maybe the Imperial bastard about to ram a light cruiser up our arse won’t see it coming either.” Then Sir Leslie’s face sobered. “Pieter,” he said gently. “I’m not a total fool, you know. I’m fully aware of what you’ve done for me throughout this entire commission. In my way I’ve tried to be properly grateful. Now I need you more than ever. Because, you see, no Baronet of Equatorial Tamboria has in the entire history of our House ever surrendered to the enemy. Not in four long centuries, and I can assure that I’ll not be the first!” He reached out and touched the first officer’s good shoulder. “So… are you with me, Pieter? Because without you we don't stand a chance.”
16
The Imperial cruiser was a good two hours behind us, so we had plenty of time to make our plan and ready ourselves to implement it. Or we should’ve had plenty of time, rather. The whole thing almost came unstuck when the captain learned that there wasn’t a single trained man left aboard the ship healthy enough to don a Field suit, nor any undamaged suits left for them to wear even if they could. For several long minutes Sir Leslie stared off into the distance as his skin turned a ghostly shade of white—attempting to grapple an enemy vessel without the protection of a Field suit was just a fancy way of committing suicide. And, of course, in the absence of proper gear it’d just about have to be Sir Leslie himself who made the crucial, lethal hookup—he could never ask anyone else to do that . Then Sergeant Wells reminded the captain that I still had a working unit, and suddenly everyone was shouting at everyone. “He can do it, sir!” Sergeant Wells declared over and over in the face of every objection. “I’ve seen him on EVA with my own two eyes. He’s a brave little bunny, that one is! And smart as a whip, too!” Finally I got tired of them all being so silly about it and told James that if anyone asked for me, I was off suiting up. Which proved to be easier said than done, because a lot of corridors were closed off and one unavoidable passage was half-flooded with drinking water. I tripped over something while trying to make my way down that one, so that I ended up sopping wet from my eartips to my toes. At first I was going to dry myself off, then I realized that I didn’t have any special conductive powder to dust myself with. Humans don’t need powder when wearing a Field suit, because their body-hair is practically non-existent. But we fur-wearing types were capable of building up quite a charge between our suits and skins. Dad had the stuff specially made for he and I, and the nearest bottle had long ago burnt up in re-entry over Marcus Prime. Maybe the wet fur would work instead? There was only one way to find out for sure. Besides, I didn’t have time to go back and find my blow-dryer anyway.
They were still arguing about me when I arrived back at the auxiliary command center, though Chief Engineer Leeds was polite enough to cut himself off in mid-sneer when I stepped around the corner.
“We have no choice, Pierre,” Captain Blaine declared, his face once more flat and hard. “Your objections are duly logged and noted.” Then Sir Leslie turned to me and ran a critical eye up and down my gear. “Is he wearing that thing correctly?” he finally asked the engineer.
“Silly fellow’s soaking wet!” Pierre declared, shaking his head. He was sitting in a wheelchair, with both legs in splints. “What kind of fluff-brained idiot gets into a suit like that?” Then he scowled. “But otherwise… Yes.”
The captain scowled and began to speak, but I beat him to it. “The main barracks corridor is flooded, sir,” I explained. “There wasn’t time to dry off.”
“Sounds perfectly sensible to me, sir,” Sergeant Wells interjected.
Captain Blaine closed his mouth and looked away. “He’ll have to make the attempt,” he repeated. “There’s simply no other choice.”
Then
16
The Imperial cruiser was a good two hours behind us, so we had plenty of time to make our plan and ready ourselves to implement it. Or we should’ve had plenty of time, rather. The whole thing almost came unstuck when the captain learned that there wasn’t a single trained man left aboard the ship healthy enough to don a Field suit, nor any undamaged suits left for them to wear even if they could. For several long minutes Sir Leslie stared off into the distance as his skin turned a ghostly shade of white—attempting to grapple an enemy vessel without the protection of a Field suit was just a fancy way of committing suicide. And, of course, in the absence of proper gear it’d just about have to be Sir Leslie himself who made the crucial, lethal hookup—he could never ask anyone else to do that . Then Sergeant Wells reminded the captain that I still had a working unit, and suddenly everyone was shouting at everyone. “He can do it, sir!” Sergeant Wells declared over and over in the face of every objection. “I’ve seen him on EVA with my own two eyes. He’s a brave little bunny, that one is! And smart as a whip, too!” Finally I got tired of them all being so silly about it and told James that if anyone asked for me, I was off suiting up. Which proved to be easier said than done, because a lot of corridors were closed off and one unavoidable passage was half-flooded with drinking water. I tripped over something while trying to make my way down that one, so that I ended up sopping wet from my eartips to my toes. At first I was going to dry myself off, then I realized that I didn’t have any special conductive powder to dust myself with. Humans don’t need powder when wearing a Field suit, because their body-hair is practically non-existent. But we fur-wearing types were capable of building up quite a charge between our suits and skins. Dad had the stuff specially made for he and I, and the nearest bottle had long ago burnt up in re-entry over Marcus Prime. Maybe the wet fur would work instead? There was only one way to find out for sure. Besides, I didn’t have time to go back and find my blow-dryer anyway.
They were still arguing about me when I arrived back at the auxiliary command center, though Chief Engineer Leeds was polite enough to cut himself off in mid-sneer when I stepped around the corner.
“We have no choice, Pierre,” Captain Blaine declared, his face once more flat and hard. “Your objections are duly logged and noted.” Then Sir Leslie turned to me and ran a critical eye up and down my gear. “Is he wearing that thing correctly?” he finally asked the engineer.
“Silly fellow’s soaking wet!” Pierre declared, shaking his head. He was sitting in a wheelchair, with both legs in splints. “What kind of fluff-brained idiot gets into a suit like that?” Then he scowled. “But otherwise… Yes.”
The captain scowled and began to speak, but I beat him to it. “The main barracks corridor is flooded, sir,” I explained. “There wasn’t time to dry off.”
“Sounds perfectly sensible to me, sir,” Sergeant Wells interjected.
Captain Blaine closed his mouth and looked away. “He’ll have to make the attempt,” he repeated. “There’s simply no other choice.”
Then
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