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Bright launched his torpedo, then drove his small craft skimming breathtakingly close to the black-hulled
leviathan at which he'd aimed his missile. He could feel his small ship shudder as the defensive fields of
the enemy tried and were just too slow to focus on and crush the speeding intruder.
And then the huge berserker was behind him, and he had done his duty for humanity, and now he could
focus on trying to keep himself alive, for his wife and child back on Uhao.
He thought that his heavy missile had found a way through the enemy defense and struck its target, but it
was impossible to be sure.
And then the world exploded around him.
When his craft was hit for the last time, Bright suffered a sharp impact and fiery pain, just above his left
elbow. For a moment he thought his chances of survival had fallen to nothing at all. But grimly he kept
fighting for his life, doing the things that his survival training had impressed upon him must be done in this
situation.
He looked at his arm. Beyond the basic shock and pain he felt an eerie series of burning touches; in a
moment Bright realized that he was feeling the loose fragment of enemy ordnance that had hurt him, as it
rattled around inside his armor. The piece was still hot enough to inflict superficial burns.
Bright had no choice but to take his helmet off, to learn his own physical situation. If cabin integrity still
held, he could still breathe. He was going to have to fly his spacecraft and deal with his immediate
environment at the same time. Putting the ship on autopilot gave him a few moments in which he might be
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
able to turn his attention elsewhere without disaster.
Looking around inside the tiny cabin, his own two human eyes now blinking in the dim reddish
emergency lights, he saw at once that his two shipmate gunners had been killed. A large globule of blood
came drifting toward him in midair, in the near absence of gravity.
He realized that he was bleeding inside his armor, and whatever little medtech devices were still
functioning as components of his suit were getting busy. There was nothing else he could do now for his
wound. At least the piece of shrapnel had cooled to a bearable temperature.
The helmet had to go on his head again. He dared not leave the situation to the autopilot a moment
longer.
Bright's wounded left arm was not totally disabled. And the crablike little medirobot inside his suit was
giving him something that hopefully might control the pain, while letting him retain function. And now he
was going to have to abandon his spacecraft, before the old ship blew up.
Bright hitched himself around in his combat chair and made sure, before making his own escape from his
ruined ship, that both of his gunners were quite dead.
No doubt about it. Bright could see how the personal armor of both had been punctured in several
places, the incredibly tough metal bent in like so much skin. One gunner's helmet was turned toward him,
and the dead face inside the statglass plate, now that he had a good look at it, was the greatest shock of
all. Bright had never seen human death before as a reservist recently called up, today was his first
experience of combat but the sight was unmistakable.
His mind half-numbed with shock, an arm going numb with his suit's automatic first aid, he got out of his
chair, his body unthinkingly running through drilled-in emergency procedures. A moment later he was out
of the wreck. Searching the sky around him, orienting himself with some difficulty, he soon realized that
he must be drifting somewhere near the middle of the scattered berserker fleet.
The faceplate of his armor could be adjusted to provide mild magnification, and he tried that. With all the
pyrotechnics nearby, the residue of violence only slowly fading, he needed a full minute before he
believed he had himself oriented.
He was still alive, but far from safe. The trouble was that there were berserker machines in every
direction, none of them, thank God, very close. Overthere was the direction his squadron had come
from. Fifteen undersluggers, simply boring in, because their human pilots had mastered no
better tactics. Coming straight on, until&
Nowhere in all the sky could Bright discover any evidence that anyone else in his squadron had survived.
There were the puffy, glowing gas clouds that surely marked the end of several. But it was equally
certain, his determination and his hopes assured him, that at least a small handful of them must have come
through alive after doing serious damage to the enemy. They'd be heading back to theStinger now,
with a victory to report.
But nothing that Bright could see suggested that the battle was over or even that any of the enemy
carriers had been seriously hit. What a seat he was going to have for the rest of the show!
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Staring in the direction in which, if his attempt at orientation was not hopelessly wrong, he thought the
biggest berserker machines were cruising, Bright could make out movement, could pick out an individual
machine or two in every direction where the background was bright enough to show up a dark machine
by contrast.
Gradually, he realized that the scenery, in almost every direction, was spectacular indeed. Faint glowing
swirls, and here and there the pitiless black background showing through.
And there was something moving. He recognized a berserker, much smaller than a carrier, probably a
scout of some kind. And it was coming in his general direction.
A drifting space suit presented an immediately recognizable shape. The enemy would be sure to spot
him, sooner or later.
Fortunately, there was something he could do to change the odds. Bright caught sight of a chunk of
wreckage the size of a garage door. The general look of the thing identified it as Solarian hardware. Once
it had been part of some hapless ship very likely his own, though in current circumstances he was
unable to recognize it. For a minute or two he maneuvered awkwardly, prodigally spending the energy of
his suit's tiny thrusters, to get the object between his suited body and the prowling berserker. The jagged [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Bright launched his torpedo, then drove his small craft skimming breathtakingly close to the black-hulled
leviathan at which he'd aimed his missile. He could feel his small ship shudder as the defensive fields of
the enemy tried and were just too slow to focus on and crush the speeding intruder.
And then the huge berserker was behind him, and he had done his duty for humanity, and now he could
focus on trying to keep himself alive, for his wife and child back on Uhao.
He thought that his heavy missile had found a way through the enemy defense and struck its target, but it
was impossible to be sure.
And then the world exploded around him.
When his craft was hit for the last time, Bright suffered a sharp impact and fiery pain, just above his left
elbow. For a moment he thought his chances of survival had fallen to nothing at all. But grimly he kept
fighting for his life, doing the things that his survival training had impressed upon him must be done in this
situation.
He looked at his arm. Beyond the basic shock and pain he felt an eerie series of burning touches; in a
moment Bright realized that he was feeling the loose fragment of enemy ordnance that had hurt him, as it
rattled around inside his armor. The piece was still hot enough to inflict superficial burns.
Bright had no choice but to take his helmet off, to learn his own physical situation. If cabin integrity still
held, he could still breathe. He was going to have to fly his spacecraft and deal with his immediate
environment at the same time. Putting the ship on autopilot gave him a few moments in which he might be
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
able to turn his attention elsewhere without disaster.
Looking around inside the tiny cabin, his own two human eyes now blinking in the dim reddish
emergency lights, he saw at once that his two shipmate gunners had been killed. A large globule of blood
came drifting toward him in midair, in the near absence of gravity.
He realized that he was bleeding inside his armor, and whatever little medtech devices were still
functioning as components of his suit were getting busy. There was nothing else he could do now for his
wound. At least the piece of shrapnel had cooled to a bearable temperature.
The helmet had to go on his head again. He dared not leave the situation to the autopilot a moment
longer.
Bright's wounded left arm was not totally disabled. And the crablike little medirobot inside his suit was
giving him something that hopefully might control the pain, while letting him retain function. And now he
was going to have to abandon his spacecraft, before the old ship blew up.
Bright hitched himself around in his combat chair and made sure, before making his own escape from his
ruined ship, that both of his gunners were quite dead.
No doubt about it. Bright could see how the personal armor of both had been punctured in several
places, the incredibly tough metal bent in like so much skin. One gunner's helmet was turned toward him,
and the dead face inside the statglass plate, now that he had a good look at it, was the greatest shock of
all. Bright had never seen human death before as a reservist recently called up, today was his first
experience of combat but the sight was unmistakable.
His mind half-numbed with shock, an arm going numb with his suit's automatic first aid, he got out of his
chair, his body unthinkingly running through drilled-in emergency procedures. A moment later he was out
of the wreck. Searching the sky around him, orienting himself with some difficulty, he soon realized that
he must be drifting somewhere near the middle of the scattered berserker fleet.
The faceplate of his armor could be adjusted to provide mild magnification, and he tried that. With all the
pyrotechnics nearby, the residue of violence only slowly fading, he needed a full minute before he
believed he had himself oriented.
He was still alive, but far from safe. The trouble was that there were berserker machines in every
direction, none of them, thank God, very close. Overthere was the direction his squadron had come
from. Fifteen undersluggers, simply boring in, because their human pilots had mastered no
better tactics. Coming straight on, until&
Nowhere in all the sky could Bright discover any evidence that anyone else in his squadron had survived.
There were the puffy, glowing gas clouds that surely marked the end of several. But it was equally
certain, his determination and his hopes assured him, that at least a small handful of them must have come
through alive after doing serious damage to the enemy. They'd be heading back to theStinger now,
with a victory to report.
But nothing that Bright could see suggested that the battle was over or even that any of the enemy
carriers had been seriously hit. What a seat he was going to have for the rest of the show!
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Staring in the direction in which, if his attempt at orientation was not hopelessly wrong, he thought the
biggest berserker machines were cruising, Bright could make out movement, could pick out an individual
machine or two in every direction where the background was bright enough to show up a dark machine
by contrast.
Gradually, he realized that the scenery, in almost every direction, was spectacular indeed. Faint glowing
swirls, and here and there the pitiless black background showing through.
And there was something moving. He recognized a berserker, much smaller than a carrier, probably a
scout of some kind. And it was coming in his general direction.
A drifting space suit presented an immediately recognizable shape. The enemy would be sure to spot
him, sooner or later.
Fortunately, there was something he could do to change the odds. Bright caught sight of a chunk of
wreckage the size of a garage door. The general look of the thing identified it as Solarian hardware. Once
it had been part of some hapless ship very likely his own, though in current circumstances he was
unable to recognize it. For a minute or two he maneuvered awkwardly, prodigally spending the energy of
his suit's tiny thrusters, to get the object between his suited body and the prowling berserker. The jagged [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]