Loyalties (HMCS Borealis Book 3) Page 11

  Sap shook his head. "I cannot tell for certain. There are fragments consistent with one or more Regina-class ship, but none of it is necessarily from the Borealis."

  Maya gave Eric a brave smile. "Maybe she got out of this okay?"

  "I hope so."

  Jerry frowned, leaning forward in his seat. He gave a sharp wave of one hand. "Look. We need to decide what we're gonna do. Any moment now, those active ships are gonna—"

  A small display lit up, and a clipped female voice came from the panel. "USS Valley Forge to unidentified craft. Please identify, over."

  Maya glanced at Jerry. "Is the transponder on?"

  "I don't know. The light's out, so I can never tell…" He jabbed a finger at a darkened button on the console. "Shit, it was off. Should be okay now."

  Maya motioned for quiet before holding a button on the communications console. "Valley Forge, this is Nova Cat. Sorry about that. Switching on our transponder now."

  "Copy that." A moment's pause. "Nova Cat, this is a restricted zone. Military vessels are engaged in rescue and recovery operations. Please stay clear."

  Maya let go of the console, her eyes wide. "Rescue?"

  Jerry shrugged. "Sure. Some of those wrecks would have survivors aboard."

  "But… don't they get into escape pods?"

  "No," said Jerry. "There's rarely time for that."

  "But how long…"

  Jerry just shrugged again, and looked back out the window. Maya turned her eyes to Sap, who cleared his throat. "It depends, Captain Maya. If the air is gone, then they would only have seconds or minutes. If they have air but no power, they would freeze within hours. If they have air and power, then perhaps days. There are many variables."

  Eric was still staring at the navigation display. There was a long list of crippled or destroyed warships, each with dozens or hundreds of crew onboard. He'd trained for damage control in zero gravity, in the dark. It had been the most terrifying day of his life. Ten percent of his class had quit after that, when confronted by the reality of death in a starship. Floating in a sealed coffin, waiting for whatever fate reached you first.

  "Nova Cat to Valley Forge," said Maya, startling Eric out of his thoughts.

  "Valley Forge. Go ahead, Nova Cat."

  She pushed the button again. "Valley Forge, can we help? With rescue?"

  "Stand by, Nova Cat."

  Maya took her finger off the button. "I hate this," she said to the dashboard. "I can't let all these people die. I can't walk away. "

  The console beeped. "Valley Forge to Nova Cat, do you have a type 'S' docking ring?"

  Jerry was nodding. "Ours can do 'R' and 'S'."

  Maya pushed at the console again. "Affirmative, Valley Forge."

  "Copy that. We're transmitting contact data of a group of civilian freighters nearby. Dock with whatever you can, and take aboard as many as you can carry. Then head to New Halifax. Over."

  "Understood, Valley Forge. We'll do that."

  "Appreciate the help, Nova Cat. And we're sure they'll appreciate it too. Valley Forge out."

  Sap looked up from the centre display. "We have the coordinates. Thirty-seven freighters; the ones we spotted earlier."

  "I'll get us there," said Jerry. "You three should probably go make the ship ready. Maybe lock the cargo crates, so the people don't see, you know…"

  "That would be awkward, yes," said Sap.

  * * *

  It had taken ten minutes to get to the drifting freighters. Ten minutes Eric could barely remember, they were such a blur. Sap was in the machinery space, checking the life support system. Eric had spent the time running around the ship with Maya, clearing out every storage space the ship had. They gathered all the blankets, water, food, and medical supplies they could find. It wasn't even enough for twenty people.

  Climbing up the ladder yet again, they returned to the cockpit as the freighters were coming into view.

  "It's a real motley bunch," said Jerry. "Uta, Jaljal, you name it. There's even a Freem ship here, though the sensors didn't see it." He pointed at the smooth green sphere that moved among the wrecked freighters, its ten-metre hull glistening and rippling as though covered in — or made from — some viscous fluid. "I've never seen one up close."

  Sap was watching out the window. "Some say the Freem fly in ships made from liquid. Others say that the Freem are the liquid. They fascinate me."

  "They're goddamned weird, if you ask me. What the hell do they want?"

  Sap shrugged. "They sometimes show up after battles, Mister Jerry. They collect the bodies of the dead."

  "That's sick. What for? Food?"

  "Perhaps food, perhaps research. Perhaps amusement. No one knows."

  Maya waved a hand. "As long as they leave us alone, I don't care what they do. Saparun, what can you see of the freighters?"

  Sap crouched in front of the centre display, his fingers on the screen. "One moment, and I shall see."

  Eric remained quiet as Sap's red fingers tapped at the display. He didn't know how Sap remained so calm all the time. As for himself, he was fighting against a tide of panic that was trying to push its way into his mind. There were too many things to do, not enough time to do half of it, and it wouldn't be enough. Not nearly enough.

  "Life forms on three ships," said Sap.

  Maya shook her head. "Three? Just three? What of the rest of them?"

  "Mostly, it appears their hulls were breached when the Horlan disabled their engines. Several appear to have suffered failures of—"

  "Oh my god," breathed Maya. "All those people. Why?"

  Sap seemed confused by the question. "Because the Horlan disabled their engines, as I said."

  "No, not that. I mean, why did this have to happen?"

  Sap was about to say something, when a light flashed on the communications panel. "What?" said Maya. "For fuck's—" she jabbed at the display. "—Oh. Someone's hailing us." She raised her head to look out the window, her brow furrowed in confusion. "The Freem ship is hailing us?" She poked at the console again.

  A synthesized voice filled the cockpit. "Embrace," it said. It sounded like many voices together: neither male nor female, neither young nor old. There was an accent, thought Eric, but it was hard to place. It sounded like a mash of accents all piled together; an amorphous mass of sound that formed a single word.

  Sap was smiling. "That is all they ever say."

  "Embrace," it repeated.

  "Maybe they mean 'dock'?" said Eric.

  Jerry scoffed. "Beats me, buddy. I have no idea what the hell they want."

  "Embrace. Know."

  Sap's eyebrow ridge rose upward. "A new word?"

  Maya jabbed the console with a finger, and the speaker went quiet. "We don't have time for this bullshit. Sap, which ships have life signs on them?"

  Sap pointed at the screen. "This one, this one, and this one." He highlighted the contacts on the display. "A total of three hundred and four life signs."

  Her eyes went wide. "Three hundred and four? We can't fit three hundred in here."

  "That is true, Miss Maya. So, which one—"

  "No no no," she said, waving her hands in front of her. "I don't want that. Don't make me play god. I'm not gonna choose—"

  Jerry was sucking on his teeth, shaking his head as he focused on piloting. "Look, boss. We can't dock with a ship and then only take half the people on board. We can take, what, fifty? So, which ship has fifty or less?"

  "That one," said Sap, pointing. "Freight Star 417. It shows fifty-five people onboard. The other two ships each have over a hundred."

  "Okay then," said Jerry, glancing over at Maya.

  She threw up her hands, before dropping them back into her lap. "Fine, let's do that. But what about the others? There's two hundred and fifty more people in those ships. Why doesn't the navy rescue them? Anyone's navy?"

  Eric was watching the centre display over Sap's shoulder. More naval salvage ships had arrived. The salvage ships, along with some sh
uttles, were picking their way among the wreckage of the warships. In the corner of the display, the computer had calculated the total mass of the floating wreckage. There was enough debris out there to account for dozens of human ships. "I have a feeling," he said slowly, "that the fleet is in very bad shape."

  Jerry frowned at the controls as the battered hull of a freighter drew nearer. "Well, these people are in bad shape too. I'm ready to dock with this Freight Star." He jerked one thumb over his shoulder toward the cockpit door. "So you three might want to go get ready to play host."

  Sap stood up, brushing dust from his overcoat. A smile appeared on his face. "I hope they have a dog."

  Eric stared at him; it was a moment before he realised that the others were staring as well. Maya squinted at Sap. "What?"

  Sap's smile faded a little, and he shrugged. "I like dogs."

  * * *

  For the third time in ten minutes, Jerry called back from the cockpit. "Don't you have that goddamned hatch open yet?"

  Eric saw Sap rolling his eyes. "No," said Eric. "Not yet."

  The two of them knelt next to the docking hatch. The rings had attached and sealed, and the Nova Cat's hatch had opened, showing the battered outer surface of the Freight Star's hatch. It was cramped in the tiny corridor behind the Nova Cat's kitchen, and there was barely enough room for Eric and Sap to work.

  Maya leaned her head into the corridor. "What's going on, boys?"

  Sap motioned to a set of steel cables that hung near the hatch. "Miss Maya, you may wish to tie yourself off, in case the docking ring fails."

  "What?" Maya grabbed one of the cables and started fastening it to her belt. "Is there… is the ring damaged? Will we lose the seal or detach?"

  Eric held up one hand, tilting it back and forth. "Nova Cat's ring is fine. But the freighter's is a bit so-so. It's beat up." He gestured toward the dirty and dented outer hatch in front of them. "This thing is ancient, and hasn't been used in ages."

  "So why can't they open it?"

  Sap had turned his attention to some tools in his hands: thin metal rods with attachments on the ends. Eric wasn't sure if Sap had heard Maya's question, as he seemed absorbed in what he was doing. Eric answered instead. "The indicator on the hatch shows it's over thirty degrees Celsius in there."

  "Oh, so it's an air pressure thing?"

  "Exactly. Their air pressure is higher than ours. It works out to an extra…" he looked at Sap for confirmation, "— two hundred and fifty?"

  "Closer to three hundred," said Sap.

  "Right. So, there's an extra three hundred kilos of force holding the door shut. And," he said, tapping at the small fixture next to the door, "the relief valve on their side is jammed. We can't equalise the pressure." He looked at Sap, who was holding the tools close to his face, squinting to focus on the end of one of the rods.

  Jerry's voice called back from the cockpit. "Got that hatch open yet, buddy?"

  Sap didn't look up from his work. "Yes, Mister Jerry. The hatch is open, and I have eaten all the refugees."

  "Say what?"

  Maya shouted toward the cockpit. "Damn it Jerry, shut up and keep the ship steady."

  Sap held up a thin metal rod, a smile on his face. "There."

  Maya peered at the strangely-shaped rod. "Nice. What is it?"

  "I am mostly working from memory, Miss Maya, but I believe the dimensions are correct. I should be able to insert this rod through the Nova Cat's relief value, and drill out the valve on the freighter's side. Ideally, without damaging Nova Cat's valve."

  Maya whistled. "That's slick, Sap."

  He just shrugged. With his free hand, Sap picked up a small pressurised can. "If it doesn't work, we have this can of damage-control foam. The valve and hatch can be sealed up until Nova Cat can get to a shipyard."

  "Was that the can under the middle bench? I have no idea how old that is."

  Sap examined the can, turning it over in his hand. "I see. So, the valve and hatch can probably be sealed up if my plan is not successful. Now, Eric, if you would kindly step back and tie yourself in?"

  "Sure." Eric shifted sideways, letting Sap get past him to the relief valve. With nimble hands, Sap slid the end of the rod into the valve's nozzle. "Here goes nothing," he rumbled.

  Eric turned to Maya. "We've tried contacting the people inside. We tapped out 'stay calm' in Morse code."

  "Did they respond?"

  "Yes, in a manner of speaking. A bunch of frantic hammering. I don't think anyone in there knows Morse code."

  Maya sighed, leaning against the bulkhead. "Jerry's been trying to raise the pilot on the radio, but no luck. There don't seem to be any life signs in the cockpit."

  Sap was twisting the rod back and forth in the hole. "Then the pilot may dead, or the radio disabled." He twisted the rod again. "Here we go."

  With a metallic click, a loud hissing noise came from the nozzle. Sap wrinkled his nose. "Oh. That is unpleasant."

  After a moment, Eric smelled it too. The air coming out of the valve was hot and humid. It was stale, and stunk of sweat and human waste.

  "Oh god," said Maya. "I hope our life support is up to this." She held one hand over her nose and mouth. "That's foul."

  The freighter's dirty hatch shifted, but did not open. "They're in a hurry," said Eric.

  Sap raised his eyebrow ridge. "Apparently so. It will take several minutes for the pressure to equalise fully. If they open the hatch too soon, the rush of air will push the Nova Cat, and stress the docking ring."

  The hatch shifted again; there was a sharp hiss of air before the hatch thudded shut again. "Sap, I don't think they know about that."

  "No, Mister Eric, perhaps not."

  Picking up his tools, Sap stood and slid past Eric. "I will stand back. I believe the first face they see should be a human one."

  Maya curled a lip at that. "What for? Why should it matter who—"

  "Miss Maya, frightened humans are unpredictable. I always find it best to stay clear of them until they have calmed down."

  "Wow." Maya laughed. "You make it sound like we're a bunch of stampeding idiots."

  Sap said nothing, unhooking the cable from his belt and stepping past Maya.

  Eric heard Jerry's voice coming from the cockpit. "Jesus, what's that smell? Is that a goddamned sewage freighter?"

  Maya scowled into the distance. "No, Jerry," she called back. She shook her head. "Honestly," she whispered.

  The hatch shifted again, allowing another escaping hiss of air. Before it fell shut, another great heave pulled it farther open, creating a gap a centimetre wide. Foul-smelling air rushed through the gap, from the red-lit area beyond. There was a rattle from the docking ring, and Eric stared as the ring shifted and extended, as the Nova Cat was pushed several centimetres away from the freighter.

  To the sounds of grunts, the freighter's hatch pivoted away from Eric, opening into the stricken ship. A wall of hot air flooded through the hatch in a torrent, slowing to a fetid breeze as the pressures evened out. The docking ring gave one last, ominous metal clang that shook the ship, then was still.

  Beyond the hatch, Eric could see into the dark interior of the freighter. It was lit by red emergency lights; shapes moved about in the darkness. "Hello?" he called out. "Someone needed a ride?"

  A face appeared in the hatchway. It was an old man, his lined features grimy with sweat and his wide eyes filling with red. "Thank God," said the man, a crack in his voice. "We thought no one was coming."

  Other faces appeared: men and women, all wide-eyed and dirty with sweat. More sets of blinking eyes looked back at Eric from farther into the freighter.

  Eric pointed to himself, then to Maya. "This is the Nova Cat. I'm Eric, and this is the captain, Maya." He reached into the open hatch, and immediately felt the strong grip of the old man's hand on his. As he helped the man climb through, more people began to crowd the other side of the opening.

  With a stumble, the man got to his feet, letting go of Eric's hand
. Eric turned to help the next person. "Don't push, okay? We've got room for everyone." As an afterthought, he spoke over his shoulder to Maya. "Isn't that right, Captain?"

  Not hearing any response from Maya, Eric helped the next refugee through the hatch, then turned to look.

  Maya's face was visible over the shoulder of the old man, who was embracing her in a hug. Her eyes were closed, and tears were running down her face.

  Eric said nothing, and turned back to help the next person through the hatch.

  CHAPTER 14

  Dillon paused in the corridor, letting the engine room hatch close behind him. Wall panels had been removed, and the neat wiring underneath had been twisted into something that looked like a rat's nest, with temporary leads bypassing the tangle. He checked his datapad again, and allowed himself a sigh of relief. That was it; all the critical issues were under control. The ship was out of danger and underway, headed back to New Halifax with the fleet. All leaks were sealed, all vital systems still attached were working more-or-less normally. The ratings' mess looked like it had a rash: the corner of the deck was a mass of round grey blobs of damage-control foam. The stuff expanded out of damaged deck or bulkhead panels, expanding to fill any leaks before hardening. The passageways and handling spaces that led to the port-side main gun were completely blocked off by walls of bubbled foam.

  Everywhere the ship had been hit — the ratings' mess, the port-side gun, and the bridge — there was the same problem with the ship's armour. The 'advanced' ceramic armour had spalled; when struck on its outer surface, the shockwave travelled through the ceramic, causing the interior surface to flake off in a spray of metal and ceramic shards. The mess deck looked worse than the bridge; it was like a dozen grenades had gone off. If the mess had been full, no one would have survived.

  Dillon started walking along the corridor, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. It was hot on the lower deck; the cooling wasn't working right. Ducking under a dangling cable, he stopped outside the med bay door.