The answer came quickly. “Flechette, prepare for normal-space.”
Normal-space? Deutsch thought. If he were Te’Gunderlach, he would have seized on that as one last chance to level the playing field. He hoped none of the crew would have ideas of that sort. He wanted this to be a clean surrender. “Understood,” he replied.
He turned to the pilot standing watch over the bridge controls. “You have the con. Keep the ship stable, but do nothing more. Cooperate with the Narseil and be polite if they speak to you. I’ll be on the muster deck.”
Deutsch rotated in mid-air, and glided off the bridge and down the smoky passageway.
This wouldn’t be easy, with only two in the net. Legroeder and Palagren brought H’zzarrelik alongside the pirate ship. Its hull was dotted with craters where the remaining weapons had been carefully eliminated. Close enough? Legroeder asked, feeling as if he could reach out and touch the pirate ship’s hull with his hands.
I think so, Palagren answered. Let’s extend the net and see.
The glittering spiderweb of the net expanded as they drew more power from the flux-reactor. The net had suffered damage in the explosion of that first torpedo, and they dared not stretch it too far, or too fast. And yet, they needed to encircle the other ship. It would have been impossible if the net had not been overdesigned with this mission in mind.
All right, Legroeder—reach under. See how far your arm can stretch.
The net gave, as Legroeder stretched his “arm” all the way under the raider ship and up the other side. Palagren reached over the top. Their fingers met on the far side of the pirate vessel, and interlocked to complete the grapple. After checking the strength of the net, they began drawing the two ships upward through the shifting, sparkling layers of the Flux. It was a hard labor, with the increased mass and just the two of them in the net. Soon Legroeder was straining, and having difficulty focusing his efforts.
// Let us help… //
Before he could respond, he felt strength flowing to him from within, from his Narseil-installed implants. He was startled for a moment, then realized that they were not providing actual power, but simply helping him to channel the strength flowing into the net from the flux-reactor, like a surge of electricity. The two ships rose, turning like a lily petal on the surface of a pond, as the clouds of the deeper Flux gave way to the expanding circlets of light of shallower layers—and finally the cold dark of interstellar space, dotted with the fires of a million distant suns.
The two scorched ships floated, bound together, a ludicrous emblem of human and Narseil power against the majesty of the universe.
Normal-space, Palagren reported to Commander Fre’geel.
The muster deck was full of shocked and sullen crewmen when Acting Captain Deutsch arrived. About half were suited for vacuum, and the rest were standing around waiting for orders. Ensign Ganton was just completing his inspection. He handed Deutsch three sidearms removed from crew members. “They all check,” the ensign said softly. “Except for… Gunner Lyle. He refuses to give up his weapon.”
Deutsch looked down the line of crewmen. Lyle was an older crewman, a veteran of dozens of buccaneering flights, a former commando, now a ship’s gunner. He was silversuited, but with his forcefield turned off. He sneered as Deutsch approached. “Gunner Lyle, surrender your weapon,” Deutsch said, holding out his hand.
“I don’t surrender,” Lyle said, glaring down at the rigger. He stood about half a meter taller than Deutsch.
“I see. Do you obey orders?”
Lyle’s head jerked a little. “I answer to the captain. And you aren’t the goddamned captain.”
Deutsch rose on his levitators to gaze straight into the eyes of the pirate. “I am now. Are you planning to dispute my authority?” His voice was beginning to sound ominous, echoing from the twin speakers on his armored chest.
“Captain Gunderlach—”
“Is dead,” Deutsch said, letting his voice turn to hardened steel. “As you will be, if you do not obey your new captain.”
“The captain,” Lyle snarled, “would never give his ship up to Narseil.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “And he wouldn’t give up his crew, either.”
“That’s right,” Deutsch said softly. The beating red flame of anger that drove him so effectively in the net was beginning to rise again in his thoughts, and he didn’t try to keep it from his voice. “He wouldn’t have. The captain thought he was invulnerable. And that’s why he and a lot of your friends are dead right now. And if you don’t obey my orders, a lot more will join them.” Deutsch beckoned to Ensign Ganton. “Ensign, remove this man’s weapon.”
He could see fear in the ensign’s eyes. He also saw Lyle’s hand moving toward the sidearm at his waist. Deutsch caught Lyle’s defiant gaze—and an instant later, Deutsch’s telescoping left arm shot out to twice its normal length, and he caught Lyle’s gun hand in a hydraulic vice-grip. Lyle’s face went pale.
Deutsch chose not to break the man’s wrist. Instead, he used his network of fingertip sensors to locate the faint aura of nerve pathways in Lyle’s wrist; and as Deutsch smiled at the man, he searched his augmented memory-stores for the image he wanted. He sent it out, amplified: an irresistible image of a crushing force closing on Lyle’s wrist, a vice slowly splintering the bone, and pain like nothing the man had ever dreamed of…
Lyle sank to his knees, trembling. His breath escaped with a gasp, and then a curse. Deutsch released his wrist unharmed. But Lyle remained on his knees, cradling his right arm in agony.
Deutsch motioned Ensign Ganton over. “Remove his weapon.” The terrified ensign obeyed, taking care not to touch Lyle’s arm. Deutsch accepted the gun and amplified his voice as he spoke to the other stunned crewmembers. “We have already paid the price of our failure. We paid it in blood. But it’s done. As your acting captain, I command that no more shall die needlessly.”
At that moment, he heard a small inner voice, providing an update from the bridge. He acknowledged, then linked to the intercom and announced ship-wide, “We are now in normal-space. All suited personnel move into the airlocks and open the outer doors. You are to offer no resistance to the Narseil. Essential systems crew only, remain at your stations.”
Deutsch watched as the suited weapons crew flicked on their silversuit-forcefields and moved into the airlock. Lyle rose, silent with rage, and activated his silversuit. A sneer crossed his features an instant before his face turned to a blank mirror. Then he followed the others into the airlock. Deutsch waited until the inner door closed and the outer door opened, then turned his attention to the rest of the crew.
Legroeder had a clear view from the net as the Narseil boarders, looking like large metal insects, floated across space to the pirate ship. They moved efficiently, but more cautiously than their raider counterparts had. Their first priority was to scan the suited pirates who had come out of the Flechette’s airlocks and to secure them as prisoners before entering the pirate ship itself. Who knew what traps might await them aboard Flechette? Legroeder did not envy them their job.
As he watched, along with Palagren, Legroeder sensed a chromatic flicker in his vision, and certain chimelike inner sounds; and he realized that his implants were busily recording, buzzing with analysis and observation. Their progress was displayed to him as streaks of color-coded light at the edges of his inner vision. He exhaled slowly, trying not to let it distract him.