Legroeder chuckled silently without answering. He blinked as Deutsch’s right arm suddenly telescoped out a meter and a half to the end of the table and plucked a cracker out of a bowl there. The metal arm retracted silently back into its fabric sleeve, and looked more-or-less natural as Deutsch took a bite of the cracker.
“Yes, I have many augments, supplied by the technical units of the Free Kyber Republic,” Deutsch said finally, and this time, Legroeder clearly detected the sound of sarcasm in his voice.
Legroeder nodded in acknowledgment. “Tell me—do you ever let those lenses go clear so we can see your eyes?”
“These are my eyes.”
“Oh.” Legroeder frowned, more uncomfortable than ever. “I guess I might as well tell you—I was also a guest once of the—what did you call it?—Free Kyber Republic? They didn’t use such a fancy name at DeNoble, where I was a prisoner.”
Deutsch tipped his head slightly, and the shifting glint of the ceiling light on his lenses made it seem as if he were somehow tracking movements all around him as he listened to Legroeder. “You rigged… for the Kyber?” Deutsch asked, his voice a whisper. If his eyes didn’t convey emotion, his voice did. “DeNoble. I have heard of the outpost…”
Legroeder felt a sudden heaviness in his chest, remembering. “The reason I ask about the augments… is that I need to know if they are critical to our getting back to your base.”
“I would find it difficult without,” the pirate said.
“Then I may require some coaching from you.”
Deutsch leaned slightly, as though to examine the side of Legroeder’s head. “Unless I am mistaken, you appear to have augments of your own.”
“That is true. But they’re new. I haven’t used them long.”
Deutsch’s mouth curled with an unreadable expression. “You rigged well enough in combat with us. You and your people… fought very well. While we fought—recklessly?”
Legroeder cocked his head.
“You fooled us completely. We were not expecting you to fight back. You disguised the nature of your ship well.” Deutsch’s voice held no hint of reproach. “I must say I did not expect Captain Te’Gunderlach—” Deutsch hesitated, as if wrestling with some thought or other “—to launch a flux torpedo at point-blank range.” His voice was grim and matter-of-fact.
Legroeder did not argue. It was foolish, what the raider captain had done.
“I always knew it would end this way,” Deutsch said.
“What? That you would be defeated? Or that someone would come after you?”
Deutsch shook his head slowly. “That Captain Te’Gunderlach would destroy us with his pride. He seemed more machine than man—much more machine than I am—and yet a machine with pride, a machine that could not accept the possibility of defeat. Or retreat. If he had retreated from your trap, and taken time to recover, we would still be out there on patrol. You would still be looking for your mark, and we would not be… begging for mercy.”
Deutsch laughed again, with a caw. “But then… here we are. You’ve captured us, and you want to turn yourselves in—to the gracious governance of the Kyber command.”
“Well, not quite. We hope to be somewhat cleverer than that.”
“I’m sure you do.” Deutsch’s mouth closed in a frown, and he shook his head a little. It struck Legroeder as odd the way Deutsch’s mouth displayed expression even as his words came from the speakers. “I don’t know what you hope to do there, but you’ll have to be mighty clever indeed. And in case you fear that I might act to expose you once we’re there—”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“You’re probably right, I would.” Deutsch stared at him again, and his face had become utterly expressionless again. “But mainly out of the small hope of lessening the penalty my crew and I will pay for our failure.”
Legroeder nodded. The Kyber security systems were formidable, as he well knew; he also knew that they were not invincible. “You know,” he said, “there may be a way to do this that will help both of us.” It would take smart work and luck. But he had beaten the Kyber before.
The captured pirate only stared at him with those indecipherable eyes.
The rigger systems had been transformed into a crazy-quilt network of Narseil and Kyber equipment. Narseil repair crews had labored long, replacing burned out components and bringing the flux-reactor and net-generating equipment back up to power. “It’s amazing,” Legroeder said to Palagren, with real admiration. He waved Deutsch closer. “You don’t have to keep a respectful distance, way over there. We’re going to need your help.” When Deutsch didn’t reply, he tried joking, “You’ll be teamed up with the best. It could be the high point of your rigging career.”
Deutsch said stiffly, “This is where my crewmates died. I do not think that flying on this bridge again will be a source of pleasure to me.”
Legroeder opened his mouth, shamed by the rebuke. He had quite blotted from his mind the fact that Deutsch might have had friends here on the bridge, regardless of how he felt about the Kyber regime.
Fre’geel spoke up. “Pleasure or not, you will still rig.” He said it in a husky tone that might have come across as a threat to Deutsch; but Legroeder knew it to be a tone of understanding, and even compassion. Fre’geel had lost friends, too.
Deutsch levitated to his assigned station, and Palagren and Legroeder went to theirs. As there were two each of Kyber and Narseil-designed stations, Legroeder had a choice. He chose the Kyber. No time like the present to check out their design specs.
He energized the net and stretched out into the starry sky. Palagren was already there, and Deutsch joined them a few seconds later. There was a moment of awkwardness as Palagren assigned Deutsch, the former lead rigger, to the stern position. Deutsch took up the place without comment, but there was a dull reluctance to his presence in the net. Legroeder knew that it would be up to him to talk to the pirate rigger if there was a problem, but for now he decided to let Deutsch decide on his own how to cooperate.
They began a series of tests of the net, stretching out in various directions, and dipping the fringes of it into the beginnings of the Flux. Deutsch did what was asked of him, but no more. And that, Legroeder decided, was probably okay for the time being. They were not yet ready to fly—there were many repairs still to be completed. But the time was drawing near.
Riggers, if you are satisfied with your test, please come out, said Fre’geel, on the com.
I find no problems, said Palagren. Legroeder?
Seems okay.
Rigger Deutsch?
Legroeder turned to Deutsch, resting in silence at the stern. You must give your judgment. You are the one who has flown this ship.
Even in the net, Deutsch’s glass-lensed eyes gleamed enigmatically. Yes, he said at last.
Then let us meet on the bridge, said Palagren.
The debriefing was conducted over a light meal in the galley; afterward, Fre’geel dismissed them for the night. Legroeder, mindful of his assignment, approached Deutsch. “Is there someplace we can go to talk in private?”
Deutsch stared into space. “Talk about what?”
Legroeder shrugged. “We’re going to have to work together. I have to know if I can trust you. And you have to know if you can trust me. So I thought—at least, we ought to know something about each other. Know what we’re capable of. What to expect.”