Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

We’d better hear from someone soon, Palagren said to the others. H’zzarrelik had moved into a downwelling current that was taking them in an arc toward the raider ship. In a minute or two, they would be in a perfect position to fire.

Legroeder fretted at the shout they had heard from Ker’sell as he left the net. Clearly there was trouble on the bridge… and if they made a run on the raider without weapons, it would be suicide. Do you want me to take a quick look?

As he spoke, the raider ship below them was rolling its full flank to them, presenting a broadside target. Yes! Tell them to fire right now if they can!

Legroeder started to pull out of the net.

WAIT!

Palagren’s shout brought him up short. He saw the reason at once: the pirate ship was glittering with neutraser fire—aimed at them.

Take the keel, Legroeder! Palagren was already twisting the net sharply, to bring them about. Into the clouds! Back up into the clouds!

The first neutraser beams burned through the Flux below them, lighting up the keel of the net just as Legroeder reached down. A searing pain flashed up his hands as he reached through the sparkling fire at the keel. He gritted his teeth and held on, warping the keel to help bring them around and into an upwelling. If they could get just a little higher, the boundary layers would block the enemy’s weapons.

The next shots grazed the net, sending another flash of fire up his arms. They were nearly out of range now. The bottom layers of mist curled around, then closed under them. The neutraser shots glowed beneath them, dissipating in the clouds.

All right, Legroeder—take a look outside. But don’t leave your station!

Legroeder took a deep breath and dropped out of the net. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and his eyes went dazzle-blind as he opened the clamshell. He heard a scream and leaned forward. “Sweet Jesus!” He rocked back as a laser beam flashed in front of his face. The bridge was full of smoke and ozone.

“Legroeder, get back in the net!” he heard. It was Ker’sell, shouting from somewhere in the smoke and confusion. “We have no weapons! My station’s destroyed! Call off the attack!”

Before he could respond, there was a bright flash to his right, and a silver-suited raider commando spun in the air, firing everywhere. Something else made of silver was flying toward it…

Legroeder snapped the clamshell closed and dropped back into the net so abruptly that it buzzed like an electric cloud around him. Boarders on the bridge! he cried. No weapons! Abort the attack!

Palagren’s voice was soft with dismay. Boarders! Rings alive—

They heeled the ship over in a slow curve through the clouds, trying to keep the raider located through breaks in the cloud, while keeping themselves out of sight. They were going to have to dance through the clouds, praying that the enemy was hurt more than they were. In fact, the raider ship seemed nearly helpless in the Flux. But though Legroeder and his companions held the flying advantage, he could not escape the thought that just outside the plastic shell that enclosed him, enemy soldiers were trying to kill him. For all of their power over the movement of the ship, he and Palagren and Voco were as helpless as babes in a crib.

Ker’sell, choking in the acrid smoke, saw the enemy figure whirl as a bright mesh sailed through the air toward it. The enemy fired at the mesh, but it might as well have been trying to shoot a fishnet. The mesh caught the raider and enveloped it, and there was a moment of struggle—and then a blinding flash. A sharp retort cracked the air, as the net discharged into the raider’s suit. The raider fell to the deck.

“He’s down! Get him out of here!”

“Get the fans going!” someone else shouted.

Soon the air began to clear, and it became possible to see what was going on. The raider was indeed down, his forcefield disabled, his hardsuit smoldering. He appeared dead, but two of the Narseil fighters, taking no chances, were dragging him away. Someone had gotten the doors to the bridge open, and a handful of Narseil soldiers rushed in. Was that raider the only one left on the bridge? Ker’sell hoped so.

He hissed with dismay as he rose, taking stock of the mayhem. Several Narseil were down, possibly dead. A lot of people were trilling and hissing. Who was in charge now?

“Ker’sell!” someone called behind him. “If you’re free,

can you help me get this console turned back on?”

Ker’sell half turned, waving a negative reply. “I must know who is in command!” he shouted. “Can this ship fight?”

Several of the crew turned toward him. “Do you think we have not been fighting?” one of them asked, neck-sail fluttering as he bent over the still form of the captain.

“We’re closing with the enemy ship!” Ker’sell shouted. “We need weapons, now! ” He pushed his way to the weapons console, where several injured crewmembers were just getting to their feet. “And we need com to the net!”

One of those staggering to his feet was Mission Commander Fre’geel, aided by Cantha. Fre’geel was bleeding maroon blood; his neck-sail was half torn off. He looked as if he had been knocked across the bridge in the fight. “You heard Ker’sell,” he rasped, struggling to stand. “Do we have weapons?”

Agamem was working at the weapons console. “Soon, I hope.” He glanced at the front of the bridge. Only one short segment of the external monitor was working. In that narrow window, for just an instant, there was a glimpse of the raider ship, visible through swirling mists. “I need power restored to this console—”

A bright flare of light made everyone duck and turn. “Enemy on the bridge!” someone shouted, as a second raider commando was suddenly flushed out of hiding. The raider swung around to lob a grenade toward the rigger-stations. One of them was already smoking. Ker’sell’s breath froze. There was another flash of silver in the air. Before the raider could complete his throw, someone had tossed a shock-web into the air, curling toward the raider. The grenade hit the web and detonated—and with a whump! the raider was knocked backward toward the exit. The explosion must have shielded the raider from direct contact with the web, because in an instant he was back on his feet. He fired one last shot, then fled from the bridge, pursued by two Narseil soldiers.

“Holy spirit of the mist!” Fre’geel gasped. Wincing with pain, he held up a hand to Ker’sell. “Report on the net! Are we maneuvering?”

“Yes—but com to the net is out! When I left, we were on an intercept course to the raider. We’ve got the advantage, if we can fight! If I could just get back in!” He gestured toward the shambles of his rigger-station, and suddenly realized that the next one was smoking, too.

Fre’geel hissed with alarm. “Damage teams—weapons console and net communication! We need them now! Is Ho’Sung alive?”

“He’s dead. He was one of the first hit,” someone reported from across the bridge.

“Then I have command. Get me an intruder report. I want that raider subdued, and I want to know if any others got in through the airlock.” Fre’geel glared around, silently urging the crew back to their stations, regardless of their injuries.

Ker’sell wished desperately that he could get back to his. But his rigger-station was gone, and this one… there was a laser hole in it, venting smoke. He pressed the override release and opened the station. A cloud of noxious smoke billowed out. Ker’sell peered in—and wept at the lifeless form of Voco, burned through the head by the raider’s last shot.