The Platform by D G Jones Read Free Book Online

kicks
the door open, but before he can even squeeze a shot, we carve him to pieces in
a volley of shots. We were expecting something like that, knowing what a worm
Clook is.
                  “Okay, now I’m alone. Look, there’s a ship out
there!” he sniffs.
                 “Hands up and get out here, now!”
Skea orders.
                 This time he appears with his hands
in the air, trembling and shaking in the wind. His narrow face is a mask of absolute
terror.

 
                                                                            *

 
                 “No comms?” Helst asks. We are
gathered in the control room. Clook is only alive, for now, because he may be
useful to us.
                “No,
nothing,” Clook shakes his head. “It’s on an auto-dock cycle. It will be here
in an hour or so.”
                 “So it will swing around and line up
on its own?” Cora asks, and I can see Clook thinking very carefully on his
answer.
                  “Yes… but obviously we have to fire the line.”
                 “Then we don’t need you anymore,” Skea
gives a very dark smile.
                  “We have to cut the juice to the netting,
otherwise we will not have enough fuel to power the line. Someone has got to balance
the power demands,” Clook says. He reaches for a cigarette and guns level at
him, just in case. “Easy, please…”
                 “Okay, you get to live for now,” skea
growls, that same dark leer on her face.
                “Thank you,” he grovels. He lights his
cigarette with hands that cannot still themselves.
                  “So, we have no idea if anyone is on board?” I
ask.
                  “No,” Clook says. “But at least we know it’s
one ours, otherwise it wouldn’t be on the auto.” I grunt and nod. I don’t like
having to stand next to this cretin, let alone work with him. “I’m going to
power down for a while.”
                 “Already?” Helst raises an eyebrow.
                  “We got about three hours left, that’s without
what we need to fire the line. As it is, we will only get one shot.”
                 “Great,” I mutter. “No pressure
then.”
                 “No. And by then the place could be
crawling with abominations,” Clook mumbles.
                 “With no guarantee there is anyone on
the ship anyway,” Helst says softly.
                 “But hopefully there will be food at
least,” Clook replies. “Real food, I mean.”
                 “It’s academic really. From what
you’re saying the Platform is going to run out of juice in a few hours, and we
don’t want to be there when it happens. Getting to the ship is our only chance,”
says Helst, taking a cigarette from Clook’s packet.
                  “Fuck,” Cora mutters. That seems to be the
word of choice for all of us right now.

 
                                                                            *

 
                  She
is listing on one side, looking like she has been holed under the waterline. It
makes the shot harder, but it’s not impossible. But just to make it that much
worse, the power has now failed to the net and the abominations are beginning
to tear their way through. Everyone is clustered around the line fire except
for Clook, who is hiding in the control room ‘monitoring the power’ he says.
                 The warship is one of ours – a D
class ship – not huge, but powerful. It has the same electric netting as ours,
only facing downwards like a skirt, and above it is the two-metre socket for
the line. It looks tiny from here, and with everyone standing