Leviathan Wakes - James S. A. Corey [64]
Kelly pulled a small metal card from a pocket on his armor. A swipe of the card opened the outer door, and Holden pulled Amos’ floating body inside. Naomi, Alex, and the wounded marine came in after, staring at each other in shocked disbelief as the airlock cycled and the inner doors opened.
“I can’t believe we… ” Alex said; then his voice trailed off.
“Talk about it later,” Kelly barked. “Alex Kamal, you served on MCRN ships. Can you fly this thing?”
“Sure, El Tee,” Alex replied, then visibly straightened. “Why me?”
“Our other pilot’s outside getting killed. Take this,” Kelly said, handing him the metal card. “The rest of you, get strapped in. We’ve lost a lot of time.”
Up close, the damage to Kelly’s armor was even more apparent. He had to have severe injuries to his chest. And not all the liquid coming out of the suit was hydraulic fluid. There was definitely blood as well.
“Let me help you,” Holden said, reaching for him.
“Don’t touch me,” Kelly said, with an anger that took Holden by surprise. “You get strapped in, and you shut the fuck up. Now.”
Holden didn’t argue. He unhooked the tethers from his suit and helped Naomi maneuver Amos to the crash couches and strap him in. Kelly stayed on the deck above, but his voice came over the ship’s comm.
“Mr. Kamal, are we ready to fly?” he said.
“Roger that, El Tee. The reactor was already hot when we got here.”
“The Tachi was the ready standby. That’s why we’re taking her. Now go. As soon as we clear the hangar, full throttle.”
“Roger,” Alex said.
Gravity returned in tiny bursts at random directions as Alex lifted the ship off the deck and spun it toward the hangar door. Holden finished putting on his straps and checked to see that Naomi and Amos were squared away. The mechanic was moaning and holding on to the edge of the couch with a death grip.
“You still with us, Amos?” Holden said.
“Fan-fucking-tastic, Cap.”
“Oh shit, I can see Gomez,” Alex said over the comm. “He’s down. Aw, you goddammed bastards! They’re shootin’ him while he’s down! Son of a bitch!”
The ship stopped moving, and Alex said in a quiet voice, “Suck on this, asshole.”
The ship vibrated for half a second, then paused before continuing toward the lock.
“Point defense cannons?” Holden asked.
“Summary roadside justice,” Alex grunted back.
Holden was imagining what several hundred rounds of Teflon-coated tungsten steel going five thousand meters per second would do to human bodies when Alex threw down the throttle and a roomful of elephants swan dived onto his chest.
Holden woke in zero g. His eye sockets and testicles ached, so they’d been at high thrust for a while. The wall terminal next to him said it had been almost half an hour. Naomi was moving in her couch, but Amos was unconscious, and blood was coming out of a hole in his suit at an alarming rate.
“Naomi, check Amos,” Holden croaked, his throat aching with the effort. “Alex, report.”
“The Donnie went up behind us, Cap. Guess the marines didn’t hold. She’s gone,” Alex said in a subdued voice.
“The six attacking ships?”
“I haven’t seen any sign of them since the explosion. I’d guess they’re toast.”
Holden nodded to himself. Summary roadside justice, indeed. Boarding a ship was one of the riskiest maneuvers in naval combat. It was basically a race between the boarders rushing to the engine room and the collective will of those who had their fingers on the self-destruct button. After even one look at Captain Yao, Holden could have told them who’d lose that race.
Still. Someone had thought it was worth the risk.
Holden pulled his straps off and floated over to Amos. Naomi had opened an emergency kit and was cutting the mechanic