Cyber Rogues Read Free Page B

that would follow decompression. There was hope then. Working swiftly, Paskoe uncovered the rest of the figure.
    “What’s the news?” Cummings’s voice sounded in his helmet. It was tense, obviously prepared for the worst.
    “Could be worse,” Paskoe replied. “He hasn’t decompressed, but if he’s alive he’s out cold. His pack’s all smashed up so he won’t last long if we don’t get him out. Must have caught a big one right in the back.”
    “Any sound of breathing?”
    “Can’t tell. I couldn’t hear anything even with my gain wound right up, but I think his radio’s probably dead.”
    At that moment another voice came through, sounding shaky.
    “Kal, is that you? Are you guys still alive out there?”
    “Michel!” Paskoe swung his head instinctively to look back at the crawler. “You’re okay. What’s the score inside?”
    “The worst damage is downstairs,” Chauverier answered. “We’ve lost pressure up here, but it wasn’t explosive—just small holes. The regulators compensated long enough for me to get a helmet on.”
    “How’s Joe?” Paskoe inquired.
    “Knocked himself out on the center bulkhead. I put his helmet on for him. He’s still out but he should be okay. I heard you talking about Jerry. How’s Tim?”
    “He seems okay but his visor’s flaked, so he can’t see. He’s outside the door. Right now the problem is Jerry. We’ve got to get him out. Did you say the cabin’s zeroed?”
    “Everything’s dead,” Chauverier replied. “We’ll have to use a survival tent and wait for a VTOL to show up. I’ll eject one now. Stay clear. I’ll be out in a minute with a couple of suits and give you a hand.”
    “What about Joe?” Paskoe asked.
    “He’ll be okay here for a while. We can bring him out when the tent’s set up.”
    “Okay.”
    A package resembling a bale of rubber ejected itself from its stowage point near one end of the vehicle, landed a few feet away and immediately inflated into a bright-orange six-man survival tent. Paskoe freed Field’s lower legs from the rubble and began hauling the still inert form across toward it. Just as he reached the tent, two suit-kits sailed out of the crawler door, closely followed by Chauverier. He landed easily on his feet, scooped up the kits and began loping over to where Paskoe was dragging Fields through the outer portal of the tent’s airlock.
    “Something just went past me,” Cummings called over the radio.
    “That was me,” Chauverier told him. “We’re getting Jerry into the tent. I’ve got a suit here for you. We’ll come back for you in a second before we pressurize the lock.”
    “Okay. I’ll be here.”
    “Say . . .” Chauverier’s voice suddenly took on a new note—one of disbelief. Paskoe was inside the lock propping Fields into a more comfortable position. Chauverier had straightened up and was staring out at something beyond the tent.
    “What’s up?” Paskoe asked.
    “Come back out for a moment and get a look at this,” Chauverier said. Back at the crawler. Cummings listened in silence. Then he heard Paskoe’s voice: “Jesus!”
    “What is it?” Cummings asked them.
    “Our truck,” Paskoe answered. “Did you ever see a tin can after a grenade went off inside it? If anybody had been inside that they’d just be jelly on the walls. It’s been turned right over.”
    “Look at the other side of it,” Chauverier suggested,
    Paskoe gasped, The entire center section of the ridge had been neatly blown away to leave two small isolated humps at what had been its ends. The gap that now existed between the humps was churned into a tortured tangle of tightly overlapping craters.
    “How in the name of . . .” Paskoe began, but Cummings broke in:
    “What is it?”
    “We’ve been bombed!”
    “How?”
    “I don’t know. Something crazy’s going on somewhere.”
    “You’ll see for yourself later,” Chauverier came in. “Right now let’s get you into the tent before that facepiece