Battleship Raider by Paul Tomlinson (book recommendations website .txt) 📗

of the airlock and replacing it with carbon dioxide from the fire suppression system. The Celestia knew this would either kill me or flush me out. As deaths go, asphyxiation would be a relatively painless one, but my preference was for no death at all. I could cut a small hole in the hull using the laser cutter to let in air from outside. Or I could just stop dithering and get out of the airlock and into the ship.

If the fire suppression system had been squirting water into the airlock, I could have used it to make steam and used it as cover to make my way out, confusing the motion sensors. And if it had been squirting out fairy dust, I could have wished my way out. In the absence of steam, I could use the next best thing. Smoke.

My plan was simple enough. I’d use smoke to hide me from the battleship’s visual sensors and hope the fire confused the heat sensors long enough for me to get away from the airlock and out of range of the machine-guns. The difficult part would be making sure I did all the right things in the right order. Smoke first.

Working feverishly, I screwed up the sheets of paper in Mr. Skellington’s holdall, pushing some of them back into the bag and a few of them into the front of his shirt.

“I can’t offer you a proper burial,” I told his grinning face, “but I can probably manage a cremation.”

I ignited the laser cutter and directed it at the bag of crumpled paper. It was reluctant to light in the oxygen-poor atmosphere, but the edges began to glow and that’s all I needed. I used the laser cutter’s flame to set fire to the dead man’s clothes. The fabric started turning black and thin whisps of smoke coiled upwards. As soon as I pushed the hatch outwards, air would rush in and the smoke would billow outwards. I hoped.

The rest of it depended on me working quickly. And being very, very lucky. I had to get the airlock door open before all of the oxygen was gone. It wasn’t just me who needed it. If the door was welded shut or jammed on the other side, I was in trouble. My only option then was out the way I’d come in. And that meant a good chance of running into my old friend the one-eyed dragon.

I needed to circumvent the locking mechanism of the inner door and prevent the ship from immediately relocking it. A lock this old didn’t offer much of a challenge. I could open it with my eyes closed. Which was a good thing, because the airlock was now filling with smoke. And the smell of burning bone. There wasn’t time for artistry. I tore the front panel off the lock and plugged in the lock-pick. I needed to send a signal to the lock to say ‘open sesame’ while at the same time sending a message to the ship that the door was still locked. If the lock said ‘I’m locked’, the ship would believe it. At least until the sensors outside showed the door opening.

Even as the mechanism clicked open, I was reaching for the smouldering holdall. The smoke was burning my eyes and the inside of my nostrils. I was trying not to breathe it in. Staying low, I pulled the airlock door and it swung inwards on protesting hinges. The air rushing in ignited the flames in the holdall. I swung it around and out through the opening, sending it across the floor of the outside corridor to the left. Almost instantly the machineguns rattled into life.

Not even looking that way, I grabbed my backpack and scrambled out through the hatch and headed to the right. I risked a glance back, but I could see nothing through the haze of smoke. The guns would be swivelling round to target me, I felt sure of it. I headed across the chamber. There was a corner or alcove just ahead on my left. I didn’t know what it contained. If there were more guns there, I was going to be the new Mr. Skellington. I skidded around the corner just as the floor behind me was ripped up by exploding bullets. I shielded my eyes. The chattering of guns and the thunder of bullet hits vibrated the hull of the ship and the inside of my skull. The hailstorm seems to go on forever.

When the guns finally fell silent, I glanced around me. I had my pistol in my hand, ready to open fire on any threats I saw, but there was nothing to get excited about. I was huddled against the wall in a small area that had been some sort of administrator’s workspace. The desk, chair, and screen of the terminal had been within the sweep of the guns and were completely destroyed by gunfire. They still smoked slightly, adding to the fog in the air. In the wall that had been beyond the range of the guns, there was an ordinary-looking door that opened onto a corridor. Staying close to the floor, I crawled towards it.

I eased the door open quietly and tossed a bit of smouldering seat foam out into the corridor. There was no gunfire. With any luck, this meant that the automatic weapons were only targeted on entrances from the outside of the ship. This didn’t mean that I was past all of the ship’s defences, but it did seem to indicate that I have passed the first challenge.

I fished the drones out of my pack and sent them ahead to scout the corridor. They sent back an ‘all clear’ and an image that helped me, finally, figure out where I was on the battleship. The drone was showing me the crew’s quarters. That meant that Engineering and the warbird launch decks were above me and that Security was on the deck below. I needed to go down there