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Machines of War; Collected Short Stories: 1993-1995
Out-World
Chapter 5 Page 6
Machines of War; Collected Short Stories: 1993-1995
Out-World
Chapter 5 Page 6
I crawled quickly through the pressure duct, pushing the weightless field containing the PACI before me. I was in a singular rush to get where I was going, and the trip was going to be a long one. I estimated that the drop pod would power up and go ballistic in less than fifteen minutes, an event indicated by the sealing of the atmospheric portals. Forty five seconds after the ship charged its massive engines and rushed into the air, we would be in orbit, temporarily suspended in zero G while the pod docked with the Constantine.
Before that happened, I had to find a safe place to withstand the massive forces of acceleration. Without a general restraint field to protect our fragile bodies, the PACI and I would be turned into a crimson goo long before the pod achieved apogee.
The place I had in mind was the organic cargo hold in the aft section of the pod, where all the wealthiest passengers traveled in hibernetic tanks or mind isolation berths. The mind isolation section, I knew, would not only provide the restraint fields we needed to survive, but also generated enough high intensity flux to dampen if not completely conceal our tell-tale mark. We would be safe there until docking was complete.
Afterward, we could exit the pod through the pressure coupling and infiltrate the Warp Ship, itself. If we were lucky, the butchers would expose themselves by vainly searching the pod behind us.
Once I knew my enemies, the rest would come easily enough. This ordeal would be reduced to nothing more than the same deadly game I had played so many times in the past. A planet, a station, a Warp Ship, nothing was different. There was a machine, and men inside the machine, and inside the men, secret thoughts of murder.
Before that happened, I had to find a safe place to withstand the massive forces of acceleration. Without a general restraint field to protect our fragile bodies, the PACI and I would be turned into a crimson goo long before the pod achieved apogee.
The place I had in mind was the organic cargo hold in the aft section of the pod, where all the wealthiest passengers traveled in hibernetic tanks or mind isolation berths. The mind isolation section, I knew, would not only provide the restraint fields we needed to survive, but also generated enough high intensity flux to dampen if not completely conceal our tell-tale mark. We would be safe there until docking was complete.
Afterward, we could exit the pod through the pressure coupling and infiltrate the Warp Ship, itself. If we were lucky, the butchers would expose themselves by vainly searching the pod behind us.
Once I knew my enemies, the rest would come easily enough. This ordeal would be reduced to nothing more than the same deadly game I had played so many times in the past. A planet, a station, a Warp Ship, nothing was different. There was a machine, and men inside the machine, and inside the men, secret thoughts of murder.
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