Drifter's Run by William C. Dietz Read Free Book Online Page B

incoming hostiles. Engage with secondaries. Engage with secondaries."
    As Junk's primary weapons lashed out they killed seven pirates in two seconds. Lando smiled. It was a turkey shoot so far. Another few seconds and the pirates would be history.
    The smile faded as a hundred points of light blossomed within the tac tank. What the hell? Then he realized what they were, some kind of decoys, meant to draw fire from the ship's primary armament while allowing the fighters to close untouched.
    And it was working. All along Junk's hull energy weapons burped light and auto launchers hurled missiles at bogus targets.
    Meanwhile the real pirates were firing and scoring hits that weren't likely to destroy the tug but were doing damage nonetheless.
    "Ignore the new targets," Lando shouted over the intercom. "They're fakes! Fire on all targets numbered thirty or lower."
    Then Lando ordered the primary weapons systems to do likewise. The ship's fire control computer classified his order as an operator error and continued to fire at the bogus targets.
    Deep within his converted ore barge The One Who Falls Upward allowed himself a tiny moment of triumph. The ruse had worked! Eighty-four percent of his custom-made decoys had activated on command. Even now they were destroying themselves, and in the process generating enough heat and electronic activity to resemble a small ship.
    Of course skilled use of the ship's secondary armament could still win the battle, but Willer had assured him that the ship was woefully undercrewed, and that would work to his advantage. Without the tug's secondary armament to stop them his fighters would close in and lock themselves to Junk 's hull. A few minutes with a torch, a quick death for most of the ship's crew, and The Wind Which Pushes All Before It would be his.
    The decoys made the tac tank hard to read. Lando's fingers tapped out a quick rhythm and dozens of lights disappeared leaving only those with numbers thirty or lower. There were eighteen left. The pirates could have destroyed Junk by now but they wanted the ship intact.
    Lando saw one, then another light wink out, as Cap and Cy scored solid hits. Melissa was firing but hadn't hit anything. That meant the port side of the ship was virtually undefended.
    Lando had responsibility for the belly. A blip lit up his targeting screen. Almost without thinking he squeezed the control grip and watched the blip disappear.
    "I got one!" It was Melissa's voice, but the hit came way too late. By now the pirates had identified the ship's weak side and were swarming to attack it.
    Lando was desperate. He considered a random hyperspace jump and rejected it. It might work, but what if it didn't? What if it dumped them in the middle of Durna's sun? No, he needed something with a better chance of success.
    Lando checked the nav screens. The huge irregular shapes of asteroids hemmed him in on every side. Damn, if only there was room to run. By now it was obvious the pirates had little more than scooters. Junk could outrun them on quarter power.
    Wait a minute, what was that? It looked like a huge doughnut with an off-center hole. It was crazy and probably impossible but…
    A klaxon went off and Cap's voice came over the intercom. "That was me. I burned one just as he touched down on our hull. Run for the speedster, Mel… I'll…"
    Lando didn't wait for more. As his fist slammed down on the emergency power button, his body was pushed back into the seat, his vision began to fade. Fighting to see, Lando watched the doughnut grow bigger and bigger until its edges disappeared off-screen.
    The three-dimensional tunnel loomed ahead. Lando fought for control. One little mistake, one touch of the ship's hull to the tunnel's rocky walls, and the ship would tumble out of control. Lando ignored the vids in favor of the nav screen. The computerized graphics were easier to use.
    Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. And then, with one final flick of his