THE HELMSMAN: Director's Cut Edition (32 page)

The big rating rubbed his chin and frowned, studying a section of the control panel before him.
“'Nadzur'
is the word for 'mine' in Vertrucht, isn't it, Lieutenant Brim?” he asked.

“Sure is,” Brim said.

Barbousse nodded. “And I know
'imbal'
means 'load.' I heard someone say that while we were tryin’ to start those field pieces back on A’zurn.” Passing his hand over part of the controls, he turned a whole sector to flashing green, then rubbed his chin. “Yes, sir,” he said presently, “I can work it. Looks like we've got ten mines on board. “

Brim grinned. “That's it, then,” he said. “Here's my plan. In the next couple of cycles, you're going to kick one of those out into our wake and immediately detonate it. From any distance at all, it'll look like we've had one great-grandsire of a malfunction. “

Theada grimaced. “A space mine,” he whispered with awe in his voice.

“The worse we can make it look, the better,” Brim continued. “Because right after that, we're going to broadcast on the intergalactic emergency channel that our steering's gone.”

“Oh, I get it,” Theada exclaimed. “Out of control.”

“Right,” Brim said with mock melodrama. “Heading for a crash landing on Typro.” He laughed grimly. “Bet you didn't expect anything like a crash landing, now, did you?”

“No,” Theada agreed. “I suppose I didn't expect anything like
that.
But the longer I work with you, Wilf, well, it gets easier all the time.”

* * * *

“All weapons systems are energized, and I've got a star mine in the first hoop,” Barbousse reported, glancing at the warty globe suspended in the forward-most repulsion ring. Twelve identical rings formed a flux tunnel extending over the stern and into the little starship's wake. At a gentle chiming, he nodded to the COMM cabinet. “Incoming BURST message, Lieutenant,” he announced.

Brim turned to his own BURST display. “MISSION ABORT,” it read. “TOO RISKY FOR YOU. MUCH OBLIGED ANYWAY. “

“I expected as much,” he said, biting his lip. He narrowed his eyes and turned to Barbousse. “Send, 'No options. On our way. Where do we meet?'“

All eyes were on the COMM now. The display flashed. “DAMN FOOLS,” it read, “AND THANK VOOT! CABLE ROUTE 981, ZONE 54G, OPEN LORRY W/YELLOW CANISTERS. NUMBER 8 ON CAB ROOF. GOOD LUCK.”

Brim checked his charts of Typro and nodded. “All right,” he said. “Everybody set?”

“Let's do it,” Ursis said. “Our spy is clearly ready to go, too. “

Brim turned in his console to face Barbousse. “Let the mine go,” he said tensely. “And blow it up as soon as it's safe!”

“Free…” Barbousse said as the deadly star mine accelerated aft through the repulsion rings and disappeared into the darkness. “Detonating.” Immediately, a terrific flash pulsed the Hyperscreens. This was followed by a glowing, burgeoning, mountain-sized cloud that rapidly enveloped them in a paroxysm of flame and concussion.

Eyes slitted against the glare, Brim wrestled desperately with the controls as the little ship tumbled in the fiery blast, generators surging wildly. “Get ready on the KA'PPA, Barbousse,” he shouted over the blazing confusion outside. “Standard code sent in the clear!”

When the worst was passed, Brim turned the controls over to Theada and fought his way back to the COMM cabinet. “BEWARE,” he KA'PPAed in Vertrucht. “NAVIGATIONAL MENACE. BLOWN STEERING ENGINES. KEEP AWAY. SHIP OUT OF CONTROL. BEWARE.” Then he regained his Helmsman's console and began to maneuver the little starship in awkward-looking, wobbling loops, each carefully calculated to bring the ship a little closer to Typro.

Momentarily, the authenticator began to chime with almost constant challenges. “That's got somebody's interest,” Brim grunted with satisfaction as he skidded into a wild turn to port nadir, the starframe creaking with strain. “They'll want to use short-range COMM in a moment, Barbousse. Switch it up here to my station — voice only —
no
video!” As a tiny area on his center console glowed green, he swerved again sharply to port. “Beware,” he broadcast in Vertrucht. “Internal explosion… Steering failure… Ship out of control… Beware…”

Suddenly, a blank COMM globe sprang to life. “E607, do you receive us?” a voice asked in Vertrucht.

“Audio only,” Brim said after a few moments. “Video must have gone in the explosion. Beware! I am out of control!” He pulled through a tight loop to get a better look outside.

“So we observe,” the voice said. “You are generally heading toward an area that is temporarily forbidden.”

Brim swerved sharply, spotted the ship high to port, then sent the astroplane into a series of flat, wavelike spirals that made the deck shudder between their feet. “What in the name of Triannic do you expect me to do about
that,
fool?” he exclaimed. “You must have seen the explosion back there. If I could steer, I'd be nowhere near you
or
your xaxtdamned forbidden area!”

“Well, you will
have
to do something,” the voice said then stopped in mid-sentence as Brim abruptly turned and headed for him on a collision course.

“Look out!” the Carescrian yelled at the top of his lungs. With his new heading, he was upon them in mere clicks… past in a fraction of another, both ships swerving desperately to avoid disaster. Then the Leaguers were lost again in the starscatter as Brim called up full power and thrashed corkscrewing once again toward Typro. “Beware!” he yelled into the short-range COMM. “Keep away!”

“Universe, yes, do keep away,” the other ship broadcast to the others. “They almost collided with us!”

The authentication key chimed again. Moments later, a woman's voice inquired sternly, “What is your intended heading, E607?”

“Presently vectoring toward possible emergency landing on Typro ahead,” Brim answered, sensing a far stronger personality here. “There's not much I can do about it.”

A long silence ensued, after which the woman's voice said, “Good fortune to you then, fool. None of my ships will approach in your struggles.” Brim smiled. He hoped he never had the chance to continue
that
short conversation.

Other voices questioned him for a considerable time and the authentication key chimed incessantly. But all gradually faded in the distance as Brim wobbled toward his target, which by now almost filled the Hyperscreens ahead. Soon, it was amply clear he'd brought his ragtag ship’s crew safely through Typro's blockade! He hoped it wouldn't turn out to be a one-way trip. Dark's authentication key had little time remaining!

In less than a metacycle, features of the arid surface began to define themselves — ragged mountains, dry riverbeds, the dim flicker of occasional cities. As the astroplane staggered deeper into the thin atmosphere, wisps of glowing plasma began to lick at the corners of the Hyperscreens, then spread rapidly to the hundred and one protrusions on the hull until they trailed a long, glowing corkscrew of ions like the meteor they had become. Gradually, Brim reduced his course perturbations, flying more and more in a controlled manner until finally, no more than ten thousand irals from the surface, he leveled off and flew a straight and level heading. “Universe!” he laughed, wiping mock perspiration from his brow, “with all that' damage' to the steering gear, I didn't think I could bring her in at all.”

Aft, Amherst slumped in a recliner, head lolling from side to side. “He's only passed out, Lieutenant,” Barbousse reported.

“We're entering zone 5,” Theada said presently, pointing below through the Hyperscreens. “It's sort of delineated by the mountains and that scar somebody once called a river.”

“Very well,” Brim replied as he cranked the ship in a wide circle. “Do you suppose that's Cable Route 981 running along the edge of the scarp?”

“Only one I can see,” Ursis said. “Of course, who could tell in this desert?”

Brim's eyes followed the ground scar where the cable had been laid. About a third of the way to the mountains, two dust plumes crawled along the endless wastes. The second plume was considerably behind the first, but from its size, it was either a much larger vehicle or it was moving faster — or both. “If that first one's our spy,” he said, pointing through the Hyperscreens, “he's going to have company very soon. Anybody see anything else moving?” he asked, easing the astroplane into a wide circle. .

“None,” Theada said as the ship returned to its original course.

“Just those two,” Ursis agreed.

“All right,” Brim said, “we'll go down for a closer look.” He rolled the astroplane on its back, then nosed over into a steep dive that brought them above the second vehicle in a matter of clicks. “Ugh,” he grunted aloud. Below was a typical Leaguer battle crawler with three turrets, the kind that ambushed his little convoy back on A'zurn, only this one looked bigger, even from the air. “Let's check on the other one,” he said, opening the power gates slightly. The distance evaporated.

“Open lorry,” Ursis observed.

“With yellow canisters,” Theada added.

“And an '8' on the roof of the cab,” Brim finished. “It's our man, I'll bet. Send: 'Which way is Avalon?'“ he called back to Barbousse.

Only a few clicks later, his display flashed, “VOOT'S BEARD! YOUR ASTROPLANE FOOLED ME. THOUGHT I WAS CAUGHT SURE. ALREADY GOT A BATTLE CRAWLER ON MY TAIL.” Only moments later, a huge column of dirt and flame shot up to the lorry's right as the battle crawler began to pull in range. The astroplane bounced when the second blast followed on its heels, aimed this time at them. “CAREFUL,” the BURST display spelled out. “POWERFUL BATTLE CRAWLER.”

“So much for our cover,” Brim muttered, hauling the astroplane around into a vertical bank toward the battle crawler and pulling off the lift vector. They fell like a stone toward the desert floor with both disruptors blasting wildly at the squat, ugly shape in the distance. Only a few irals from the ground, he whipped the little ship level and jammed on the power. All three Leaguer turrets were firing now. The astroplane bucked and bounced through the blasts; debris smashed off the Hyperscreens and rattled along the decks. Suddenly, a huge ball of fire from Barbousse's 91-mmi erupted at the foreward end of the battle crawler, sending a shower of rocks and debris hundreds of irals in the air. The big machine reared and skidded sideways in a cloud of dust, then resumed its progress at a somewhat reduced rate of speed, wobbling violently.

“Got his cable follower!” Barbousse yelled exultantly as they flashed overhead. But the battle crawler's turrets were clearly unaffected and the firing continued almost unabated. Brim snapped the astroplane around and set up another low-level firing run. This time, Barbousse found his target much earlier, and the whole area near the enemy vehicle exploded in a welter of powerful blasts.

Suddenly, a thundering detonation sent the astroplane skidding wildly off course with loose articles whistling about like shrapnel and the cabin acrid in swirling black smoke. A monstrous grinding shrieked through the starframe as the left outrigger touched down and skidded across the plain in a cloud of dust and debris. Brim struggled with the controls, helplessly watching the his astroplane slide into a ground loop — then the hull ricocheted from a flat outcropping of desert rock and somehow wobbled level, trailing a long column of dirty black smoke that thinned and disappeared as Ursis calmly manipulated the N-ray mains and extinguished the fires.

“Our ninety-one's gone, Lieutenant,” Barbousse yelled above the din. “Battle crawler blew the whole ventral turret away, he did.”

Brim continued to fight the controls, achieving first an even keel, then an immediate turn away from the battle crawler with a maximum acceleration dash toward a run of low, rocky hills, the generators bellowing angrily in overload.

“What are we going to do now?” Theada yelled in frustration as they pulled into the lee of the palisades and set up a low holding pattern. “Our little 6O-mmi won't even
dent
that armored cockroach, and the spy's still out there with nothing but a good head start.”

Brim bit his lip, concentrated. Quickly.
Quickly.
“The mines!” he shouted. “Of
course!
Even a near miss ought to be enough to take a battle crawler out for good. Right, Barbousse?”

Barbousse grinned. “One star mine coming up, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Wait a cycle!” Ursis interrupted suddenly. “The spy: Is he far enough from the blast zone? We don't want to take him out, too.”

“Easily
far enough by now, Nik,” Theada answered. “Especially in this thin atmosphere. Remember, he was almost beyond the range of that battle crawler — and those big hummers shoot a
long
way.”

“Very well,” Brim said through clenched teeth. “Here we go.” Wind roared across the great rent in the bottom of their hull as he banked gently to let the speed build up. Then he cranked the little ship over into a dizzying vertical turn that barely cleared the barren hillside. Jagged rocks whizzed by only irals from their starboard generator. By the time the battle crawler was back in sight, they were accelerating wildly and blending into the background. They took the big machine completely by surprise — in the last clicks, Brim pictured its crew huddled over the traction controls in an attempt to drive with no cable followers.

“Star mine's... free!” Barbousse yelled. Brim heard the hum of the repulsion rings, then the astroplane flashed over the battle crawler, still accelerating. Two more near misses by the Leaguers sent rock and debris over their stern before the whole world turned a blinding white: No shadows, no details, only white. The Hyperscreens dimmed, flashed on again.

And then the shock wave…

Incredible noise. Perhaps no noise — maybe
all
noise. The impact became an entire existence. One moment, they were speeding across the desert floor, the next, a giant hand smashed the little ship sideways like an insect. Brim struggled with the controls, easing the hull this way and that, instinct alone guiding his hands and feet as he fought to soften the shocks to the starframe. Then they were tumbling mindlessly through a gigantic storm of pure flame. Outside on the deck, only hullmetal survived: Covers, attachment points, cables, all their accessories either burned or melted in long runnels along the deck. In the back of the control cabin, someone was screaming over the suit channel in the gagging, fright-choked voice of a wild animal. Brim glanced over his shoulder. It was Amherst, tears streaming from his cheeks, faceplate sprayed with spittle. Nothing could be done for him. He tried to ignore it.