“Close, but not exactly. The fighters themselves. Their hulls also contain additional protection against space radiation. If I were the pilots, that’s where I would go, since the craft would help keep them safe after the reactor breach. They may also have been attempting to launch their ships and engage the attacker.”
“Noted. I will divert to the hangar bay,” Mbeki said over the team channel. “It is a good bet some, if not all, of the remaining pilots retreated to their own fighters, but could not get the bay doors open because the system was down.”
Grady sat at the edge of his seat, wishing the biohazard suits offered vid link capability along with audio. But the radiation probably would have disrupted the transmission. He was about to toggle the comm once more when Tara’s excited voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve found the two missing crew members in an escape pod. They seem fine, but a bit shaken. I’ll escort them to sickbay and have doc check them over to be on the safe side.”
“That’s excellent news. Well done, Sis.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Grady sat back and brushed his hand across his brow. “Not as grave as I’d feared. Let’s hope the sergeant finds the majority of the IC pilots sucking oxygen in their fighters in the hangar bay and playing video games on the console to whittle away the time while waiting for rescue.”
“Is that a thing?” Zoe asked, quirking an eyebrow and glancing over her shoulder.
“Vid games on a fighter’s incredibly expensive and sophisticated equipment?” Grady smirked and sent her a knowing grin over his shoulder. “Not officially, and obviously not in a combat or other dodgy situation. But the savviest pilots know how to hack the onboard software, and…” He chuckled, leaving her imagination to fill in the rest.
“Gods,” Zoe said. “You pilots have it so easy. An air-conditioned cockpit, a comfy seat, and vid games. It’s a wonder you had any time for actual fighting.”
“Uh-huh,” Grady said. “And you’re telling me infantry grunts never play games on their tactical handhelds during downtime? Or is it all serious stuff and no fun with you ground pounders?”
Zoe fanned her hand and shrugged. “There might have been the odd moment when I eased the stress of battle by playing Dragon Nebula or some such. Where’s the harm?”
“Exactly my sentiment,” Grady said, shifting his position on the seat. “But don’t tell Tara. She’ll only want to install vid games on all the consoles on my flight deck.”
Zoe chortled, swiveling her seat to face him. “About that. How do you know she hasn’t already?”
When over two hours had passed and Hawthorne—aided by the freighter’s medic—continued to work on the worst of the injured, Grady’s anxiety ramped up. Once radiation dropped to a safe level, he’d dispatched Squirt to assess the damage to the Bright Moon’s systems, especially its engines, and was waiting for his report.
“Is it me?” he said, turning to face Zoe. “Or does it feel like someone has drawn a glowing neon target on our hull? The longer we remain mated to the freighter, the more we risk being discovered and attacked. Sitting ducks doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
“Don’t know about the glowing part, but yeah, I’m getting edgy, too,” Zoe said, meeting his gaze, his concern mirrored in the furrows crinkling her brow. “You’re worried that pirate ship fired off a compressed message Mal couldn’t detect, right? Things could get real dicey if we’re still airlocked to the freighter when more hostiles show up.”
Grady studied the sensor holo—the board clear of contacts except for Adventurer and the ailing freighter—and gripped the edge of the pilot’s console. “The only remedy is for us not to be here if that happens.” He went to reach for the comm but hesitated when Mal announced: “I have Squirt for you, Captain.” The AI was still deploying his rendition of an archetypal English butler, his refined, rounded tones ringing from the cockpit ceiling.
“Put him through, please. On speaker.”
“I regret to report, mon capitaine, but the situation over here, she is not good,” Squirt said. “The reactor breach was relatively minor, and the radiation leak has since been contained, but multiple systems suffered overload during the pirate attack. The fusion drive was already in a dire condition, needing a major overhaul. Now, it is completely, as Zoe would say, knackered. Useless. It would require significant time in a well-equipped repair facility to restore it to working order. Alas, there is nothing more I can do with it.”
“What about the sublight engines?”
“Damaged, but fixable given sufficient time. However, mon capitaine, knowing you, the next words from your mouth are going to be something like: time is one luxury we cannot afford. Am I right?”
“You know me so well, my friend,” Grady said. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, his gaze distant as he eyed the wraparound screen, and let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, you’ve done all you can over there. Make sure the freighter’s power, grav, and life support are stable, then get back here and prepare the tractor beam, please. I presume Bright Moon’s mass is within our rated towing capacity?”
“You assume correctly, mon capitaine,” Squirt said. “But only just, with little margin for error. And, since we will be routing reserve power to the tractor beam, there will be nothing extra available for shields or weapons should we come under attack while towing.”
“Noted. The sooner we can get underway, the happier I’ll be.”
“I’ll be back on board as swiftly as possible. Squirt out.”
Grady switched to the team channel. “Sis, what’s the status of the remaining crew and pilots? We’re getting a touch antsy over here. That pirate vessel might have friends who’ll be a touch peeved we destroyed it.”
“Everyone is now accounted for. As you suspected, the pilots made a dash for the fighters when the attack began,” Tara replied. “After unsuccessfully attempting to launch their craft, they hunkered down to wait for the radiation leak to be contained. Most are fine. Doc is just wrapping things up in sickbay. He should be able to join the comm in a few minutes. Any update from Squirt?”
“Bad news, I’m afraid, as far as the freighter being able to proceed under her own power is concerned. I’ve asked him to ready our tractor beam for towing.”
“Whoa, pretty risky move there, Bro,” Tara replied. “What if more pirates show up like you said? Our two-ship procession will offer them a juicy, slow-moving, double target.”
“Can’t be helped,” Grady said. “Not if we hope to save the freighter and its cargo. With the rebellion on the ropes in this iteration of the multiverse, I’m guessing they can’t afford to lose either the ship or the fighters battened down in its hangar bay.”
Tara’s tone brightened. “Well, at least there’s an upside if we’re attacked again. I’ll get my chance to use the wing cannons to blow up a marauder.”
“I thought we were the marauders?” Zoe interjected with a grin. “Mal’s marauders. Remember?”
“Well, there are good marauders and there are bad,” Tara said, static hissing and popping, distorting her voice.
“Which are we?”
“Depends on if I’ve had my first coffee of the day or not.”
Grady wiggled his fingers and said, “You can discuss caffeine hits later. Top priority is to tend to the injured. As soon as they can be transferred to Adventurer, we’re initiating the tow and getting the heck out of here.”
“I second that, Captain,” came Hawthorne’s fatigue-laced voice as he activated his comm. “Seven people in total—including one fighter pilot hurt during the rush to the hangar bay—now require further medical care. With the assistance of the freighter’s medic, I have stabilized all of them, including the three most severely injured cases. We will now start transferring them to Adventurer.” His tone darkened as he continued. “Our medbay is superior to that of the freighter. But, even then, there’s only so much I can do for them. They need access to proper hospital facilities.”
“Understood,” Grady replied as he gazed at the sensor readout, “but that’ll have to wait. Let’s move all the able-bodied and injured pilots and crew from the freighter. We’ll take her under tow and make best achievable speed to rendezvous with the rest of the convoy.”
“We’re on it,” said Tara. “Moving the injured will be a delicate process. Only one stretcher at a time can fit through the airlock doors. We don’t want to rush things and risk causing further injury. It’ll take a while to do this right.”
“Meanwhile, Captain, I prepped our medbay before we airlocked with this ship,” Hawthorne added. “I anticipated the arrival of radiation burn victims. Professor Chalmers and her assistant again volunteered their services. Which makes four of us, including the Bright Moon’s medic, to care for our patients once we’re all on board.”
“Then I won’t delay you any longer,” Grady said, his attention latched to the sensor holo. “You need to hustle as fast as the condition of the injured allows. Something, call it gut instinct, tells me our unwelcome visitor managed to send off a data burst with our position before we nailed them. And if more attackers show up, they might decide that revenge is better than booty this time.”
18
