Tranis turned to Osopa. “Weapons systems?”
“Intact. My computer’s operations have been restored, and I’m working on getting a lock.”
“As soon as you do, hit them with everything you’ve got.”
The Earther transport was already locked in fierce battle with the Tragooms. Commander Lidon and the Kalquorian crew manning it were the only reason the spyship hadn’t been blasted into dust. It was little more than a target waiting to be taken out.
Not on my watch. Not with my clan on board. Osopa snarled.
Simdow and Tukui worked together to set the spyship in optimal fighting position. Osopa aimed his weapons at the already heavily damaged enemy vessel and joined in the onslaught. At least he’d get a few shots in.
He shouted with savage glee as the Tragooms’ weapons array was ripped apart. He sighted on the engines and readied to unleash carnage.
Without warning, his readings went haywire, the targeting system flailing to find its objective. At the same moment, Tukui and Simdow both cried out.
“We’re drifting, heading altered to forty degrees port.”
“Helm control’s gone, Captain.”
“Seventy degrees. Eighty. We’re in a spin.”
Osopa checked his diagnostics and snarled. “Our remaining thrusters have failed.”
The lights blacked out again, sending them into utter darkness. After a few rapid heartbeats, emergency backup power brought up half the usual illumination.
Osopa bit off a curse. “All systems are now on backup, Captain. Main power is offline.”
Com officer Slokin had better news. “Public address is down, but I have a message incoming from Commander Lidon, Captain.”
“He’ll have to wait. What’s going on with the transport and the Tragoom vessel?” Tranis demanded.
“The transport is still firing on the Tragooms.” It took effort for Osopa to keep the awe out of his tone. He’d known the Earther carrier was armed to the teeth, but to see it in action was astounding. Under Lidon’s command, it could have given a Kalquorian destroyer a hellacious battle. “The transport is turning the Tragooms’ scrap heap into a bigger scrap heap. I think the fight is within seconds of being over.”
Tranis didn’t hide his relief. He uncoupled his restraints and headed toward Osopa’s station. “Do you have vid on that?”
Slokin’s shout stopped him in his tracks. “Captain! Commander Lidon says the Tragoom vessel’s destruction is imminent and we need to break off. It’s going to blow.”
Osopa went cold. They were much too close to the enemy vessel. If it exploded before they could put distance between the ships—
Tranis pivoted and rushed to Simdow, who was working his controls frantically. “Use venting for propulsion. Tukui, give me a heading.”
“I’ll try, but the we’re in a spin and instruments are barely responding.”
Osopa watched his panel with growing horror as they moved from the stricken Tragooms far too slowly.
My clan. I swore to protect them from harm. Tina…
Calling on all his self-control to keep his voice steady, he called, “The Earther transport has cleared the presumed blast radius, Captain. Commander Lidon and his crew are safe.”
Tranis didn’t respond, his bearded jaw clenched as he pounded commands into the secondary helm computer. Something about him standing next to Simdow bothered Osopa, but the Nobek couldn’t put his finger on why.
“Tragoom craft has blown apart. Shockwave imminent.” He stared helplessly at the readings. They weren’t going to make it out of range.
“Move, you bucket of bolts.” Tranis abandoned his efforts to aid Simdow and ran to Tukui’s station. The two Dramoks muttered over the navigator’s display. “No, you’re right, Tukui,” Tranis said. He raced to Simdow and tapped desperately on the controls. “How’s that, Navigator?”
“Too far starboard. Low vent for only a second on the port side. Too much. Starboard again, but just a touch.”
They were out of time. Osopa gripped his podium with both hands, his legs wide. “Brace for shockwave. Captain, your restraints!”
Too late. The shockwave hit, and the bridge shuddered violently. Osopa was yanked backward, towards the ceiling, and forward. The straps holding him in place creaked in protest as they strained against his muscled frame. In the rapidly blinking lights of the overtaxed backup system, he saw several small objects and a much larger figure bounce about the bridge.
Ship’s gravity had failed. Captain Tranis hadn’t been wearing physical restraints.
Nobeks were trained as children to cope with the sight of violence and blood, to regard it as a normal facet of fighting enemies and losing comrades in battle. Yet Osopa found it hard to track that silhouette as it ricocheted against ceiling, floor, computer stations, and walls. He did so anyway. If gravity came on, he wanted to reach Tranis quickly, in the hopes the man was alive.
His straps dug into his flesh as the vessel tumbled end over end through space. The vessel groaned with the stress, sounding like a man in pain. Struts crashed through the ceiling, showering panels and chunks of debris on several people before reversing course and falling back the way they’d come. And still, that body tumbled about.
He must be dead. Mother of All, he can’t be alive. On the heels of that, Tina. Yorso.
Throughout the mayhem, Tukui shouted nonstop instructions to Simdow. He and the first officer fought to bring the craft under control before it tore itself apart.
The emergency lights slowed their blinking, then steadied. Gravity abruptly reasserted itself, allowing Osopa to release his hold on his station. The bridge was a wreck of broken podiums and scattered debris. It was nothing compared to the bloody, motionless man lying several feet distant, his limbs twisted in awkward angles. Osopa stared in horror before his paralysis broke. Trained to a fault, his instincts kicked in, putting him in mind of what he needed to do.
“Com, alert Medical the captain’s injured. He needs attention immediately.”
“No reply from Medical, Subcommander.” Slokin had moved from the smoking hulk of his station to a secondary communications post. “A relay must be down between them and the bridge. Commander Simdow, Commander Lidon is online, requesting status. I don’t have bridge audio.”
“Route it to my personal com. Give me ship-wide communication access on my frequency.”
“Activated, Commander.”
“First Officer here, Commander. The captain is injured. Emergency medical to the bridge. Captain Tranis requires immediate treatment.”
Dr. Degorsk’s efficient voice piped through the small unit Simdow held in one hand while he operated the helm with the other. “I’m on my way, Simdow. What’s the captain’s status?”
No one had gone to check on Tranis. Those not sagging unconscious or injured in their restraints from being knocked about by debris were busy running the devastated ship. Or they were spraying flame retardant on the many flames raging on the bridge. The extinguishing system was offline, like everything else, and Osopa’s panels were showing multiple fire alerts on several decks.
As much as he wished to go to the aid of his commanding officer, Tranis was only one man. Osopa had to put the crew’s survival first. Turning from the bloody figure, he pulled out his own personal com. “Com Officer, I need ship-wide access.”