That night was one of the longest I have ever spent. I watched the power gage get closer and closer to red. Then it went into red. I got thrown off twice more. By dawn I figured I was down to 20 minutes. Worse, I was slowly coming to believe that land was just over the horizon. I was getting ready to make another leap of faith. After all, I had made one two days ago when I climbed out the first time, why wouldn’t it work again? If I just believed hard enough.…
Then the miracle came. I figured I had three more shots with the scanner before I tossed the whole suit into the drink and started swimming on my own. It was scary. Intellectually I knew I wouldn’t last two minutes without the suit in that freezing water, but I was looking forward to that moment. I was getting impatient even! At first I didn’t believe it when the ship showed up on the scanner. I looked again. Hallelujah! Quickly but carefully I plotted its course and then shut down the scanner. Thoughts of swimming naked vanished instantly.
The ship was a real pig. It was slow and it would be almost noon before it made its closest approach. I risked shutting down all systems. If I got tossed off again now, with the power fully off, I might drown before I got powered up again. Each hour I would power up long enough to check the ship’s progress. The progress was erratic. The ship kept changing its course and speed, enough to make intercept calculations a real bear. I couldn’t figure why all the changes. Were there hostile submarines nearby? If there were, how come I hadn’t scanned any?
As the ship came over the horizon, I finally saw why. It was a sailing ship—a single-masted yacht about 35–40 feet long. It was a perfect rescue ship for me! It was likely I wouldn’t have to stow away—at worst I’d knock a few heads around and take over the ship outright. I could taste my lunch already.
I calculated the time and point of closest approach. It would take me about ten minutes to swim the distance, and I had about fifteen minutes of power left. It would be close. Ten minutes before closest approach, I powered up and dove in.
Nine and a half minutes later the ship sailed by. I was on the leeward side, so with a precious burst of energy I swam straight up out of the water, grabbed the gunwale, and pulled myself aboard.
The ship was immaculate—except where I had crushed the wood gunwale as I swung aboard. There was only one person on deck, an attractive woman at the helm. She stared at me but did nothing.
I didn’t wait; I had maybe five minutes of power left. I ran quickly and quietly back, forced her to the deck, hogtied her securely with a nearby rope, and gagged her. I took some more of the rope and headed down the hatchway. Inside I found two more women. I motioned to them to be quiet and still; I lashed them securely to the mainmast in the cabin. One minute left. I moved through the main cabin to the fore cabin.
As I reached the door, my power ran out. The armor stopped dead—I was the Tin Man from Oz who’d rusted! The boat rocked; I crashed to the floor. I was almost as helpless as the girls I’d tied up.
As quickly as I could I peeled off the armor. The two girls in the cabin watched quietly but mirthfully. One of them giggled. I gave her a sour look, and she shut up … barely. I could see the laughter was still in her eyes. Then I proceeded carefully into the fore cabin. It was empty, and that was about all there was to the ship. I climbed out the forward hatch and walked back to the rear deck. With no one at the wheel the ship had turned into the wind; the sails were flapping furiously and the boom was swinging slowly from side to side.
Avoiding the boom, I jumped into the rear deck and grabbed the wheel. A couple of minutes later I had the ship back under way and I lashed the wheel in place. This would hold us roughly on course while I finished getting things in order on the ship. I took a breath and evaluated my situation.
I was in command of the ship. I’d saved my skin from mysterious assassins, an icy death in the sea, and being frozen in an iceberg. I’d taken three young women hostage, and there was no one else on board—things were looking up! All I had to do now was eat lunch, finish my mission without causing any more uproar, release my hostages in some diplomatic way, get off this world somehow, and report those bozos that’d attacked me—presuming they didn’t find me and finish their mission first! In the meantime, I’d find out more about my hostages.
I ungagged and untied the ankles of the woman I’d left on the deck, the dark-haired one. She remained remarkably nonplussed. I helped her up and led her into the cabin with the other women, and I checked that they were still securely tied—they were. In fact, it looked like they hadn’t even tried to get loose. I retied all three of them to make them more comfortable, and I sat them side by side on the couch in the galley. Then I turned my attention to the icebox.
I found it, and finally fumble-fingered it open. These people were of human descent, but like all cultures they’d developed their own way of doing things. I hadn’t had time to study up on them before I showed up, so I was pretty much in the dark on these basics.
I finally got the door open, and out floated the ghastliest concoction of odors I’d smelled in weeks. I had second thoughts about what I’d opened. Maybe it wasn’t for food storage. Maybe it was trapped! I looked back at my hostages, they looked at me innocently. Then I remembered that I hadn’t smelled anything but myself for the last four days—anything else would smell strange! When I looked back inside I groaned out loud. There was a large assortment of variously prepared foodstuffs, but what they were and how they were to be eaten I had no idea. I was so hungry, but I didn’t know how to begin! I nearly burst into tears then and there.
The look must have showed because the dark-haired woman chirupped up in a language that sounded like a cross between Swedish and ’Strine. I looked at her, but I didn’t understand a word.
She spoke again, and then slowly stood up. I watched carefully. Slowly she walked over to me, speaking in soothing tones like I was a puppy dog or something. Then she turned around and started wriggling her wrists like she wanted to be untied. She motioned once or twice to the icebox, and finally went over and awkwardly picked out a plate and put it on the counter.
I finally got the idea: She wanted to feed me! Suddenly I was suspicious as hell. Why did she want to feed me? I looked at the other women. They were watching patiently. I went over and tied their ankles together. This time I noticed in passing that they were fine-looking ankles. Then I went back and untied the standing woman’s wrists. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then, after a couple of moments of working out kinks, used her fingers to take a smear of goop out of the plate on the counter. She held it up; ate half of it; then held the rest for me. I tried to take it off with my fingers, but she giggled and wouldn’t let me. Finally, my heart pounding with fear and curiosity, I let her feed me with her fingers.
Hmmm, it tasted terrible, but it sure was fine. And that lady certainly had a way with fingers. (I’ve since tried the stuff under more normal circumstances; it really is terrible. I’d never eat it again—fingers or no.)
A few minutes later we’d finished off the bowl. The woman was starting to look mighty fine. Somewhere along the way I had wrapped my arm around her waist; she hadn’t complained. I decided to call her Captain, and the other two Red and Blondie.
I was still hungry, but there were other things to attend to before I finished feeding my face and feasting my eyes. Captain started to reach for another bowl. I stopped her by grabbing her wrist and slowly twisting it behind her. She didn’t resist. I tied her, sat her down by the other women, and lashed her ankles to theirs. They started babbling quietly with each other and I walked off to rescue my power armor.