Battleship Raider, Paul Tomlinson [inspirational books for women .TXT] 📗

The metal door was cool against my back. I looked over at the locking mechanism but knew I didn’t have the time or the equipment to get it open before the security robot crawled over the edge. If I’d had Trixie’s assistance, I might have risked it, but on my own... A more desperate plan was called for. But I wasn’t sure if I was desperate enough to do what I was thinking.

They tell you that Fortune favours the brave. What they don’t say is that Death also welcomes them with open arms. The difference between heroic success and death by misadventure is only one small miscalculation. I looked sideways at the tree opposite. On the plus side, it had supported the robot’s weight, so it would certainly support mine. And the gap from the edge of the ship to the tree was only twenty feet or so. On the negative side, the ledge I was on was so narrow that I wouldn’t be able to take a running jump. Unless... It was at times like this that I wished I had one of those little crossbow things that thieves in movies used to fire a rope across to the other side. The crossbow arrow – or is a bolt? – always embeds itself deeply enough to support the thief’s weight as he uses the rope to make his escape. I’ve talked to technicians on a dozen worlds and none of them could make one for me.

The sound of the robot’s approach spurred me on. I didn’t want to be a sitting duck – I wanted to be a flying one. Or something. I ran along the ledge from one side to the other, swerving at the last moment and planting the sole of my boot against the edge of the deck to push myself out into the void. Normally I would have screamed something loud and obscene, but I didn’t want to draw the attention of the robot.

For a horrible moment, I thought I was going to fall short. My legs cycled through the air, like a cartoon character trying to run closer to the tree. And then my face was buried in its foliage and I wrapped my arms around it like a favourite nephew greeting a wealthy aunt. The top of the tree bent under the impact and that may have saved my life. A projectile from the robot’s rifle whizzed by and exploded some distance away, starting a small fire. The tree then sprang back, threatening to catapult me back to where I had just leapt from. I clung on tightly as another bullet burned through the air and arced towards the ground. Holding tight with one arm, I brought the rifle round and aimed at the robot. I had three shots left. I didn’t want to waste any of them.

The blast struck the robot in a spot that would have been between its shoulder blades if it had had any. The robot fell backwards, firing its rifle into the sky. It hit the ground and lay twitching like an overturned turtle. Was it dead? I wasn’t going to bet my life on it.

Leaping from ship to tree had gone remarkably well. Attempting another leap – from treetop to treetop – would be tempting fate. Only a fool would try it. But I wasn’t thinking straight. Fuelled by adrenaline, I was feeling invincible. Of course, this wasn’t going to end well. But the risk of injury from travelling tree to tree seemed less than the risk of being shot by a damaged robot if I headed down to the ground. So I jumped.

Chapter Fifteen

The target tree wasn’t nearly as soft and springy as the first one. It was like throwing myself from a feather duvet towards a concrete post. Continuing my cartoon exploits, I smacked face-first into the trunk and began to slide down. I tried to grab a branch to stop the fall and felt a tearing pain in my hand – it felt like I had lost at least two fingers. My feet hit another branch hard enough to rattle my teeth and the branch bent as if preparing to springboard me on toward even greater agonies. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I bent my knees and grabbed the branch with my undamaged hand, clinging on as the branch snapped back up. Leaves rained down from the tree, but I managed to keep my perch.

Despite the burning pain in my hand and the fact that vision in my left eye was blurred and the flesh around it swelling, I wanted to keep moving, to get as far away from the fallen security robot as I could. I made myself look down at my hand. The fingers were still there but they didn’t look like they were where they should be. They were either dislocated or broken. I didn’t bother trying to get the glove off.

I was about ten feet below the tops of the trees now. At this height, the branches of neighbouring trees were quite close together. With care, I was able to step from one stout branch to another, increasing my distance from the ship. I didn’t encounter birds or any of the monkey-like creatures – I assumed the noise of my falling had frightened them away. Apart from the stirring of leaves as I passed from tree to tree, the forest was eerily quiet. This was a good thing, as it meant I stood a better chance of hearing the robot approach – assuming that it hadn’t been paralysed by the fall.

After half-an-hour I decided I could pause and catch my breath. I climbed down to the ground and sat between the roots of a huge ancient tree. My hand was throbbing and sending flashes of red-hot pain up my arm. Contorting my body so I could get my backpack off without touching the injured fingers took a little