Chapter 27: Death Grip — Part 5

Kris aligned the Intrepid with the Baron’s unnamed ship. The docking bay doors had been shattered and fused by a direct hit, and its emergency access hatches were turned to slag. In fact, most of the metal superstructure of the Baron’s ship had been superheated to a molten state at one point or another during the fight. Rather than try to work with a damaged door or port entry, Kris had opted to make a new entrance into the ship by welding an airlock tunnel into place and making a new door through the skin of the ship itself. The Baron and his crew were sealed in their control room by the damage, and so had no idea if anybody had survived anywhere else in the ship. Within an hour, a six-foot wide plastic conduit had been successfully connected to the hole in the Baron’s craft, the opposite end of it sealed tight into Jerem’s docking bay. He’d spent the time talking to the Baron, keeping the man’s hopes up, and explaining every step as it was taken.

“We’ll be in your docking bay shortly, then we’ll seal up any openings to space and restore pressure the rest of your ship.” Jerem said.

Kris had been the one to enter the ship first, searching carefully for any breaches in the hull. Though the engine room was completely exposed to space, Kris did manage to seal the entry door with pressurizing goop, working his way through the ship. The sound of air rushing into the cargo bay got louder as the air level increased, then began to die down as the pressure stabilized around them. Kris watched his barometer closely once the air shut down, and found the atmosphere leaking off into space to be within tolerance for phase two of their mission. He signaled Jerem with a thumbs-up through the airlock window, and Jerem nodded back.

“We’ll be boarding to render immediate medical assistance.” Jerem said via a hand-held communicator with view screen, to the Baron.

“Thank you, sir.” The Baron’s face was twisted with shock, but he sounded physically relieved.

Jerem turned to his crew. “All right guys, let’s get in there and help where we can.”

Igor started to wag his tail, excited.

“Yes, you too Igor. Just stay with Devon, and don’t eat any body parts. They can’t grow ‘em back like we can.”

The Lizard hissed happily and jumped into the air, gliding onto Devon’s shoulder. As they crossed into the Baron’s hold the smell of blood and fatigued metal burned Jerem’s nose.

“And I thought it looked bad from the outside.” Devon said, clearing his throat.

Pieces of charred metal lay everywhere, and several structural supports were cracked and warped. Most of the access panels were burned out from electrical fires; metal surfaces were slagged and molten. Jerem pushed a hovering cot in front of him.

“You don’t look so good, Baron.” Jerem said.

“I don’t feel so good.” Baron Thompson admitted, standing in the door.

Devon could smell the severity of the Baron’s injuries; gashes and cuts that would need sewn closed. Yet through it all, the Baron bore them as if they were scratches to be ignored. “I have the seriously injured stabilized, but they won’t last long without medical attention.” The Baron said.

“I doubt that you will either. Lay down and we’ll get to work on you.” Devon said.

His features blanched as Devon started to open a small medical kit, examining its contents closely. The tools within were meant more for Antansi human biology, and some of them were quite gruesome in appearance. In matters of medical treatment, Devon was in charge, however, as he understood normal human biology far better than almost anybody currently living on Antans. To his trained eye, the only thing keeping the Baron alive was determination; the only thing keeping him standing was the door. The Baron tried to shoo Devon off anyway.

Devon was not to be dissuaded by such obvious and false bravado. “Kris, take the ones that can walk to the control room and start administering medical help there. I’ll catch up with you when I get done here.”

“My crew comes first.” The Baron insisted, raising a hand to resist any help.

He paid immediately for the act; fresh blood gushed from under his arm. In trying to regain his balance, Baron Thomson slipped in the puddle he created, falling hard and losing consciousness. Devon caught him with his mind, and let him float gently toward a hovering cot. Jerem pushed carefully past as Devon drew the Baron’s body into the cargo hold. Devon was undressing the Baron with a tiny curved cutter when the man regained his senses, looked down, saw the implement, and nearly passed out again. Though he had been scantily dressed before, Devon had stopped long enough to don a one-piece jumpsuit and some thick latex gloves. Devon dipped his gloves into a vat of alcohol, wiped them clean with an iodine swab, and hooked a synthesized blood bag to the Baron’s left arm. He began to prod the various parts of Thomson’s body, both with his fingers and with his mind. What he found hardly surprised him.