"How about reversing the fans?"
"We'd have to rewire them. We're just going to have to cough for a while, I think."
The squawk box crackled to life. "Last chance, men," the captain's voice gloated. "We've got some fires going in the ventilators, and we'll be dropping bits of fender tire on for good measure. It's going to get unpleasant down there in a few minutes, if not lethal. Anyone who comes to their senses will get mercy. Too much has happened for it to get covered up now, but I'll do what I can."
"Why can't you shut him up, Chief?" Went yelled as Torres solemnly laid his tunic over Partridge's head.
"It's on an emergency battery up on the bridge. I could cut the wires, I suppose-"
Ahn-Kha wrinkled his nose. "Disgusting."
Valentine began to cough at the harsh smell of burning rubber filling the room, causing his eyes to water.
"Try this," the Chief said, passing Valentine a damp rag.
Valentine imitated the Chief and his men by tying the cloth over his mouth and nose. He did not notice a difference.
Eyes watering in the noxious burning-rubber smell, Valentine tried to come up with a plan. If all else failed, it was his duty to at least deprive the Kurians of the Thunderbolt. He could have the Chief open the scuttle to the ocean, and let the sea take the ship and his mission with her. Perhaps he and Ahn-Kha could even survive the swim to the Jamaican shore....
Something hit the side of the ship with a resounding thump. A slight sideways motion rocked the Thunderbolt, barely enough to make a man unsteady on his feet. Had they run aground, or drifted into a reef? A second later, Valentine heard firing from above.
Valentine looked up at Ahn-Kha. The Grog's hornlike ears were twisting this way and that, listening to the confused clamour from above. Valentine recognized the sound of voices shouting, almost cheering together, intermixed with the gunfire. He and Ahn-Kha exchanged questioning looks.
"It has to be the pirates," Valentine said.
"Aww, shit, just what we need," Went said, his voice sounding strangely pitched owing to a set of improvised noseplugs.
Valentine hopped up to join Ahn-Kha. "You're exactly right, Went. It is just what we need. Men!" Valentine said, raising his voice and calling down to the Chief and his men below. "Let's make some noise. Yell for help, everyone!"
They all looked at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Valentine took a choking breath. "Heeeeelp!" he howled down the corridor.
Torres and Went began shouting, as well as the Chief and his men in the engine room. Valentine yelled until he saw spots in front of his eyes, taking unpleasantly deep breaths of smoke-tainted air. Ahn-Kha outdid all the men, bellowing loudly enough to rattle cups in the galley. Ahn-Kha's Grogs joined in, beating metal tools against the pipes and walls, adding a metallic clamor to their combined voices.
He held up a hand for silence. "Kill the spotlight," he ordered. Torres turned the switch at the back of the lamp, incautiously putting his hand on the light's housing and burning himself. Torres swore.
"Quiet there," Valentine said, listening to footsteps in the corridor. Two sailors came around one end of the intersection, a marine from the other, holding their hands up.
"Don't shoot Captain Rowan!" the marine, a corporal named Hurst, begged.
"Mr. Rowan, we're giving up to you here," a CP petty officer added.
"Okay, come forward. Keep your hands in view, men," Valentine said, nauseated from the burnt-tire smell. "What's happened up top?"
"Dunno for sure, sir," Hurst reported. "The exec had me watching the engine-room escape hatch, in case y'all came up that way. All of a sudden we got small-caliber fire. Sweeping bad, sir. There was a ship alongside, and a boat, too, come up in the dark while everyone was busy. Nilovitch got hit, couldn't do anything for him, so we came below. Had to jump over the smoke fire they had going, heard a lot of shouting and shooting behind me. Figured it was a good chance to throw in with y'all. Then we saw these two," he said, gesturing to the Thunderbolt sailors.
"My David," Ahn-Kha said, but Valentine was already reacting. Lights appeared from the T-intersection.
"Get over here, men," Valentine said, and he and Went helped them get over the barricade as Ahn-Kha pointed the machine gun down the passageway.
"In there," Valentine ordered, indicating the hallway behind the barricade leading to the aft storage lockers. "Torres, keep an eye on them."
He heard voices coming from the two joining corridors. "Musta been back here," one of the voices said. A few shots still sounded from forward.
"Hello?" Valentine called down the hall. "If you're looking for the people yelling for help, you found them."
The voices hushed. Valentine hardened his ears, searching where his eyes could not go.
"Mebbe a trap," someone muttered around the corner.