Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges (19 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Stone said into the silence. “Whizzer, can you run facial recognition on these two?” He prodded the scientist in the ribs, “Whizzer? Come on, get to it. We’ve seen them dine on humans before. Get to it.”

Missimaya took that moment to say, “Captain, they are holding human prisoners. We need to get back to empire space as soon as we can to report this so they can send in a fleet to attempt a rescue.”

Butcher looked at Missimaya with dead cold eyes. “We are their rescue, Lieutenant. Get off the bridge and back to your toilets.”

No one spoke until Missimaya and Barnes had left. The XO followed them as far as the hatch, slamming it shut and sliding the locking mechanism into place. Stone thought the air smelled cleaner without the two nearby.

Stone said, “Captain, the Hyrocanian foodstuffs list says they only have twenty-three humans. It looks like the same number they came into the system with. A note says this species is considerably difficult to control for dining. They are reserved for … well, for some high rank that the computer can’t place yet.”

Doctor Wyznewski said, “We have a facial recognition hit on the woman. She is Lieutenant Commander Dorothy Nessayette. Missing in action for eighteen standard months from the Roanoake, explorer third class. Nothing on the man yet.”

Stone relayed from Jay, “Captain, Shorty says he’s surprised that any humans survived this long since we breed so slow. Female piglets can have up to eight offspring per year and it only takes them six months to reach adult size. They’re still children mentally, but they get big quick. He thinks the Hyrocanians may have tried to start a breeding program with humans just like they did with his people.”

Butcher asked, “How many piglets are on their inventory?”

“Several thousand, sir. About half of what they started with.”

Butcher said, “Any other intelligent species on their list?”

“Still scanning, Captain,” Stone shook his head and wrapped a comforting arm around Shorty. “None that we recognize yet, but there are a few species that we’ve never seen before.”

Butcher got up from his chair and marched to the main monitor. He was inches from it when he said, “Several thousand piglets and twenty-three humans to rescue. Hold on Dorothy. We’re coming for you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Butcher turned to the officers assembled on the bridge. “I want suggestions from anyone. How do we affect a rescue without putting our own mission in jeopardy? And that includes without getting everyone on the Rusty Hinges killed.”

Numos stood up. “Sir, I volunteer to lead a team of marines —”

“I never thought anything different, Major,” Butcher interrupted. “I’ll make it an official order when it comes time. Still, I appreciate you volunteering.” He looked thoughtful. “That warehouse ship is almost as big as the Rusty Hinges. Even as quick and efficient as your marines are, I think it would take you far too long to find the prisoners using any type of stealth action. Even if we take all of our trigger pullers, navy and marine, we run the risk of discovery. We still need to get our collected data back through the jump points to UEN space.”

Wyznewski said, “Assuming we can backtrack to get home.”

Butcher said, “But we know how the Hyrocanian’s got into human space, right? So we should be able to follow their navigation coordinates and timing. Right, Whizzer?”

Wyznewski nodded, “Right, Captain. Nevertheless, I don’t trust the Hyrocanians or their databases any farther than I can spit upwind.”

Stone said, “Sir, the warehouse ship’s database doesn’t have complete ship schematics.” He pulled up what they had found in the hacked information. Pushing all the other information aside, he laid the diagram out as a three dimensional image on the tabletop. “Look here.” He swirled his hand, painting a large portion of the ship red. “These areas aren’t on any blueprints we’ve found yet. Most are just listed as warehouse or storage space.” He used a finger to paint a couple of small areas green. “This is engineering and this one is central command.”

Anyone not manning a workstation clustered around the image to get a clear look. A dozen conversations competed for listening ears. Stone listened with only half an ear. The most prevalent suggestion was a massive attack followed by a run for the gate.

Thinking aloud more than actually speaking to anyone, Stone said, “Engineering and central command are deep inside that ship just like they are here. Taking Rusty Hinges was more desperation luck than overwhelming force. I think asking luck to ride with us again might be too much.” He tapped the green engineering and central command dots. “Rusty Hinges was commanded by Hyrocanians who were lost and alone and their forces were split between the planet and their ship. We don’t even have a clear count on their complement yet from the …” He let his voice fade away as he thought about the database.

Butcher was looking at him when he looked up. The captain said, “You have a thought, Ensign?”

“Sir, two thoughts actually.” He drove an elbow into Doctor Wyznewski’s side. “Whizzer, we got close enough to that ship to clone their database, right?”

Wyznewski shrugged, pointing at the video display and the picture of the humans on the monitor. “Self-evident, young man.”

Stone smiled, “Of course. Sorry. You also said we can spoof them. I know we broadcast a Hyrocanian avatar to stall them and give them a valid reason for our hanging around in their little chunk of space, but, how much spoofing can we —”

He was interrupted by a rumbling explosion. The floor vibrated. Everyone began shouting. Alarms rang. Jay grabbed Stone, wrapping her body around his. Lights flickered and popped back on brightly.

Butcher’s voice carried over everyone else. “Tactical?”

“Tactical, Captain. Negative.”

“Helm, did we hit something?”

“Helm, sir. Negative. We were dead stationary relative to the Hyrocanian ship. We’re drifting slightly now away from them.”

A Hyrocanian popped onto the main monitor. “Our sensors show you had an explosion on board. Do you require assistance?” The alien wasn’t the fat admiral they had faced earlier. This was a low ranking only slightly obese Hyrocanian.

Emmons pushed Wyznewski and Stone out of the way. She punched a few buttons on the table console and their avatar popped back into existence. She waved everyone quiet and spoke into a microphone. “What are you doing questioning me? Do you know who I am? I’ll run my ship and you run yours.”

The Hyrocanian shrank slightly. “No offense, great one. But, your ship is drifting.”

Stone reached around Emmons, put a hand over the microphone, and said to Butcher, “Captain?”

Before the captain could speak, an ensign first grade said, “Helm correcting now, sir. Ship responding per normal. Engines appear undamaged.”

Stone said, “Doctor Emmons, ask the Hyrocanians to standby.”

The avatar spat at the other ship. “We do not have any problems. Everything is perfect. Do not doubt my word. Do nothing while we investigate your malfunctioning sensors.” Everyone looked at Emmons as she basically put the other ship on hold. “What? Their command structure will not tolerate failure. Any admiral admitting any failure would be tantamount to offering his body up for a buffet. I believe their military culture is based upon a Hyrocanian succeeding or be eaten.”

Stone said, “How long can we keep them on hold?”

Emmons shrugged. “Our admiral avatar is fatter than their captain. I can’t guarantee it, but we should be able to keep them doing nothing until someone bigger shows up.”

Butcher said, “Damage control?”

“Damage control, sir. We’re getting reports from all over the ship, but nothing definite, yet. The explosion was internal.”

Butcher looked around at the gathered crowd of officers. “XO, sound the fire alarms. Everyone else not at a workstation, get out and find out what happened. Report to the XO. Shorty, please get your vent runners scouring this ship. Something blew and we need to find out what went wrong and we need to find out quickly.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Stone sent Jay racing away with Shorty in her hands. Wonking loudly, she called for Peebee and their daughters to come help. Corridors cleared as she ran, her wings flapping, holding Shorty so her rough hide didn’t scrape all the skin off his body. She raced toward their quarters on the hydroponics deck.

XO Gupta pulled a screen up in front of him. Gathering incoming damage reports from various locations he shouted numbers at people and they sprinted away. He pointed Stone in the direction of the main hatch and sent him off. A nearby ladderway would take Stone down a few decks where he could access a cross corridor, then run back up another ladderway to reach the corridor to the main hatch.

Stone shouted into his dataport comms as he ran. “Main hatch, report. Do you have damage?” There was no response. He ran faster, dodging around clusters of spacers and marines running in other directions. The farther he ran, the more people he saw in combat suits or emergency EVA suits. His suit was up in his quarters and he wanted to go get it, but he’d been ordered to check on possible damage first. Hoping there weren’t any hull breaches, his mind did a little stutter step as he had a flash of inspiration. Maybe a little damage at the main hatch would be a good thing.

His nose started to complain the closer he got to the main hatch. It was an odor every human knew, but his delicate sense of smell was ratcheting the intensity of the odor to almost unbearable levels. He’d hoped he could catch the fragrance of anyone on main hatch duty, but the stench was overpowering all others. Nevertheless, he ran as fast as he could along the last stretch of corridor, pushing his way through the next to the last hatch before reaching the main hatch receiving area.

Stone tried to come to a quick stop, but his feet slid on a thick layer of human excrement. Human waste covered every inch of the last few feet of the corridor, from the deck to the ceiling and both bulkheads. The last set of large double hatches before reaching the open area were twisted on their hinges and hung like balls of wadded paper. Feces dripped from the ceiling to splash back to the deck. Sliding through the open hatch, waving his arms to keep his balance, he came to a stop in the main area.

Someone should have been on duty. Two crewmen were on duty at the main hatch except when the ship was in hyperspace, per navy regulations. All he saw were piles of dung. The captain had ordered everything moved from the receiving area into various bays, but there were still small clusters of goods that hadn’t been moved. Somewhere under the dooty may be an injured spacer, unable to move or call for help.

Stone ignored the piles, dancing his way across the deck carefully skirting a gaping hole in the middle of the deck and a series of twisted, damaged piping poking up through the deck. Inspecting the main hatch and the hull, he was relieved to see there wasn’t any evidence of a leak. Any rupture in the hatch or hull around the hatch would suck the sewage into space. Instead, the feces dripped along the bulkhead, sliding down to the deck.

Stone tapped his dataport for comms. “XO Gupta. We have damage at the main hatch. There was an explosion of some kind under the deck, maybe the deck below. I need help looking for possible injured, sir.”

Gupta said, “Can you specify the damage, Ensign?”

“We’re in deep shit here, XO.”

Gupta replied, “I understand the seriousness, young man —”

“No, sir. I mean literally. I think we had a methane backup in the waste system and something caused an explosion. Whoever designed this snafu’d ship ran the toilet waste system pipes under the deck plates near the main hatch. Something blew a hole in the pipes. We’re covered here, sir.” Slowly turning in a circle to give the XO a clear look at the main hatch area, Stone flashed a video of the damage.

The XO said, “Oh, crap!”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Help is on the way, Ensign. I’ll be there shortly with a medical team. We should have a spacer and a petty officer on duty down there. See if you can find them.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Looking now.” He backed to a bulkhead and started a spiral search pattern, poking at any pile of dung big enough to be a human. “XO, this explosion couldn’t have just been internal if the ship was pushed off course. We must have a breach somewhere. Is there a waste system expulsion sphincter near the main hatch?”

“Ensign, are you asking me if the ship has a butthole near the main hatch?” It was obvious the man was trying not to laugh, his stern face struggling to reflect the seriousness of the damage.

“Um, yes, sir.”

“Checking schematics now.”

Stone halted as a pair of dung piles raised up from the deck. He moved closer. “Take it easy, people. Help is on the way.” Trying to tear off a piece of his uniform would be useless. They weren’t designed to tear. Instead, he used a reasonably clean sleeve and wiped it delicately across a spacer’s face, trying to clear the eyes, nose, and mouth. He used his other sleeve and wiped it across the other person’s face. “Hold on, you two. We’ll get you cleaned up and checked out soon. Were you the only two at the main hatch at the time of the explosion?”

The shorter of the two human-shaped dung piles nodded. Spitting in disgust, a woman said, “PO Jakesson, sir. Just Bob and I were down here. What happened?”

Stone ignored her question, “PO, are you injured?”

Jakesson shook her head. The action sprayed feces in all directions. “Negative, um …” She wiped a dung covered hand across Stone’s shoulder, trying to clear his rank tab, but it was covered in human waste and she only made it worse. She must have finally noticed the red combat command stripe on his trousers and figured out who he was. “Um … Ensign Stone. Bob, you okay?”

Bob shrugged.

Jakesson asked again, “Sir, what happened?”

Stone said, “Just what it looks like Petty Officer. This is one of the few times in history when we got hit by a shit storm — literally. Methane must have backed up in some piping under the deck causing the explosion. We’ll investigate how this happened later.”

The Petty Officer nodded, “Yes, sir. Can we shower first?” Without waiting for an answer, she slogged through the mess until she reached the twisted deck plates. Staring down into the gaping hole, she asked “What kind of idiot designs a ship with the plumbing laid right under the main deck hatch? Where was all this shit being pumped to?”

XO Gupta called from the last clean spot near the main hatch deck. “We’re checking into that, Petty Officer. The medical team can hose you down enough that you don’t track this mess across the rest of our decks. Then you and Spacer Jibran are relieved of duty. Go get showered and take the rest of your shift off.”

Stone began making a dataport recording of the torn deck plates from every angle, even reaching down to try for video between decks. “XO, it doesn’t look like the deck below has been damaged, but I can’t tell how far the damage goes between decks. The pipes are really mangled.”

Gupta nodded. “Damage control is on the way. They’ll install some temporary bulkheads and deck plates, seal the area, hose it down and flush the waste out into space.”

“Wait, sir. I have an idea. Leaving this like it is might be a good —”

A warning klaxon interrupted him. His dataport flashed an emergency screen a few feet in front of him. “Tactical, here. Red Alert. Shields up.”

Butcher’s voice overrode the tactical officer’s call. “Tactical?”

“Tactical, Captain. The warehouse ship’s shuttle hatch opened. I hit shields as a precaution, sir. Nothing happened. Their shuttle hatch remains open. We’re constantly scanning for a possible shuttle attack.”

“Nothing came out?” Butcher asked.

“Tactical, Captain. Nothing, but —.”

Stone interrupted. “Captain Butcher, can you send me a direct feed from tactical? Let me take a look.” Everyone was familiar with his ability to talk to the drascos, but few people were aware of his heightened sense of smell and enhanced vision. These were secrets shared with only a few close friends, mainly those who’d survived the wilds of Allie’s World with him. Butcher was one of those few.

Butcher said, “Do it, Tactical.”

A view of the warehouse ship popped onto Stone’s screen. The shuttle bay was open and empty space surrounded the ship. Stone tried to move the view but it was a static display.

“Please give me a three-sixty view around the Rusty Hinges, sir.”

The screen exploded into a ball around Stone’s head. “There, sir.” Using a finger, he highlighted the Hyrocanian shuttle. “They’re camouflaged, but circling around us.”

“Tactical, Captain. Our weapons are hot.”

Butcher said, “Easy on the trigger, son. What do you think, Ensign Stone?”

“I think they weren’t satisfied about why we were hanging around and why we started to drift before correcting.”

Stone’s screen was still in a circle around him. Butcher and the tactical officer’s faces were inset in windows. A third window popped open and Doctor Emmons joined the conference. Stone could feel XO Gupta over his shoulder, watching from behind.

Emmons said, “I concur, Thom. The Hyrocanian mindset would be to search for any weakness. Their admiral may be probing for a way to force a transfer to a larger combat ship and get off the warehouse ship. It might be able to exploit a weakness if it can spot one.”

Butcher said, “Doctor Emmons, prepare a message from our Admiral Wyznewski telling the admiral we are fine and in working order.”

Stone said, “Sir, I think we should tell them we did have a problem. Here’s what I think we should do.”