His Share of Glory The Complete Short Science Fiction

"Third and last warning: heave to!" With the words Jerry tore the ship up and over into a great, ragged loop as the pirate gun belched pellets of destruction. He had thought he would be well outside the scattering pattern, but the scow trembled as a fragment exploded against its side.

"Repair crew to larboard!" he shouted into the annunciator plate, his eye on the air-pressure gage. Its needle dipped once; then rose to normal. "Plate blown in and patched, sir," came Hiller's voice. "All clear."

"Stand by, all," said Jerry. "We're going to attack." This ship rose, under his sensitive fingers, above its foe. "Prepare to swing grapples," Jerry warned. "Check magnetic plates. OK?" "Magnetic plates OK" answered Wylie.

"Then hold on!" The ship swooped and fluttered, at times seemingly inviting the fire of the pirates, at times seeming disabled, and darting away as the killer vessel swung itself to deliver a coup de grace.

The scow's grapples swung free—ponderous curved plates at the end of long osmiridium chains. Then down she darted, the grapples clanging against the sides of the pirate and sticking like plaster, and magnetized plates in the ship herself adhering to the other.

Jerry turned to the annunciator. "Wylie, cut through take over the board, Sven. I'm going down for the fun."

"Yes, Captain," said the big man.

Again in Wylie's skilled hands the burning paste oozed from his tool and ate through the metal of the pirate's hull as the crew bolted on their space helmets. Guns clicked in readiness; the oval of weakened metal was closed. The salvagers stood back as Jerry kicked down the section.

Gun ready, he and his men stepped through. They were in an empty storage room, it seemed—one that would never again be crammed with loot.

Through his head-set Jerry ordered, "All out of the scow. Come through and bring sealing material." The rest of the crew filed through the ragged opening, stepping cautiously. "Seal that," said Jerry. "Either we fly the pirates' ship to Marsport or we don't fly at all."

The breech was sealed, and the crew stripped off their spacesuits.

Grimly, weapons poised, they moved in a solid line for the bulkhead that sealed them off from the rest of the ship. They heard running feet through the wall. There would be a corridor on the other side. Jerry flung open the bulkhead and stepped through, guns blazing. Before him was a mass of men, their faces grey, horribly seamed things. Three fell under his fire; others struggled vainly to raise a semi-portable gun against him and the men who came trooping through, their weapons hammering madly in their hands.

Tactics were discarded, and the two groups sprang together, locking in combat. Muffled groans and the thud of fists were heard; gunbutts rose and fell on skulls and faces. Finally the salvagers stood above their foes, bloody and victorious.

"Neat work," said Jerry, wiping blood from his face. "Now let's get up this cannon of theirs. That wasn't a quarter of their crew." Wylie spread the tripod of the gun and locked its barrel into place. "I think," he said,

"it's in working order. Shall I try a squirt?"

Jerry nodded and the gun cut loose, hammering shells down the corridor, battering through the steel door.

"Enough," he said. "The plan from now on is to stay in a lump and keep moving systematically. If we begin at one end and work towards the other we may get there. Otherwise" He left the words unsaid. "Wylie, go ahead of us, carrying the barrel. Collins, carry the stand."

6 Return From Battle

Slowly they advanced through the shattered door. They were in an engine room. "Wait," said Jerry. He turned to the complicated maze of pipelines and tore one loose; he twisted valves and shut-offs. The trembling drone of the exhaust died slowly. The pirate ship was free in space.

"We go on from here," he said. "Give me the gun-barrel." Wylie surrendered it and his captain fired a short burst at the lock of the door. It sprung open and silently the men stepped through. It led to an ambush; a score of the grey-faced horrors sprang to the attack as his gun cut loose with violent, stuttering squirts of destruction. Men fell on both sides, and Jerry dropped the clumsy weapon to use his fists and pistol-butt.

He was grappling with a huge man, smashing blows into his middle, twisted over his back. He struggled vainly as he felt his tendons about to give, then—a club rose and fell on the head of his foe, and he slid to the floor saved by Sven. "Thanks," he said hastily, scrambling to his feet and sailing into another pirate. A kick to the groin disposed of the man; this was small season for the niceties of combat. He turned as an arm snaked about his neck, and jerked out his pistol, pressing it into the belly of the strangler. He pulled the trigger, his jaw set, and the pressure relaxed suddenly.