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

with trees growing all around and leaning in over her. From this position, I could see what was left of one of her circular landing decks. It was badly buckled, but I could still imagine the warbirds coming in to land.

I sent Mozzie up to survey the landing deck. I felt sure there would be some way into the ship from the deck. The images he brought back showed how the intense heat from entering the atmosphere followed by the impact of the crash had badly warped the ship’s structure. Right-angles were now skewed and straight lines had been softened and bent. But I could also see a couple of small hatches that looked like they hadn’t been too badly affected. My next task was to get up onto the deck. How hard could that be?

Trees on either side of the ship had grown taller than her tallest point and their leaves had formed a shield over her so that she couldn’t be seen from the air. If I could climb one of those trees, I could lower myself onto the deck. Ordinarily this would have been child’s play.

I selected a tree that seemed to offer the easiest climb. Lots of branches close together. I would have to abandon my crutch and I let it go with some reluctance – it had served me well. I was going to have to use both hands to climb. This was going to hurt. A lot. A handful of painkillers and pint of moonshine would have been very welcome at that moment. I reached up with my good hand and grasped the first branch.

The pain served as a distraction, stopping me worrying about other things. Like the fact that I might climb the tree and leap onto the Celestia’s deck only to find the big red robot waiting for me with its cannon primed and ready to fire. I dismissed that thought. I could only deal with one life or death crisis at a time.

The climb was slow and painful but finally I was just above the level of the deck. There was no sign of Sergeant Spudgun. My body was drenched with sweat and my head was spinning. The exertion had re-opened the gash in my leg and fresh blood was soaking through the makeshift bandage. But I was within spitting distance of salvation – if I had been able to muster enough saliva to spit.

I waited for the world to stop spinning. Blinking to clear my vision, I crawled slowly along the branch towards the deck. When I reached the halfway point the branch began to sag. This was a worry until I had gone a little further and the deck was under me. I rolled, hanging under the branch. I aimed my good leg towards the deck, keeping the damaged one up and out of the way. I dangled there for a moment like a sort of post-apocalyptic gymnast – and then I let go. My foot hit the deck and I rolled to absorb the impact.

I lay on the warm deck, listening to see if my arrival had drawn the attention of Ronnie Rocketlauncher. If he did come to investigate, he’d probably think I was already dead. I didn’t hear the steady clump of giant footsteps coming across the deck. No robotic Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum. This meant I had to get up. I cursed the red robot.

The hatch was very similar to the one I had originally entered through. Was it yesterday or the day before? It felt like a week ago. There was no porthole in this one, so I had no way of knowing what was on the other side. A big robot with a big gun? Automatic weapons? Or another improvised explosive device? I would have to be extra cautious.

I was all set to pop the access panel and crank the handle to open the airlock door – but Mozzie chose that moment to try and attract my attention. Behind him, the plating of the ship’s hull was buckled and it looked like a seam had burst. The drone disappeared through the crack. Was the gap wide enough for me to slip through? It would be a tight squeeze, but I was sure I could make it.

Mozzie was shining his little searchlight around the space inside. There were no signs of defensive weapons or crudely made booby traps. I pulled off my jacket and slipped through the gap.

I was in.

Chapter Eighteen

The pain and swelling in my thigh were getting worse. The flesh around the cut felt like it was burning. This was in contrast to the rest of my skin which was cold and clammy. My pulse seemed to be hammering away at double-speed and I was breathing rapidly too. The loss of blood would mean my blood pressure was way down and my organs would be panicking about the lack of oxygen. I had a very real sense that time was running out. The shivering was back, much worse than before, and so was the dizziness. If I didn’t get to a medical bay soon, I wasn’t going to be in a fit state to administer any kind of treatment.

I told Mozzie that I needed to get to the medbay that I’d found on the crew deck previously – it was the only one I knew the location of. The little drone set off, bobbing through the darkness like a metal firefly. I crawled after him. We were in the space between the inner and out hulls of the ship. I had to squeeze past pipework and thread my way through tangles of cables – all the while trusting that the little drone knew where he was going.

I don’t recall much of that journey. I had to fight down feelings of nausea and I had to follow the little bobbing light. I couldn’t think about anything else. I remember climbing a ladder that seemed to go on forever. And I remember kicking out a panel