derek, his “you midshipmen”

could well have included me, despite his disclaimer. I wondered why the Pilot was so foolish as to provoke me. Though he’d achieved his immediate goal of reminding me of my origins, he could lose much if I chose to retaliate.

Obviously he knew I had that power; apparently he was still angry enough not to care. I sighed. If I hadn’t been so vindictive about his protest in the Log... My forehead throbbed with the first stabs of a headache.

At last we began our maneuvers to mate with Miningcamp’s orbiting station. The Pilot issued crisp commands, his fingers flying on the console. I constantly rechecked our position from my own screen.

“Steer one hundred thirty degrees, ahead one third.”

“One hundred thirty degrees, one third, aye aye, sir.” The engine room echoed his commands.

“Declination ten degrees.”

“Sir, Miningcamp Station reports locks ready and waiting.” Our comm room tech, on the speaker.

“Acknowledged.” The Pilot seemed preoccupied, as well he would be. Though we had propellant to spare for docking maneuvers, pride would require him to mate properly on the first pass.

I spent the dreary wait planning our unloading of cargo.

The miners would be relieved when our stores of oxygen and fuel were safely in their hands, but not as relieved as I’d be. I rubbed my pulsing temples, stopped when I saw Vax watching.

“Relative speed one hundred kilometers per hour, Pilot.”

The comm room.

“A hundred kph, understood. Maneuvering jets, brake ten.” The station’s tiny airlocks waited.

I spoke softly. “Darla, do you have a file on General Kail?” Almost instantly a picture flashed on my screen. He seemed older than his voice. His statistics and service record flashed below the holo.

I supposed I should invite him aboard for dinner. Living as he did under constant tension, he would probably appreciate a formal meal. Still, I was reluctant. Kail was Army, not U.N.N.S., and he would notice my youth and inexperience.

“Relative speed twenty-five kilometers, distance ten kilometers.”

“Acknowledged. Brake jets, eighteen.” We drifted closer.

The speaker crackled. “Miningcamp Station ready for mating, Hibernia.”“Very well.” My tone was abrupt. I yearned for the reassuring presence of one of our late lieutenants, hands clasped behind him, supervising my drill. Any of them, even Mr.

Cousins.

“Steer one hundred ten, one spurt.” The Pilot’s whole attention was focused on his screens.

A gentle bump. Console lights flashed. The Pilot had kissed airlocks on his first approach, without need for corrections.

“Very good, Mr. Haynes.” I tried not to seem grudging.

I keyed the caller. “Mr. Wilsky, join capture latches.” I’d posted Sandy at the aft lock, where our guests would enter.

“Aft latches joined, sir.”

“Very well. Miningcamp, we’ll off-load your supplies shortly. General Kail, would you care to come aboard?” I hoped he’d refuse.

The General seemed on edge. “Just to say hello, perhaps.

I’d like to get the supplies planetside before local nightfall.”

“Very well, I’ll meet you at our aft lock.” The Pilot and Alexi could man the bridge during the necessary courtesies.

I still hadn’t decided whether to offer dinner.

“Roger. My officers and I will be waiting.”

}“Mr. Tamarov, report to the bridge!” I drummed on the chair arm, organizing my thoughts. After a moment I sent Vax below to supervise at the forward airlock, through which the cargo would be unloaded.

Alexi came onto the bridge, breathing hard. I waved him to a seat, watching the aft lock indicators blink on my console.

We opened our inner airlock hatch. A suited sailor entered the lock. The inner hatch closed, and our precious air was pumped back into the ship.

I granted permission to open the outer lock. The waiting seaman made fast the safety line to the station’s stanchion.

Our airlock and Miningcamp’s were now tethered by steel cable, as regs required. Ever since Concorde’scapture latches had failed, backup lines were mandatory.

Although the mated airlock suckers were airtight, our inner and outer hatches were never opened at the same time; that would invite calamity. When our visitors came aboard, we’d seal the outer hatch before opening the inner one. Standard procedure.

“Aft lock moored to stanchion, sir.” Sandy. I recalled my post at Hibernia’slock when we’d cast off from Ganymede Station. Then, I’d been a mere middy, my every move supervised by Lieutenant Malstrom. Months had passed, and now I supervised from the bridge.

“Forward lock moored, sir.” Vax Holser.

“Very well.” I swallowed bile, tried to settle my churning stomach. Did I need another antiflu shot, or was it just my tension? Nerves, I decided. I couldn’t afford to be sick.

“Welcome to Miningcamp.” A muffled voice, through the speakers. “Captain Seafort, I have my staff along; perhaps I could introduce them to you.” At Miningcamp, visitors were few and far between. General Kail’s officers would eagerly await the ceremony, and whatever social amenities followed.

I sighed. Perhaps dinner was necessary after all.

“Of course, General.” I’d have to change into my starched dress whites. I fidgeted irritably, not looking forward to the formalities.

Sandy, again. “Sir, a party is waiting at the aft lock. About a dozen men, suited. Shall I open?” He sounded young and nervous. I made allowances; he had no lieutenant at his side, as I’d had.

“Let them on, Mr. Wilsky; tell them I’ll be down shortly.”

I set down the caller.

“Aye aye, sir.”

Derek said quietly to Alexi, “They’re so anxious to meet us they can’t even wait–”

“Quiet, middy! One demerit!” Unkind, but I was in no mood for banter. I slapped open the bridge hatch. “Mr.

Tamarov, you have the conn.” I grimaced. “I’ll change clothes, and meet the General at the aft... “

I trailed off, my hackles rising. A dozen men, suited? Something was wrong. For an instant I hesitated, reluctant to make a fool of myself. Then I lunged for the console caller.

“Sandy, belay that order! Seal the lock! Acknowledge!”

No answer. “Sandy!”

MY SHIP! I slammed the emergency airlock override on my console.

A red light blinked its warning; the override had failed.

I bellowed into the caller. “General Quarters! All hands, prepare to repel boarders! Prepare for decompression! Boarders in the aft airlock, Level 2!”

Alexi and Derek gawked.

“Repel Boarders” was the oldest, most obsolete drill in the U.N. Navy, but still we practiced it, along with General Quarters and Battle Stations. I wondered if it had ever before been used in earnest.

I slapped the emergency hatch close. The bridge hatch snapped shut, with enough force to break the arm of anyone caught in its way. I punched in the safe combination, hauled out a familiar key. “Alexi, open the munitions locker! Arm whoever you can round up! Get an armed party down to Level 2!”He took the key. “Aye aye, sir! What–”

I snatched the laser pistol from the safe, shoved it in my belt. “The General– He’s no General, he’s trying to take over the ship! A dozen men in suits? They’re expecting trouble, maybe decompression. Move!” I slapped open the hatch; Alexi flew out into the corridor. I shut it after him, raced back to the caller.

“Chief, seal the engine room!”

“Aye aye, Captain. Hatch sealed.” His tone was calm.

The speaker blared. “Captain, they’ve got lasers! They’re making for the ladder, we can’t–”

Silence.

I keyed my caller to shipwide frequency. “Mr. Vishinsky to Level 2, flank, with your whole squad! Meet Mr. Tamarov at the munitions locker. All passengers, to your cabins! Seal your hatches and put on pressure suits! Mr. Holser, to the aft lock!”

Derek awaited orders, pale but composed. The Pilot gazed at me steadily; he hadn’t moved since I first seized the caller.

“Captain, are you sure–”

“Shut up.” My thoughts raced. We needed time. Until Alexi organized a fighting party, my laser pistol was the only weapon available. “Derek, hold the bridge. No one but an officer may enter. I’m going to the lock.”

“But–aye aye, sir.” Derek’s hand hovered over the emergency close. I emerged cautiously, fingering my laser, recalling Mr. Vishinsky’s example in the crew berth.

The corridor was empty.

I ran toward the ladder. Just in time, I thought to stop and peek over the rail. Two figures in bulky pressure suits were climbing cautiously, weapons ready.

My first shot caught one of them squarely in the chest. A searing flash, the smell of roasting meat. Gagging, I ducked just as a bolt sizzled into the railing at my side.

If they were already on the ladder we were in horrid trouble.

All my fault; if I’d had my wits about me I’d never have let them aboard.

I took a deep breath. Vax would be a better Captain than I. I hurled myself around the rail and down the steps, firing as I went. My second shot dropped the other intruder. I leaped over his body, stumbled, almost fell the rest of the way.

I caught myself, staggered to the bottom of the ladder, firing wildly along the corridor. Several suited men retreated around the corridor bend toward the aft airlock.

Heedless, I ran forward, still firing. I would exhaust my laser in no time, but at all costs I had to keep the attackers from advancing until our armed defenders arrived. Return

bolts of fire seared the bulkhead a meter from my head. I crept forward toward the bend, caught a glimpse of the airlock, and beyond.

Bodies sprawled in the corridors, some suited. A party of our seamen had thrown up a makeshift barricade in the corridor past the airlock, almost around the far bend. Crouched behind their flimsy barrier of tables, they waited for their assailants, armed with nothing but clubs and the ship’s fire hose.

More suited figures emerged from the gaping lock. Only a few had lasers; the rest carried a motley assortment of weapons. Ancient electric rifles, stunners, knives. Steel bars were jammed against our emergency corridor hatches nearest the airlock, to hold them open.

A few men ran at me, clumsy in their heavy suits. I fired.

A lucky shot brought down the closest. The others skidded to a stop. Coolly I aimed at another, pressed the trigger. The pistol beeped: out of charge. I cursed.

Again they came at me. One hurled a billy club directly at my head. I ducked, but it slammed into my forehead in a flash of white fire. Half-blinded, dizzy, I fell to my knees. A cry of triumph. As I reeled, they dashed forward. A club loomed, poised to smash out my brains.

“CAPTAIN!” A raging giant hurled the club-wielder to the deck. Vax Holser recovered his balance, lashed at a second attacker, fist and club flailing with deadly accuracy. The miner fell back.

Vax wheeled on his remaining enemy. The man raised his pistol. Vax’s club shattered his suit visor. He dropped.

Dazed, my head on fire, I clawed to my feet.

“That one’s the Captain!” Someone pointed. A laser bolt splashed into the bulkhead in a shower of sparks. My knees buckled.

Vax’s huge hand closed around my waist. He swept me into his arms and ran for the ladder, bolts sizzling at his feet.

My weight an unnoticed burden, he pounded up the ladder toward the bridge two steps at a time. The tread of boots thudded behind us.

“Bridge, I’ve got the Captain!” Vax’s bellow rang in the deserted corridor. The camera swiveled. The hatch slid open.

Vax charged onto the bridge.

Derek slapped the hatch shut. The Pilot, halfway between hatch and console, gaped at his semiconscious Captain inert in the enraged middy’s arms.

Vax lowered me into my chair. Blood dripped into my right eye; I wiped my forehead on my sleeve.

“Sir, are you–”

I snarled, “Disengage capture latches fore and aft!”

“Sir, we’re still– Aye aye, sir.” He keyed the console. Usually we parted the latches from the lock control panels, but as on any ship, I could disengage from the bridge.

“Pilot, prepare to rock the ship! Break contact!”

“Sir, we’ll decompress!”

“Break us loose! They’re still boarding!” My head was spinning, but I knew what had to be done.

“Aye aye, sir! Captain, the safety line is tied. We’ll tear the lock right out of the ship!”

“God damn you, Pilot, rock us loose!” The stanchion in Hiberniawas rated higher than the mooring line; that much I knew. It would hold. The line would snap or it would break the station airlock. I didn’t care which.

I grabbed the caller. “All hands, all passengers, be ready for decompression in thirty seconds! Everybody get suited! Thirty seconds to decompress!” More blood oozed down my

face. “Fighting parties, withdraw! Get into suits!” Emergency suits were stored throughout the ship for a decompression emergency. They held only half-hour tanks. It would have to be enough.

“Now?” The Pilot’s hands were on the controls.

“Wait.” The delay was agonizing. Every second allowed more attackers to board us. On the other hand, my crew needed time to suit up.

“Twenty seconds to decompress!... Fifteen!” Surely everyone had reached a suit by now. On my console, I slapped shut the corridor hatch switches. Seventeen lights blinked green; two blinked red where the enemy had jammed our hatches. We would decompress not one section, but three.

However, the rest of the ship should be airtight, unless stray laser bolts had pierced the bulkheads.

“Ten seconds! Five!” It had to be done, whether or not the passengers were ready. “Beware decompression! Now, Pilot!” He fired the maneuvering jets in alternation, each squirt rocking the ship around the rubber suckers holding the airlocks together. A long terrible moment passed when it seemed we wouldn’t break free.

Alarms sounded. Darla came to life with urgent warnings.

“Unstable airlock! Air loss in the aft lock! LEVEL 2 DECOM-PRESSION IMMINENT!Forward lock is sealed, outer and inner hatches! EMERGENCY! DECOMPRESSION AT AFTLOCK!”Cold hell had come to my ship. The mated airlocks broke apart. Outrushing air swept all loose objects toward the aft lock, where the boarding party had blocked both the inner and outer hatches to prevent our closing them. Nothing could hold back the air blasting out of that section until only vacuum remained.

“Ship in motion, relative speed point five kilometers!”

Lord God, we beg thy mercy.“Pilot, sail us clear before they start throwing things at us!” I thumbed the caller. “All stations report!”

“Engine room. We have power, no damage. Seals holding.” The Chief, his voice astoundingly matter-of-fact.

“Comm room reporting. Power, no damage.”

“Crew berth three, sir. We’re suited and ready. Mr. Tamarov is in charge. We’ve got lasers and stunners, sir.”

“Master-at-arms reporting. Crew berths one and two are all right, sir. I’m organizing fighting squads.”

“Galley reporting, sir. Everything’s all right here.” I giggled, unable to stop myself. All was well in the galley; our dinner was safe.

The bridge spun lazily. I blinked, pulled myself together.

“Someone get me water. Vax, situation report!”

“Aye aye, sir. On Level 2, sections six, seven, and eight are decompressed. That’s the airlock, the exercise room, the lounge, and fourteen passenger cabins. The area is held by hostiles. The rest of the ship has air and power. Undetermined number of boarders in sections six through eight. Sir, some of them may have gotten past the corridor hatches before you closed them.”

Vax was right. I’d held the hatches open as long as I dared, for the crew’s sake, so as not to trap them in the decompression zone when we rocked loose. The corridor between the airlock and the ladder, where I had fought, was in section eight, now decompressed. The foot of the ladder I had hurtled down was in section nine, and I’d met two invaders on its steps.

I drank greedily from the cup Derek thrust at me. “We’ll be alert for them.”