Schismatrix plus - Bruce Sterling [58]
Fazil's shadow passed across the light. He was slamming the hatch. Lindsay wheeled and jumped.
He got his right arm through. The hatch door bounded off flesh and bone and Lindsay's suit began at once to fill with blood.
Lindsay snarled as he jammed his head and shoulders past the hatch. He snagged Fazil's leg with his left hand. His fingertips dug deep into the socket of the Shaper's ankle and he smashed the man's shin against the sharp edge of the hatch. Bone grated and Fazil, levered backward, lost his grip. Lindsay slithered out into the airlock, still grappling, and jacked his foot into Fazil's crotch. As Fazil convulsed, Lindsay seized the man's leg and bent it double, jamming one arm behind Fazil's knee. He braced himself against the Shaper's body and yanked upward, wrenching the man's thighbone from its socket.
In agony, Fazil scrabbled for a hold. His hand struck the edge of the hatch and slammed it shut. The launch ring's circuit sealed and the ready-light came on.
Lindsay held the leg and twisted. Two globes of his own blood floated up within his faceplate. He sneezed, blinded, and Fazil kicked him in the neck. He lost his grip, and the Shaper attacked.
He threw his arms around Lindsay's chest with the panic strength of desperation. Lindsay wheezed, and black unconsciousness loomed close for four loud heartbeats. Then he kicked wildly, and his foot caught the edge of the airlock's support trellis.
They spun, grappling. Lindsay slammed his elbow into the side of the Shaper's head. The grip loosened. Lindsay swung his free arm over Fazil's head and seized his neck in a hammerlock. Fazil squeezed again and Lindsay's ribs bent in the power of his Shaper-strengthened arms.
Lindsay locked eyes with him through his blood-spattered faceplate. Lindsay's face rippled hideously. Fazil went wall-eyed in terror and tried to claw his way free. Lindsay broke his neck.
Lindsay was panting. The suits had no air tanks; they were for brief exposures only. He had to get out into air.
He turned for the airlock's exit. Kleo was there. Her eyes were dark with fascination and terror. She held the zipper's outside tag. Lindsay stared at her, blinking as a microglobe of blood clung to his lashes. Kleo pulled her favorite weapon: a needle and thread. Lindsay kicked off from Fazil's body. He fumbled for the tag. With a few deft moves, Kleo sewed the zipper shut.
Lindsay pulled at it frantically. The slender pink thread was like steel wire. He shook his head: "No!" Vacuum surrounded him. He was cut off; the words that had always saved him could not leap the gap.
She waited to watch him die. Overhead, the LED raced through its readout. The lights were dimming. A launch off the ecliptic required full power.
Lindsay pulled left-handed at the hatch. There was a faint vibration through his fingers. He kicked the hatch, savagely, three times, and something gave. He pulled with all his strength. The hatch opened, just a finger's width.
Safety fuses tripped. And all the lights went out.
The hatch opened easily, then. The darkness was total.
He didn't know how long it would take the circling launch cage to grate to a stop within the ring. If it were still whirring by at klicks per second, it would shear his arm or leg off as neatly as a laser.
He couldn't wait long. The air inside the suit was thick with his own breath and the reek of blood. He made up his mind and thrust his head into the ring.
He lived.
Now he faced another problem. The cage was resting within the ring, somewhere, blocking it. If he reached it on his way to the Outside, he would have to turn around, wasting air. Left or right?
Left. Breathing shallowly, favoring his arm, he leaped