Bloodstone Page 17

  Ancestors! We were being boarded!

  There was little cover in the tidy cargo hold. I had nothing between me and the boarding party but a stun pistol. Strength and courage, I prayed. This is my ship and I will defend it.

  Balan stood before the vault, pistol at the ready. The cargo hatch yawned open.

  A flash came from beyond the hatch. I fired at whoever was beyond.

  Zing! Grim fired his stun pistol—and Balan went down.

  “Put down the weapon, Patch,” Grim ordered. “Time to be reasonable.”

  So much for Grim being on our side when the chips were down.

  From somewhere beyond the blasted hatch, a Selkid translator plug screeched, “Drop your weapons!”

  I hesitated too long. A stun blast from the hatch threw me against the cases of supplies.

  My vision grayed. Roaring filled my ears. I tried to lift the stunner, but my limbs wouldn’t move.

  As my vision began to clear, the room spun sickeningly. Balan was on the deck, propped against the vault door. Unmoving.

  Grim had his hands in the air, his stunner at his feet. “Don’t shoot! I’m on your side.”

  Four members of the harrier’s crew poured through the blasted hatch—armored Terrans and two Selkids. One picked up the dropped weapons as others moved out to the rest of the ship. I couldn’t move yet, but I heard stun blasts.

  A stranger’s voice echoed through the com. “No one needs to get hurt. All we want is the artifact. Hand it over and you can go on your way.”

  I wasn’t fool enough to believe that, but apparently Grim was.

  Hands still raised, Grimbold said, “It’s in the vault. Patch here can open it for us. No one here’s going to fight you.”

  Kojo’s voice came over the com. “This is the captain. I’ve taken control back from the Corridor Patrol. We have no quarrel with Rampart or the Cartel. You can have the tablet, just leave us in peace. Patch, open the vault and let them take the case. That’s an order.”

  He said the case, not the tablet. Razzle-dazzle. Kojo must have cooked something up with Danto.

  Grim nodded. “C’mon, Patch. Open the vault. It’s the smart thing to do.”

  “Give me a moment. My head’s still spinning.” I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, putting my hands to the sides of my head to try to make the room stop turning. Play for time. I had to give Kojo and Danto a chance to make their play. Tentatively I sat up.

  “Come on,” an intruder said. He pointed his stunner at me. “Open it or we’ll blast the door.”

  “Wait!” Grimbold cried. “Let her open the vault! Don’t take a chance on damaging the artifact.”

  A mercenary grabbed Balan by the leg and dragged him to one side.

  “I’m going.” I crawled to the vault door, not trusting myself to get to my feet. Once there, I leaned against it and closed my eyes again, as if still too dizzy to stand. It wasn’t far from the truth.

  “Stop stalling,” a Selkid squawked, flippering my shoulder.

  I pulled myself up. I tried the combination, but I must have made a mistake. I shook my head and tried again.

  “Come on, Patch,” Grim said. “Hand it over.”

  Finally, the vault door opened. I stepped aside, leaning against the bulkhead for support.

  “There! There’s the case!” Grim reached in and hefted it out.

  “Open it,” the Selkid’s translator screeched.

  “I can’t,” Grim said. “I don’t have the combination.”

  “Then what good are you?” The Selkid fired his stunner, point-blank, straight into Grim’s unprotected torso.

  Grim slammed back into the bulkhead. My nerves winced reflexively.

  “I saw that coming,” I muttered, not moving.

  “Any rhollium in there?” The shooter examined the crates in the vault. “Santerro brandy? Not bad! Take these cases to my cabin,” his translator barked. Two mercenaries holstered their weapons, loosed the lashings, and picked up a couple of the heavy crates.

  “You two”—he pointed—“lock down the helm and guns. Put the crew in one of the holds.” From a sheath at his back, he took out a knife the size of my forearm and began to pry open the case’s clasp.

  There was a flurry at the door.

  “No!” Balan lurched into the nearest intruder, slamming him against the bulkhead. The Selkid crumpled like a broken toy, his dorsal spine kinked at its most vulnerable junction. Balan snatched up the dead man’s pistol.

  Zing! Balan’s stun shot hit the man holding the tablet’s case. The impact shoved the mercenary’s body back against the crates of supplies and sent the case flying.

  As I dived for the fallen stunner, the two intruders carrying brandy dropped the crates and reached for their pistols.

  They weren’t fast enough. One fell back heavily, reeling from the blast from Balan’s stunner. The other shot off a stun blast as he dived for cover, but missed his target.

  I had to use both hands and a knee to aim the heavy Selkid weapon, but I didn’t miss. With a zing, my shot sent the intruder out of the cargo hold, back into his own ship.

  Sounds of more fighting came from the main part of the ship.

  Balan picked up the tablet’s case and held it triumphantly. He shouted in Gavoran, “For the Sages!”

  A blast from a stun rifle slammed Balan to the deck. His head hit the bulkhead with a sickening crunch. The artifact’s case careened across the hold.

  I hurried to Balan. His eyes were fixed, but I still heard rasping breaths. Blood seeped from the back of his head.

  Another form came through the blasted hatch from the harrier. Still kneeling over Balan, I lifted the awkward Selkid weapon, hoping it had had time to recharge.

  Before I had a chance to fire, a shot came from behind me, dropping the intruder.

  “Patch, are you injured?” It was Danto, a pistol in each hand.

  “Not much,” I said, “but Balan’s in a bad way. They blasted the cargo hatch—we’ll need to seal off the hold.” Grim began to stir and moan.

  “Where is the relic?” Danto asked.

  I had almost forgotten about it. I pointed to the case. “Take Balan. There’s an armed drone ready to launch, caught between the ships.”

  “Release the drone and bring the relic.” Danto let loose another shot at the hatch, and then dragged Balan into the passage.

  I hit the launch lever to release the drone. There was nowhere for it to go, it was trapped between the harrier and Sparrowhawk. If the drone detonated in that position, it would rip the cargo hold apart.

  I grabbed the relic’s case and sent another shot zinging toward the hatch, in case more of the harrier’s crew were thinking of boarding. Danto returned, dragging a mercenary’s inert form, and threw it onto the deck. Danto took Grimbold by the collar and pulled him out of the cargo hold. I was right behind.

  As soon as we were clear of the door, I sealed off the hold. Damn. All the good brandy, locked in a hold with a blasted hatch. Even if the Rampart crew didn’t take it, if the hold was opened to space, it wouldn’t survive exposure to the cold.

  And the biggest piece of the synthreactor—it might be a long time before we could dig it out of a frozen bulkhead.

  “What about Balan?” I asked, kneeling beside his body.

  “He is gone,” Danto said. “Secure the ship. I must return to the guns.”

  Danto was right. The young Gavoran was no longer breathing. My eyes teared up. Balan had died bravely, for no purpose whatsoever.

  “All right there, Patch?” Hiram asked through the com.

  “Fine, thanks.” I looked around. My abs were still cramping, but I could live with that. The bloodied body of another mercenary lay in the passageway.

  I picked up all the loose stunners and went to the engine room. “Kojo? Archer? Are you hurt?”

  Archer was doing something complicated to the propulsion unit. He looked up, his face white. “Are you all right, Patch?”

  “We can h
andle this,” Kojo said. “Make sure no intruders are aboard.”

  I went to the salon. “Rachel? Mzee Lyden? Mya? Jamila?”

  “We are here,” Lyden said weakly. “We are uninjured.” They were still secured in their seats. Jamila looked ill, Lyden austere, like a tortured saint.

  Mya’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Is it over? Are they gone?”

  The viewscreens showed Kamok, far off, spewing debris from a hull breach.

  “Not yet.”

  Flashes lit the ether and staccato shocks shook Sparrow. Danto was firing on the harrier, trying to get it to break its hold.

  “Can I help?” Rachel asked.

  “Can you handle a stunner?”

  She smiled. “Certainly.”

  I handed Rachel a stun pistol. “Jamila, Mya,” I said, “help Rachel. If there are any mercenaries still alive on the ship, put them somewhere and keep them there. Shoot them if you have to.”

  “Me?” Mya cried.

  I climbed to the wheelhouse.

  “Good to see you,” Hiram muttered as I slipped into the watch station.

  “There’s an armed drone caught between Sparrow and the harrier. Can we break away from the harrier?”

  “No. I’m trying to stay behind it. Let the burzing slugs stay between us and that Rampart predator.”

  Kamok, still firing, was slowly falling behind. The harrier gripping Sparrow was trying to rotate, trying to drag Sparrow into a position where Kamok’s guns could reach her, while Hiram was using our damaged propulsion to stay behind the harrier.

  I took the drone controls. “How bad is our propulsion hit?” I asked.

  “Bad enough.” Hiram concentrated on maneuvering the ship.

  “Try rocking the ship, if you can, so I can free up the drone.”

  “Could damage the hull.”

  “The cargo hold hatch is already breached,” I said.

  Hiram grunted and put the ship into a shimmy. I worked the drone controls this way and that. “Got it!”

  The drone drifted free. I kept it in the shadow of Sparrow, out of sight of the harrier.

  “Work it over toward its underbelly,” Hiram said in a tight voice.

  “Not its grapplers?”

  “Not with our hatch breached. Blow its exhaust ports and smoke the filthy vermin out.”

  I smiled. Trust Hiram to know the best way to capture a ship.

  I let the drone crawl toward the harrier’s lower hull until its imager showed me the exhaust ports. Danto continued firing sporadically, keeping the harrier’s attention.

  “Brace!” I hit the detonation signal.

  The drone blew with a silent shimmer of light on the underside of the harrier. The harrier bucked, pulling Sparrowhawk with it.

  At first, it seemed like the maneuver didn’t help. Sparrow was still held fast by the harrier’s grapplers, Danto firing at the harrier.

  Kamok, in the distance, had drifted out of range.

  The seconds stretched out, as I tried to think of something else to do.

  “Sparrowhawk, this is the harrier Mock One. We surrender. Our ship is in distress. Get us out of here!”

  CHAPTER 21

  Damages

  One good thing about having a Corridor Patrol officer aboard: Danto knew how to take prisoners. Two members of the harrier’s crew had been on their vessel when smoke had driven them to surrender. Danto quickly put them in improvised restraints and shoved them into his cabin with their two injured crewmates, with Jamila guarding the door.

  Kamok had been severely damaged—Hiram said he didn’t expect she would make it to a port. Even so, he stayed on alert in the wheelhouse.

  I kissed the bald spot on the top of his head. “That’s for the fancy sailing.”

  “Humph. Reminded me of the old days. I’m too old now for this sort of excitement.”

  I had nothing worse than some deep bruising and a sore skull. Kojo and Archer both had bandaged arms, burned when they had manually shut down the damaged propulsion cylinders. Kojo was haggard, face pinched with pain and worry. Archer was too tired to twitch.

  I made a silent prayer of thanks that they weren’t hurt worse. “What about the others?” I asked Rachel.

  She leaned against the bulkhead with a weary sigh. “Jamila and Mya are shaken but unhurt. Grimbold will recover from the stun blast if he takes it easy for a day or two. It’s Lyden who concerns me—the stress was rough on her. She’s resting now. I don’t think she’s in immediate danger, but she’s not as strong as she pretends.”

  As for Sparrow, she was still coupled to the harrier. There had been some leakage in the link between the ships, but Archer had jumped in with a can of Prestoseal—no enviro suit, no helmet—and patched the leaks before Kojo had a chance to tell him not to. His quick action kept the hold from exposure to space, saving Rachel’s equipment as well as the good brandy.

  In the cargo hold, I re-secured the equipment that had jostled loose and put the cases of brandy and the tablet’s case back in the vault. I didn’t need to open the case to know the relic wasn’t in it. I didn’t get to say goodbye, I thought, and then laughed at my own foolishness.

  Most important, the bulkhead cache seemed to be intact. In my prayer of gratitude to the ancestors, I made sure to include thanks that the synthreactor hadn’t been blown to bits.

  Over the next day, we rested in shifts between doing the most necessary tasks. While Danto interrogated the prisoners, Kojo and Archer went between the two ships, reviewing the damage, sealing rips in the hull, and scavenging the harrier to make the most urgent repairs.

  “They hit a propulsion port,” Kojo said. “The pressure built up and damaged our engines. Thank Zub the harrier’s a Selkid vessel—we can switch one of her couplings for ours.”

  The harrier’s engine room was coated with oily dust. I resolved to be more tolerant of Archer’s fastidious habits. Archer himself was on the deck, on his back, struggling one-handed with a wrench as big as a boot.

  “Here, let me,” I said. “You’ll hurt your arm worse and then where will we be?”

  “Dead in the ether with a bunch of religious fanatics for company,” Archer grumbled. “Not too much different than where we are now.” He scooched over and let me wrangle the giant wrench onto the lug. Together, we freed the coupling.

  Crammed together with Archer under the coupling housing, a wave of tiredness and relief swept over me. I laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt worse.”

  “We make a good team,” he said softly.

  Kojo’s face peered under the housing. “Did you two fall asleep in there? Get moving.”

  Back in Sparrow, Archer wriggled into the engine’s battered innards while Kojo and I provided the brawn to pull out the bent flanges of our damaged coupling.

  When we were done, Kojo straightened, his face drawn with pain and exhaustion. “Time to head to port. No sense trying to go on, with Balan gone. We can tow the harrier, sell it for scrap.”

  “What about Rampart and the Cartel? What will they think of us blasting one of their ships out of the ether?”

  Kojo slumped. “We’ll blame the Patrol, tell everyone Danto forced us to fight. It’s the best we can hope for.”

  One task that couldn’t wait was disposing of the bodies of Balan and the two mercenaries. As soon as Rachel certified the deaths, I wheeled a corpse-filled handcart to the waste recycler. I flushed the mercenaries first— it would take days for Sparrow to digest so much organic material.

  Danto walked in as I straightened Balan’s head to a more natural position.

  “I’m sorry about Balan,” I said. I hadn’t liked him, but he’d deserved a better end than mad obsession and a blast from a brigand’s weapon. “He died bravely.”

  “As befits a son of Wind Clan.” Danto knelt to adjust the sheet I’d used for a shroud. “You also showed great courage in facing the pirates.”

  Scarcely realizing what I was doing, I threw my arms around his neck an
d hugged him. “And you,” I said, my voice muffled in his shoulder. I loosened my grip and said more clearly, “You saved us all, killing the intruders. Thank you.”

  You’re a fool, I told myself. Dirty and sweaty and just a mess. He must think you’re ridiculous.

  Danto pulled my arms away with his familiar irritation. “I am a sergeant of the Patrol. That is what I am trained to do.”

  “Of course.” I looked down in embarrassment. “But I’m grateful all the same.”

  “Oh, there you are, Danto.” Kojo leaned against the door, Archer close behind him. “When you’re able to break away, I’d like to talk about returning to port.”

  How long had he and Archer been standing there?

  “In the salon, then,” Danto said.

  As we followed Kojo and Danto, Archer hissed at me, “Patch, for a smart person, sometimes you can be really thick.”

  Lyden and Mya sat at the salon table with Rachel and Jamila. Kojo, looking battered, sat on a couch with Archer and Hiram. I stood at the door, where I could keep an eye on Danto’s cabin, which housed the prisoners—two Rampart Terrans crammed in with two big Selkids from the Cartel. I hoped they were very cramped.

  Grimbold reclined on an easy chair, still sore from the stun-blast he’d caught.

  I wasn’t sympathetic. “You had your fancy stunner. Why the Zub didn’t you use it against the people trying to hijack our ship?”

  “Why didn’t you just give them the damned artifact?” he snapped back. “I understand Danto getting all combative—his career would never survive a surrender. But I expected you and Kojo would put saving all our lives ahead of saving the burzing piece of rock.”

  The starless ether seemed to press on us, stifling in its featureless murk.

  “Ship’s status?” Danto asked.

  Kojo rubbed his chin. “We can cannibalize the harrier to make Sparrowhawk operational, at least long enough to get to Kriti. We need to leave the harrier intact and with enough supplies to put the prisoners back in her—we just can’t manage four hostiles on top of our current passengers and crew.” Kojo glanced over at Archer. “And our engineer is injured.”

  “Weapons,” Archer said, jiggling a foot.