Chapter 5: The Black Raider

For a stunned moment they were helpless as they struggled to pick themselves up. The stable airlock deck was suddenly no longer stable ... 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 lurching became worse. “They’re firing on us, that’s what happened,” Johnny Coombs growled.

“Well, they’re shaking us loose at the seams,” Greg said. “We’ve got to get this crate out of here.” He reached for his helmet, began unsnapping his 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 dead in ten seconds without a suit.”

Somewhere below they heard the steady clang-clang-clang of the emergency-station’s bell ... already one of the compartments somewhere had 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 the wheel 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-placed shell could rip it open like a balloon.

Tom and Greg followed Johnny to where the control cabin was located. In control they found alarm lights flashing in three places on the instrument panel. Another muffled crash roared through the ship, and a new 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’ve ripped 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 the scout ships haven’t been touched. They couldn’t fire on them without splitting 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 the one they had seen berthing at the Sun Lake City racks, this ship had a glossy black hull, with the golden triangle-and-J insignia standing out in 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 the Ranger and slid down toward the sun side of the asteroid. “I don’t know,” Johnny said. “I think they intended to stay hidden, until Tom lost control of his bumper, and got far enough around there to spot them.” He frowned as the first scooter touched down on the asteroid surface.

“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 blast or two could send us spinning like a top, and we’d have nothing to stabilize us...”

There was another flash from the Ranger’s hull, and the ship jerked under their feet. “Well, we’re a sitting duck here,” Greg said. “Maybe those engines will still work.” He slid into the control seat, flipped the drive switches to fire the side jets in opposite pairs. They fired, steadying the lurching of the ship somewhat, but there was no response from 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. “And they’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 if they do, we may have a chance. But we’ve got to split up ... Greg, you take the control cabin here, try to keep them out if you can. Tom can cover the main corridor to the storage holds, and I’ll take the engine room section. That will sew up the entrances to control, here, and give us 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 they wouldn’t bother to board us. We may not be able to hold them off, but we can 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 got homing shells that could blow the Scavenger to splinters if we tried it. Our best bet is to put up such a brawl that they think twice about taking us.”

They parted in the corridor outside control, Johnny heading down for the engine room corridors, while Tom ran up toward the main outer-shell corridor, a Markheim stunner in his hand. The entire outer shell of the ship was storage space, each compartment separately sealed and connected with the two main corridors that circled the ship. On each side these corridors came together to join the short entry corridors from the scout-ship airlocks.

Tom knew that the only way the ship could be boarded was through those locks; a man stationed at the place where the main corridors joined could block any entry from the locks ... as long as he could hold his position. Tom reached the junction of the corridors, and crouched close to the wall. By peering around the corner, he had a good view of the airlock corridor.

Tom gripped the Markheim tightly, and he dialed it down to a narrow beam. Nobody had ever been killed by a stunner ... but a direct hit with a narrow beam could paralyze a man for three days.

There was movement at the far end of the airlock corridor. A helmeted head peered around the turn in the corridor; then two men in pressure suits moved into view, walking cautiously, weapons in hand. Tom shrank back against the wall, certain they had not seen him. He waited until they were almost to the junction with the main corridor; then he took aim and pressed the trigger stud on his Markheim. There was an ugly ripping sound as the gun jerked in his hand. The two men dropped as though they had been pole-axed.