5. The Black Raider
For a stunned moment they were helpless as they struggled to pickthemselves up. The stable airlock deck was suddenly no longerstable ... it was lurching back and forth like a rowboat on a heavy sea,and they grabbed the shock-bars along the bulkheads to steady themselves."What happened?" Greg yelped. "I saw a ship...."
As if in answer there was another crash belowdecks, and the lurchingbecame worse. "They're firing on us, that's what happened," JohnnyCoombs growled.
"Well, they're shaking us loose at the seams," Greg said. "We've got toget this crate out of here." He reached for his helmet, began unsnappinghis pressure suit.
"Leave it on," Johnny snapped.
"But we can't move fast enough in these things...."
"Leave it on all the same. If they split the hull open, you'll be deadin ten seconds without a suit."
Somewhere below they heard the steady _clang-clang-clang_ of theemergency-station's bell ... already one of the compartments somewherehad been breached, and was pouring its air out into the vacuum of space."But what can we do?" Greg said. "They could tear us apart!"
"First, we see what they've already done," Johnny said, spinning thewheel on the inner lock. "If they plan to tear us apart, we're done for,but they may want to try to board us.... We'll wait and see."
An orbit-ship under fire was completely vulnerable. One well-placedshell could rip it open like a balloon.
Tom and Greg followed Johnny to where the control cabin was located. Incontrol they found alarm lights flashing in three places on theinstrument panel. Another muffled crash roared through the ship, and anew row of lights sprang on along the panel.
"How are the engines?" Greg said, staring at the flickering lights.
"Can't tell. Looks like they're firing at the main jets, but they'veripped open three storage holds, too. They're trying to disable us...."
"What about the _Scavenger_?"
Johnny checked a gauge. "The airlock compartment is all right, so thescout ships haven't been touched. They couldn't fire on them withoutsplitting the whole ship down the middle." Johnny leaned forward,flipped on the viewscreen, and an image came into focus.
* * * * *
It was a Class I Ranger, and there was no doubt of its origin. Like theone they had seen berthing at the Sun Lake City racks, this ship had aglossy black hull, with the golden triangle-and-J insignia standing outin sharp relief in the dim sunlight.
"It's our friends, all right," Johnny said.
"But what are they trying to do?" Tom said.
Even as they watched, a pair of scooters broke from the side of theRanger and slid down toward the sun side of the asteroid. "I don'tknow," Johnny said. "I think they intended to stay hidden, until Tomlost control of his bumper, and got far enough around there to spotthem." He frowned as the first scooter touched down on the asteroidsurface.
"Can't we fire on them?" Greg said angrily.
"Not the way this tub is lurching around. They've got our main gyros,and the auxilliaries aren't powerful enough to steady us. Another blastor two could send us spinning like a top, and we'd have nothing tostabilize us...."
There was another flash from the Ranger's hull, and the ship jerkedunder their feet. "Well, we're a sitting duck here," Greg said. "Maybethose engines will still work." He slid into the control seat, flippedthe drive switches to fire the side jets in opposite pairs. They fired,steadying the lurching of the ship somewhat, but there was no responsefrom the main engines. "No good. We couldn't begin to run from them.We're stuck here."
"They could outrun us anyway," Tom said, watching the viewscreen. "Andthey're moving in closer now."
"They're going to board us," Tom said.
Johnny nodded, his eyes suddenly bright. "I think you're right. And ifthey do, we may have a chance. But we've got to split up.... Greg, youtake the control cabin here, try to keep them out if you can. Tom cancover the main corridor to the storage holds, and I'll take the engineroom section. That will sew up the entrances to control, here, and giveus a chance to stop them."
"They may have a dozen men," Tom said. "They could just shoot us down."
"I don't think so," Johnny said. "They want _us_, not the ship, or theywouldn't bother to board us. We may not be able to hold them off, but wecan try."
"What about making a run for it in the _Scavenger_?" Greg said.
Johnny chuckled grimly. "It'd be a mighty short run. That Ranger's gothoming shells that could blow the _Scavenger_ to splinters if we triedit. Our best bet is to put up such a brawl that they think twice abouttaking us."
They parted in the corridor outside control, Johnny heading down for theengine room corridors, while Tom ran up toward the main outer-shellcorridor, a Markheim stunner in his hand. The entire outer shell of theship was storage space, each compartment separately sealed and connectedwith the two main corridors that circled the ship. On each side thesecorridors came together to join the short entry corridors from thescout-ship airlocks.
Tom knew that the only way the ship could be boarded was through thoselocks; a man stationed at the place where the main corridors joinedcould block any entry from the locks ... as long as he could hold hisposition. Tom reached the junction of the corridors, and crouched closeto the wall. By peering around the corner, he had a good view of theairlock corridor.
Tom gripped the Markheim tightly, and he dialed it down to a narrowbeam. Nobody had ever been killed by a stunner ... but a direct hit witha narrow beam could paralyze a man for three days.
There was movement at the far end of the airlock corridor. A helmetedhead peered around the turn in the corridor; then two men in pressuresuits moved into view, walking cautiously, weapons in hand. Tom shrankback against the wall, certain they had not seen him. He waited untilthey were almost to the junction with the main corridor; then he tookaim and pressed the trigger stud on his Markheim. There was an uglyripping sound as the gun jerked in his hand. The two men dropped asthough they had been pole-axed.
A shout, a scrape of metal against metal, and a shot ripped back at himfrom the end of the corridor. Tom jerked back fast, but not quite fastenough. He felt a sledge-hammer blow on his shoulder, felt his arm jerkin a cramping spasm while the corridor echoed the low rumble ofsub-sonics. He flexed his arm to work out the spasm ... they were usinga wide beam, hardly strong enough to stun a man. His heart pounded. Theywere being careful, very careful....
Two more men rounded the bend in the corridor. Tom fired, but they hitthe deck fast, and the beam missed. The first one jerked to his feet,charged up the corridor toward him, dodging and sliding. Tom followedhim in his sights, fired three times as the Markheim heated up in hishand. The beam hit the man's leg, dumping him to the deck, and bouncedoff to catch the second one.
But now there was another sound, coming from the corridor behind him.Voices, shouts, clanging of boots. He pressed against the wall,listening. The sounds were from below. They must have gotten pastJohnny ... probably the men on the scooters. Tom looked aroundhelplessly. If they came up behind him, he was trapped in a crossfire.But if he left his position, more men could come in through the airlock.Even now two more came around the bend, starting up the corridor forhim....
Quite suddenly, the lights went out.
The men stopped. Sound stopped. The corridor was pitch black. Tom firedwildly down the corridor, heard shouts and oaths from the men, but hecould see nothing. Then, ahead, a flicker of light as a headlamp wenton. The men from the airlock were close, moving in on him, and frombehind he saw light bouncing off the corridor walls....
He jerked open the hatch to a storage hold, ducked inside, and slammedthe hatch behind him. He pressed against the wall, panting.
He waited.
Suddenly an idea flickered in Tom's mind.
It was a chance ... a long chance ... but it was something. If they weregoing to be captured in spite of anything they could do, even a longchance would be worth trying....
He waited in th
e darkness, tried to think it through. It was a wildidea, an utterly impossible idea, he had never heard of it being triedbefore ... but _any_ chance was better than none. He remembered whatJohnny had said in the control cabin. The Ranger ship would have homingshells. An attempt to make a run with the _Scavenger_ might bedisastrous.
He thought about it, trying to reason it out. The Jupiter Equilateralmen obviously wanted them alive. They did not dare to kill RogerHunter's sons, because Roger Hunter might have told them where thebonanza was. And Jupiter Equilateral would not dare let anyone of thembreak away. If one of them got back to Mars, the whole U.N. Patrol wouldbe out in the Belt....
The plan became clear in his mind, but he had to let Greg know. Hefingered the control of his helmet radio. The boarding party would havea snooper, but if he was quick, they wouldn't have time to nail him. Hebuzzed an attention code. "Greg? Can you hear me?"
Silence. He buzzed again, and waited. What was wrong? Had they alreadybroken through to the control cabin and taken Greg? He buzzed again."Greg! Sound off if you can hear me."
More silence. Then a click. "Tom?"
"Here. Are you all right?"
"So far. You?"
"They got past me, but they didn't hit me. How's Johnny?"
"I don't know," Greg said. "I think he's been hurt. Tom, you'd betterget off, they'll have snoopers...."
"All right, listen," Tom said. "How does it look to you?"
"Bad. We're outnumbered, they'll be through to here any minute."
"All right, I've got an idea. It's risky, but it might let us pullsomething out of this mess. I'll need some time, though."
"How much?"
"Ten, fifteen minutes."
There was an edge to Greg's voice. "What are you planning?"
"I can't tell you, they're listening in. But if it works...."
"Look, don't do anything stupid."
"I can't hear you," Tom said. "You try to hold them for fifteenminutes ... and don't worry. Take care of yourself."
Tom snapped off the speaker and moved to the hatchway. The corridor wasempty, and pitch black. He started down toward the airlock, then stoppedshort at the sound of voices and the flicker of headlamps up ahead.
He crouched back, but the lights were not moving. Guards at the lock,making certain that nobody tried to board their own ship. Tom grinned tohimself. They weren't missing any bets, he thought.
Except one. There was one bet they wouldn't even think of.
He backtracked to the storage hold, crossed through it, and out into thefar corridor. He followed the gentle curve of the deck a quarter of theway around the ship. Twice along the way he stumbled in the darkness,but saw no sign of the raiders. At last he reached the far side, and thecorridor leading to No. 2 airlock. Again he could see the lamps of theguards around the bend; they were stationed directly inside their ownlock.
Inching forward, he peered into blackness. Each step made a muffledclang on the deck plates. He edged his boots along as quietly aspossible, reaching along the wall with his hand until he felt the lip ofa hatchway.
The lights and voices seemed nearer now. In the dim reflected light hesaw the sign on the door of the hatchway:
No. 2 Airlock BE SURE PRESSURE GAUGE IS AT ZERO BEFORE OPENING HATCH
He checked the gauge, silently spun the wheel. There was a _ping_ as theseals broke. He pulled the hatch open just enough to squeeze into thelock, then closed it behind him. Then he switched on the pumps, waitingimpatiently until the red "all clear" signal flashed on. Then he openedthe outside lock.
Just beyond, he could see the sleek silvery lines of the _Scavenger_.
It was their only chance.
He took a deep breath, and jumped across the gap to the open lock of the_Scavenger_.