Finding places in line, the two diplomats immediately got down to work, hefting their share of the clogging rubble. They helped pass it all along—large pieces of form plastic, burned lengths of wire and cable, chunks of steel and glass, and anything else handed to them.
Taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his eyes, Hawkes analyzed the problem there in the launch bay. Not only had the exit door been blocked by debris from the pirate's opening shots, but the aiming track had been filled as well. As one group of workers toiled to clear the exit door, another small band crawled along the track running from the first fighter, working to pry loose the smaller pieces wedged within it.
"So," asked Martel, shouting over the increasing din, blowing a wayward strand of hair away from her eyes at the same time, "is your life always this exciting, sir?"
"What do you mean?" asked Hawkes in return, turning his head from left to right in mock confusion. "This little tiff?"
The woman frowned for a moment, then suddenly snorted a stream of air through her nostrils. A short burst of appreciative laughter followed.
"Oh, yes," she said, dropping a forty-pound hunk of twisted metal in his outstretched hands. "You're good."
The ambassador passed the hulk to the next person in line, then told his aide, "I'm the best."
In the distance, Hawkes could see one of the ship's crew making an inspection run down the fighter bay. The ambassador's aide figured her job was nearly completed, considering all the time she was making. In another half minute, the woman stood up and signaled the captain. He signaled her back, waving her and the rest of the workers away from the area.
"All right," he bellowed, "That's it. We've done all we can afford to do. Clear this area."
As marines and crew started ushering the passengers in the bay to the exits, Hawkes crossed to the captain's side of the launch chamber. He got there just as an officer he took to be the previously mentioned Mr. Dordman said, "The track's clean enough to make a drag, Captain. That blister still piled around the door—the fighter'll blast through that easy enough."
"I hear a tone in your voice, mister."
"Yes, sir. It was my thought that as soon as we start to raise the hangar door, our playmates are likely to take another shot at us."
"My opinion exactly," answered the captain, reaching for a voice-link. Taking a deep breath, he indexed for the bridge, then shouted, "Mr. Swelver!"
"Yes, sir."
"We're about to engage the fighter bay. Can I assume our friends have been keeping an eye to that area of the ship?"
"Yes, sir. As per your back call, I've spun us three times since you got below. Just drift kicks to make it look like a tidal effect—nothing suspicious. But they've rounded to keep a forward aim each time. They've got you under trigger lock—no doubting it, sir."
"Can't you get a shot at them?" asked Hawkes.
"No good. By the time we could turn for a good shot they could cut us in half. That's why we need to launch a couple of buzzers. With a wing or two out there to give them trouble, we might have what we need. But . . ."
The captain made a shrugging gesture. As Jarolic came up behind them all, Martel shouted, "Isn't there some way you could distract them, even for a minute?"
"We wouldn't even need a minute," roared the captain as the noise in the bay suddenly increased. "A few seconds is all it would take. But what . . ."
"Where's the water supply on this ship?" As everyone stared at Jarolic, he explained, "If there's a place where we could blow a large enough stream of water out into space . . . it would become visible instantly as it froze, even at a distance. Wouldn't something like that distract . . ."
The captain cut the environmentalist off with a wagging finger. Grabbing Dordman by the shoulder, he shouted, "That doesn't sound half bad. What do you think, mister?"
"Aft section eighty-five," answered the officer. "Just opening the intake valves would do it. Suction would probably rip that whole section of hull away."
The captain bent over a subspace screen showing the positions of the Bulldog and its attacker. As he did, Dordman added,
"Of course, we wouldn't have much water left for the rest of the trip."
"Anyone who doesn't like the taste of their own piss can take me up with the actions board," roared the captain. Wiping at his brow, he shouted, "Mr. Dordman, find me a pair of volunteers. We may have just found a way out of this hell."
And then, before anyone could move, a score of pirates poured into the bay area. Not worried about explosions in the heavily armored bay area, they came in with their sidearms drawn and extended.
The very first projectile explosion that went off killed both the captain and Dordman. Seconds later, the bay was in bloody chaos.
14
"SWELVER!" SCREAMED HAWKES INTO THE BRIDGE link. "Answer me, mister!"
"Who is this?" came the officer's voice.
"This is Ambassador Hawkes. The captain and Mr. Dordman are dead."
The ambassador ducked behind the console as the fighting in the bay intensified. Martel and Jarolic squeezed in beside him, along with several other noncombatants as another round of explosions blanketed all other sounds. Out in the bay yard beyond, the marines and crew tried desperately to hold the line against the invaders.
The pirates had gained a large advantage by leading with an explosive attack. Dangerous and unexpected, it had turned the tide of the interior battle in their favor. Smoke and the smell of burning plastic and metal filled the air. Grabbing the arm of the officer who had been standing nearest to him and the captain a moment before the attack, Hawkes shouted, "Listen, did
