Earthblood by Keith Laumer & Rosel George Brown

Author:Keith Laumer & Rosel George Brown [Laumer, Keith & Brown, Rosel George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780671720605
Goodreads: 464043
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 1965-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Roan slumped in the padded seat, let his hands fall from the controls.

"We're clear," he said dully. "I don't think the other boat got away. I don't see it on our screens—"

A clay-faced creature with the overlong arms and the tufted bristles of a Zorgian pushed through the crew packed like salted fish in the bare, functional shell of the lifeboat.

"Listen to me, you muckworms," he hooted in the queer, resonant voice that rose from his barrel chest. "If we wanta make planetfall, we got to organize this scow—"

"Who asked you?" a gap-toothed, olive-skinned crewman demanded. "I been thinking, and—"

"I'm senior Gook here," a bald, wrinkled Minid barked. "Now we're clear, we got to find the nearest world—"

Other voices cut him off. There were the sounds of blows, curses. Scuffling started, was choked off by the sheer cramping of the confining space.

"I don't, we don't wanta all die," a hoarse voice yelled. "We got to pick a new cap'n!"

"I won't have no lousy Minid telling me—"

"Button yer gill slits, you throwback to a mudfish—" Roan stood, turned on the men. "All right," he roared—an astonishing shout that cut through the hubbub like a whiplash through cotton cloth.

"You can belay all this gab about who's in charge! I am! If you boneheads can stop squabbling long enough to let a few facts into your skulls, you'll realize we're in trouble—bad trouble! There are forty of us, crowded into a boat designed for an emergency cargo of thirty! We've got enough food for a few months, maybe, but our air and water recyclers are going to be overloaded; that means tight rationing. And you can forget about the nearest planet; it's nine months away at fleet-cruise acceleration—and we've got less than ten per cent of that capacity—"

The Zorgian bellied up to Roan. "Listen, you Terry milksop—" Roan hit the humanoid with a gut punch, straightened him out with an upward slam of a hard fist, pushed him back among the crewmen.

"We've got no discharge lock," he grated, "so if anybody gets himself killed, the rest of us will have to live with the remains; think that over before you start any trouble." Roan planted his fists on his hips. He was as tall as the tallest of the cutthroat crew, a head taller than the average. His black-red hair was vivid in the harsh light of the glare strip that lit the crowded compartment. Coarse faces, slack with fright, stared at him.

"How many of you have guns?" he demanded. There was muttering and shuffling. Roan counted hands.

"Sixteen. How many knives?" There was another show of hands, gripping blades that ranged from a broad, edge-nicked machete to a cruel, razor-edged hook less than six inches long.

"Where are we going?" someone called.

"We'll die aboard this can," a shrill cry came.

"We can't make planetfall." Roan's voice blanketed the others. "We're a long way from home, without fuel reserves or supplies . . ." The crew were silent now, waiting. "But we've got our firepower intact.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.