Last Full Measure - Michael A. Martin [92]
Archer almost smiled at that. If Enterprise herself were waiting out there instead of one of her shuttlepods, the starship’s transporter—a relatively recent invention usually reserved for use on nonliving cargo, except during dire emergencies—could have carried everyone aboard Trahve’s ship to safety. Probably, Archer thought.
Unfortunately, beaming away via the transporter simply wasn’t an option at the moment.
“No,” Archer said. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to disembark via the airlock—the old-fashioned way.”
Trahve’s already fear-filled eyes widened further still. “But your own pilot says that my airlock isn’t compatible with yours! I have only two pressure suits aboard this vessel, Captain, if you include my backup unit. This airlock will get us all just as dead as staying aboard would!”
Kemper seized Trahve’s manacled wrists while Money unceremoniously pried his hands from the airlock’s rim. Hayes grabbed the struggling man by the shoulders and pushed him backward toward the chamber’s inner threshold while Kemper continued to hold his wrists. But when the alien pilot’s feet briefly made contact with the deck, he suddenly twisted out of Kemper’s grip. Bobbing and weaving to avoid the trio of surprised MACOs, Trahve dived away from the airlock and headed back toward the forward cockpit section. With a curse, Kemper immediately moved to pursue him, with Money right on his heels.
“Trahve!” Archer cried. “You’ll die!”
But Trahve moved with the confidence of a man who expected to survive whatever fate held in store for him. Taking that at face value—and concerned at how little time remained for his own people to make their escape—Archer made a command decision.
“Let him go!” he shouted. Kemper and Money froze in their tracks with obvious reluctance, but they both bowed to necessity without any further prompting from either Archer or Hayes. Time was simply growing too short to waste any more of it worrying about Trahve’s safety, and everyone seemed to recognize that fact.
Best he can hope for is to reach some hidden escape pod, Archer thought, moving farther inside the inner airlock, followed by the MACOs. Reed, who had been the first one inside, busily entered a series of commands into the keypad on the bulkhead. Moments later, the inner door hissed shut, cutting Trahve off from the group with finality. The alert klaxons blaring out in the corridor were immediately muted down to a tolerable level, and the brightly strobing orange alarm beacons became only partly visible through the inner hatch’s small window.
Reed continued standing beside the keypad, looking apprehensive as he studied its alien markings and readouts. “I don’t know about this, Captain. Perhaps we should have had D.O. toss some environmental suits into Trahve’s outer airlock doors.”
“Suits would be nice, Malcolm,” Archer said wryly. “If we had the time to get into them, that is. We don’t. Besides, now that we’re inside the airlock, opening that outer hatch sort of commits us to cutting corners when it comes to environmental suits.”
“What about all the gravitic particles that are floating around out there?” Reed said, his dubious frown folding in on itself, rapidly deepening toward a scowl. “Imagine getting shot by a bullet made out of compressed neutronium, or a mini black hole.”
“We’ll just have to hope that all the bullets miss us this time,” Archer said.
“This is crazy, Captain. You do know that, don’t you?” Hayes said. Kemper and Money merely stood by, owl-eyed and silent, flanking their CO.
“Absolutely,” Archer agreed.
“No argument from me,” Reed said dryly.
Archer grinned. “Well, I’m glad to see the two of you finally getting along so well. Now secure your gear, gentlemen. It’s about to get very windy in here.”
As Reed and the MACOs made certain that all of their loose equipment was strapped down or otherwise contained, Archer placed his right hand against the inside of the outer airlock door. The curved metal hatch felt as cold as the infinite, airless space