The Girls From Alcyone: Merchantman Read Online Free PDF Page B

the other side—the vibrations threatening to rip the entire chair off its frame. Worse, the heavy throttling seemed to initiate a starboard roll she couldn't bring under control.
    Leta has got to try this , Sigrid thought, watching the stars whirling around her, then cursed herself. This was hardly the time for such thoughts.
    With her focus squarely on the gleaming hull of the Merchantman , Sigrid did her best to ignore the spinning, whirling star field. She could see the three other Kimuran freighters in pursuit. They were closing on the larger freighter, veering to cut her off, but the transports did not have the weapons to dissuade her from her flight. Sigrid would have to make their case.
    She was slowly narrowing the distance, gaining ground, but not fast enough. Already at the limit of her endurance, Sigrid pressed the throttle switch all the way home, braced for the crush of the extra Gs. Nothing happened. Sigrid pressed it again, but the only response was the sudden sputtering of the rocket motor, its fuel exhausted.
    "Shit."
    The maneuvering jets still had power, and she used them now to adjust her angle of attack, aiming for the top of the lumbering freighter. Eleven hundred meters—her trajectory was ballistic now, floating free, closing fast, but the Merchantman still blasted its way under full power, inching toward the Relay and escape. If her calculations were correct, she could still intercept the freighter; if she were wrong, she would float off into deep space.
    There was nothing left for it. Sigrid braced and pushed, launching herself from the seat of her spent missile. She saw the flare of the Merchantman 's turrets firing; her PCM picked up the ordnance aimed at her, too small and moving too fast for her optical module to pick up. The joy-rocket tore apart under the barrage of flechettes, but Sigrid kept on her ballistic path. The freighter was coming up fast now. Four hundred meters. Too fast. Red numerals flashed in her HUD, the distance counting down at an alarming rate. At her current velocity, impact would be fatal.
    Arms spread wide, Sigrid fired her suit's maneuvering jets, expending her entire reserve of fuel in one desperate burst. Braking hard, she aimed as best she could for a 'glancing blow' across the Merchantman's hull. The sudden deceleration knocked the wind from her lungs. The jets sputtered, their fuel spent. It wasn't enough. She was almost on the ship now, braced for the impact. This would hurt.
    Sigrid remembered little of the impact. Only the pain. Her right shoulder took the brunt of it and was completely numb. Her head had taken a good smacking against the hull, and she'd blacked out. Nano swarms surged to the injured areas, effecting repairs to the damaged tissues. Her PCM prepared and released concentrated doses of stimulants. Sigrid was instantly awake and alert. She'd pay for it later, but that mattered little now.
    She was spinning now, tumbling head over heels, skidding down the length of the freighter's hull. She scanned frantically for handholds, reached out, arms outstretched desperately, missed, only to tumble helplessly back into space.
    A grappling claw was clipped to the belt at her waist. Breathing hard, trying not to think about the freighter falling further and further away, Sigrid unslung the thin cord and attached the claw to the launcher. She aimed and fired. Using her PCM, Sigrid guided the claw's trajectory toward a beveled edge in the ship's hull. It hit, grabbing hold. Sensors embedded in the claw's teeth instantly analyzed the surface composition, creating and injecting a bonding agent strong enough to hold better than a metric ton, more than adequate for Sigrid's fifty-four kilo frame.
    The tether whirred, played out, first slowing her velocity then gently reeling her in. Steadily, it dragged her back toward the hull of the great freighter. Several indicators flashed yellow and red in her HUD. She'd sustained a concussion; her suit had been breached and