In the space between the two ships, the Narseil commandos were corralling the silversuited pirates into groups. Others were preparing to move into the enemy ship. Something didn’t look right to Legroeder, and he nudged Palagren and pointed to one of the clusters of pirates.
Is that raider commando moving out away from the others? Palagren asked softly.
Yah. Legroeder realized that three of the Narseil commandos were already moving to encircle the figure. But before he could even distinguish what was happening, there were two flashes—and one of the Narseil went tumbling backward. An instant later, the fleeing raider dissolved in a cloud of sparkling silver particles, expanding into the darkness of space.
Deutsch saw it happen on the monitor. Saw his man—had to have been Lyle—pull out a concealed weapon, take one idiotic vengeful shot, then overload his forcefield suit as the Narseil fired back. An instant later, he was ionized dust. What the hell was he trying to do, take a Narseil with him to show how brave he was? And maybe take all of his shipmates, when the Narseil decided to exact punishment? Lyle, you stupid sonofabitch bastard. Deutsch turned and shouted to the roomful of men, all of whom had seen it on the monitor. “Listen up! If any of you is thinking of doing some brainless asshole thing like that, tell me and I’ll put you out of your misery right now. If we don’t all get killed for what Lyle did.” He glared across the room. No one moved. “Good.”
Shaking his head furiously, he linked his primary implant to the ship-to-ship com. “H’zzarrelik, this is Flechette.”
“This is H’zzarrelik.”
“About what just happened, Commander—”
He never finished, because at that moment the first wave of Narseil marines erupted through the airlock door—and there were more weapons than he could count, aimed at him and all of his men.
A report came back from Ker’sell, who had remained outside the net, on the bridge. It looks as if there was one rogue pirate who didn’t want to surrender. Our marine was not seriously injured.
Legroeder growled to himself, thinking, Just one rogue pirate? Or will there be more?
Ker’sell continued, The airlock deck has been secured, and the raider’s acting captain insists that all his crew have been ordered to cooperate. But the boarding party is taking nothing for granted. The commander says to pull the net in. We’re backing to a safer distance.
Legroeder peered over at Palagren as they drew the net in. The Narseil rigger seemed to be regarding the pirate ship thoughtfully, as though wondering whether it had been worth the price they had paid for it. Legroeder wished he knew himself.
Explosion on the Flechette! There’s been an explosion.
The call from the bridge filled the withdrawn rigger-net like a jolt of electricity. Legroeder and Palagren extended the net instantly, ready to dive away from the pirate ship at the commander’s order.
The silence that followed seemed to last forever.
Although H’zzarrelik had pulled back from the raider, Fre’geel had left the riggers in their stations as a hedge against the unexpected. There was always a chance that he would have to order a fast retreat in an emergency—such as a suicidal self-destruct of the pirate ship. Their quickest escape would be straight down into the Flux—though of course they would leave behind a lot of Narseil marines that way.
They waited.
How long had they been in this net, anyway?
The pirate ship floated, silent and enigmatic, off their port bow. Whatever was happening aboard it was invisible to the eye.
The com hissed. Cantha’s voice: Riggers, withdraw from the net.
Legroeder stared at Palagren in surprise. Did he just say to come out? he said in a whisper, afraid to shatter what might have been an illusion.
Let’s go, said Palagren, and winked out of sight.
Legroeder followed.
He rubbed his eyes, looking around the bridge. Although the place was a shattered mess, a good deal of cleanup and repair had been done already.
Fre’geel, his neck-sail encased in a clear gel bandage, turned from the center console. “We had one last holdout on the raider. He blew up an engine compartment, and himself and a shipmate with it. But we had no casualties, and the raider ship is now secured.” He touched his long fingers together thoughtfully. “It occurred to me that you might be ready for some relief.” He gestured to a pair of Narseil backup riggers, standing by to take the stations. “I think they can get us out of here in a hurry as well as anyone can. But I doubt it will be necessary.” Fre’geel’s mouth remained slightly open, and for a moment his noseless face looked as if it were wearing a human smile.
Legroeder stared at the commander in amazement. He felt relief, and dread, and a dozen other emotions he couldn’t yet sort out. They had captured a pirate ship. And now they were going to… what? Fly it back to its owners.
For all of his tangled feelings, when he glanced at Palagren, their eyes met in satisfaction. For this moment at least, satisfaction.
Chapter 17
Faber Eridani
“You sure we’re on course?” the man asked, checking the satmap display for the thirteenth time. The aircar had covered hundreds of kilometers over forested terrain since they’d left Elmira, and he still wasn’t sure they’d passed over the right landmarks. His personal augments weren’t calibrating properly on the data streaming to him from the flyer’s instruments; apparently his realignment to Faber Eridani standard hadn’t quite taken. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the ground below or the visual display.
His partner rolled her eyes as she scowled down over the rolling woods. “Ye-e-es,” she said, “we’re going the right way. It’s another ten, twenty kilos.”
“What about the woman? She okay back there?”
His partner sighed and punched a couple of buttons on her compad. “This says she’s alive and in a coma. Does that count as okay?”
The man shook his head in annoyance, wishing for the hundredth time they’d gotten clearer directions from command on this operation. …Secure and transport the woman… observe evasive protocols… keep secure for further instructions…
Further instructions. He had no idea why this woman was important, just that she was. And that others would soon be looking for her. But who? It was a hell of a way to run an undercover operation.
“Any idea who they’ve got meeting us up there?”
“We’ll find out when we get there, won’t we?” his partner said irritably. A couple minutes later: “Looks like we’re coming in.” A town was beginning to emerge from the woodland ahead. “You ready to take over?”
He grunted. The aircar was descending now over street breaks in the forest cover; the autopilot was bringing them down into the outskirts of the town. “You got the directions to the rendezvous?” he asked, kicking off the autopilot. Gripping the yoke, he glanced at his partner.