“I’m thinking the same thing, but that’ll have to wait,” said Jolo. “Katy, there’s food on that dead boat. Food that’ll keep us, and Bertha’s people, alive. I don’t know when the next freighter is gonna pass through with Fed rations. People died on that boat, that’s true. And that’s a sad thing. But I don’t want the little ones on Jaxxon to suffer three months down the road because we didn’t do a difficult thing right now.”
Katy nodded, yes. And so did Hurley and Koba.
“Alright, let’s get the groceries and git gone,” said Jolo. “Katy, move us in close.”
The freighter was torn in half like a can ripped open right in the middle. White Federation issue boxes floated in space just outside the black hole in the side of the long ship. One crewman wearing the thin clothing designed for the climate-controlled, pressurized compartments floated in space with the debris. It was as if he was defending the ship, his chest sticking out and arms extended. One leg had broken off and was hovering upside down a few meters off. Katy moved the Argossy closer and Jolo and crew could see his face on the main vid screen, ashen gray, black holes where his eyes once were.
"Hey, George, got two freeze-dried arms here if you want one. Maybe the frog-man could sew one on for you," said Greeley. George didn't take the bait. Katy looked at the thickly-muscled Greeley and just shook her head.
“Greeley, shut it,” said Jolo.
Jolo urged Katy forward but she stopped, afraid of bumping into the stiff corpse wearing the yellow UFP Freight Lines jumpsuit. Jolo put his hand on her shoulder. "He died instantly.”
"Technically, about fifteen seconds," said George. "In an oxygen depleted environ--" But Jolo gave him a look and he stopped.
Jolo and Greeley jet-packed across the thirty meters or so between the Argossy and the freighter untethered, aiming for the big hole in the center. They wouldn’t have to cut their way in this time, the BG boat had done the work for them. Jolo knew Katy was keeping a sharp eye on them in case one of the jet packs failed, and George was on standby with an extra suit. They had two hours of air and enough fuel to fly half-way back to Duval.
As Jolo got closer the big ship just got larger--silent and gray, UFP Freight Lines written on the sides in bold, white letters. They entered through the blast hole into a dark storage bay. Their helmet lights illuminated shiny bits of metallic debris, several chairs, a standard Fed shipping container torn in half, a single shoe, and shiny white shards of dinner ware all hanging in space as if strung up by invisible lines from the ceiling.
The tricky part about entering a ship uninvited is dealing with the air pressure. Usually Greeley would put a charge on a sealed door and get the hell out of the way as everything inside got sucked out into space, which worked fine in a pinch, but they got lucky and found an air lock door and were able to get in to the pressurized section of the ship. Once they got an oxygen reading they could take off the clumsy, heavy suits and search unencumbered.
Most freighters were set up with engines in the back; ops, comms and the bridge in the front; then quarters; then everything in between for storage. The cavernous storage sections could hold enough food and supplies to keep a settlement well fed and housed for 12 to 18 months. Jolo knew he had to get as much as he could and get out before either another BG boat came or UFP Freight sent their scouts. Either of whom would be obliged to shoot first if they came upon the Argossy in the middle of a transaction, as Jolo and crew were fond of calling their excursions.
A typical freighter runs a small crew, maybe a dozen or so, and judging by the damage to engineering and the bridge, and the blown out storage section, Jolo wondered if anyone beyond one heat sig in quarters that Katy had picked up, was alive inside. He and Greeley entered the air lock room, sealed the door and pressed the large red button to repressurize. Jolo kept an eye on the thick round window that led into the dark hallway, storage bays on either side, but saw no movement. Jolo watched the oxygen levels on his helmet display slowly rise and after a few minutes the room was ready and they climbed out of their suits and checked their weapons. You never know who’d be waiting on the other side.
Air rushed in when Greeley pushed the heavy door open. Betsy was the first in.
“Stale air,” said Greeley.
“Life support is down. We’re breathing whats left.”
“Katy, what we got on the monitor?” said Jolo into the comm.
“No boats in the sector. And I got you in the second compartment, no other heat sigs there, but I do still have a strong reading in the forward compartment behind the bridge. Probably quarters. There may be a few people there.”
“Ain’t here to help the Fed,” said Jolo.
“Roger that, Captain, but it ain’t like they’re military.”
Freighters usually did not use psuedo grav and inertial dampeners in the storage compartments and this boat was no exception, so Jolo and Greeley floated along, checking each compartment for the light-blue colored Fed ration crates. Red was for misc non-military hardware, green for live biological, and a bunch of other colors that Greeley and Jolo hadn’t sussed out yet. It didn’t take long to find the blue food boxes that looked sort of cream colored in the low light.
Each compartment had a large door that opened from the inside to make loading
