"How's the kid?" Jirik demanded as he removed his helmet.
Valt motioned reassuringly. "I think he'll be all right, Captain. Short of breath is all. He wouldn't have had much more time." he added.
"Good!" Jirik replied. "That was quick thinking, Valt. You saved Tor's life!" He clapped the tall man on the shoulder, without much effect through the heavy spacesuit.
Bran also looked relieved. "I'm glad to hear it, too. But we still have a problem. What do we do about those four out there?"
Jirik frowned. "I don't know. It looks like a standoff. They can't get in, but we can't take off without fuel."
"We can't wait them out," Bran replied. "Given time, they'll be able to seal off an undamaged part of one of the plascrete huts, or maybe even the supply cave. And I suspect that they have all the air and supplies they'll need in the supply cave.
Jirik shook his head. "You're right; we can't wait. A supply and reinforcement ship could break out of supralight at any moment. Besides, they could get one of the base lasers or missile launchers working. The trouble is, they're sure to be watching all the locks now. As soon as one begins to cycle open, they'll gather and ambush us. Gentlemen, we have a problem!"
Valt stirred. "What if we opened one lock, and then, when they gather around it, we sneak out another lock?"
Bran shook his head. "No, I doubt that would work. All of them won't gather. They'll leave one watching the other locks.'
Jirik nodded. "Right. I wish Cony was that stupid, but I know that he isn't." He slammed a fist into his palm. "Damn! I wish we had fuel!"
Valt shrugged. "Wishing won't help, Captain."
Bran was looking thoughtful. Suddenly, excitement appeared in his mournful features. "Maybe it will!"
Jirik jerked around. "You've got an idea!" he accused excitedly.
Bran's face regained its customary seriousness. "Maybe, Captain. When they drained our fuel, all they did was pump out the tanks. But, any Engineer can tell you that it's hard to get all the fuel out of a tank. I'd guess there's at least a small amount in each tank."
"How much?" Jirik's tone was excited.
Bran shook his head. "Not enough for lift-off, Captain." He smiled as Jirik's face fell, and continued. "But, I'd bet that, together with what's in the lines, pumps, and so on, we've got enough to fire the inertial drive and toast those bastards!"
Excitement flared in Jirik's face. "Yeah I like it! Bran, you get to Engineering and get ready to light off the drive. Valt, you and I will each take a lock. You take the service lock we used before. I'll take the personnel lock. If Tor's recovered enough, he can take the cargo lock. As soon as the drive fires, we crack the outer hatches. If the drive flare doesn't get them, they'll be easy targets running away!"
Tor was pale and shaken, but was rapidly regaining his composure. The others quickly briefed him on their plans, and he pronounced himself capable of assisting.
They needn't have worried. The terrorists were apparently planning to use the Lass' own bulk to shield them from fire from the locks, and had clustered almost directly under the drive tubes. They died in the first glaring flare of rocket exhaust. In moments, the drives coughed out the last of the fuel, and subsided. Jirik warily descended from the personnel lock, laser in hand. One glance under the tubes of the Lass was enough to.tell him that no more enemies survived. He radioed his news to the others.
Their cheers rang over his suit radio, and he grinned.
"All right," He shouted over the din, "We don't have time to celebrate. Let's get the old bitch fueled up and get the hell off this mudball. When we're safely supralight, then we can celebrate!"
The others tumbled from the lock, chattering excitedly. Even the dour Bran was grinning broadly. Jirik sent Bran to the Comm hut, to see if any of the equipment was still serviceable, and Tor to man the detectors and comms if they were. "If a terrorist ship breaks out, I'd like to know about it before they start blasting us!" he announced. He and Valt went about running hoses to the Lass, and refilling her now-dry tanks. After half an hour, Bran returned, reporting that the equipment was nearly undamaged by the decompression, and that he had jury-rigged connections to patch into Tor's suit comm.
The Lass' tanks were only starting to fill when Tor reported that a ship had broken out of supralight at the edge of the system. A few minutes later, he reported in a panicked tone that the ship had hailed the base, and his suspicion that they were aware that all was not well on the base. "I think I was supposed to respond to a code phrase with another that would tell them 'all clear'." he said. "But I didn't know the code, and now they won't acknowledge my transmissions!" There was an edge of panic in his voice.
Jirik snapped orders. Valt was to continue the refueling, as it might barely be possible to get spaceborne and evade the terrorists. Tor was to keep track of the incoming ship. Bran and Jirik hurried, clumsy in their suits, to the Command Center, in hopes that they could make some of the ground armament surrounding the base operational in time.
By the time the ship approached attack range, the Lass was still not fueled sufficiently for liftoff. The intruder was still not responding to Tor's transmissions, and was closing on what was obviously an attack vector. Bran had managed to get only one ground-based heavy laser operational. He slaved the laser's tracking system to Tor's detectors. Jirik watched the laser swivel to center on the still-invisible attacker, and cursed at his own impotence. Tor suddenly shouted "Missile!" as the base's laser drilled a blinding beam into the darkness. Jirik shouted "Down!", and obeyed his own command. He cursed as his helmet made it impossible to watch what was happening. A rumbling vibration through the hut's floor told him that the missile had impacted, and he cautiously rose to his knees to see where. His heart sank. The Lass was tilted awkwardly, one side spewing vapor from released air. Their escape was blocked.
"Well," Jirik announced dully, "It'll take him several hours to set up another attack vector. He can't just turn around and make another run. He knows, now, that we have at least one operational laser with ground-to-orbit capability. He won't take any more chances with that!"
Bran looked him glumly. "I'll get back to work on these weapons systems. Maybe I can get us more lasers, or even some missiles."
Jirik was about to reply when Tor shouted, "Breakout One . . . two . . . many ships! Large Blips! I think it's the Navy!"
"Hail them!" Jirik shouted. "Tell them that we're under attack from an armed ship, and need help!"
"Yessir!" came the reply. A few seconds of silence indicated that Tor had switched frequencies to hail the fleet. Minutes dragged by as they waited out the lightspeed lag for a reply. Jirik watched as the detector screens showed the attacker suddenly break out of his attack vector and dive for the gas giant "below" them, evidently in hopes of using its gravity well for an acceleration boost in a forlorn attempt to escape the pursuing Alliance Navy Destroyers. Jirik found himself perversely pulling for the terrorist captain to make it.
"That Captain's good," he commented
Bran nodded. "Yeah, but he hasn't got a hope in the cosmos of making it. Destroyers have too much acceleration. He'll never have time to compute a jump." He sounded vaguely regretful.
Jirik merely nodded in reply, turning from the detector screen. He didn't care to see the inevitable conclusion of the pursuit. It was too hard to watch a ship die.
Over ten minutes passed before Tor's excited shout blasted Jirik's ears. "It's them, Captain! The other ship's hauling off. Destroyers in pursuit. Mr. Tomys wants to know if we're all right. Shall I patch you through?"
"Damned right!" Jirik replied. When a muted click confirmed that the comm patch was completed, Jirik exploded. "It's about time, you sonovabitch! Where the hell have you been?"