Free The Horicon Experience by Jim Laughter Page A

debris and slag.”
    “I know,” George answered. “But if we don’t relieve some of this pressure, we’re going to die anyhow. So what’s your choice, implode or explode?”
    Akir rolled his eyes and shook his head. “To tell the truth, neither of those choices really makes me happy,” he complained.
    Pulling the throttle full off, he then threw one final switch that cut off the power from the ship’s cold fusion green box. They felt more than heard the repulsion field collapse around the ship as it hung free and defenseless in space.
    “Good work, Akir,” George said, almost wiping his brow and then remembering the hazard of the faceplate. “One of us will have to go outside to assess the damage to the tank, so we’re going to lose cabin pressure. We might as well stay suited.”
    “I can go outside, sir,” Akir volunteered as he climbed out of the control chair.
    “You sure? It’s my ship. You’re not responsible for it.”
    “The last time I looked at who was sitting in the command chair, it was me, not you,” Akir answered. “I was driving when it happened, so I’ll be the one to go outside.”
    George nodded his head. Now he was sure he liked Akir Asmed, this poor kid from the rim.
    “Alright, copilot,” George said. “Then you better get on an extra oxygen tank and magnetic boots. You’ve got work to do.”
    “And in the meantime, why don’t you see if you can contact Shalimar and have them standing by with a retrieval ship?” Akir suggested. “We may need it.”
    “Good point,” agreed George. He turned to the communications console and keyed his microphone to the emergency broadcast beacon.
    “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is Captain George Citti of Galactic Axia fast scout Starduster declaring an in-flight emergency. Does anybody copy? Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.”
    The ship had been handling so smoothly for the first four days of their trip from the mothership to Shalimar. Just another day and they would have reached the safety of Shalimar.
    George and Akir had been developing a loose friendship, each learning to trust the other with more intimate details of their personal lives. A week was a long time to spend together in close quarters without sharing a few personal points of interest. For example, Akir learned that George (he’d finally become comfortable addressing the captain of the ship by his given name instead of by his rank) was an only child from a prosperous family on one of the industrialized planets, whereas Akir hailed from a poor planet further out on the rim. Economic upheaval had left the planet impoverished, which was one of the main reasons Akir had joined the service.
    Akir was happy that his own seven brothers and four sisters back home were still all alive, but the economic burden such a large family placed on the household was sometimes unbearable. The pressure of trying to help support his younger siblings while working for minimum wage was just too much for him. So with the permission and blessing of his father and mother, he had enlisted in the troopers. That had been seven years ago and he had not regretted a single day of it. At least not until now.
    On the other hand, George did not flaunt his apparent wealth or social position, something that would be impossible on the caste-conscious planet of Akir’s birth where wealth and position were badges of privilege.
    “There’s no middle ground,” Akir had explained to George one day while they were talking. “You’re either rich or you’re poor. Social advancement is through family connections, dowries to purchase a bride of suitable status, and the never changing pursuit of wealth.”
    “I’m glad it’s not like that in the service,” George said to Akir. “In here, you make it or you don’t, and it all depends on your willingness to succeed and excel.”
    “That’s true,” Akir answered. “There are no weights of oppression on our necks. We sink or swim by our own talents.”
    And yet here we