They were now dropping not just vertically but also deeper through the dimensional layering of the Flux. He could feel his implants trying to help him coordinate the rush of data; but, afraid of the distraction, he kept them at the edges. His thoughts narrowed with concentration, as he let all of his instincts and experience flow to his fingertips. The plane/ship flew like a bird of prey, swooping down…
Spirit of the mist, let them have those weapons working, Palagren breathed, as they gathered the deeper layers of the Flux around them, building momentum for the sluggish currents ahead.
Legroeder’s gaze swept the parting clouds. He spotted the pirate ship, drifting below. The enemy had almost pulled out of its tumble, but as it grew beneath them, Legroeder saw the tattered sparkle of a rigger-net and knew they were still mostly dead in the water. He drew a breath. Keep them on your right, Palagren, and let me face them as we pass.
They hit the slower current like a swimmer hitting a cold layer. He’d tried to prepare for it, but it was jarring… and the moment was now for turning, and they banked hard over, putting the enemy off their lower right bow…
The neutrasers blazed from the H’zzarrelik, dancing like ghostly laser beams on the other ship. The raider’s nose and net flared and darkened. There was a sput sput sput in the Narseil net, and three torpedoes twirled out and away from H’zzarrelik, curving wide, then back in toward the enemy’s weapons bays.
Legroeder and Palagren pulled away, exposing H’zzarrelik’s belly for a moment but also aiming the one remaining sensor for the benefit of their own gunners on the bridge. Legroeder saw a flicker of neutraser fire as they twisted away from the enemy—the pirate ship firing back wildly. And then three blazing flashes, as the flux-torpedoes exploded. He was pretty sure at least one had connected.
Let’s move off and take a look, Palagren said. They approached the cloud layer overhead and wheeled around in a circle, peering down at the enemy ship. The raider’s net was dark, and there were several black holes in her hull. One neutraser on the side of the pirate ship was firing erratically into empty space.
Should we make another pass?
We don’t want to destroy her, Palagren answered.
Better her than us, Legroeder thought silently.
The net crackled with static, and Legroeder nearly jumped out of his skin. A voice was trying to reach them—inaudibly at first, and then becoming clear. This is Fre’geel… can you hear me in the net?
The two riggers cried out at once, then Legroeder shut up and let Palagren report to the commander.
Keep a safe distance, said Fre’geel, while we discuss terms of surrender.
For a moment, the two riggers stared at each other in breathless amazement. Legroeder had never in his life heard of a pirate ship surrendering. So who, he felt himself wanting to ask, was surrendering to whom?
Mission Commander Fre’geel was leaning over the com unit, shouting to make himself heard over the static. “To whom am I speaking?”
Ker’sell listened for the reply. The voice that answered was human. Ker’sell was no expert, but he thought the voice sounded shaken. “My name is… Deutsch,” rasped the voice over the short-range fluxwave.
“And you are—?” demanded Fre’geel.
“…lead rigger…”
Fre’geel snapped to Ker’sell, “Call Legroeder out here at once.” As Ker’sell obeyed, Fre’geel continued on the ship-to-ship, “Why is a rigger answering? Let me speak to your captain.”
“…captain is dead… most of the bridge crew dead… all of the other riggers,” said the distant voice, straining. “I have the con… am prepared to surrender.”
As Legroeder climbed out of the rigger-station, Ker’sell pointed to Fre’geel, who motioned the human over. Fre’geel barked into the com, “Say that again. I could not quite hear…”
At the other end of the bridge, Agamem was working furiously to bring the rest of the weapons and internal security systems back up. There was a flicker on one of the screens. He muttered an oath, and then finally had an image on the internal security monitor: a sweep of the ship’s corridors, some of them empty and some with crew members running. Pressing the augment-link to his temple and focusing his thoughts, he set the system scanning for intruders…
The monitor flickered and froze, displaying the portside main corridor, amidships. There was a streak of silver, almost too quick to see; it was the escaped raider commando, suited and heavily augmented, darting into hiding. Agamem focused again: that was a replay, two minutes old. Where were his own soldiers?
“Security,” he hissed into the intercom. “Intruder is—” Then he saw four Narseil crew running into view of the monitor, pointing weapons and searching. He keyed the intercom again. “Port Corridor Two—intruder has gone into—” he checked the location data “—the exercise room. Proceed with caution.”
The Narseil acknowledged and gathered around the closed door. One of them opened the door, and two of the four darted inside.
Agamem switched to the monitor inside the exercise room. At first, he didn’t see the pirate. Then he did. “Rings,” he hissed. His men were moving cautiously along the edge of the pool. And there was the enemy—underwater in his armored spacesuit, about two feet below the surface, close to the pool wall where the soldiers couldn’t see him. Weapon up, ready to fire up through the water the moment someone peered over the edge.
Agamem keyed the intercom again. He’d wanted to capture the pirate alive, if possible. But his people were too close—and he hadn’t forgotten Voco and Captain Ho’Sung lying dead on the bridge. “Get out of the room and seal the bulkhead door,” he ordered.
His crew moved quickly, obeying without hesitation. Agamem pressed the augment-link to his temple again, and focused. It took half a second to arm the weapon at the bottom of the pool, and another half second to confirm. Then he shut his eyes, sending the command to the security system.
Whump!
In the monitor, water shot up in a geyser. And with it, a silver-suited figure, twisted and broken.
A tremor shook the deck. Then stillness.
Legroeder looked up in alarm, and saw that he was not the only one. Fre’geel was already asking for a report. “The antipersonnel weapon in the pool,” Agamem answered. “The escaped raider has been subdued. No further casualties on our side.”
Fre’geel acknowledged and turned back to Legroeder, with a muted hiss. For the first time, Legroeder realized how much pain the commander must have been enduring; his metallic green neck-sail was practically shredded from the battle on the bridge, and was crusted with clotted purple blood.
Moving and speaking abruptly, Fre’geel said to Legroeder, “What about a rigger in command of the other ship? Can we believe that?”
Legroeder had listened to the ship-to-ship communication. “It might be true,” he said. “Those shots could have killed the riggers in the net, certainly—and quite possibly the rest of the bridge crew. If the ranking officers were killed, the lead rigger would take the con, yes. Assuming some miracle had kept him alive.”
“And would he be in a position to surrender?”
“He might even want to, if he’s a conscript like I was. The problem is—”