Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [124]
“Forget it.” Stiles stalked to the aft hatch, cranked the handle, yanked the hatch open, and yelled through the body of the ship. “Turn on the external hoses! Seal up their impulse ports! Got it?” “I like that !”
Stiles turned back to the main action, grumbling. “Yeah, I like it too.”
Within seconds, the CST’s external hoses clacked on. Clear on the main screen, attached to them so closely that they could’ve touched it if the screen hadn’t been there, the blue enemy ship cranked and yanked against the magnetic grapples, trying to break the hold. Now tons of semiviscous compound spewed from the hose nozzles and splattered all over the aft section of that ship, totally clogging the impulse exhausts as if the gods were spewing milkshakes into goblets.
Except this wonderful composite milkshake stuck like glue and hardened chemically within four seconds of contact. “What’s that stuff?.” McCoy asked.
“It’s chemical fiber bond,” Stiles told him. “We use it to coat repairs before putting the hull plates back on. Nasty stuff.”
“Their impulse ports are clogged,” Spock noted. “They’re attempting to fire impulse engines anyway.”
On the screen, in the upper comer, they could just see the impulse ports turning yellow, orange, then red with backed-up energy. Volcanic spurts of power blasted through the fiber bond, only to be almost instantly sealed up again. Another kind of battle was going on-between the power of the engines and the strength of a resealing compound that wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Flash… flash… sizzle… flash… The constellation ship fought with itself, spitting and surging, taking the CST with it on every blurting ride.
The whole CST then began to shake furiously, as if it would break into a billion pieces around them. The sound was horrible, terrifying, the kind of sound that made Stiles wonder what the hell he was doing here in the first place, why anybody would want to come to space when he could stay on a nice solid planet somewhere. Suddenly all the screens flashed a nasty yellow light. A snap of electrical surge flailed through the ship, popping everybody’s ears. “What happened!” Stiles called.
“Feedback along the magnetic lines!” Spock called back. “They’ve thrown us off-power surge is running up the grapples!” “Damn !” “What do we do now?” Travis cried. “Surrender?”
“Not since Gabriel’s last tea party in hell! Full about! Make some speed!”
McCoy finger nailed Spock in the arm and pointed at Stiles. “I like the sound of that, don’t you?”
Still spitting fire every few seconds as the impulse engines coughed through the clinging fiber bond, the enemy ship wheeled clumsily around to face them with its main weapons ports.
“Uh-oh…” Stiles’ whole body went cold. “Doesn’t look like they want to take us alive anymore …. “
Spock straightened and watched the ship out there. “Your logic is impeccable… we are in grave danger.” His memory nerve tingling, Stiles looked at him. “What?” “Just a bit of nostalgia. I suggest we distance ourselves.” “Travis, disengage! Jason, full impulse!”
At point-blank range the other ship opened up on them in what could only be described as a fit of anger. Its weapons cut into the CST’s unshielded body, blowing systems all around the bridge and all the way through the ship. Stiles agonized as he heard the screams and shouts of his men and knew they would have to see to themselves for now. He hated that-the urge to go back there nearly crushed his chest. “Speed, Jason,” he implored. “Doing my best.”
“Reading power-up on torpedo launchers,” Spock warned. “We cannot possibly gain enough distance.”
No distance and no shields. No weapons worth spitting back at that ship. Stiles felt his heart sink. He’d bought time, but there was nothing more to do with it. He’d stopped them from maneuvering in space-normal,