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Sail the Sea of Stars - chapter 6

 
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 28, 2016 4:13 pm    Post subject: Sail the Sea of Stars - chapter 6 Reply with quote




Chapter 6

HECKLE AND JECKLE


During all this the Combat Crewmen had assembled at the main airlock complex on the port side of the Candlelight's tall structure that resembled the "sail" on the submarines form the 20th Century.

The main airlock complex was a giant rectangular section of transparent crystalsteel, like a picture window in Paul Bunyan's living room. There were six regular airlocks imbedded in the one-acre-wide expanse of the transparent section of the hull, and they led into a gymnasium-sized room.

This huge room was spanned by six walkway bridges which connected the airlocks with the mouths of corridors on the facing wall. Whenever large pieces of cargo had to be loaded into the Candlelight's cargo hold, the corridors were sealed off and the walkway bridges were retracted into the wall. Then the giant room was depressurized so that the entire transparent section of the hull could be opened — a giant hatch, 63 meters on a side.

After the oversized cargo has been brought into the big room, the hull section was closed, the room was again pressurized, and the floor rolled back to expose the actual cargo hold below. All loading and unloading of heavy items was done in zero gravity — even if the Candlelight happened to he resting on the surface of a planet.

The beautiful thing about artificial gravity was that it worked both ways.

_______________*___________*___________*

In the final minutes before docking, while the Candlelight and the outlaw vessel moved closer together, the walkway bridges of the main airlock were crowded with restless Combat Crewmen. Each man was decked out in the sleek dark gray combat armor that was tougher than steel, lighter than aluminum, soft to the touch (to absorb heavy blows) — even though it was thin as a beer can. The trim and lightweight helmet featured a built-in comm system, a video camera, and a heads-up display to provide enhanced vision.

This was the outfit that every soldier wanted for Christmas back in the 20th Century.

Ditto for their weaponry: plasma beam rifles and pistols that packed a punch like Popeye. They fired 300 bursts of superheated metal without reloading, and (ironically) cauterized the wound all the way through the body so the enemy didn't bleed all over the place will lying on the ground dying.

And yet, despite being armed with more firepower than the whole Confederate Army at the Battle of Gettysburg, the Combat Crewmen knew they about to engage in one hell of a fight. So, these highly trained but somewhat nervous people were keeping themselves busy by checking their equipment, talking excitedly, waving at each other across the gaps between the bridges, and watching the awesome view through the transparent hull as the Beltherian ship was pulled closer by the grappling beams.

They were a rowdy bunch — and who could blame them? There about to take on the most notorious warrior race in the galaxy. There was a lot of forced smiling and forced joking and forced manly calm.

Chief Non-Com Alex Sandusky was roaming through the excited crowd, cracking the whip of his authority and bringing a bit of order to the chaos. His headset was keyed into the PA system in the huge main airlock complex, and he was bellowing last-minute orders to the noisy crowd like God talking to Moses on Mt. Sinai.

'I still need six more members of the Advance Teams!" boomed the chief's voice. He glanced at the data on his visor's heads-up displace. "Dammit, where's Pruitt, Guddendorf, Washington, Mclean, Henson, and Jenkins?"

On one of the upper three bridges the chief saw several men pushing through the crowd, headed for the airlock at the end. They waved at the chief, and he tapped at he tapped at the small control panel on the forearm of his battle armor, checking off several of the names he'd called out.

"Okay, Pruitt. I see you. Who's that with you? Washington, right?"

Chief Sandusky reached the end of the walkway and found Lt. Lawson giving last minute instructions to the men at the airlock who would lead the charge in a few minutes. Lawson turned the chief and said, "Are we all set at the other airlocks?"

"Not quite, sir. We're still missing two members of the Point Team here at this airlock."

"What? Who's missing"

Chief Sandusky answered in a low voice, "Take a guess."

Lt. Lawson held the chief's gaze for a moment and then rolled his eyes in heaven's direction. Chief Sandusky turned back towards the crowd, stabbed the button on his headset, and roared into the microphone.

"Where the hell is Heckle and Jeckle?"

Two voices in perfect unison shouted from fifty feet away.

"Here, Chief!"

A ragged cheer broke from the crowd as two men pushed their way towards the airlock, grinning and greeting the men they passed like two politicians at a fund raiser. Randolph Henson and William Jenkins were making their Grand Entrance. They sauntered down the walkway, waving at friends and pausing to chat with every fifth person they passed. Very cocky, these two.

And the cockiness was contagious. Their obvious confidence was spreading through the watching crowd, calming tense nerves and instilling new confidence in men who knew that not everyone would return from the upcoming battle.

Henson and Jenkins: alias Heckle and Jeckle, named after the two famous cartoon characters from the 20th Century they often acted exactly like.
Henson was tall and enviably handsome, with dark hair that was carefully styled to wow the ladies. At any competitive sport, he was awesome. At any party, he was the undeniable life. In any fight, he was the inevitable winner. Jealousy would have made it easy to dislike this man, except for one thing: he was always quick to give you his time, his attention, and the proverbial shirt off his back.

Good old Heckle.

And good old Jeckle. Bill Jenkins had short brown hair which never needed brushing. His slightly ruddy complexion and his hail-and-hearty friendliness made him look like a husky Kansas farm hand who could finish a day's chores before noon. Bill didn't smile, he grinned — and always with total sincerity. He had a way of making other people feel like they were envied.

He was, in a sense, the perfect opposite of the other man's portrait of a legendary hero.

Chief Sandusky stood near the airlock at the end of the walkway looking sour and fearsome while he watched the two men work the crowd and show off shamelessly. But he kept quiet because he knew that Heckle and Jeckle were doing a fair job of breaking the pre-combat tension that everyone was feeling.

Through the acre-sized transparent section of the Candlelight's hull, the assembled crowd on the walkways watched the gap being closed while the grappling beams hauled the outlaw vessel towards them. The configuration of airlocks on the other ship was compatible with the Candlelight's, because both vessels conformed to a standard design which allowed most vessels to dock with each other in space.

Randy Henson and Bill Jenkins ambled up to Chief Sandusky with an insulting lack of haste and then stood there for a long moment wearing two sleepy smiles, while Sandusky did a fine job of showing just how unimpressed he was by their practiced clown act. It was a staring contest that last five seconds and ended in a draw when a crewman walked up and broke the spell by speaking urgently to Sandusky.

"Chief, we can't get a green light on the L-50 disrupter unit."

Sandusky turned and shoved his way passed several people until he reached the Combat Crewman who knelt next to one of the two complex devices about the size and shape of large suitcases. Each device had two sturdy handles, one on each the side, making the units looks like short coffins. Sandusky flipped open a panel on the device which hadn't armed correctly and tapped in an override code on a keypad. A green light lit up on the unit, and a low hum proudly proclaimed that the weapon was now armed. Sandusky was about to deliver a lecture on L-50 procedures to the man next to him when the communications officer on the

Candlelight's bridge, Tony Thorn, rocked the room with an announcement from the PA.

"ATTENTION! ATTENTION! LOCK OFFICERS, EXTEND THE BOARDING BRIDGES. COMBAT CREWMEN, PREPARE TO BOARD."

The electrified crowd became instantly silent as they lined up in tense rows on each of the six bridges. At each airlock, the officers in charge sent a thin metal ramp gliding out towards the other ship that floated in space just ten meters away, held in place by the grappling beams. The Combat Crewmen felt vibrations in their feet as the six bridges sent their extensions from beneath them, out through the hull of the Candlelight. When the magnetic ends of the boarding bridges reached the other ship, they attached themselves to the hull, and the lock officers activated the force field tubes — those cylinders of force which allowed pressurized air to surround each bridge.

Sandusky shouted an order into his headset mic.

"Stand clear! Hug the rails!"

Everyone moved away from the center of the walkways and pressed themselves against the rails. If the Beltherians fired through their own open airlocks the instant the Candlelight opened all six of hers, they could inflict heavy casualties if our personnel were standing in the line of fire.

The lock officers opened the double doors of all six airlocks. Across the boarding bridges, the airlocks of the Beltherian ship remained closed.

Again Chief Sandusky filled the room with his amplified voice. "L-50 teams, in position! Signal when ready!" An L-50 disrupter unit which has been attached to crystalsteel will reduce the material to blowing dust in about ten seconds.

At each airlock, the L-50 teams stepped out from behind the door frames and lifted the heavy units using the handles on the sides.

"L-50s teams . . . GO!" Sandusky bellowed.

Six teams hustled across the boarding bridges and one end of the L-50 against the closed airlock doors. They stabbed the activation switches and then raced back to the Candlelight.

Everyone's ears popped as the Candlelight's ventilation system roared to life and raised the air pressure in the big room well above normal so that the whirling crystalsteel dust from the disintegrated airlock doors would be pushed back into the Beltherian ship.

When all six of the L-50 disruptors activated, the outer airlock doors on the enemy ship quickly vaporized, and the disruptor units were enveloped by an expanding cloud of dust. The six teams, now wearing breathing masks, were ready to rush forward with the second L-50s for the inner doors. But they weren't needed because it was obvious the unseen inner airlocks doors were already open. The air began rushing out of the giant room and into the open airlocks. The higher air pressure pushed the thick cloud of metallic dust which filled the force field tubes right into the Beltherian ship.

The Beltherians had obviously not expected the trick, because they had opened the inner airlock doors so they could open fire on us the instant we destroyed the outer doors in some manner. However, that meant they were now blinded and choking in the area just beyond the open airlocks.

Chief Sandusky peered through the drifting cloud as it rushed into the other ship. Amidst the haze he spied a dim figure on his knees with his hands pressed tightly over his eyes. Sandusky gave a quick order into his headset, and several grenades were lobbed down the length of all six boarding bridges. They rolled into the gray cloud and vanished from site just before detonating inside the enemy ship, effectively neutralizing the threat of an ambush right inside the other ship's main airlock complex.

The instant the grenades went off, Sandusky shouted the order the combat crew had been waiting for.

"Over the side! Move out!"

Six Advance Teams charged across the boarding bridges, with Randy and Bill leading their own group in a mad rush to reach the outlaw vessel's airlock before the metallic dust cleared and gave the enemy a clear shot at them.

Randy and Bill burst through the enemy vessel's airlock and into a cloud of settling dust. Bill nearly collided with the muzzle of three-meter long, tripod-mounted plasma cannon that barred the way.

"SLIT!" shouted Bill. The two men dove in opposite directions, firing their rifles in midair. The blinded, dust-covered Beltherians behind the cannon were thrown backwards when plasma bolts slammed into their body armor. Dozens of enemy fighters further back started firing at the two men, but they aim was hampered by the dust-filled air.

Bill reached up and shoved the barrel of the plasma cannon hard enough to spin if around on its tripod. It kept turning until it was facing in the opposite direction. Bill and Randy scrambled to take cover behind the cannon's two-meter-wide blast guard, and they were quickly joined by others of the Advance Team as they rushed in through the airlock. Using the cover provided by the big gun, they opened fire on the enemy.

The Beltherian vessel's main airlock complex differed from the Candlelight's primarily in the shape of the big room. The side of the room opposite the six airlocks was a semi-circle, and the curved wall had six balconies, the lowest two of which connected to the three upper and three lower walkway bridges that led to the airlocks. Randy and Bill were on one of the three lower bridges.

The curved balconies were crowded with armored and well-armed Beltherians who were waiting to gun down the Combat Crewmen as the rushed through the airlocks. The last of the heavy, metallic dust that had spewed into the room from the vaporized airlocks was settling to the floor below the bridges, and the Beltherians were slicing up the air with a barrage of plasma bolts that lit up the room like lightning in a storm.

As the air cleared, it revealed that all six of the walkway bridges had a plasma cannon positioned at the airlocks, and the Beltherians had planned to blast the advancing force as they charged across the board bridges before they ever entered the airlocks. But the trick Candlelight personnel we'd pulled by raising the air pressure in the main air complex had thrown a sizable monkey wrench into their plans, and the men who had manned the cannons now lay dead, the first Beltherian casualties when the combat crew charged into the room.

Now the guns were serving as cover for the Combat Crewmen while the returned the fire of the Beltherians on the balconies.

Bill stood up behind the cannon he had inverted and took hold of the grips, aiming the big gun at the group of Beltherians on the balcony higher up. Before he could even squeeze the trigger the Beltherians were crawling all over each other to escape. The cannon erupted and cut a large gap in the catwalk, bucking a dozen Beltherians off and sending them crashing down to the balcony below.

At the five other airlocks, the other Combat Crewmen were spinning the guns around and giving the Beltherians a very bad day indeed. Suddenly the scores of enemy combatants were like ducks in a shooting gallery. The noise was deafening, and the smell of burning flesh began to permeate the air as the white bolts of super-heated metal sliced men in half and heated up sections of the metal catwalks to a glowing cherry red.

Randy Henson and the rest of his Advance Team stood beside Bill and protected his flanks from the few Beltherians who still remained in their positions despite the hail of plasma bolts that pounded the balconies. Bill had gone berserk with the plasma cannon, pounding away at the catwalks, ripping loose whole sections while the Beltherians left footprints up each other's backs in their stampeding retreat.

Meanwhile, more Candlelight personnel were pouring in. The tide of the battle had clearly turned. As the Beltherians retreated from main airlock complex, they began to seal the hatches behind them. The Combat Crewmen's advance was suddenly halted by closed doors.

Scores of Combat Crewmen had rushed forward to pursue the routed enemy, but as the last hatch was slammed in their faces, their advance came to screeching halt.

"Get out of the way! Get back!" shouted Bill Jenkins, waving the Combat Crewmen away from the sealed hatches. As he sighted his cannon on the obstructing doorway at the end of the bridge ahead of him, the Candlelight crewmen scrambled for cover. They knew that with Bill Jenkin's finger on the trigger, fire and brimstone was about to rain down on the heads of the unrighteous!

Bill blasted the door open, the men on the other cannons were only seconds behind, doing the same thing to the other five doors at the ends of the bridges opposite the airlocks. They even sent a barrage down each corridor they opened up, pushing the enemy further back into the ship. Finally Bill and the other gunners ceased fire so the Advance Teams cold lead the howling Combat Crewmen in pursuit of the routed enemy.

The first wave of attackers had passed Bill and Randy by, and the second wave was about to board the enemy vessel. From the blasted-open hatch at the end of the bridge ahead of Randy and Bill they could hear sporadic gunfire, and they saw several Combat Crewmen standing in the corridor, apparently waiting for orders to advance. It was beginning to look like the battle was nearly over. As he and Bill start walking along the bridge to join what was left of the battle, Randy was clearly not happy.

"Is it just me, or was this too easy?"

"It's just you," said Bill calmly. "We're big and bad and smart. We kicked their butts."

"Yeah, but Beltherians are supposed to be such badass super-soldiers. How come we won so quick.

"I told you. We were big and bad — "

"And smart, right. But not that smart. Something's wrong here. I'm starting to wonder if we're not being played for suckers, and those guys — "

Suddenly Bill shoved Randy to the right and then flattening himself against the catwalk. A bright lance of plasma arrowed by and flew down the corridor, plowing into a dozen Combat Crewmen. Bill scrambled up and dove into the corridor a few feet ahead to take cover He wedge himself into the narrow corner formed by the corridor wall and the door frame, then he watched several more plasma bolts attempt to fry his nose off as they shot by. He expected to find Randy taking shelter in the recess on the other side of the doorway.

But Randy was nowhere in sight.

Further down the corridor, Bill saw dozens of bodies, the Combat Crewmen who had been killed by the first barrage. A split second before he had saved himself and Randy from the same fate, Bill had notice several of the "dead" Beltherians on the catwalk to his right leap up with weapons in their hands, and he realized that Randy had been right — they'd been tricked.

But where was Randy now?

Bill heard a faint voice from back along the bridge he had been on.

"Are you nice and comfy back there?"

Bill had visions of his friend laying on the bridge to his right, dying while he made dumb jokes right to the end. Bill's voice sounded strained as he said, "I'm fine. Ummm . . . How are you?"

"Peachy," was the unexpected answer. "Except for being dead."

Several replies came to mind, and Bill picked a cautious one."

"Exactly how dead are you?"

The answer seemed a long time coming, or maybe it just seemed long, because the plasma cannon near the airlock fired a few more times, except that now it was aimed at the other airlocks as the second wave of Combat Crewmen tried to enter the ship.

"I'm just dead enough to fool them the way they fooled us," Randy's faint voice finally said.

"And where are you?"

Speaking between blasts of the cannon, Randy replied, "I'm layin' on a twisted section of catwalk at the end of the bridge we were on.. When you shoved me I had to jump over a six-foot gap that you blasted away when you were playing with that cannon."

"Oh . . . uh, sorry."

"That's okay. You meant well."

"Can you see how many of the cannons have been retaken?" Bill said.

"Nope, sorry. Not me, man. I'm dead."

Bill was glad his friend was alive, but he still wanted to strangle him for joking at a time like this. "You do a lot of talking for a dead man."

"It's just a postmortem reflex. I'm definitely dead."

The sounds of gunfire from the main airlock complex were increasing, and Bill squirmed against the door frame, his meager protection from certain death, while he listened to a new battle take place around the corner. Plasma bolts occasionally lanced past him, and he knew the Beltherians on the cannon were keeping a close eye on the corridor to make sure the Advance Teams in the first wave had no chance of doubling back and rescuing the endangered second wave of attackers.

Bill felt helpless and frustrated as he was forced cower in the corner while his comrades were taking casualties while they tried to enter the main airlock complex. He knew that sticking his head out would be inviting a quick demise, but perhaps Randy could tell him what was happening.

"Hey, maybe your head could twitch over towards the airlock for a quick peek."

Laying on the catwalk in plain sit of all the formerly "dead" Beltherians who were now covering the airlocks and the corridor doors while they killed anyone foolish enough to show themselves meant that Randy was risking death with the slightest movement. But peeking from beyond the grave, Randy managed a cautious survey of the situation. A few seconds later he whispered his report in a barely audible voice.

"Bad news, Bill. The guys who man three of the cannons have a good line of fire on every other bridge. And they're holding back the second wave by keeping those cannons ready to fire across the boarding bridge. Hopefully, the airlocks are closed up and protected by shields at this point. But the first wave can't double back and deal with these guys without being roasted by cannon fire."

The Beltherians had employed a bold and brilliant strategy that now endangered not only the crew of the Candlelight but the ship itself, as well as the Rembrandt hostages who were imprisoned aboard the Beltherian ship.

Bill Jenkins seethed with anger as he pressed himself back against the door frame, agonized by the helpless feeling that he was trapped and had no way to help his friends and colleagues.

Randy's faint voice was barely audible amidst the chaos of cannon fire and gunshots from the men in the men big room behind him.

"Bill, I'm going to take out the guys at the nearest cannon, okay? Give me some cover when I do." Randy waited for a response, but when none came, he called out in a louder voice. "Bill . . . are you ready?"

Bill Jenkins was staring straight ahead and pondering by a wild idea he had just devised, a possible way to turn the tables on their clever enemy. He rehearsed the plan in his mind and realized it just might work.

"Randy, I've got an idea."

"You've got what? Say that again."

Bill spoke loudly above the noise. "I've got an idea. Be ready."

"Right. Got it. Ummm . . . ready for what?"

Bill had noticed something poking him in the back as he pressed himself into the corner or the doorframe. He realized it was the panel that controlled the hatch he had blasted with the cannon . . . and something else as well. The narrow doorframe provided scant cover from the gunfire coming from the eagle-eyed Beltherians in the main airlock complex, but Bill managed to twist himself around and look down at the control panel. Fortunately the labels on the switches were icons he could understand.

Suddenly an alarm sounded within the main airlock complex, and the bridge on which the nearest plasma cannon rested started retracting into the wall slot beneath Bill's feet.

"Come to Daddy," chuckled Bill as he watched the suddenly anxious Beltherians at the canyon realize the danger they were in. On the catwalk near other end of the bridge, Randy desperately tried to suppress his laughter while remain convincing dead.

The Beltherians were far less amused — in fact, they went stark raving mad. The cannon began to hammer the think bulkhead behind Bill, buffeting him violently as he leaned against the other side. Finally the heat imparted to the crystalsteel by the plasma bolts began to burn his back, but he knew that if he moved away from it he would expose him to gunfire from the other Beltherians further to the side.

Suddenly the cannon ceased firing. The bridge was almost fully retracted, and one of the Beltherians dashed forward to reach the control panel. Just before he got to the mouth of the corridor, Randy sat up on the catwalk nearby.

"Gotcha!" he screamed as he pumped plasma through the outlaw with a volley of well-aim shots. The Beltherian was pushed right over the handrail of the bridge, and his body fell eight meters to the floor below. The other man leaped from cover, aiming his rifle. Randy fired first and nailed him high on the chest. He dropped like a bag of wet sand.

The retracting bridge brought the cannon to the mouth of the corridor, and the muzzle butted against the wall to one side of the door. It held the cannon still while the bridge slid out from under it. Seconds later the cannon toppled from the end of the disappearing bridge and crashed to the floor of the huge room.

Crewmen from the first wave sprinted down the corridor towards Bill when the cannon on the bridge was no longer a threat. Bill stepped out and started firing at the gunners on the remaining two cannons, joined by a dozen Combat Crewmen. Within seconds the Beltherians lay dead or wounded.

Randy was still sitting on the catwalk, and he watched the second wave streamed across the five bridges which spanned the main airlock complex. Across the room, at the airlock nearest him, he saw a crowd of Combat Crewmen waiting for Bill to re-extend the bridge. One of them waved at Randy.

Randy waved back.

_______________*___________*___________*

A short lesson in starship design: Military starships don't depend on elevators to move between levels. If the power goes out during a battle, an elevator becomes less than useless. Therefore, escalators are also included in the ships' designs, because a nonworking escalator still functions as a stairway. Also, escalators can carry more people at one time, and no one has to wait for them to arrive at a given level.

The Beltherian ship had twenty levels connected by two sets of escalators. Transportation between the first level and the twentieth was served by two separate sets of long, fast escalators. The first set traveled from the first level to the tenth (angling from the rear of the ship towards the front), and the second set went from the tenth level to the twentieth (angling back in the opposite direction). Each of the twenty levels had its own jumping on/off point along the edge of the moving escalators, with two-meter wide turntables on the floor provided an easy way to enter and exit the escalators.

_______________*___________*___________*

And now a short lesson in combat tactics: Never try to run up a ten-story non-working escalator — especially when someone is shooting at you. According to combat veterans, the leg cramps hurt worse than being shot, and you usually end up with both.

Yet on this occasion there seemed to be no avoiding the rigorous climb. The elevators has been disabled, and the Combat Crewmen were trying to fight their way up the first set of escalators, which were also not working, thanks to the clever Beltherians.

"There's gotta be a better way, Bill," said Randy as they surveyed the scene from the third-level platform. Combat Crewmen, either dead or wounded, littered the immobile escalators. Medical corpsmen were treating the wounded when they weren't directly in the line of fire. The Advanced Teams were making slow progress. The Beltherians had found good positions higher up, and they were picking off the Candlelight personnel whenever they tried to rush up the escalators. Bill Jenkins and Randy Henson shouldered their way over to Chief Sandusky, who was conferring with the Advance Team leaders via his headset.

"Chief, what level is the enemy on?" said Bill.

Sandusky pushed up the visor on his helmet and looked Bill in the eye for a moment the same way poker players study their opponents. "You've got an idea, Jenkins. What is it?"

Bill smiled faintly. "A short cut to the upper level."

Sandusky knew the look on Bill's face. He glanced up the long escalator and watched a few plasma bolts streak back and forth between his men and the Beltherians higher up.

"Some are the ninth level, but most are on the tenth, which is the halfway platform between the upper and lower sets of escalators. It's also a junction of corridors that will give them the ability to hit us from all sides, even if get up to it."
"I assume they've got all the maintenance crawlways blocked, and they — "

"Of course they do. They've even folded up the stairs between the catwalks in the main airlock complex."

"We could shut off the artificial gravity and float up — "

"We tried that. The artificial gravity won't shut off. Besides, they'll expect something from the main airlock complex. We've got to figure a way to get above them, some way they won't anticipate. If we start using L-50s on the hull we might end up killing a few hundred hostages in the chambers we cut into."

Randy was standing close behind Bill. "Are we sure there are hostages?"

"Yep. The Beltherian captain contacted the Candlelight and threatened to kill them all if we didn't withdraw. And he showed a few dozen hostages on camera."

"Did the fool think we would really back off just because — "

"Of course not. He just wanted us to know there were hostages."

"Oh . . . right. So, what did the captain tell him?"

"He just quoted Stellafleet regulations about giving no quarter to an enemy who holds hostages — and then the captain said a few nonregulation things that surprised even me." Sandusky chuckled.

"I'll bet some of the hostages are being kept in the corridors behind the other airlocks to prevent us from coming in that way."

"Right. They're probably all over the place, stuffed into crawlways, crammed into airlocks — "

"Okay, okay, I get the picture!" said Bill, looking sickly as he visualized the ways the hostages could be used. "But what I can't figure out," he mumbled, "is what the Beltherians hope to gain by all this."

Sandusky we still listing the possible hiding places where hostages might be. "There are undoubtedly a few hundred hostages down in the cargo hold, too. They'd be out of the way down there. I'll bet it's so crowded they can't even move — "

"The cargo hold! Bingo!" Bill blurted out. He spun around and started dragging Randy back towards the main air lock complex while he shouted over his shoulder. "Stand by for a flanking maneuver, Chief!"

Chief Sandusky stood there shouting at him. "Jenkins! What are you up to now?"

But Bill was racing down the corridor with the bewildered Randy following closely. As they pushed their way through the bottle-necked crowd, Bill called out to some of the men.

"Horace! Raymond! Smitty! Bring about twenty guys with you. I think I've got us a back door figured out!" They wove there way through the halted second wave until they back at the main airlock complex. Bill started giving hasty orders to the group that had followed him, even though several advance team leaders were among them. The team leaders seemed willing for the moment to let Bill run things . . . at least until they found out what was going on.

"Find a remote control unit for the freight lifters. And get the floor rolled back to exposed the cargo hold, so we can see what's down there."

After a quick search, Horace Biggs located a wall box that held one of the remotes units that controlled the freight lifters — the flying gizmos equipped with electromagnets, gravity generators, force field generators, and complex robotic gripper arms. The freight lifters were the work horses of the cargo hold, used for loading and unloading and general rearrangement.

When three of the freight lifters dropped down from the ceiling slots, Randy was looking up suspiciously.

"Why didn't the Beltherians realize we'd use these to get up to the catwalks? Bill, this seems too easy."

Bill Jenkins was grinning as he direct the freight lifters towards the cargo hold. "You're missing the point, partner. First of all, even if these had not worked, our own freight lifters would have. We could just bring them over. Get it? Therefore — "

" — therefore, the Beltherians must be ready for us up there," said Randy, as he looked up at the higher balconies. "They've probably got hostages crammed into the corridors beyond those hatches on the upper catwalk."

"True, which means we can't blast the doors, but we could use L-50s to dust 'em off. So, think about it, What happen next?" said Bill, still grinning. Randy tried to visualize the scene. The doors vanish when the L-50s were activated; the hostages would scream and stampede in all directions when suddenly caught in a crossfire between the outlaws and the Candlelight personnel. A very messy situation.

Randy shock his head. "Utter chaos. Admittedly some of the hostages would stampede towards the enemy, but — "

"No, no, no . . . that's not what I mean. It's obvious if you just — wait a second." Bill was looking down at the floor of the big room when it starting rolling aside, revealing the cargo hold beneath it.

Scores of Combat Crewmen lined the bridges in the main airlock, waiting to see what old Heckle and Jeckle were cooking up for the well-entrenched Beltherians. When the floor of the huge room slide back, they found themselves gazing down at the frightened, upturned faces of about sixty hostages, crowded in among the rest of the Rembrandt's plundered loot.

"Hang on, folks!" shouted Randy. "Help is on the way. But for right now, you'd better crawl under something and hide."

"Hey, Randy," said Bill, pointing at something in the cargo hold. "Look here."

"Yeah. Sheets of pure platinum. Wow, they must be worth a fortune."

"No, dummy, I mean we can use "em for platforms. To carry us up." Bill turned to Horace Biggs and handed him the remote control for the freight lifters. "Use the gravity generator to stick the lifters right in the middle of the plates, Horace, and then bring 'em up level with this bridge." Bill turned back to towards Randy. "Answer me this one fascinating question. Why are the Beltherians resisting?"
Randy took a long moment to answer. Then he just said, " . . . Huh?"

Bill struggled to remain patient as he said, "What can they possibly hope to gain by shooting it out with us here in the middle of deep space with a wrecked ship? I mean . . . why don't they just give up?"

Randy knew everyone was watching him, and he suddenly felt like the looser at the state spelling bee. In a low voice he said, "Uh . . . they're stubborn?"

"Nope," said Bill, look entirely too pleased with himself. "Not stubborn. Smart. Both smart and very desperate. They know they'll get the death penalty from the Alliance Council of Justice for what they've done, so there's only one way they can escape."

Bill passed for dramatic effect and smiled as he looked around at the bewildered crowd. Finally he said, "Their only hope of escape is to take over the Candlelight."

Randy looked as stunned at the rest of the crowd, but he was the one who put it into words. "You're joking! How could — "

"What's the alternative?"

Randy was staring off at nothing in general, eyes unfocused while he reasoned it out. Then he started mumbling to himself. "Damn, your right . . . What choice do they have? They're struck out here and . . . Man, those guys are . . . " He turned to his friend just as the crowd around him started debating the wild idea. "But . . . how, Bill?"

Bill was having fun being the star of the show, because he'd figured out what the super-intelligent Beltherians were planning.

"It's simple. They let us board their ship, killing off as many of us as they can. Then they bottleneck us at the escalators until our second wave is aboard. When they're sure we've advanced far enough up the escalators to get everybody out of the main airlock complex, all the Beltherians come out from up there — " Bill pointed at the highest balcony, " — and attack us from behind with half their force, while the other half boards the Candlelight.

Randy and the rest of the crowd finally got it, and they all stared at each other with big round eyes. Randy jumped in and started describing what would come next. "And since all the Combat Crewmen are on this ship, the Beltherians wouldn't have much trouble taking over ours!"

"Precisely," said Bill. "In fact, they could even retake those five remaining cannons at the airlocks and keep us pinned down here until they're in full control of the Candlelight. Then, when they withdraw our boarding bridges, this ship will decompress and we'll all die."

Randy suddenly lurched as if somebody goosed him in the ribs. In a voice two octaves higher than usual, he exclaimed, "Hey! That's why they set up those cannons and the first place! They weren't 'there to take potshots at the Candlelight through our airlocks — "

"Which never even tried to do," Bill said, nodding his head slowly. "I wondered why they didn't fire those damn things at us through their airlocks."

"Exactly!" Randy said. "They put the cannons there to keep us from getting back to their airlocks from inside this ship after the Beltherians get aboard the Candlelight

The other Combat Crewmen standing around were nodding in agreement. Lt. Lawson, one of the Advance Team leaders, was speaking into his headset, informing Chief Sandusky of Bill Jenkin's theory. After a moment Lt. Lawson spoke.

"The chief says if you're right, we can expect the Beltherians to make their move the minute you show up on the upper level balcony."

"Sure," said Bill. "They expect us to try a rear attack, but they'll be counting on a small force. There're only six doors on the highest level. They think we'll attack from behind with just a small force as a diversion for the main force at the escalators. Then they just swarm out from every door up there, hit us from behind, and attack the Candlelight."

Lt. Lawson said, "The ship's monitor cameras up there on the balcony will show them that we're on the upper level, so we can't expect to surprise them."

"True, but that's the whole idea. We'll just be there to convince the Beltherians we have no idea what they're planning. They'll be focused on getting down to here, and we can fall back to the far ends of the catwalk and let them think their plan is working."

As Bill finished speaking, dozens of Combat Crewmen entered the main airlock complex from the direction of the escalators. Following Chief Sandusky's orders, the Combat Crewmen were taking up positions in the big room to ambush the Beltherians when they tried their sneaky rear assault from the upper-level catwalks.

Horace Biggs had directed three of the floating freight lifters to attach themselves to three of the banded stacks of platinum plates down in the cargo hold. The plates were about five meters square, and Horace raised them up like magic carpets until they were even with the bridge that was crowded with Combat Crewmen. The freight lifters' built-in gyros kept the plates level when dozens of the Combat Crewmen stepped onto each of the three stacks of hover metal plates.

Three improvised floating platforms, each carrying a group of Combat Crewmen, rose up towards the highest of the curved catwalks in the main airlock complex. Meanwhile, one hundred and fifty Combat Crewmen carefully positioned themselves below the lowest catwalk, ready to ambush the Beltherians when they were baited into springing their own trap.

The three platforms arrived at the highest catwalk simultaneously. Tension was running high. The Combat Crewmen half expected the Beltherians to open the doors and attack before they could even get on the catwalk. But the doors remained closed as the Candlelight personnel climbed over the guardrails and deployed along the curved balcony.

"What now?" said Lt. Lawson. He and all the other men stood with their backs to the wall between the closed door, weapons raised and ready. But nothing happened.
"Maybe we're supposed to try to open the doors," said Bill. "They don't expect us to be too bright. Remember, Beltherians are bred for intelligence. With them, it's guaranteed."

"Right," said Randy. He showed off his white teeth with a proud smile. "With us, it was just luck."

Lt. Lawson looked more annoyed than impressed. "Then I suggest we start acting a little smarter and figure out what to do. I'm beginning to doubt your assessment of their strategy."

Bill didn't like the idea that he hadn't been quite as brilliant as he'd thought. "Okay then, let's try the touch plates. If they work, we'll open all the doors at once. Maybe I'm wrong about their plan, but we can still ambush them from the rear."

"Agreed. Maybe these guys aren't quite the geniuses we think they are. So far, I haven't — wait a second." Lt. Lawson listened to something in his headset for a moment, then she said, "Sandusky says the enemy is rolling grenades down the escalators. He wants to know what the holdup is."

"Tell him to go squat in mud puddle," said Randy.

"No thank you, but feel free to tell him yourself if — "

Suddenly all the doors shot open at once, and a barrage of plasma bolts emerged, obviously intended to cut down the Combat Crewmen the Beltherians knew had reached the catwalk. But Candlelight personnel were still standing with their backs to the wall, and they starting tossing grenades around the corner while staying out of the line of fire.

When Bill Jenkins reached around the corner to toss his second grenade, a steel-like hand clamped his wrist and yanked him through the door. He collided with a tall Beltherian who brought his knee up into Bill's groin and then pulled the poor sagging man against him for cover. Several Beltherians charged by on their way to the catwalk, and Bill heard more gun fire behind him.

Bill couldn't make his legs support him, but when the Beltherian tried to twist Bill's plasma rifle from his hand, Bill hung on doggedly. While Bill clung to the weapon, the Beltherian spun around quickly, slinging Bill in a fast arc that ended against the wall, stunning Bill for a moment. The Beltherian ripped the plasma rifle away from Bill tossed it aside.

The action was on the catwalk, and that's where the Beltherian wanted to be. Half-conscious, Bill Jenkins was dimly aware of being held up by the other man, who was using Bill's body for cover while he gunned down his comrades. The man's strength was frightening. The tall Beltherian carried Bill in front of him like a sleepy child.

The Beltherians who poured through the doors on the highest catwalk didn't need the stairways they had folded up to prevent the Candlelight's people from using them. They were swarming down the wall of the big room, swinging from catwalk to catwalk like acrobats. About half of the Combat Crewmen on the highest catwalk were already dead, killed in the first moments of the Beltherians' maniacal charge. Several dead Beltherians also littered the catwalk, but most of them were headed for the catwalks below.

As the first of them reached the level of the upper three bridges in the main airlock area, the Combat Crewmen stepped out from beneath the lowest catwalk and opened fire. The Beltherians began dropping from the higher catwalks like the leaves of Fall.

Chaos reigned on the uppermost catwalk. After most of the Beltherians had flowed past them, the surviving Combat Crewmen pushed inward towards the escalator halfway area, battling the few Beltherians who remained pinned down in that area.

But on several of the lower catwalks in the main airlock complex, some of the Beltherians began climbing back up when they saw the ambush below.

When the Beltherian who held Bill Jenkins in front of him as cover realized how dramatically the battle had turned, he began firing wildly at the Combat Crewmen who were coming down the corridor from the escalators.

Sluggishly, only half conscious, Bill grabbed the Beltherian's right forearm and pushed the rifle upward. Plasma bolts plowed into the ceiling above the heads of the advancing Candlelight personnel. As the Beltherian dragged his helpless human shield back onto the catwalk, Bill saw Randy Henson running towards him along the catwalk to his right. The other Beltherians had split up and retreated in both directions along the catwalk.

The Beltherian who held Bill started trying to peel him off his forearm, but Bill hung on like a leech. Blood ozzed from a cut in Bill's forehead, and his gonads ached all the way up to his eyebrows. It was all he could do just to wrap his hands around the man's forearms and try to keep him from turning the rifle on his own people. The Beltherian stayed close to the wall between two of the doors.

As Bill and the manically strong Beltherian struggled, Randy Henson rushed towards them while he stared at the weaving rifle held in one of the Beltherian's sizable hand. Randy darted sideways just as it fired, barely missing him. The Beltherian tried to draw a bead on Randy, but Bill's clinging weight slowed him enough to make him miss each time he fired. Randy danced around like a cross between a matador and a drunk ballerina.

Through the fog of his half-conscious state, Bill saw that Randy wasn't carrying his rifle, and his pistol was still in his holster. Dimly Bill wondered why Randy didn't draw his weapon.

Bill hugged the Beltherian's stony forearm like a kitten clinging to a tree limb, while Randy dodged the bright spears of plasma. Bill turned his head enough to sink his teeth into the Beltherian's forearm near the wrist. He clamed his jaw tightly, determined to die in that position and make the Beltherian wear him like a wristwatch.

The Beltherian was facing the wall, and Randy took two running steps before he launched himself and landed heavily on the back of the big man. He wrapped his arms around the Beltherian's neck and shouted, "Let him go, Bill!"

Bill dropped to the floor at the Beltherian's feet while Randy swung his legs up on either side of the man's torso and planted his feet against the wall. He shoved hard, and the Beltherian stumbled backwards, backpedaling frantically while Randy's clinging weight hauled them both towards the guardrail. The railing caught Randy's dangling legs at mid-thigh. Both he and the Beltherian see-sawed backwards, and Randy hooked the backs of knees over the rail. The Beltherian squirmed and twisted atop Randy, flaiing his arms about in search of something to grip.

Randy's body fell over backwards and collided with the outside of the handrail, hanging upside down by his knees. When he let go of the Beltherian's neck, the man spun away and made the long drop to the cargo hold below.

Randy just hung be his knees for a moment like a sleep bat before he wearily hauled himself back up to the catwalk.

Bill Jenkins was a battered mess. Randy helped him, filled with motherly concern for his injured friend. Bill tried to pull his bruised lips into a smile, revealing teeth that were tinged with blood.

"Better stay here and wait for the medics," said Randy.

"Can I ask a question, partner?"

"Sure."

"Why didn't you shoot that nasty man in the face?"

"Because I slap, clean, completely ran out of ammunition."

"Good move, Henson. I suppose you expect to borrow a reload from me. Henson the Mooch strikes again."

"It would be appreciated." Randy smiled.

"Well, I don't know," said Bill, looking up at the ceiling the way parents do when kids ask for one more cookie. "What have you done for me lately?"

Chief Sandusky hurried over to the two men and did a double-take at the sight of Bill's injured face. "Great Hannibal's elephants, Jenkins! Are you alive in there?"

Bill's attempt to smile was mixed with blood and swollen flesh. "It's debatable, Chief. How goes the war?"

Sandusky shook his head and glanced around at the body-strewn catwalk. "Partly good and partly bad," he said. All around them, medics were arriving to treat the wounded. Other Combat Crewmen were putting shackles on the surviving Beltherians, even the wounded ones. The sound of gunfire from the escalator halfway area down the nearby corridor and the main airlock complex below had all but ceased.

"Is it over, Chief?" said Randy.

"Not quite. There are still two small pockets of enemy resistance. One group has barricaded themselves in the armor. And about six of the top officers have sealed themselves in the ship's bridge."

"Hiding?"

"Rigging something up, more than likely — and it's got me worried." Sandusky studied Bill's damaged face for a moment. "Can you still fight, son?"

Bill drew a deep breath and let out noisily. Then he said, "Sure . . . if you'll let me. But a little local anesthetic would help."

Sandusky motioned to one of the medics who was finishing up his treatment on a wounded crewmen. The medic came over and went quietly to work on Bill's face. While the medic was treating Bill, Sandusky briefed all the men who had gathered around for a status update.

"I've been given two suggestions about how to deal with those guys in the armory. One way would be to pump sleep gas in there, and the other way is to use an L-50 on the hull adjacent to the armory. Rapid decompression."

"What if there are hostages in — "

"No hostages. We tapped into the monitor cameras and took a peek."

"Good. Then drill the damn hull," said Randy.

"No," said Bill, flinching as the medic injected his bruises with a handheld mechmed unit (mechanical medic).

"Why?" said Sandusky. "Decompression would be faster — "

"Not fast enough," said Bill. "If they know they're about to die, they'll detonate the explosives in the armory. And if they've prepared for that already, it could be done in a split second. But if you use a high concentration of the colorless, odorless sleep gas, they'll hit the floor before they even know they're falling."

Sandusky nodded. "Good thinking. We use the gas then. I hope they don't put on pressure suits before we get set up." Then he spoke into his headset, relaying instructions to the advance teams down at the armory. Meanwhile the medic finished treating Bill's wounds. At Bill's request, the medic gave him a mild stimulant.

Randy gave his friend a forlorn and sympathetic look. "What about your, uh . . . other injury?"

"What other injury?" said Bill.

"You know, your . . . ummm . . . " Randy glanced downward.

"Oh! You mean where he kneed me in the — hey, I refuse to have that anesthetized!"

"Why not? You sure won't be using it for awhile."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Hey, I wouldn't even think about it for a while!"

"All right, you two," interrupted Sandusky. "Business before pleasure."

"Yep, that's just what I was telling Bill."

Sandusky turned and headed for the escalator that would take him up to bridge area. Randy and Bill both retrieved their fallen weapons, made certain they were fully reloaded, and then they hurried to catch up, even though Bill was limping badly. Sandusky reached the escalators first and started bounding up the still-motionless steps. Several Combat Crewmen were poking around inside an open circuit box next to the escalators. Bill Jenkins limped to the foot of the ten-story escalator and gazed up the length of it with a sick expression. Then he drew a deep breath and started upward.

"Hold it," said one of the men at the circuit box. The men mumbled to each other for a moment. Then Randy and Bill heard the click of the circuit breaker being reset. The escalators began moving.

"Bless you, my son," Bill said thankfully. He and Randy stepped onto the escalators. Sandusky was about thirty feet ahead of them, but he kept on climbing when the escalator began to move.

"Hey, Chief?" Randy called out. "Are we going to gas those officers in the bridge are, too?"

The chief was well ahead of them, so he stopped for a moment and turned around answer. "No. We'll have to break in. If we gas the bridge area, the Beltherian officers will be out cold for at least an hour. We want to know if they've rigged the ship to self-destruct or something. So, we've gotta take the bridge the hard way."

Several minutes later they joined a crowd of Combat Crewmen in the wide corridor just outside the ship's bridge. The doors along the corridor were all open because the rooms had been searched for hostages. Sandusky started picking the men who would lead the assault.

"Hey, what about us, Chief?" said Bill.

"Not you, Jenkins. Your injuries will make you too slow," said Sandusky, then he grinned when he added, "and too ugly." Bill's eyes were swollen almost shut, and his face was turning hideous shades of purple from his eyebrows to cheekbones.

"What? Chief, you mean I gotta stay back here with you?"

"What at you talking about? I'm not staying back here."

"If you get to go, then by God I must not be too ugly!" shouted Bill indignantly. The surrounding crowd burst out laughing. After glaring at Bill for a moment, Sandusky finally smiled and spoke.

"Oh hell, all right . . . you can come along, you damn cripple, but stay at the back of the group so you won't get run over." Then he turned to the men standing next to the heavy L-50 unit. "Are you guys all set?"

Gil Radford and Aadi Batra lifted the unit by its handle. A low hum and a green light on the top indicated that the L-50 was armed and ready.

"Put your breathing masks on," Sandusky ordered. Many of the Combat Crewmen had already donned the small filter masks, so Sandusky nodded to Radford and Batra. They rushed forward to place the L-50 at the bottom of the locked door which lead to the bridge. As soon as Gil Radford activated the device, he and Aadi hurried back to join the rest of the men, fifty feet from the door.

The door dissolved into a cloud of metallic dust that rolled back towards the men in the hall. Chief Sandusky lobbed a concussion grenade down the hall and shouted, "Take cover!" Everyone ducked quickly into the open doors along the corridor. The grenade exploded with a deafening roar, and a concussion wave blew back down the corridor past the open doors, pushing most of the crystalsteel dust ahead of it.

Inside the bridge, the dust cloud and the concussion wave raced up a short flight of stairs at the back of the room, picked up the Beltherian second-in-command who had been standing near the door, carried him over several consoles, and dropped him on top of the tracking officer, slamming the man down onto his console.

In the corridor outside, Bill didn't wait for Sandusky to give any orders — he bolted from cover while the dust was still blowing past and hobbled towards the bridge doorway, looking like a man in three-legged race at the picnic. Randy had no trouble staying close behind him, wincing with sympathy as he watched Bill ignore the pain that his shuffling run was causing him.

Behind the two men came the rest of the Combat Crewmen. They rushed up the stairs at the rear of the bridge, weapons shouldered and read to fire. Four Beltherian officers stood among their consoles with hands raised, their faces expressionless, their eyes riveted on the advancing assault team. The crystalsteel dust was settling rapidly, clearing the air as it did so.

The captain stood at the far side of the room in front of the main view screen, his hands also in the air, his face as unreadable as a Vegas poker dealer. There was something about the faintly smug look on his face — something that instantly infuriated Randy and Bill.

The two men ripped off their filter masked and tossed them aside as they bolted towards the captain, leaping over consoles and chairs, wearing a matched set of murderous expressions. The Beltherian captain's slight smile never wavered, but he tensed visibly as the advancing madmen closed the gap.

Randy blasted the deck at the captain's feet, an effective way to ruin a man's fighting stance. Bill Jenkins reached the captain first, and he threw a body-block into him that slammed the Beltherian back against the big display screen, pinning him there. Randy skidded to halt and shoved the muzzle of his rifle firmly against the captain's nose, pushing his head back against the view screen.

The Beltherian captain's unearthly face was a striking portrait of contradictions: his yellow eyes and fierce features made him look like the last man a sane person would ever want to provoke. But his eerie calm and absolutely control suddenly made Randy and Bill feel like their efforts to intimidate him were pathetic and childish.

Sandusky's sharp command from across the room broke the tense moment. "Stand down, both of you! We need that man alive and conscious!"

Randy and Bill slowly pulled back from the Beltherian captain without ever taking their eyes off his savage, yellow gaze. Randy's rifle remained pointed at the center of the captain's face, and all the other men in the room were transfixed by the sight, wondering if the Beltherian captain's head was about to be blown off.

The chief watched silently until he was sure his two resident lunatics weren't going to kill their most valuable prisoner. Then he spoke a few quiet words into his headset. After listening to a reply, he said, "Good, we'll bring the bridge officers down right away." He looked around and spoke to his men while they were placing cuffs on the Beltherian officers. "They gassed the armory. The fighting is over."

He gave the Beltherian captain a long, mocking look. The news of the Beltherians' ultimate defeat finally broke the man's icy calm. The captain's strange yellow eyes glittered with suppressed anger. His upper lip twitched faintly, like a snarl that was held on a lease. Sandusky said, "Put the cuffs on Rover, here, and trot him off to the kennel."

As Randy was snapping cuffs on the outlaw captain, he spoke very quietly, "He does look a little like a dog. I wonder if these guys bark when their in heat?"

Despite his demonic appearance and savage nature, the captain's stoic calm had returned, and he only smiled faintly at Randy's insult.

Bill was remembering his earlier experience with the Beltherian during the battle. Before they followed the other Combat Crewmen and their prisoners as they left the bridge, Bill pulled his own set of cuffs from his equipment belt and said, "Let's cuff his ankles, too. Just to be sure."

______________________________________


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Is there no man on Earth who has the wisdom and innocence of a child?
~ The Space Children (1958)


Last edited by Bud Brewster on Sun May 06, 2018 2:33 pm; edited 5 times in total
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Gord Green
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 28, 2016 7:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ya'har Matey! I was waiting for the cutlasses and pikes!

Vivid descriptives .... good movement and clarity of actions!
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Bud Brewster
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 28, 2016 11:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

___________________________________

Thanks, Gord! Uh . . . you don't think "grappling beams" is a bit much?

That whole battle and the boarding of the ship was inspired by The Sea Hawk, right down to the way the Candlelight circles the enemy ship, moves in close, pulls the two ships together with the grappling hooks . . . I mean, "beams", and then has the good guys cross over on "gang planks" -- the boarding bridges with the force field tubes.






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Gord Green
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PostPosted: Mon Aug 29, 2016 5:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I was waiting for the boarders to "swing" across on cables with their cutlasses in their teeth! LOL

Actually, the classical boarding methods translated by future rechnology was great! Enjoyed it tremendosly as its' inspiration was triggered in my mind as I read it. It made it extra enjoyable and I could feel the adrenaline and testosterone rising!

So much more realistic than just "beaming" aboard and more hand to hand, mano ex mano !

The Beltherians are a worthy adversary indeed. Can geneticly unaugmented humans have any chance against them ? Their code of "morality" is more dangerous than their physical attributes and can be looked at as an analogy to todays struggle against Isis and our forefathers against the Nazis .

Good rousing yarn and the perfect space combat opera in the spirit of Haldeman's FOREVER WAR and Heinlien's STARSHIP TROOPERS !
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