A Question of CourageBone, Jesse F. (Jesse Franklin)
Science
A Question of Courage
Bone, Jesse F. (Jesse Franklin)
Science fiction; Short stories; War stories
Our cargo hatches snapped open and we cuddled up against "Amphitrite's"
bulging belly while our crew and the supply echelon worked like demons
to transfer ammunition. We had fifty torpedoes aboard when the I.F.F.
detector shrilled alarm.
Three hundred feet above us the "Amphitrite's" main battery let loose a
salvo at three Rebel scouts that had flickered into being less than
fifty miles away. Their launchers flared with a glow that lighted the
blackness of space.
"Stand by!" Chase yelled as he threw the converter on.
"Hatches!" I screamed as we shimmered and vanished.
Somehow we got most of them closed, losing only the crew on number two
port turret which was still buttoning up as we slipped over into the
infra band. I ordered the turret sealed. Cth had already ruined the
unshielded sighting mechanisms and I had already seen what happened to
men caught in Cth unprotected. I had no desire to see it again--or let
our crew see it if it could be avoided. A human body turned inside out
isn't the most wholesome of sights.
"How did _they_ get through?" Chase muttered as we put out our probe.
"I don't know--maybe someone wasn't looking."
"What's it like down there?" Chase asked. "See anything?"
"'Amphitrite's' still there," I said.
"She's _what_?"
"Still there," I repeated. "And she's in trouble."
"She's big. She can take it--but--"
"Here, you look," I said, flipping the probe switch.
"My God!" Chase muttered--as he took one look at the supply ship lying
dead in space, her protective batteries flaming. She had gotten one of
the Rebel scouts but the other two had her bracketed and were pouring
fire against her dim screens.
"She can't keep this up," I said. "She's been hulled--and it looks like
her power's taken it."
"Action imminent," Chase ordered, and the rangefinder took up his
chant.
We came storming out of Cth right on top of one of the Rebel scouts. A
violent shock raced through the ship, slamming me against my web. The
rebound sent us a good two miles away before our starboard battery
flamed. The enemy scout, disabled by the shock, stunned and unable to
maneuver took the entire salvo amidships and disappeared in a puff of
flame.
The second Rebel disappeared and we did too. She was back in Cth looking
for a better chance at the "Amphitrite." The big ship was wallowing like
a wounded whale, half of one section torn away, her armor dented, and
her tubes firing erratically.
We took one long look and jumped back into Cth. But not before Haskins
beamed a message to the supply ship. "Now you've seen it, you damned
storekeeper," he gloated. "What do you think?" "Amphitrite" didn't
answer.
"Probe out," Chase ordered, neglecting, I noticed, to comment on the
signalman's act.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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