 
### Scourge:

### Book Two of the Starcrown Chronicles

by Jon Gerrard

Copyright 2014 Jon Gerrard

Smashwords Edition

Cover by Dane Low

Other books by Jon Gerrard

Shadowplay: Book One of the Starcrown Chronicles

Tae Kwon Do:

The Ultimate Reference Guide to the World's Most Popular Martial Art

Black Belt Tae Kwon Do
To my favorite girls:

D, Shay and Puka

Chapter One

The interstellar commercial transport _Dawn Star_ had been plying the space lanes for more than six years since she and her sister ship, the _Evening Star_ , had first been put into service. While she could no longer be considered new she was still a relatively young ship, especially by today's standards. Because of the heavy tolls the shipping industry was taking as a result of the increasing pirate activity, transport companies were keeping ships in service for longer and longer periods of time. Quite simply, the profits were not there to purchase new ships.

But Captain Ernesto Chavez was not complaining. His ship was one of the youngest in the company's fleet. Six years was more than enough time to work through any break-in problems, not that there had been many. Built by the renown multinational ship builder, Empyrean Technologies Corporation, the _Dawn Star_ had proven herself to be sound. Over the past few years she had logged more light-years than many ships twice her age without any major problems. She was comfortably broken in like a favorite pair of shoes. In fact that's how her captain liked to think of her: comfortable. And like a favorite pair of shoes she had adapted to suit her user's needs. Right now for Captain Chavez that meant his chair on the bridge. One thing he insisted on was that no one but him sat in that chair. Over the years the padding had formed to the contours of his body until it fit like an old shoe.

The captain settled back into his chair and sipped his morning mug of coffee as he scratched at his ample stomach which hung over his belt. On the bridge with him were his first officer, Sasha Goodkin, and the helmsman, Anton Kozlov. Kozlov was young, barely nineteen. This was his first time aboard the _Dawn_. Like most of the crew he was newly hired by the company at a salary far less than what the former, more experienced helmsman had been paid. Cutbacks had forced the ship's owner, the Star Transportation Combine, to reduce personnel to skeleton crews throughout their fleet.

"Easy money, eh, Sasha?" the captain said to his first officer. Unlike the young helmsman, the first officer had been with the company for many years, having worked her way up from assistant navigator, a position which no longer existed.

"If you say so, Ernie," she answered. The first officer couldn't have disagreed with the captain more.

"Oh, come on, Sasha, we're getting pay and a half plus an on time bonus for a short hop. You're not trying to tell me you object to getting paid extra to do what we would normally be doing anyway?"

"Of course not," Sasha said as she studied the sensor display. "I'd just like to get back in one piece to be able to spend it."

Chavez laughed. "You worry too much. There hasn't been any pirate activity in this sector for more than nine months."

That's because the company usually sends out convoys of ships, Sasha thought, but kept her comments to herself. In her mind the captain was foolish not to worry about being targeted. They were alone on this trip, easy pickings for any pirate who came along. That was why she was keeping an eye on the sensors. They were away from the usual shipping lanes so there shouldn't be anyone else around. If they did pick up a ship in the area she planned to make sure they gave it a wide berth, even if it meant sacrificing their quick delivery bonus. Their engines were in good shape and she was confident that they could stay ahead of any ship that did try to run them down, at least long enough to reach port. The trick was to pick them up on long range scan while they were still far enough away to make a run for it.

In a gesture of acknowledgment of the potential danger, the company was allowing them to carry side arms for the first time. Chavez wore his like a badge of honor, although Sasha doubted if he even knew how to fire it. This was assuming of course that he could even draw the pistol with his holster obstructed as it was by his prodigious belly. Kozlov, on the other hand, seemed nervous about having his strapped on. Sasha hoped the kid didn't try to draw it. He'd likely shoot himself in the foot. As for herself, Sasha had hers securely locked in her cabin safe. She figured that if armed pirates ever did board the ship she wanted to give them as little reason as possible to want to shoot her.

Satisfied that there was nothing in range of their sensors, she began a quick review of the other boards to check on the ship's status. She picked up a stylus and did a quick walk across the bridge, checking off items on her flatpad. All systems were running smoothly. Once she finished, she gave the pad to the captain for his review and signature then went back to the sensor console to run another scan.

Normally she wouldn't bother running scans every few minutes. The system could be set to scan automatically and alert them if anything turned up in scan range. Then again, normally they were cruising the regular shipping lanes as part of a convoy. Two or three ships traveling together were too much for a single pirate ship to swallow. For over a year now the company had been sending its ships out in convoys. So far that tactic had kept away pirate attacks but it had other impacts on the business as well. Shipping costs had gone up dramatically since transports were deadheading for one or more legs of each trip. But whether they were carrying cargo or not those ships still burned fuel and still had crews aboard that needed to eat and breathe. To help offset these costs, in addition to raising transportation fees and laying off a sizable percentage of their work force, the company had also cut salaries across the board by twenty-five percent.

Sasha had a mortgage and a daughter entering college. The cut in salary had really hurt, but she figured she was better off than everybody who had lost their jobs. That was why she agreed to do this run when Chavez told her what the company was offering. She wasn't as impressed as he seemed to be about being paid one and a half times the normal rate. She had done the math and calculated that since they had already reduced her salary by twenty-five percent, the 'incentive pay' as they were calling it amounted to only slightly more than what her old salary used to be. And when you figured in the extra tax she'd have to pay because she would be pushed into a higher tax bracket for this pay period, what she would actually take home was just about what her current salary was. But meager as it was it was extra money she could not afford to pass up. She just kept praying that no pirates happened across them while they were out here.

When her second scan also turned up nothing, she started to relax. They were more than halfway through the trip and would be off loading their cargo in another thirty-nine hours, when they would pick up their bonuses. It did seem a little odd to her that there was such a fuss being made over mining equipment, which is what their cargo consisted of. A company called Intrepid Enterprises had apparently discovered extensive mineral deposits on the moon of a gas giant in a remote star system. They were willing to pay above the usual rate to have the equipment shipped to them as quickly as possible. Sasha could only suppose they must have come across some pretty valuable ores. Maybe Intrepid Enterprises would pick them up as a regular client and contract with them to ship the ore back to one of the refining platforms. Regular trips would mean the company would be sending convoys, not single ships, out this way. That would be fine with Sasha. It was creepy being out here all alone.

She had just set the system to automatic scan and was about to turn away when she thought she saw something on the screen. She stopped and stared hard, waiting to see if it would return. A few moments later it was there again. Whatever it was it was barely registering on the ship's sensors. It was almost like the wake effect of a ship moving at high speed, but the sensors weren't reading any ships anywhere near them.

"Ernie, come take a look at this," she called to the captain without taking her eyes off the screen.

Captain Chavez heaved himself out of his chair to waddle over to the sensor console.

"Have you got something?" he asked, and took a long pull on his coffee.

"It comes and goes. It's almost like–there!" Sasha said when the strange return appeared briefly again.

Chavez had never seen anything like it. He tapped the display with his fingers. "Glitch?"

"I don't think so," Sasha said. "Whatever it is its close. Let me try a short range scan. It'll give better resolution." She switched the sensors to short range. At first the screen remained blank, then there was a faint return. "It's coming from astern."

Neither Ernie nor Sasha had any military experience. They had no idea that what they were tracking was the wake effect of an incoming torpedo, an electronically stealthed missile that was locked onto their ship.

"That's the damnedest thing I ever saw," Chavez said when the signal popped up briefly again and faded almost at once. He tried to adjust the sensor resolution but couldn't get a better image. He quit fiddling with the controls after a moment, shrugged and turned back to his seat to focus on his unfinished coffee. "Make a note to have maintenance look at it. It's probably just a ghost image."

"I don't think so Ernie," Sasha said as she watched the image briefly pop up onto the screen again. "It doesn't look like any kind of false sensor reflection I've ever seen. I think there's something out there."

"Come on, Sasha, if there was something out there the collision alert would have–"

At that moment the shrill warbling of the collision alert claxon sounded on the bridge. Chavez started and dropped his coffee, staring open mouthed at his first officer.

Sasha reacted to the warning claxon immediately, but it was already too late.

"Evasive starboard!" she yelled to the helmsman.

Kozlov had nearly jumped out of his boots at the sound of the alarm claxon. He stood frozen with panic for several seconds until the first officer's words finally worked their way into his consciousness. Looking down he grabbed the pilot wheel and tried to steer the ship to starboard but the yoke wouldn't budge.

"I ... I can't! It won't move!" he cried out.

Sasha sprang toward him. "The autopilot! Disengage the auto–"

Before she could reach him they felt the ship shudder violently around them. Warning lights began blinking from several of the consoles as the main viewscreen flashed, showing their sudden return to normal space. A quick glance at the engine monitor board showed that their drive system had failed.

Captain Chavez jabbed at the intercom. "Engine room, come in!"

He was answered only by static.

* * *

The pirate sub _Wraith_ disengaged its stealth system as it neared the crippled transport. The torpedo had done its work and knocked out the ship's engines, forcing it to drop out of hyperspace. As the sub approached the helpless ship a signal jammer was activated to prevent the crew from calling for help. This was not the first time the pirates had taken down a transport and the crew moved with experienced efficiency. The sub pulled alongside the transport and fired a series of magnetic grapple lines. There was a brief electrical display along the grapple lines, like lightning strikes in space, as the static charges of the ships hulls were cancelled out. Then the sub began winching the two ships together. Even though the pirate ship was nearly two hundred meters in length, the transport was half again as long. But the pirates knew that the ship's holds were only partially filled. What she was carrying would easily fit in their own cargo spaces.

A docking sleeve extended from the pirate ship as the two vessels drew closer. As soon as the ships were locked together and the docking sleeve sealed against the transport's cargo hatch, a team of pirates wearing space armor took up positions in the sleeve. Precisely placed, shaped charges blew the outer hatch on the transport and the raiders swarmed into the ship.

* * *

On the bridge of the _Dawn Star_ , Captain Chavez was starting to panic. He still couldn't raise the engine room and a few moments ago they had felt a second explosion vibrate through the ship. The sensors showed that a ship had grappled onto their port hull–a ship that appeared out of nowhere when there had been nothing within range of their sensors only moments before.

"Engine room, answer! This is the bridge! What's going on down there?" Chavez yelled into the intercom.

The young helmsman, Koslov, stood frozen at his post, his hands clutching the manual steering yoke in a death grip. His entire body was trembling as he stood with his eyes staring blindly ahead, sweat beading his forehead.

"Engine room, come in!" Chavez tried again.

"They're not going to answer, Ernie," Sasha said, not bothering to hide the contempt in her voice. She had been following the pirates' actions as best as she could using the ship's sensors. She knew that they had locked onto their hull and were probably already aboard. It was only a matter of time before the raiders made their way to the bridge.

Her mind raced through possibilities. Staying to face the invaders was her least favorite option. From what little she did know about how they operated, the pirates never left any living crew aboard the ships they attacked. The stories she'd heard were that the crew was either murdered to a man or missing whenever a hijacked ship was found. Neither of these choices was appealing to her. In seconds she'd made up her mind. This was a big ship. There were dozens of places she could hole up until the pirates finished ransacking the transport and left. If the rumors were to be believed the pirates didn't scuttle the ships they victimized so she should be able to survive until the ship was discovered. It was as if they left the derelict hulks adrift on purpose to unnerve the public. If that was their aim it was working.

Having made her decision, Sasha spun around and hurried toward the exit.

Chavez looked up as she rushed across the bridge. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here," she answered without breaking stride.

A moment later she hit the hatch control and froze in the doorway as the door slid aside. From the far end of the passage that led to the bridge she heard the heavy tread of booted feet approaching. Bulky shadows played on the distant bulkhead where the passageway came to a T intersection. She was too late.

Sasha started backing onto the bridge as the armored figures appeared at the end of the corridor and turned toward her.

"Sasha, what is it?" Chavez said when he saw her expression.

Sasha didn't answer. She just kept backing into the bridge, her eyes locked on the advancing figures. After a moment Chavez could hear the approaching footfalls as well. Heaving his bulk up from his seat he started toward the hatch as he reached for the holstered laser pistol at his belt. He fumbled with the holster for a moment then reached across with his free hand to hold his belly out of the way so he could draw the weapon. A moment later the first of the pirates reached the bridge. At the same instant Chavez managed to free his pistol.

"What is the meaning of this illegal boarding of my ship?" Chavez demanded as he looked into the mirrored visor of the pirate's armored suit.

Although the transport captain hadn't even aimed his weapon, as soon as the pirate saw the pistol in his hand he reacted. Swinging his blaster rifle up in a practiced arc he squeezed off a single shot directly into the captain's face. A small hole appeared in his forehead while the entire back of his skull was blown away in a cone of spraying gore. His body jerked once, then he toppled like a statue, an expression of surprise frozen on his features.

The pirate took in the scene on the bridge quickly as the other three men in his team entered behind him and spread out. Apart from the body on the floor there was only the woman backed up against a console and the skinny youth standing frozen in front of the helm.

"Who's in charge here?" the pirate demanded, his voice projecting from the suit's external speaker.

Sasha glanced from Chavez's corpse to the rifle in the pirate's hands and answered without hesitation, "You are."

Several minutes later Sasha found herself and the terrified helmsman being prodded into line with the rest of the ship's crew in the passage outside the main cargo hold. The massive doors to the hold had been opened and row after row of stacked shipping containers could be seen within the cavernous space.

Of the total compliment of twelve crew members aboard, only nine were present, and one of them was wounded. Perkins, the engineer, had been shot in the leg and was sitting on the deck. The missing three crew members, including the captain, had been killed by the pirates when they took the ship.

The pirate who had shot the captain appeared to be the leader of the boarding party. He gave a series of orders to his men and turned back to the prisoners as half of the raiders jogged into the hold to inventory the cargo. At a motion from the leader, one of his men set an oversized case down on the deck and opened it. He took several obedience collars out of the case and began locking the metal rings around the necks of the prisoners while the rest of the pirates covered them with their weapons. When the pirate with the collars reached the wounded man, the leader stopped him.

Perkins had been shot in the thigh and a fist sized chunk of flesh had been blasted away. A tourniquet above the wound had stopped most of the bleeding but his pants leg was thick with blood and he couldn't stand. The pirate leader gave the leg a casual kick, sending the engineer into a fit of writhing and groaning. Without a moment's hesitation the pirate lowered the muzzle of his pulse blaster and fired a quick burst into the man's chest. Perkins spasmed as the shots ripped through his body, then slumped down against the base of the bulkhead, blood running from his sagging mouth and mixing with what was pooling on the deck beneath him.

The transport crew huddled together at the sight of the casual murder of their shipmate. They stared in wide eyed horror at the pirate leader who stood to one side and watched in an almost bored manner as his man continued fitting the rest of them with the electronic collars. Once each of them had been fitted with a collar the leader slung his rifle on his shoulder, reached up and removed his helmet.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, you're going to get in there and start transferring your cargo to our ship," the pirate ordered. "And keep in mind that I'm on a tight schedule. _Don't_ make me late."

Even using the power loaders it took the crew more than three hours to offload the cargo under the watchful eyes of the pirates. When the last of the shipping containers was finally secured aboard the pirate's ship the exhausted transport crew was directed into a smaller hold aboard the sub and locked in. Healthy slaves were worth as much as twenty thousand Solars each. That translated into about a hundred and sixty thousand for the transport crew alone. The money they would get for the prisoners on top of what the Brotherhood had promised them for delivering the transport's cargo amounted to quite a tidy sum. Not bad for a few hours work.

As soon as the prisoners were secured the pirates sealed their airlock and cast off from the ravaged transport, leaving the empty hulk to drift through the interstellar void. Minutes later the pirate sub _Wraith_ activated its stealth system and disappeared.
Chapter Two

My left buttock had fallen asleep.

I shifted my weight to my right hip and clenched my jaw to stifle a yawn. I couldn't believe that the debating over my bill had been going on like this for the past five hours. Actually, that's not true. I'd been sitting in on most of the Senate sessions over the past six months and I knew how heated the arguing could get. I also couldn't help wondering what anyone following the events at home must be thinking as they saw their elected representatives behaving like belligerent school children. Of course, that's assuming anyone was actually watching. The Senate broadcasts were at the bottom of the ratings chart.

Six months ago, when I had first been returned to the throne, just the opposite had been the case. The observer galleries had been packed for weeks as news crews televised everything taking place in the senate chamber. My uncle had barred the press from senate sessions years earlier. But as soon as I reversed that policy people clamored to get a view into the political processes that were shaping the nation.

There was also a sudden fascination with anything I did. It was understandable, given that I had suddenly returned from the dead, but a real pain in the ass. I couldn't go anywhere without having a horde of reporters swarming after me and shouting questions. Since then, as things settled into a routine, public interest had slowly faded away. I didn't blame people. Watching a parade of politicians drone on with their opinions about different proposals wasn't exactly riveting entertainment. If I didn't have to be here I wouldn't be watching either.

Today however something I was personally invested in was up for discussion on the floor. Over the past few months I had put together a bill that I was calling the Public Works Initiative to help combat the rising unemployment rate throughout the kingdom. The impact of the pirate attacks on the interstellar shipping industry was sending serious ripples throughout the entire economy.

Gilead, like most of the other star nations, was struggling through one of the most severe economic recessions in history. While the situation hadn't worsened since I had returned to the throne, things hadn't gotten much better either. People needed a way to earn an income and my bill would help them do just that. I knew it wasn't a permanent solution, but it was a start. Which is why I was annoyed about all of the objections that were being raised.

Most Senators were supporting the bill in its basic form, but opposition had cropped up over a number of specific items. The current issue under debate was whether or not people on public assistance should be required to work, as my bill stipulated. Opponents to the measure were describing the types of things I wanted people to do as 'make work'. I considered it a way of teaching responsibility. I saw no reason for healthy, able bodied adults to sit around and collect a check without giving something back in exchange.

At several points during the day I had come close to stepping in and simply commanding the legislature to adopt my bill and move on. Remembering Morgan's advice however, I held myself back and didn't try to force the issue. He kept reminding me that it was important for me to understand opposing viewpoints if I were to govern effectively. It was also important to let the people see that I wasn't expecting their elected representatives to behave like a bunch of compliant lap dogs who would simply rubber stamp anything I said. Of course, on the other side of the coin were the heated arguments that I then had to sit through while different senators competed with each other to enlighten us all with their insightful opinions.

Days like this could be mind numbing.

Dragging my attention back to what was happening on the floor, I listened briefly to the two senators who were trading thinly veiled insults and decided that I had heard enough. Nothing that had been said during the hours the bill had been up for discussion had changed my mind. If anything, I was more determined than ever to see it enacted.

I rose to my feet and all talking ceased.

"Senators," I began as I swept my gaze around the room from atop my dais, "I have been listening to your reactions to this bill over the past several hours and I still remain committed to my original course. While we sit here and debate minutiae, there are people throughout our star systems that are at risk of losing everything they have worked a lifetime to achieve. Far too many of my subjects need a way to generate an income and this bill will accomplish that. Moreover, we need to begin to move away from this entitlement mindset the nation seems to have developed over the past several years. The government is not something that exists to bail people out of every problem that arises in their lives. While the Crown will _never_ turn its back on those in need, it is my intention to put an end to this practice of simply paying people whenever they have fallen on hard times. People need to understand that they have to give something back in exchange for the aid they are receiving."

I paused briefly, fixing my gaze on the one Senator I knew to be the primary architect of the movement opposing me. Hamilton Fiske had never gotten over being humiliated by me on the day I returned to power. Since then, he had taken every opportunity to be a thorn in my side.

Of course, I wouldn't be in this situation at all if I had allowed Admiral Magnus to execute him six months ago as an enemy of the state. Although I had reversed my order at the last moment, no one but me knew how close I had come to actually allowing the firing squad to carry out their orders. The truth was that I detested Fiske. To me he represented everything that was wrong with our society.

Fortunately, most of the others gave him a wide berth. Fiske, along with a group of hard core right wingers who had also backed Sebastian's actions when he occupied the throne, had become _personae non gratae_ in the Senate. And ever since I had negated their appointments to the various Senate committees they used to sit on, they had the time to stir up trouble.

But that time was coming to an end. One way or another I was going to see some major changes in the Senate. Right now however I had more pressing matters demanding my attention. I held Fiske's eyes for a moment longer then looked away, dismissing him from my thoughts like the minor irritant he was.

"The bottom line, ladies and gentlemen, is that I want action on this bill. Find a way to work out your problems and have something on my desk by the end of the week. I will be happy to consider any reasonable amendments you would like to propose which do not change the focus of what I am trying to accomplish, but keep in mind that the purpose of this bill is to get our economy moving again. Our people are hurting and I am determined to do whatever it takes to help get my subjects back on their feet." I flicked a quick glance in Fiske's direction and saw the venom in his eyes.

"I'll leave you to it," I finished.

Everyone stood and bowed as I made my way down the dais stairs and strode from the room.

As soon as I stepped out of the Senate Chamber I paused, giving myself some time to cool down. Behind me the marine guards on duty slowly closed the massive doors. Because the Senate was in session, this area of the capitol was closed to the general public and I found myself in a blissfully empty corridor, a rarity in the capitol. As I stood calming my nerves I wondered if I was cut out for politics. I didn't seem to have the patience for all of the bull that was involved. More and more often I found myself wanting to cut through the layers of politically correct nonsense to get to the heart of the matter while everyone else seemed content to dance around whatever the issue was.

Maybe I should try to be like the more experienced politicians and move more slowly. Many of them had held their seats for more years than I had been living. That experience had to count for something. Then again, maybe it was time things got shaken up a little. The nation was going through difficult times. I needed solutions to some serious fiscal and social problems, and I needed them now. Maybe it was the established politicians who needed to have their trees rattled. Maybe they needed to be more aggressive in their thinking.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. With fifty star systems and billions of subjects to be responsible for, I didn't like not being sure that I was doing the right thing. One thing I was certain of—if whatever I was doing upset Senator Fiske, then I had to be on the right track. I suppressed a chuckle at that thought.

Now that I had my temper under control I started toward the central rotunda. Then I remembered that the Libertarian Coalition was holding a rally at the capitol this afternoon. Their demonstrations always drew large crowds with heavy media coverage and the last thing I wanted right now was to have to talk to the press.

The Coalition was an interesting by product of modern society. Essentially they were a group that was dissatisfied with the boundaries imposed on individual behavior. They believed that people should have the complete freedom to behave however they wanted. Their core focus was usually vice issues. For years they had been advocating the legalization of prostitution, gambling and drugs. They had actually build up quite a following over time and some of their most vocal proponents were highly respected members of the intellectual community—college professors, scientists and mental health professionals. Unfortunately for them, they had trouble organizing themselves effectively. One of their pet bugaboos was a distrust of authority. They felt that giving one person the authority to make decisions for a group was oppressive. Therefore, everything they did was decided by committee, with each member having an equal voice. As a result it took them forever to get anything done. While their demonstrations always made for interesting tri-vid, they had little actual effect in the legislature.

Today's rally was going to be a departure from their normal demonstrations. Recently they had added a new plank to their platform. Along with their focus on vice issues, the group had decided that public nudity was something that needed to be addressed. Personally I was more amused by this turn events than anything else. Most people's bodies were not something I would want to see naked. I also doubted that health codes would allow people without clothing to sit on chairs in places of public assembly, especially where food was served. But if this was what they wanted to focus their energies on I had no objections.

Morgan was constantly chiding me for allowing the Coalition to hold their rallies at the capitol. But their paperwork was always in order, thanks to the high profile attorneys they kept on retainer, and there really was no legal reason for me to deny their requests. Besides, I actually found some of their arguments interesting, not that I had ever confessed that to Morgan. Today, however, I did not have the time for their moralistic posturing.

Since I didn't want to be cornered by the reporters who were doubtless stalking the capitol corridors in search of a sound bite, I decided to avoid the public areas altogether and detoured toward the private, back hallways. It was a more roundabout route but one that allowed me to get back to my apartment undisturbed.

After making my way through a series of connected hallways for several minutes I finally emerged in the residential wing. Several strides later I was turning into the corridor that led to my private rooms. At the end of the hall I saw that Alan Thatcher was the protective service agent posted at the door. I could also tell that he was bored out of his mind. Although the duty agents' shifts rotated every hour to keep them alert, I understood how monotonous it must be to just stand in one place and stare at the wall.

"What's the good word, Alan?" I said as I strode up to him.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," Alan said, perking up at my appearance. "It looks like the Wolverines are going to be in the championships again this year. They crushed the Bolts 7 to 2!" The Wolverines was the local soccer team. It was nearing the end of the season and the finals were only a few weeks away. I was usually too busy to catch most of the games myself so Alan kept me up on how all the local teams were doing.

"Was there ever any doubt?" I said. "I heard Scott Logan scored five of the goals himself."

"It was incredible, Sire. You should have seen it. He was like a man possessed. The other team couldn't touch him."

We spent a few minutes discussing the Wolverines' latest game and the feats of athletic prowess their star player had exhibited on the field.

"So, are we in the pool?" I eventually asked. There was always a sports pool of some kind among the PSA staff. I had given Alan fifty solars at the beginning of the season and had him place my bets with his. So far our winnings totaled more than six hundred solars.

"Absolutely. I've got us down for the Wolverines to win by 4."

"You just keep on picking winners and we'll have one hell of an end of season party."

I had promised to use my winnings for a PSA staff a party if the Wolverines won the championship.

"It's in the bag, Sire," Alan promised as I glanced at the retinal scanner and the door to my apartment slid aside. I clapped him on the shoulder and entered the suite.

It was quiet in the entry foyer when the door closed behind me. The space I was standing in was an elongated oval with twin, curving staircases on both sides leading up to the bedrooms and other private areas on the second floor. Portraits of each of the previous Gilead kings and queens lined the walls along the stairs. There was even one of my uncle, Duke Sebastian. Although he had taken the throne illegally, I kept him there to remind me how easily the power of the Crown could corrupt.

Unlike when I left this morning, each of the paintings was now encased in a protective plastic bag while in front of me the round, rosewood table that usually bore a vase full of exotic flowers was covered with a sheet. Directly above it the crystal chandelier my mother had commissioned shortly after I was born was sheathed in a plastic wrap of its own. And on the far side of the room the overstuffed chairs and love seats which formed an intimate little nook in front of the floor to ceiling windows along the back wall were only vague, sheet draped shapes.

Max had been busy. It was a bit sobering to see my home packed up like this, but it also meant that all my planning over the past months was finally about to bear fruit.

For a moment I thought I was alone until my eye fell on the flatpad on the edge of the table.

"Morgana," I called, but there was no response.

My first thought was that she was upstairs packing. Then I remembered that it was Wednesday. Even with everything else that was going on today I knew she wouldn't miss one of her special practice sessions if she could help it.

Underneath each of the sweeping staircases hallways led off to the left and right wings of the suite. To the left were my office, a comfortable den/media room, the dining room, and a private lift down to the garage. The hallway on the right led to the kitchen, the laundry and eventually the gym. My valet, Maximilian Keyhold, also had his rooms in this part of the house.

Most people were surprised at how small the apartment was. While the Royal Family did own a one hundred sixty-four room estate on a three thousand acre spread outside of the city, this is where I lived. I didn't need a lot of room. In fact, I preferred the intimacy of the suite. Everything else in my life was on such a grand scale that these rooms served as a place where I could relax and just be myself.

Remembering my schedule, I glanced at the wall clock beside the door. The time before our departure was running short. I turned into the right hand hallway and headed toward the gym door at the far end.

"Good afternoon, Sire," Max said as I passed the open kitchen doorway. "Will you be wanting dinner now?"

An enticing aroma swept over me, reminding me just how hungry I was. I had been so busy during the day that I hadn't bothered to stop for lunch. I don't know how he did it, but Max always seemed to know when I would be home and would have just the right thing prepared. I paused and turned into the immaculate kitchen. Like the rest of the apartment, just about everything in the kitchen had been cleaned up, packed away or covered.

"Hi, Max. Actually, that sounds like a good idea. I'm famished. You can set it out for me in my room. I'll eat while I change." I picked a few grapes from a bowl of fruit that was conveniently set out next to the kitchen door and popped one into my mouth. "That smells wonderful. What are we having?"

"French onion soup and sauteed shiitake mushrooms, followed by beef Wellington with braised asparagus spears in a butter and garlic sauce. For desert I have prepared a strawberry cheese cake."

My stomach gave an appreciative gurgle.

"I assume that means Your Highness approves of the dinner menu," Max teased in his normal, flat delivery.

"Absolutely. By the way, have you seen Morgana?"

"Miss. Morgana is in the gymnasium with Master Han," Max said as he drew on a pair of insulated mitts. "I will begin melting the cheese for the soup now and will have everything ready in seven minutes. We are scheduled to depart at four, which gives you thirty six minutes to dress and eat." Opening one of the ovens he began pulling out dishes and setting them on the side board.

I popped the last couple of the grapes into my mouth, backed out of the kitchen and headed to the end of the hall. The gym door slid open at my approach and I stepped quietly inside to watch. The gym was the single largest room in the apartment, having almost the same amount of floor space as a professional basketball court. Half of the room was simply open space with the remaining half occupied by various exercise machines and free weights. Morgana and her instructor were circling each other in the center of the open floor, their bare feet sliding lightly across the polished wood. Both of them were wearing doboks, the traditional two piece Taekwondo uniform consisting of a pull over top and wide leg pants, and of course black belts. They were each covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. Rather than appearing tired however, they both seemed relaxed and on guard.

Without warning, Master Han flowed into a sudden flurry of kicks aimed at Morgana's body and head. Unfazed, Morgana blocked each attack and bent low as Master Han leapt into the air and let go a spinning kick aimed at her head. The flurry lasted only a few scant seconds, then the pair of them resumed their guarded circling.

Master Han smiled pleasantly as he shuffled his feet across the floor. He was an unimposing man. He stood two centimeters shorter than Morgana with a round, boyish face and jet black hair that was just beginning to be touched with gray at the temples. From his appearance Master Han did not give the impression of being one of the deadliest hand-to-hand fighters alive, but before retiring from competition a few years earlier, he had been the undefeated, international Taekwondo champion six years running. And he was one of the few people anywhere who was skillful enough to have anything to teach Morgana.

As Morgana faced him now I could tell that she was in her element and completely at ease. Then she attacked, moving just as Han crossed his right foot in front of his left, when his balance was least stable. She fired off her own series of kicks which the master blocked with almost casual seeming sweeps of his arms. Springing in, she switched to a series of snapped punches which he blocked with similar ease. Throughout the entire exchange the relaxed smiling expression never left the master's face.

Suddenly, with a deceptive flick of his hand, Han grabbed her wrist when she failed to retract her arm quickly enough. He shifted his weight, pivoted on one foot and whipped his arm in an arc which sent her cart-wheeling through the air. Morgana tucked her head, turning her fall into a shoulder roll, and came up on one knee in a defensive pose. Master Han stood facing her and continued smiling. After a moment she broke into a grin and pushed herself to her feet. She raised her right fist in front of her chest, grasped her fist with the fingers of her open left hand and bowed. Han shuffled up to her and gently tapped the wrist he had grabbed to throw her.

"What did you do wrong?" he asked her in a soft voice.

As Morgana started to answer him I noticed a flashing light in the corner of my vision. The comm panel set into the wall beside the gym door was flashing. I went into the hall and checked the twin panel there. The caller ID told me it was my Chief of Staff, Morgan. I activated the scrambler and accepted the call.

"Morgan! I hope you're calling with good news," I said, smiling at the familiar image on the screen. Morgan was a burly, teddy bear of a man with a round, jowly face and large, basset hound eyes. His dark brown hair was shot through with gray these days but there was still a sharpness in his gaze. I had known 'Uncle' Morgan since I was a child. He had been like a father to me after my parents were killed eight years ago. I found it immensely comforting to have him in a position to not only help me craft my policies but also to give me sound advice. He was one of the few people I could trust to give me his unedited opinion on any topic.

"Sorry to bother you when I know you're trying to slip away," he began, "but you asked to be notified whenever we picked up anything that looked like pirate activity. We just got word of a transport found adrift near the Argent cluster. The drive system appears to have taken a missile hit and the cargo hold was empty. Most of the crew was missing but all of the escape pods were still in place. The only signs of the crew were four bodies found in different parts of the ship, all of whom had been shot at close range."

Damn. "Was it one of ours?"

"No," Morgan said as he glanced down at something off camera. "The ship was the _Dawn Star_ of the Star Transportation Combine, registered out of the Zuela Republic. It's listed as a galaxy class freighter, three hundred seventy meters overall length, crew compliment of twelve."

"I don't suppose there was anything useful in the flight data recorder."

"I'm afraid not, although someone aboard must have been nervous about being alone in that sector of space because the recorder shows that they were running continuous sensor sweeps. The data we recovered shows an intermittent contact just before the drive system was hit. The signature is consistent with the profile of a torpedo, although I doubt anyone aboard that ship would have recognized it as such. Our intelligence people managed to get a copy of the recorder's data and a team of analysts is going over it now but it doesn't look like we're going to get much more out of it than we already know."

"You said the _Dawn Star_ was off by itself in that sector. I thought most of the combines were sending their ships out in convoys these days. What were they doing out there all alone?"

"According to the company, the ship was running an urgent cargo out to a small moon in the Alnitak system. The corporation that contracted for the shipment asked for expedited service. They were even offering the crew a bonus for quick delivery. With such short notice the company didn't have any other ships available to send with them as an escort."

So they just decided to send a lone ship off into a remote sector without any support. It had been a gamble and the transport crew had lost.

"What was so important that the customer couldn't wait to have it shipped?" I asked.

"That's the odd thing," Morgan said. "All the ship was carrying was mining equipment."

"They hijacked a shipment of mining equipment?"

"The local authorities think the pirates hit them because of the opportunity to take a lone ship. It was just their bad luck that the transport wasn't carrying anything really valuable. And let's not forget the missing crew. Collectively those poor souls are worth around a hundred and fifty thousand on the slave market."

"That wouldn't even begin to cover their costs," I said. "A single torpedo goes for more than a hundred thousand all by itself. If you factor in fuel and everything else it takes just to operate a ship, they'd be lucky to break even."

My two and a half years as the captain of an independent transport had made me very aware of just what it took to keep a ship operating in the black. Annual operating costs could easily run in excess of a million solars, even without purchasing expensive illegal weapons. And despite what the locals thought about the pirates attacking the _Dawn Star_ at random, the pattern our intelligence people had been following over the past several months suggested that the one thing they were not doing was striking at random. Random chance could not explain how the pirates managed to target ships carrying the most valuable cargoes time after time. Somehow they were getting inside information. I was sure of it. But if that were true, why hijack a cargo of mining equipment? It didn't make any sense.

Something else was bothering me, too. Alnitak was a tiny system far outside of the normal transport lanes. It was little more than a dim, white dwarf star with a few uninteresting rocks barely large enough to be called planets circling it. It would be cost prohibitive to go all that way to mine unless some truly rare deposits had been discovered. Yet I was not aware of any recent finds there. The more I thought about it the more it didn't make sense.

"You have that look," Morgan said when I had been absorbed in thought for a while.

"Sorry. Just trying to make sense of this whole episode. The pieces don't fit."

"And you don't like a mystery."

I smiled. "You know me too well. Thank your people for me and tell them to keep at that recorder data. Be sure to let me know if the analysts come up with anything else."

"Of course, Jason."

"Now, while I have you on the beam, how is my pet project coming along? The last report I got was that the crew was running some final tests."

"The tests are almost done," Morgan said. "They should be just about finished by the time you get there."

"Excellent. After this latest pirate attack I want to get the operation going as quickly as possible."

"Mmm," was Morgan's only comment. I could hear the disapproval in his voice.

"Okay, now it's my turn. You look like you've got something on your mind."

"Nothing we haven't already talked about," he said, frowning. "I'm still concerned about you being away from the capitol. You're the _King_ , Jason. Your place is here."

"Aren't you the same guy who keeps telling me that I need to take a step back and let the legislature run things?"

"You know what I mean. Of course you have to _listen_ to what your Senators are saying, but in the end you're the one who has to make the final decisions. That's why we have a King. It is your leadership that ultimately directs the nation."

"I understand your feelings, but like I keep saying, the time for kings is coming to an end. Look what Sebastian did to the nation in just a few years."

"You are _not_ your uncle," he scolded.

"That's true. I actually care about the people. But look at the several years before that when Sebastian was Regent. Because his power was limited, his impact on the kingdom was minor. The elected members of the government actually ran the country. The most he could do was exercise his veto power which they could still overrule with a two thirds majority. The system had checks and balances built in to keep him from running away with things. But once he was given the crown all bets were off. He brought the nation to the brink of ruin in only a few short years."

"Alright, I'll grant you that," Morgan said, "but what about all the positive changes you and the other reigning monarchs have made? Without your authority to implement changes unilaterally much of the progress made over the years might never have come about."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I tend to think that the people would eventually have figured things out on their own. Besides, most of those things you're talking about were only procedural changes. The day to day running of the nation has always been left in the hands of the people, as it should be. If the King needs to step in and make extensive changes it means something is seriously wrong with the system. The fiasco Sebastian caused by his meddling only proves my point. The kingdom will be just fine until I get back." I paused and shot him my most mischievous grin. "Besides, I have every confidence that the person I'm leaving in charge will be able to keep a lid on things while I'm away. Or are you turning down your appointment as Steward? If so, let me know now so I can find someone to fill in for you. I'm sure Senator Fiske wouldn't mind a few weeks in the big chair. He already thinks he knows more about running the nation than I do."

Morgan made a pained face. "Please, don't even joke about that. Of course I'll serve as Steward if that's what you want. I'm honored that you would trust me with such an important responsibility. I just want you to be certain that you've thought it through and are sure this is the best course of action. Let's not overlook the very real possibility that you could get killed on your little adventure. You don't even have an heir yet so the succession would have to fall on your cousin, Cyrill. No disrespect, Jason, but your cousin isn't exactly the type I would describe as a deep thinker."

Cousin Cyrill was a great guy to have at a party but he definitely was not a deep thinker. What he was was a middle aged playboy who was more interested in accumulating notches on his bedpost than he was in the nation's politics.

"You can't blame me on that account, Morgan. I've had my sights set on a promising candidate for quite some time now—beautiful, intelligent, athletic—with a roundhouse kick that could take your head off. Ask your daughter why she won't let me make an honest woman out of her."

"From what I hear she's just keeping her options open until something better comes along. Besides, she says you snore."

"You're not helping."

Morgan chuckled to himself, then sobered. "Seriously, Jason, take care of yourself out there. And bring my little girl back in one piece while you're at it."

"Depend on it."

The last thing I wanted to do was to cause him worry, but I was also convinced that I needed to follow through with what I was planning. The Royal Intelligence Agency had been hearing some very disturbing rumors about a pirate fleet being massed far out on the rim of occupied space. Something big was on the horizon and I needed to figure out what they were planning before the nation was plunged into a full scale war. None of the agents that had been sent to infiltrate the pirate network had made any headway. They had either ended up being stonewalled or else had gone missing. We could only presume that our missing agents had been identified as spies and killed. These were brave men and women who had given their lives in an attempt to put an end to the growing pirate threat. I was not about to let anyone else risk their lives when I had the perfect way to infiltrate the pirate network already in place.

"You just worry about getting that bill passed," I said. "Fiske and his crew are going to try and stall things when they find out I've taken off on an unannounced holiday."

"I can handle Fiske," Morgan snorted. "Just come back with some good intel so we can finally put this pirate business to rest. Good hunting."

I ended the call and turned toward the back stairs. Max would have dinner set out for me by now. As I started up the spiraling steps I mentally reviewed the list of things I still needed to take care of before we left. A few last minute instructions to the Cabinet and a quick call to Admiral Magnus, my newly appointed Chair of the Joint Chiefs, and everything would be in place. I had been planning this operation for months and I was excited that everything was finally coming together. I was determined to undo the damage my uncle had caused. I only wished I had been able to bring him to justice for his crimes against the nation. His disappearance and this sudden massing of a pirate fleet were too much of a coincidence for me. Although there had been no trace of him following his escape from the Sonnefeld Medical Center, I had a feeling that I had not seen the last of him.

And I always listen to my feelings.
Chapter Three

The trip out to the secluded spacedock where the _Prometheus_ had undergone its refit took more than an hour aboard a high speed shuttle. Bobby Dare was our pilot. Although he wore his beard neatly trimmed and his sun-bleached hair pulled back into a conservative ponytail these days, Bobby hadn't changed much since our return from forced exile. He still radiated the same aura of a free spirited surfer with excess energy to burn. Morgana and I hadn't seen Bobby in over a month and he kept up a running narrative for most of the trip, filling us in on everything we had missed since we'd last seen him. Like the other members of the original crew who had decided to stay on with the ship after our return to Gilead, Bobby had found a home aboard the _Prometheus_. We were his family and he didn't want to be anywhere else. His face glowed as he described all of the changes to the ship and how well the upgraded systems functioned. He was like a child with a new toy and his excitement was infectious.

Finally, after what seemed like much longer than the seventy minutes the trip actually took, Bobby shut down the main drive, silencing the low rumbling that had been vibrating through the craft since we left Haven. We had finished our deceleration burn and were now on final approach.

As Bobby casually flipped the shuttle end over end so that we were once again facing forward, Morgana and I stood up to peer through the main viewport while Max stayed in his seat. He was not a fan of space flight. In spite of the advances in artificial gravity technology, space travel made him nauseous. Once we were aboard a larger ship like the _Prometheus_ he would be fine. Until then, he would remain stoically in his jump seat at the back of the cabin. Meanwhile, Morgana and I crowded together behind Bobby's chair to look over his shoulders at our destination. We swept our gaze from side to side but we could see nothing ahead apart from the blackness of space. I glanced at his console and noted that there was nothing on his sensor screen either.

"Pretty good, isn't it," Bobby said, grinning up at us. "The platform is covered with the same ablative coating as the ship. You can be right on top of it and not even know it's there." He activated the comm system. "This is road runner calling coyote. I've got the sheriff with me and we're heading for the corral. Somebody turn on the porch lights, please." Bobby was a fan of vintage 2D videoplays known as movies. His current obsession was a genre called westerns.

Moments later, brilliant, interwoven strings of pearls blazed into existence against the velvet backdrop. The pearls were actually work lights arranged along the lattice of girders that made up the spacedock. I was surprised to see that we were laying less than five hundred meters off the platform and yet I hadn't been able to see it.

Then, as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brilliance, I could make out the silhouette of the ship within the dock. Suspended in the center of the dock's metal skeleton was my old ship, the _Prometheus_. Stretching just over one hundred meters from bow to stern with a thirty six meter beam, the ship was basically a flattened cigar shape with the bulge of the command superstructure projecting from its dorsal side a third of the way back from the bow. Just aft of the command 'sail' a pair of wide doors were folded open to allow spidery, mechanical loading arms to lower several large shipping containers into the ship's main hold. When the _Prometheus_ had been in service as an attack sub in the Gilead Fleet, the cargo bay had been the ship's missile room. By removing the silos the ship's destructive capability had been reduced, but not erased. Although it no longer carried a compliment of long-range, antimatter missiles, it was still a formidable fighting ship.

Bobby must have noticed the way I was looking at it because he brought the shuttle around in a wide arc and entered the forward end of the spacedock to take us on a slow pass along its hull.

As we drew alongside the ship I could begin to make out some of the details on its surface. If I didn't know that it had just undergone months of modifications I would have thought that it was just another nondescript transport, and one which had seen better days at that. The stealth emitters had been redesigned so that they were incorporated into the plating and no longer made telltale bulges along the hull. Up close, numerous dents and score marks could be seen marring the hull which attested to years of difficult, interstellar travel. There were even several areas where mismatched plates had apparently been welded in place to repair damaged sections. What wasn't obvious was that its appearance was nothing more than a cleverly crafted fiction specifically designed to make the ship seem unremarkable. In spite of its battered appearance, the truth was that just about every part of the ship, from its engines to its concealed weapons systems, was state of the art.

"I don't see the new gun ports," I commented as I studied the ship.

"They really did a good job, didn't they?" Bobby said. "The doors are so well integrated into the hull that you can hardly see them even if you know where to look. There's one right there."

Bobby pointed out a section of plating near the bow where one of the newly mounted guns was located. Even with him pointing directly at the door I couldn't see any seems in the hull. No one would ever suspect the guns were there.

In spite of the ship's original armament, the _Prometheus_ had proven to be vulnerable along its flanks. The Gatling guns I'd had added to the ship's arsenal would fix that problem. Although primarily designed as a defensive system to shoot down incoming missiles, the guns could also be deployed offensively against hostile ships that approached too near. Firing specially hardened, synthesteel rounds at a rate of up to six thousand per minute from their rapidly spinning magnetic induction barrels, the guns would be a nasty surprise for any unfriendly ship that tried to close on us.

As we continued past the command deck superstructure and approached the open cargo bay, I saw a space suited figure walking along the hull directing the loading arms. Even the bulkiness of an environment suit couldn't disguise that ambling shuffle. I reached across Bobby to the comm system.

"Aren't you supposed to be finished loading our cargo by now?" I said. "We've got a schedule to keep, mister."

Lucky Dobbs, the ship's supply officer, twisted slowly toward us. When he caught sight of the shuttle he tossed a casual salute in our direction.

"I would have been but _somebody_ called my partner away to pick up some bloody VIP," his voice spoke to us from the ship's console. "You know the type—self important stuffed shirt who thinks he runs the whole kingdom."

I grinned. "If I bump into anyone like that I'll be sure to let you know. So, how's it going?"

"We're almost finished. Most of this last minute stuff is for your new wiz kid's science lab. He sure does have a lot of toys."

"Try not to break any of them," I said. "I've seen what he can do and I have a feeling we might need his talents."

"Another one of your famous hunches, huh. Well, we'll make sure he gets everything he needs. Ian's got an engineering team standing by to finish installing the last of his stuff as soon as it's aboard."

"Doesn't he want to oversee that himself? He's usually very picky about any new equipment being installed on 'his' ship."

Lucky laughed. "He already looked over the specs and didn't see anything needing more than standard power feeds. Anyway, wonderboy's already told us where he wants everything to go, so all the techs have to do is bolt it all in place and connect it to the ship's power grid. Besides, Ian's busy giving the crew down in engineering a hard time—something about the antimatter injector for one of the new engines being out of alignment by a few microns. I hear he's having them pull the entire core and realign it."

That was typical of our engineer. He was never satisfied until everything was perfect.

"As long as he's got everything put back together by the time we're ready to leave," I said.

"You know Ian. He'll be working right up to the last second but everything will be in place when he's done."

"I'm sure. Since it looks like you have your hands full yourself I won't keep you."

"Somebody's got to see that things get done right around here. I'll stop by later and you can offer me a cup of coffee while we catch up." Lucky gave us a parting wave and turned back to overseeing the last of the cargo that was being loaded as we drifted toward the far end of the ship.

Moments later we were approaching the stern. As Bobby brought us in a sweeping curve around the back of the ship, we found ourselves staring into the yawning mouths of the dual exhaust funnels for the new ion-pulse engines. Although they didn't look any different from those of a typical ion drive, the tubes were in fact part of a revolutionary new drive system that had been developed under the government's contract with Empyrean Technologies. Standard ion engines superheated deuterium until the electrons were stripped away from their atoms. The ionized gas was then directed out through the drive funnels to provide thrust for the ship. But our new engines used the precisely controlled annihilation of matter with antimatter to generate thrust. The resulting paroxysm produced many times the thrust of a standard ion drive while needing only a fraction of the fuel. According to the projections, the new engines would more than double the flank acceleration of our old drive system. Extreme care had to be exercised when using the drive however due to the immense 'tail' that would stream from the back of the ship under high acceleration. Anything caught in the path of that tail would be cremated. Because of the dangers involved in using such a drive, the _Prometheus_ was the first vessel to be outfitted with ion-pulse engines.

I placed my hand on Bobby's shoulder and gave an appreciative squeeze.

"Thanks," I said as I continued to drink in the scene through the viewport.

"Welcome home, Jason," Bobby said warmly and I realized that I really did feel like I was coming home. Turning back to the controls he brought the shuttle in an arc above the ship and back to the main gangway hatch.

"What's it like inside?" I asked.

"Just like you wanted. Anyone who comes aboard won't bat an eye. They'll think we're just a down on our luck transport."

I looked up as Bobby brought us closer to the ship. Expertly firing short bursts from the shuttle's maneuvering thrusters he quickly lined us up with the gangway hatch and brought us in to dock. The shuttle contacted the hull with a brief electrical flash of equalizing static charges and I heard the muffled thunk of the docking clamps locking us in place. A green light flashed on the bulkhead above the shuttle's hatch and I pressed the door control while Bobby shut down the shuttle's systems.

As the doors hissed open and we stepped into the _Prometheus_ , I found myself somewhere that was both familiar and strange at the same time. When I had captained the ship as the infamous smuggler Cordass Pell, the crew had gone to great lengths to maintain it in top condition. For two and a half years this ship was more than just a cargo transport to us. It was our home, and we had taken loving care of it. Not only were all of its systems kept operating at top efficiency, but its decks were always polished, its bulkheads kept clean and freshly painted. It was a ship that had glowed with the pride of its crew.

Although it was still the same ship it had a different feel now. Scuff marks marred the once pristine decking while random dings and scrapes showed in the bulkheads. The paint had been chemically aged so it appeared dull and faded. Random smudges stained the walls and dirt was stubbornly crusted in the corners. Taking a quick look down the port side passageway I saw that a couple of the overhead lighting panels were dimmed and one was out completely. It was not exactly the appearance of a ship on its last legs, more like one that had fallen on hard times, another victim of the depressed economy. It was perfect.

With the shuttle secured, Bobby excused himself to head to the cargo hold just as a familiar figure appeared from the main stairwell.

"Jason, welcome aboard!" Chris Conrad called as he stepped onto B deck and caught sight of us. We grabbed each other in a brief bear hug.

"It's great to see you!" I said when I released him and stepped back.

Chris beamed, his broad grin making him look even younger than he was. Even though he was only a couple of years younger than me, I always thought of him as a kid. He and his best friend, Mark Sooth, had been the youngest members of our original crew. When we first met, they were a pair of college students who had run afoul of Sebastian's draconian policies by simply trying to exercise their right to free speech. In spite of their youth, Chris and Mark's brilliance had quickly made them valuable members of our shipboard family and I was very happy to have them back. Apart from the fact that they had proven themselves to be competent and dedicated crewmen, I had a more personal reason for being pleased that they were here. The simple truth was that Chris and Mark, as well as the other members from our original crew, were my only true friends. As king I could only get so close to anyone. I had hundreds of acquaintances I interacted with on a regular basis, many of whom I was friendly with, but there was no one I really considered to be a friend. No matter how friendly those exchanges were, there was always a subdued formality to our interactions. It was impossible for people to ignore the fact that I was the king of the most powerful nation in the galaxy. But the people who had crewed with me for those years when we had eked out a living as a trade ship had no hidden agendas. They had no ulterior motives for seeking out my company other than simply because we were friends. And as I thought about my friends now, I realized how much we each needed that connection in our lives. We had all shared a life altering experience that bound us together as closely as any blood relationship.

"Well, what do you think?" Chris asked, gesturing around proudly.

I looked around and traced a gouge in the bulkhead with my fingers.

"Sad," I said eventually.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It hurts to see her looking like this." An excited smile slowly grew on his face. "But underneath she's a real monster. I almost feel sorry for any pirate that tries to take us on."

"Almost," I said, surprising myself with the hard edge I heard in my own voice. "But that's why we need the ship to look like this. We're the bait and, if necessary, the trap." I found myself thinking about the missing crew from the latest transport ship the pirates had attacked. I knew all too well what it meant to be forced into a life of slavery. These bastards had to be stopped.

From the way Chris was looking at me, my feelings must have shown on my face.

"You know, Jason, you're actually kind of scary when you get that look in your eyes."

"Just putting on my game face," I said. "Speaking of which, I'm late for my appointment with Doc Jacobs."

"And I've got to get to the avionics bay," Chris said. "Testing turned up a minor discrepancy between the primary navigation array and one of the redundant sensors. It looks like the sensor wasn't recalibrated properly after the new software was installed, but we should have everything sorted out by the time we're scheduled to leave."

"That's good. I should be finished with Doc in an hour or so." I turned to Morgana. "I'll see you on the bridge when I'm done."

"I'll be using the time to get familiar with the new sensor system," Morgana said. She held up a data stick. "I was able to get recordings of the engine signatures for each of the ships that have gone missing. Once I upload this into our system we can compare the power field signatures of any ships we come across with what we have on file and know exactly which ships we're tracking."

The electromagnetic field put out by the drive system of a starship is as unique as a person's fingerprints. Unless the pirates completely replaced the engines aboard the ships they had stolen, we would be able to identify any of the ships they were using as soon as we were close enough to scan them.

Finally, I looked behind me to let Max know he could head down to his quarters and get settled in, but he was already gone. Although I had seen him exit the shuttle right behind us, Max was nowhere in sight. He had to have slipped away while we were talking. It was typical of him to want to get right down to work without drawing attention to himself.

I turned back to the others and we said our goodbyes before each of us headed off in a separate direction.
Chapter Four

"Jason?"

The voice spoke to me out of a long, dark tunnel. Unlike the gradual transition from sleep to wakefulness, coming out of induction anesthesia was like coming back from the dead. The suppression field generated by the operating couch kept neural activity below the threshold of consciousness for as long as necessary while the surgeons worked. It was as if I were a machine that had been switched off and then switched back on. There was no sense of time having passed, only a blank void. I just had to wait for my brain to finish rebooting.

"Can you open your eyes?" the voice asked.

My eyelids were heavy but I managed to force them open. Standing over me I recognized Doc and the surgical team that had operated on me.

"Well?" I croaked. Someone brought a straw to my lips and I took a sip of water.

"Well?" I repeated in a stronger voice.

"See for yourself," Doc said, smiling.

A mirror field shimmered into existence in the air in front of me as he activated the motorized bed and raised me into a sitting position. Looking back at me was the face I had worn for nearly four years, a face I had once come to accept as my own. It was the face of Cordass Pell, rogue smuggler and transport ship captain. Reaching up with one hand I stroked the skin of my new-old face as I turned my head and looked at my reflection from both sides.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you've done a fantastic job," I said, in awe of their artistry. "You have my sincere thanks. You will also find a more tangible expression of my gratitude in the form of deposits to each of your personal accounts by the end of the day." The doctors tried to object but I overruled them. "Like any professional, you deserve fair compensation for your work. And I appreciate your willingness to drop everything and run out here on a moment's notice."

Dr. Paul Link, the lead surgeon, spoke up. "Sire, with all due respect, we will not take your money. As members of the Diadem Order it is our sworn duty to serve the Crown, and I believe I speak for my entire team when I say that it is our personal honor to be of service to Your Highness in particular." The sincerity in his voice brought a lump to my throat. I realized that I had insulted them by offering to pay them.

"Thank you, Doctor. _I_ am honored to have people like you as Order members."

I swung my legs off the table and stood up. Doc took my arm to support me as I stood. In spite of his white haired, grandfatherly appearance, his grip was firm and steady. But the last tendrils of my induced coma had already worn off and I stood easily.

"Unfortunately, time is growing short and I have to get to the bridge. Doc will see you to the transport we have standing by to bring you back to the capital. Just one favor."

"Sire?"

"Try not to forget what my old face looked like. I'm going to need you to change me back again when we're finished with our mission."

Dr. Link chuckled. "I think we'll be able to put you back the way you were. After all, we did it once before."

I shook hands with each of them and strode out of the infirmary.

I went quickly to the main stairwell, climbed up one deck and headed to my cabin to change. As I had instructed, the captain's cabin had also undergone some remodeling. Although none of the furnishings or fixtures had been changed, the rooms now had a more used appearance. The walls were faded, the carpet was a bit dingy and threadbare in well trafficked areas, and all of the furniture displayed the signs of many years of use. It was possible that I might need to have outsiders in my rooms and I wanted to leave nothing to chance.

When I stepped into the bedroom I found my uniform already laid out on my bunk. I changed quickly then turned on a full length mirror field to study my reflection. It was the same uniform I had worn during my time as the ship's captain. While clean and meticulously pressed, it was also obviously well worn. The once black jumpsuit was now more of a washed out gray that was beginning to fray in spots at the collar and cuffs. Even my boots were convincingly scuffed. In spite of my humble appearance, it was strangely comforting to look down and see the four captain's rings on my sleeves. I couldn't help grinning as I thought about what Max's reaction to the condition of my clothes must have been as he pressed the creases to razor sharpness. It was like putting a high polish on a battered old hovercar, but it was exactly the look I wanted.

Now that I was satisfied with my appearance I started for the bridge. I exited my cabin so quickly that I nearly walked face first into a pallet of power distribution nodes that was floating in the passageway in front of my door.

"Sorry, Captain," the familiar, deep bass voice rumbled from off to my left. No matter how close we got, to Ian I would always be 'Captain'. My chief engineer was maneuvering the pallet through the passageway with an antigrav dolly.

"I thought all of the system upgrades were finished," I said, looking at the stack of equipment my chief engineer was pushing around.

"They are," Ian said as he stepped around to my side of the pallet. "I'm just reorganizing a few things in the ship's storage lockers." He paused and studied me for a moment. "You should change your hair. Pell wore it parted in the middle," he commented as he offered his hand.

I grinned as I allowed my hand to be swallowed by his meaty paw. Ian was the same soft spoken giant he had been when we first met four years and another life ago. Like the others who had decided to stay with the ship, I was glad to have him. Not only was he a gifted engineer, he also looked after the _Prometheus_ as if it were his own child. He knew every piece of equipment, every seam and every bolt on the ship. He was also the only member of the crew who had been aboard for each step of its refit. I would stake my life that he knew each of its systems even better than the people who had designed them.

"Are you going to need more time to finish what you're doing?" I asked, looking at the floating pile of components.

"No, this is the last of it. Everything will be locked down by the time we're ready to leave spacedock."

"That's good because I'm on my way to the bridge now and we'll be heading out in a few minutes."

"Then I'll finish putting these away and get back down to the engine room. I want to be there when we bring the new drive system on-line."

"That's right," I said, remembering what Bobby had told me. "I heard you were having trouble with one of the new engines. Nothing serious I trust." I was familiar with the specs for the engines and knew that tolerances allowed for an alignment difference of up to fifty microns for the injectors. But I also knew Ian. Fifty microns was not within _his_ tolerance.

"Already taken care of. I think you'll be pleased with the ride they give you."

"I'm looking forward to trying them out," I said. I eyed the floating stack of equipment. "Well, I'll let you finish up here so you can get back to the engine room."

Conversations with Ian tended to be brief and to the point.

I sidled past the pallet and stepped into the transverse corridor that connected the port and starboard passageways. Halfway along the passage I turned into the main stairwell and climbed up into the command superstructure. Moments later I strode onto the bridge.

The command center was bustling with activity as the ship was being readied for our departure. Each of the stations was manned and all systems appeared to be up and running. Nearly a dozen engineering techs were also present to help with the final adjustments. Everywhere I looked, people were either bent over, laying under or waist deep inside different consoles or access panels.

As I looked at each of the stations more closely however I saw that sections of virtually every console were dark. The parts that were active displayed a number of red, warning indicators. There were even several empty spaces where control boards had been removed, leaving gaping sockets with exposed circuitry. Above the communications station the monitor screen was a static filled blur with a large, spider web crack spread across its face. Maybe we wouldn't be leaving in a few minutes after all.

"Captain on the bridge!" a voice called out suddenly from my left. I recognized it as belonging to Tom Joiner, our new comm officer. Tom and the engineering techs snapped to attention while my old crew simply looked up from what they were doing.

"Relax everybody," Chris said with a smile. He placed a hand on Tom's shoulder, the gesture seeming out of place since he was so much younger than the seasoned comm officer. "We're not that formal aboard the _Prometheus_. Remember, we're just a simple, independent trade ship. You can all go back to what you were doing."

As everyone went back to work I placed my fists on my hips and took an exaggerated look around the shambles of what used to be the bridge of my ship.

"Good lord, Chris! I wanted the ship to _look_ like we were going through hard times. I didn't actually want you to tear it apart."

"Welcome to spacer's hell, Jason," my exec said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Or should I say, Captain Pell."

"Just don't make a slip like that in front of anybody off the ship," I chided.

"No, sir." He looked around the bridge, folding his arms across his chest as he surveyed the scene. "Pretty convincing, isn't it?"

I stepped up to the command chair and spun it toward me. The chair gave an annoying squeak as it swiveled and there were several strips of duct tape on the seat-back and cushion, covering what I assumed were splits in the padding.

"What did you do to my chair?" I asked as I sat down. The squeaking was even louder as I swiveled back around, now that I was sitting in it.

Chris grinned. "It took them forever to get that squeak just right."

"You know, there is such a thing as too much realism. Can we still drive this boat? From the looks of things half of the control systems aren't even working." I glanced at my command board and saw that several sections were dark.

"When we're in camouflage mode, like this, everything still works even if it looks like it's off-line. The dark sections you see on some of the boards are mostly just readouts for redundant systems. But all of this is just window dressing." He raised his voice and addressed the bridge. "Okay people, I think the captain gets the idea. Let's put everything back together before the boss has kittens."

Inactive sections of consoles glowed to life around me as the bridge crew reached for concealed switches beneath their boards. Several people opened hidden compartments and withdrew missing control boards which were quickly slotted into place. Once snapped in position the glossy panels immediately came to life. The cracked monitor screen above the communications station was taken down, revealing it to be only a false cover that had been fitted into place over an otherwise functional display.

In less than a minute the bridge had undergone a complete transformation. Gone was the dilapidated bridge of an aging transport that had seen better days. In its place was the high tech nerve center of a cutting edge starship. With the systems up and running, the engineering techs gradually drifted off the command deck until only the bridge crew remained.

I felt myself smiling as I slowly swiveled through a 360 degree pan of the bridge. All of the stations were in the same places I remembered, but I could see that several consoles had been upgraded or augmented. The room hummed with the sounds of its various systems. I rubbed my palms affectionately on the armrests of my chair as I allowed the seat to return to its normal forward facing position. The squeaking the chair produced however was setting my teeth on edge and I shot Chris an annoyed look.

"Sorry about that." He stepped up to my chair, squatted and reached under the seat. A moment later he came up with a C shaped clamp that had been clipped to the chair's supporting piston. I gave the chair a tentative turn. Not only was the annoying squeak gone but it turned easily now, too.

"We didn't actually split the cushions," Chris said as he handed me the clamp. "That's just some tape we slapped on for effect."

I glanced at the clamp and handed it back to him. "I think we can do without that."

He shrugged and slipped it into his pocket.

I settled back into my seat, relaxing into the familiar cushions as I felt a surge of excitement flow through me.

"Ship status?" I asked.

Chris moved to his station and flipped a series of switches. He studied his board for a moment, then said, "External umbilicus and all moorings have been cleared. The ship is now operating on internal power. Life support and artificial gravity are on-line. All control systems are on-line. All external hatches are closed. Hull integrity is one hundred percent. Maneuvering thrusters are at station keeping and the main drive system is on-line and at your disposal. The ship is secured for departure, Captain."

"Thank you, Exec." I said, completing our usual ritual. I opened the ship-wide PA. "Attention, please. This is the captain. We will be leaving spacedock in one minute. I want to take this opportunity to thank each of you once again for volunteering for this mission. You all realize the importance of what we're trying to accomplish and what is at stake. I won't downplay the danger we might be facing. The pirates have demonstrated that they are ruthless killers. And unless they are stopped they will go on murdering and stealing. But they didn't count on going up against this ship and its crew. I am confident that each of you will perform admirably. In my eyes, every one of you is a hero. Once again, you have my deepest, personal gratitude. Good luck to us."

I switched off the PA and turned to the comm station. "Signal dock control that we're ready to leave, Tom."

A moment later we received departure clearance. I looked at the helm and gave Bobby a nod. "Maneuvering thrusters ahead. Take us out."

"Yes, sir."

Bobby touched the thruster controls. I watched the main screen on the forward bulkhead as the ship gently began nosing its way out of the spacedock. A minute later we had cleared the structure.

"The ship is free and clear to navigate," Bobby announced.

"Let's put some distance between us and the dock," I said. "I want to be sure they're not in range of our drive before we really open it up. Turn us to a heading of 0-4-5 relative. Ten percent power only."

"Going to ten percent thrust."

Bobby adjusted our heading and touched the throttle icon on one side of his console. He slowly slid his finger forward as he gradually fed power to the engines.

I watched the readings on my command board as the ship got under way. In spite of the power surging through the drive system I couldn't feel any vibration in the deck plating. I continued to study the read-out as I watched the distance grow between us and the spacedock.

"How are we looking, Chris?" I asked after we had been under way for a while.

Chris took a moment to double check his board. "All systems are reading normal."

"Let's stretch our legs a bit, then," I said. "Helm, go to half thrust."

"Answering half thrust," Bobby said.

In moments we had surged past what had been our old flank acceleration. My command board continued to show all systems running smoothly and I still felt no vibration under my feet.

"Bring us up to full power," I said after a while.

"Full power, aye."

I maintained a watchful eye on my board as Bobby slid his finger along the glassy surface of his console, extending the thrust indicator bar to its fullest length. This time I could detect a faint vibration in the deck. If I hadn't been looking for it I doubt I would have ever noticed. The new engines were impressive.

I settled back into my seat and focused on the scene displayed on the main viewscreen. Somewhere out there was the enemy, vicious predators who for too long had been preying on my nation's ships and people. It was time to turn things around, to bring the fight to them.

"Set course for Beta Antares Three," I said. "Take us to light speed."

"Yes, sir!" Bobby said.

Bobby reached for a different section of his panel and brought the hyperdrive on-line. I could sense the power of the hyperdrive pulse through the ship as the _Prometheus_ gathered itself for the jump to light speed. A moment later the ship hurtled itself into a kaleidoscope tunnel of swirling light as it flashed out of the realm of three dimensional space.
Chapter Five

The dream always comes to me whenever I'm under a lot of stress. And it is always the same. I'm floating in space without an environment suit, comfortable but alone, the only living thing in the universe. With no one there with me I am not only alone, but lonely. Because I am endowed with the power of a god I decide to create a world. I put my best effort into that act of creation and bring something of true beauty into existence. But as the only living thing in my universe there is no one to share my accomplishment with. Then, with no one to admire my handiwork, I destroy the world in a fit of anger. My anger grows and I quickly become consumed with rage. As my fury rages unchecked I reach out and destroy other planets, entire star systems and even galaxies. But without anyone to see what I have done the destruction is an empty act.

That's where the dream ends. I usually woke up feeling anxious and confused, often with my heart pounding and my sheets soaked with sweat. But this time was different. This time I awoke strangely untroubled. As I lay staring at the dark ceiling, replaying the images from the dream in my mind, it all suddenly made sense. I realized now that my dream was the result of a discussion I'd had with Morgan several years ago when he first posed a philosophical riddle to me: can a person alone in the world be good or evil? We'd gone back and forth on that one many times since then. Although he readily shot down all of my solutions he refused to tell me what his answer to the riddle was. All he would say was that when I could answer it for myself I would be a truly wise ruler.

I lay there smiling to myself as I thought about what I was going to say to Morgan the next time we talked. The crafty old fox had done it to me again. When I was younger he was always posing hypothetical situations to me which turned out to be morality lessons in disguise. I had been wrestling with this one for many years and only just now did I understand the lesson he had been trying to teach me. My dream was about the nature of right and wrong, so called good and evil. I understood now that those ideas were an illusion. There was no such thing as good or evil in an objective sense. Good and evil could only exist if there were someone to be good or evil to. Alone in my dream universe there was no one for me to hurt, no one for me to help. The world I created was not grateful for being created, did not resent me for its destruction. It was only the actions between living, feeling people that could be described in those terms. Good and evil, right and wrong, they were things that could only be judged by the person being affected.

Then the other shoe dropped. I suddenly knew why he'd pitched that particular riddle at me. He was trying to tell me about a problem within our society. The foundation of our legal system was that laws were supposed to exist to protect people from being wronged by others. Yet, many of the laws that were currently on the books had less to do with what was actually wrong than with things people wanted to control. If enough people were against something the pressures of public opinion often resulted in legal sanctions being imposed, even if the activity itself didn't hurt anyone else. But what about the people who were being prevented from doing things they wanted to do? Weren't they being wronged? Even if the thing they wanted to do was self destructive, did the government have the right to intercede?

If I was right about what Morgan wanted me to understand, then this was the most profound thing he had ever tried to teach me. It touched on the very foundations of our constitution and the rights of people.

I started thinking about the Libertarians and their recent rally in the capitol. While I thought their positions on a number of issues were a bit extreme, they might have a point about legalizing victimless acts. Morgan's lesson implied that he supported their position.

But what about the rights of communities to set their own standards? Didn't people have the right to decide the type of environment they wanted to live in? If the people in a community were opposed to the idea of alcohol use, why shouldn't they be able to vote to establish a dry county? Yet to do so would impose restrictions on members within the community who didn't agree with the opinion of the majority. Why should majority opinion prevent them from having a few beers with their friends as they watched the afternoon game?

Arguments and counter arguments competed with each other in my mind. Which was the lesser of two evils: forcing the minority to bend to the will of the majority, or forcing the opinions of the majority to take a back seat to the unassailable rights of the individual?

Thinking about all of the conflicting arguments was maddening. But the one thing I kept coming back to was the idea which was the central doctrine of our society: freedom. Government had no business inhibiting the freedom of its citizens.

Yet deep in my gut part of me also felt that some things had to be controlled. Drugs for example were far too dangerous to be allowed to circulate freely. I had seen firsthand just how destructive they could be. Prostitution, gambling, public nudity—these were things that you could argue for as being harmless. If drugs were legalized however, good people would end up having their lives ruined before they even knew what was happening to them. But as I lay there I began to have second thoughts about this as well. There was no doubt that drugs were dangerous, but did that mean the government had the right to force a policy on the general public for their own good?

I lay awake for a long while as I considered the implications of my revelation. When I was the captain of an independent transport that was crewed by a handful of escaped felons, the decision had been a simple one. My job was to run the ship. That was the extent of my responsibility. The crew had to be responsible for themselves. As long as their personal lives didn't interfere with their on duty performance they were free to indulge in whatever activity they wanted to. If anyone couldn't pull their own weight they were welcome to leave. But as king of the most powerful nation in the galaxy it was my responsibility to protect my citizens, even from themselves... or was it? What was my responsibility as their leader? The longer I thought about it, the more unclear the issue became. Eventually everything got so confused in my mind that I pushed the entire matter aside. I needed to put down this line of thinking and let my subconscious work on it until I could come back to it later with a fresh eye.

I rolled over to check the clock and was surprised to see that it was coming up on oh-seven-hundred. I had been laying awake for more than two hours. We would be dropping out of hyperspace soon. At that moment dealing with murderous pirates seemed simple compared with trying to resolve the nation's social issues.

Since sleep was eluding me I decided to get up. But as soon as I folded back the covers Morgana rolled toward me.

"Trouble sleeping?" she asked as she rested her hand gently on my shoulder, sounding as if she had been up for a while herself.

I turned back toward her and nuzzled her neck. "After the workout you put me through last night I slept like a log."

"Until you woke up around four-thirty," she pointed out. "Is it anything you want to talk about?"

"Nothing to do with our mission," I said, propping my head up on one hand. "Just an idea I'm kicking around for when we get back. I'll tell you about it after I smooth out some of the rough edges. But right now..."

I leaned toward her and kissed her deeply. When I finally pulled away she looked up at me with raised brows. "Don't you think we should get to the bridge? We're supposed to be dropping back to sublight in half an hour."

"You let me nibble your neck and then try to brush me off? Sounds like mutiny," I said as I leaned in to kiss her again. She placed her fingers against my lips.

"Jason, I..."

I knew that tone. "What's wrong?"

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and drew her knees up to her chest as she pulled the sheet around her shoulders.

"Nothing," she said a little too quickly. "I just think we need to take a look at where all this is going."

"We're going to Beta Antares Three," I said with exaggerated innocence. Morgana shot me a deadpan look. "Okay, sorry. But I don't understand what you're talking about."

She dropped her eyes to the mattress between us.

"I don't know if I can do... this," she said quietly.

"This?"

"Us. If people find out about us, our lives are going to become something completely different."

"But everyone knows we're involved," I said. There are times when I can be a little slow on the uptake.

"I don't mean the crew," she said. "I'm talking about the general public. Right now I'm just one more faceless PSA agent assigned to the capitol. I come and go as I please and no one pays me any notice. So far we've been able to keep our relationship quiet, but I don't know how long that will last."

"You already know what I think. I want to let the whole galaxy know about this fabulous woman I plan to share my life with."

"But don't you see?" she insisted. "Once we formalize our relationship, everything will change. I'll be the king's betrothed. Everything I do will be scrutinized. There won't be anywhere I can go that I won't have a hundred reporters watching my every move."

"They watch everything I do too," I countered, "but I haven't fared that badly in the press. I admit that living in the public eye can be a pain at times. And it is a little annoying to have paparazzi following you everywhere, but you get used to it."

"You still don't get it," she said in an exasperated tone. "You were _born_ into royalty. I wasn't. People are much more willing to accept any mistakes you might make because you have your title by blood. But I'll be looked at differently. People are going to expect me to be perfect. If I come up short in any way they're going to say that I'm not worthy to be your bride, their Queen. I'll have to live my life like a china doll in a glass house.... I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Oh," I finally managed in my typical, eloquent style.

_This_ was what was on her mind as we were heading off on a mission to infiltrate the pirate network? I always thought of Morgana as someone who was as tough mentally as she was physically. Yet here she was worring about the way she would be judged by the public. Like generations of men before me I realized that women were something I probably would never completely understand. But I knew enough to know that, even if I didn't understand it myself, it was enough that it bothered her. I did the only thing I could think of. I sat up, took her hands in mine and looked deeply into her eyes.

"You are the most important thing in my world," I said. "There's no reason to do anything to change our relationship now. We have plenty of time to figure out where we want to go from here."

She gazed back into my eyes for several moments. Then she smiled and gave me a light peck on the lips.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm going to get dressed. You should do the same."

She let the covers drop and stood up. I followed her with my eyes as she headed to the refresher. As I watched, a subtle transformation came over her. With every step she stood a little taller. Each step was more firm, more self assured. By the time she walked through the 'fresher doorway any trace of uncertainty was gone from her bearing. She was once more my self-confident, no nonsense security officer.

Once she stepped into the other compartment I allowed myself to react to her revelation—I sat there utterly stunned. She couldn't have surprised me more if she told me she had two heads. As far as I was concerned I knew she was the only woman for me. Just as importantly, I knew that I was right for her. Did she still think that she had taken advantage of my feelings during those years when I had lost my memory? I thought we had settled that issue long ago. Whatever it was that was bothering her I knew I had to show her that those concerns were baseless. I was incomplete without her in my life and I was not about to give up on us.

With less than thirty minutes before we dropped out of hyperspace, now was not the time to wrestle with this. Once again I was forced to relegate my personal needs to the back burner so I could attend to other matters. But I promised myself that as soon as this pirate business was put to rest we were going to take some time for us. I would never ignore my responsibilities as king, but I'd be damned if I was going to lose the one thing that gave my life meaning.

I tossed the covers aside, stood and followed her into the refresher. The compartment was already beginning to fill with steam when I entered the room. I watched her silhouette through the frosted glass of the shower door for a moment, enjoying the fluid movements of her limbs and the sensual contours of her body before I slid the curved door open. Wiping her hair out of her face she looked back at me as I stepped into the shower behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders. I massaged her neck briefly, then let my hands slide down her sides and out along the flair of her hips. Closing her eyes she dropped her head back against my shoulder as I pulled her against me.

"Jason, I—"

I pressed my mouth to hers, cutting short whatever she was about to say. The universe could take care of itself for the next few minutes. Right now my girl needed reassuring.

* * *

We arrived on the bridge with just over five minutes to go before our downjump. When we got to our posts we each found coffee and poached eggs on wheat toast waiting for us. The fact that it was still warm surprised Morgana, but I would have been surprised if it weren't. Max had done his usual, efficient job. I smiled as I thought about him plying his skills in the stark, utilitarian galley that was a far cry from the custom designed kitchen he had back in our suite at the capitol. When I had first told him that I would be leaving Haven for an unknown length of time, Max automatically assumed that he would be coming with me. Although I tried to explain to him that I might be gone for some time and that I was not expecting him to tag along behind me, Max went about preparing to close up the apartment as if he hadn't heard me, packing for both of us so we could leave at a moment's notice. Bowing to the inevitable, I decided to integrate him into the crew as our cook, a position I had not previously thought to fill. I knew the crew would appreciate his culinary artistry, and deep down I knew that I would find his presence comforting.

As I dug into my breakfast however, I found myself thinking about Momma Mary and her outrageous aprons. Max was a cordon bleu and I had yet to taste anything better than even his most modest efforts. Even so, although I would never tell him this, from time to time I still missed Mary's home cooking.

A few minutes later Bobby dropped us back to sublight. As usual his piloting was right on the nose. Beta Antares Three lay directly ahead. On its surface was the city of Toula. This was where we would begin our search. Our sources in the smuggling network had reported a recent increase in the amount of hijacked property that was being moved through Toula. Using my reputation as the smuggler captain Cordass Pell, I should be able to ask questions without raising suspicion. If I were lucky I might even be able to make contact with the pirates directly and start working my way into their circle. At least, that was the plan. Of course, it's always those situations you don't plan for which cause the worst problems.

This last thought was echoing in the back of my mind as Bobby slowed us into orbit above the brown and white globe. As Bobby rolled the ship slowly along its central axis to place the planet under our belly, Tom reported that we were being hailed by the spaceport. It was time to go to work.

"Okay people, it's show time," I said. "You know what to do, Tom. Put it on speaker so we can listen in."

"Aye, Sir." He tuned to the port controller's frequency. "Toula spaceport, this is the independent trade ship _Prometheus_ requesting landing clearance."

"We have you on our screens, _Prometheus._ Please state the nature of your visit."

"Commerce. We've got a hold full of trade goods for sale and will be looking for a new cargo to transport offworld."

"Understood, _Prometheus_. Permission to land is granted. You may dock at commercial berthing port C-57-D. Port regulations require that all weapons systems be deactivated and locked down prior to entering our airspace. Turn to a heading of 3-1-4 relative and follow the glide path being transmitted to your navsys. Do not deviate from this trajectory for any reason. Be advised that we are tracking you and you will be under our guns."

"That's new," Chris commented quietly.

"Acknowledged, Toula control," Tom said. "Turn to bearing 3-1-4 relative and descend on glide path. _Prometheus_ out."

Bobby was looking back at me.

"You heard the man," I said.

"Yes, sir," Bobby said as he prepared the ship for descent. "Glide path data received. Turning 46 degrees port. Beginning descent."

"Put it up on the main screen, Bobby," I said.

A series of widely space, computer generated hoops appeared on the screen forming a tunnel before us. As the ship nosed its way into the first hoop I started to settle back into my chair when I noticed Mark suddenly lean over his board, frowning through the glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Mark, what have you got?" I asked.

"We're being scanned from six different sites, apart from spaceport control," he said.

"Weapon emplacements?" I asked.

"Definitely. They've got us bracketed nicely, too. If we even look like we're going to deviate course they can hit us from several angles at once. They probably... _Holy crap_!" He adjusted his controls as he continued to stare at his readouts.

When he didn't say anything after several moments, I spoke up. "Is there anything you would like to share with the rest of us?"

"Sorry, Jason, it's just that those power signatures are more than ten times greater than anything I've ever seen before!" he said, obviously shaken by the readings he was getting.

I kept forgetting that his only practical experience was the time he had spent aboard the _Prometheus_ after we escaped slavery on Fernando Rabine's plantation.

"Relax," I told him. "Land based weapons are always more powerful. Ships have a limited amount of energy they can devote to weapon systems. But a ground based system is only limited by the size of the generator you want to hook it up to. "

"Yeah, but why all the firepower?" Chris wondered. "It wasn't like this the last time we were here."

"Good point," I said. "Toula's always been neutral territory. There's nothing here anybody would want. Except for the city, the rest of the planet's a barren rock." I thought about the situation for a moment then turned to Morgana. "Anything unusual on sensors?"

She ran a series of scans. "I'm not reading anything other than those new weapon batteries, but Mark's right. Those are major league guns. Judging from their power signatures they must have some pretty big reactors buried down there."

"Particle cannons?" I asked.

"Three of them read like particle cannons," she said as she adjusted her scanners. "The others look like rail guns."

"Good thing we're not here to cause trouble," I said. "Obviously there's more going on than we thought. We'll have to keep our eyes open. Chris, make a ship wide announcement. I want the rest of the crew to know what's going on. Everyone needs to be on their toes when we land."

As Chris addressed the crew over the loudspeaker I watched our progress on the main screen. The red glow of our entry into the atmosphere was just beginning on the ship's nose. Soon the view ahead was distorted by a corona of fire as we dove deeper into the atmosphere. Eventually the blaze faded to a soft glow as the sky lightened around us and we were soon arcing down toward the only inhabited settlement on the entire planet, the city of Toula. Breaking through a dense bank of clouds several minutes later, the spaceport came into view.

From the air the spaceport was simply a rectangular expanse of grey neocrete on the outskirts of the city dotted with the shapes of various ships that had touched down. The plain appearance of the spaceport contrasted sharply with the glittering flashiness of Toula City itself where every building competed with its neighbors to capture your attention. Brilliant colors and animated holographic displays created a kaleidoscopic panorama that was dazzling even from a thousand meters in the air. Following the landing beacon from the control tower, Bobby brought us down toward the field and settled us into our assigned berth.

As the engines spooled down, the crew quickly went about the task of disguising the bridge systems as Morgana left to meet the inspector who would be waiting to speak with the captain. This was Toula after all, and financial matters needed to be addressed before anyone or anything could leave the ship. By the time Morgana had escorted him to the bridge, the high tech nerve center was gone.

The inspector was an immaculately dressed little man with an expensive looking datapad crooked in his arm. Just like on our previous visits, the inspector was not interested in shipping licenses, permits or passports. After checking to see that our weapons console was locked down and then sealing it with an orange sticker he came right to the main purpose of his visit.

"Are you still using Creighton & Ward as your financial intermediary?" he asked, checking our ship's registry against the records he had called up on his pad.

"Actually, uh, we'll be using the Exchange this trip," I told him.

Without batting an eye the inspector tapped out a notation on the pad's screen with his perfectly manicured fingers. High end financial institutions like Creighton & Ward were extremely accommodating to clients who maintained substantial deposits with them, but once your balance dropped below a certain level, fees and service charges came into play while interest rates were cut. When that happened most people took their money elsewhere.

"Since you will be using the Toula Exchange on this visit," the inspector continued smoothly, "I am required to inform you that a service fee of twenty-five percent of all transactions brokered through them will be assessed against you."

"That's outrageous!" I barked. I didn't have to act surprised. The transaction fee was highway robbery. "That's more than twice their former rate and even that was too much!"

"I sympathize, Captain," the inspector said without the slightest trace of sympathy in his voice, "but that is their current rate. The Council has nothing to do with it. I also need to inform you that since your transactions will not be bonded through a triple A rated institution, you are also required to post a security deposit against your port fees."

I allowed my face to fall into a scowl at his statement. After making a final notation on his pad the inspector looked up and glanced around the bridge, as if noticing its condition for the first time.

After a moment he cleared his throat and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "However, I am authorized to offer a moderate discount for cash payment of the security deposit."

I didn't respond at first. Instead, I let him see me fuming silently to myself for several moments.

"The only currency I have aboard is the crew's payroll," I said eventually, lowering my voice to match his. Although the use of currency was rare in this day of electronic funds transfers, Toula was one of the few places where actual money was used on a regular basis. Many of the ships that came through here wanted to leave no traces of their dealings and cash transactions allowed them to barter with a degree of anonymity they couldn't find otherwise. The fact that I paid my crew in cash said a lot about the nature of the ship's business dealings.

"Since your ship is berthed in a cargo slip, I assume you have merchandise of some type to sell," the inspector said quietly. "You should be able to replace the security deposit in a day or two. And you will of course receive a full refund of any outstanding amount you were charged, should you not generate the level of profit anticipated."

"And just who is it that decides how much my cargo is worth?" I asked sarcastically.

"The Council, of course," the inspector said, ignoring my tone. "In fact, I am going to need you to supply me with a complete list of your cargo to transmit to the central office. They will decide on a fair market value and assess the appropriate percentage for your security deposit. And Captain, please be sure to list _everything_ you plan to sell. The Council does not take kindly to, shall we say, clerical errors."

"We've been here before. I know the rules," I grumbled. I handed the inspector a data stick with our cargo manifest. He plugged the stick into the side of his pad, uploaded the list and sent it off.

I understood how things worked on Toula and we had come prepared. A modest cargo had been loaded aboard before we'd left the spacedock. It was an eclectic mix of items that an independent trade ship might actually be carrying. In keeping with our cover it wasn't a particularly valuable cargo. In fact, even if we managed to sell everything we were carrying, the profit we would generate would barely be enough to refuel the ship, especially after paying the outrageous transaction fee we were being forced to pay to the Exchange. A transport crew in our position would be in serious need of cargo to move offworld.

A few moments later the inspector's datapad chimed.

"Ah, there you are, Captain," he said, holding the pad so I could read it. "I trust that figure is acceptable to you."

"I don't exactly have a lot of choice, do I?"

"Not if you wish to conduct business here," he said matter-of-factly.

"Fine," I growled as I pushed myself up from my seat. "You'll have to come with me to my cabin. I don't walk around with that kind of cash on me."

Morgana accompanied us down to my cabin. I left the inspector standing in the middle of the room as I bent down behind my desk and punched in the safe combination. The door opened after a couple of tugs and I spent a few moments counting out the fee.

After double checking the count I turned and placed the stack of bills on the desk. I had brought currency from a number of different nations with us but decided to pay the port fee with Gilead Solars. As I set the money down I noted how the inspector's eyes widened at the sight of the golden bills. In spite of the recession, Gilead's economy was still one of the strongest of any of the star nations and our currency was subsequently one of the most stable. With experienced efficiency the inspector quickly verified the total then tucked away the money and used his pad to e-mail me a receipt along with the access codes that would allow us to post our inventory on the local net.

Once our business was completed I had Morgana escort him off the ship while I called Lucky to my cabin. When he arrived, I handed him a palmpad with the data-net access codes the inspector had given me.

"I need you to get on the local net and upload our list of trade goods. Set our starting prices high enough to make us look hungry, but don't haggle too much if we get any offers. Remember, we're supposed to be strapped for cash."

"Cash hungry, huh," Lucky said with a nod as he casually leaned his lanky frame on the edge of my desk and studied the list. "I can do that."

"After that you can start on the important stuff. First, I need you to sift through all of the merchandise being offered for sale and compare it to the lists of stolen cargo from the different transport companies that have taken hits recently. I want to know who is moving those goods. I also want you to look for ships that might be up for sale. See if you can match the specs with any of the Fleet ships that have gone missing. I know it's a long shot but the pirates are getting their ships from somewhere."

Lucky nodded again. "I'll do my best, but I doubt I'll find any listings under 'Gilead Fleet ships for sale, slightly used'."

"I suppose that would be a little obvious," I said, "but see what's on the net anyway. Have Ian go through the listings with you. He'll know what to look for. You can contact me on my secure line if you come up with anything."

"We'll let you know if anything turns up," Lucky said. "Where are you going to be?"

"Morgana and I are going to try to work things from a different angle. We're heading into the city to look up an old friend."

* * *

The Excelsior Hotel was a modest establishment by Toula standards. Deep pile oriental rugs were spread over different sections of the parquet lobby floor and its service desk was genuine mahogany with a polished granite top. Recessed wall sconces provided soft background lighting while a pair of art deco chandeliers floated near the ceiling on suspensor fields. The chandeliers threw muted rainbow shafts of light down onto the array of overstuffed chairs arranged in intimate groups throughout the space. Several paintings by talented, but unknown artists adorned the walls and a few tasteful, abstract sculptures were scattered around on various end tables. The stone fireplace at the far end of the room was tall enough for a man to step into without bowing. The gas fueled fire on the hearth slowly morphed through a series of animated sculptures as pressor fields shaped the rippling flames. Although there was no doorman there was a live person on duty at the desk. The desk manager looked up as we approached, her smile cooling quickly as she ran her eyes up and down our worn uniforms.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Nice place you have here," I said as we stepped up to the desk.

"Thank you, sir." She made a show of looking us up and down a second time, in case we hadn't caught her look before. "If you are looking for accommodations I'm afraid I cannot help you ... unless you have a reservation," she said in a condescending tone.

I hated snobs.

"No thanks. We're already checked in at the Palace." The Moon Palace was the most expensive hotel in the city. Even in a city like Toula where conspicuous extravagance was the norm, the Moon Palace was the extreme. Their cheapest rooms went for daily rates higher than what most spacers earned in a week and only the fabulously wealthy could even think about one of the high roller suites.

The manager narrowed her eyes as she tried to reconcile our humble appearance with my comment. Crew who were dressed the way we were usually stayed aboard ship instead of shelling out for a hotel room. After a few moments she resumed her icy tone, probably assuming that I was lying.

"Well then, how may I be of assistance?"

"We're trying to get in touch with one of your employees, Billy Smalls," I said.

Now she openly frowned. "Mr. Smalls is currently engaged in his assigned duties. May I enquire as to the nature of your business?"

"No. Just tell him that Captain Pell is here and would like to speak to him." Glancing around I hooked a thumb over my shoulder, indicating a couple of seats directly in front of the lobby entrance. "We'll be sitting over there."

We turned and walked away before she could say anything. As we were settling into our seats I watched from the corner of my eye as the manager pressed a finger to her ear and spoke rapidly into her phone.

"She's calling him now," I said. "I'll bet he's here within five minutes."

"Sooner, if she can arrange it," Morgana said.

I nodded. "Can't have riff-raff loitering in the lobby."

I looked up and smiled as a couple dressed in the turquoise and salmon colored uniforms of the Galapagos Shipping Combine entered the lobby and gave us a surprised look.

"How you doin'?" I said brightly.

The woman pointedly looked away from us while her companion put a protective arm around her and hurried them off.

"Those have got to be the most hideous uniforms I've ever seen," I said when they were out of earshot.

"Enjoying yourself?" Morgana asked.

"What can I say? Whenever I see someone with their nose in the air I just have an overwhelming urge to pick it."

"Now there's a charming image."

"Captain?" a familiar voice called from behind me.

Morgana and I stood and turned to greet Billy. It had been over a year since we had last seen him and the three of us exchanged warm handshakes. Dressed in gray coveralls, Billy flashed us the same lopsided smile I remembered. His eyes were bloodshot but he didn't seem to be under the influence of anything at the moment. I was happy to see that he was at least controlling his addiction. Although he wasn't currently high, I could see that his lifestyle was taking a toll on him. His complexion was sallow and his features gaunt. His once thick hair was a dull, lusterless patch that was receding from his prematurely lined forehead. His skin looked like aged parchment and his movements were slow, as if his limbs felt heavy to him.

Billy was a former crewmember from the _Prometheus_ who had opted to be put ashore here rather than give up using drugs. Although he had been detoxed several times by Doc Jacobs, Billy had enjoyed getting stoned too much to stay clean. When his drug use started to interfere with his ability to do his job aboard ship, something had to be done. After sitting down with me for a long talk, he had chosen to leave the ship for a life on Toula. Here he had access to cheap narcotics which he could afford on the meager salary he made as a maintenance worker. In spite of his addiction problem, Billy was a good person who hurt himself more than he did anyone else with his drug use. He was a gentle soul who had genuinely been missed by the rest of the crew when he left the ship. Seeing him like this took something out of me.

"What are you doing here?" Billy asked. "I didn't think Toula was part of your regular run."

"It isn't," I said, "but we had a job that brought us out this way so we stopped by to say hello. I, uh, also wanted to see if you might be able to help us with a bit of business."

"Of course, Captain." Billy glanced over his shoulder at the desk manager who was blatantly scowling at us now. "Why don't you come back to my room so we can talk in private. I've got a break coming so I can give you twenty minutes or so."

Billy led us past the main desk and down an obscure hallway to a door marked 'employees only' which slid open at the wave of his ID card toward the sensor plate. We followed him down another short hallway and past a few offices before he turned into a door that led to a utility stairwell. We took the stairs down one level and found ourselves in a basement corridor.

Billy led us along a bare neocrete corridor with exposed pipes and power conduits running overhead. Several meters along the hallway he stopped and opened a door next to the main utility room. He switched on the harsh overhead light panel and gestured us into his room. The space was small, barely three meters by five and furnished with only a bed and a wardrobe. Although the furniture was battered and mismatched, the room was clean and neat. Billy offered us a seat on his bed while he upended a metal trash can and sat facing us.

"So what can I do for you, Captain?" he asked once we were all settled.

"Frankly, we're looking for a job," I said. "With all the pirate activity that's been going on it's been getting harder and harder to find cargo to move. Independents are easy targets and most people would rather go with one of the combines than trust someone like us."

"Things must be getting pretty rough for you guys," Billy said with genuine concern in his voice.

I shrugged. "We've been making do by running more... _special items_ to worlds in the central systems. But even that's starting to dry up. The bottom line, Billy, is that we really need to pick up a job this trip, something that'll put a decent profit in our pockets. I was hoping that you might know somebody who had a cargo they wanted moved." I hated lying to Billy but with his drug problem I couldn't trust him to keep our secret. It was safer all around if he thought our cover story was the truth.

Billy pulled at his lower lip for a few moments as he thought.

"I guess you've already tried the postings at the spaceport," he said.

"There's nothing on the net right now," I told him. "Nothing that'll pay anything decent. But, as you know, most of the more, ah, sensitive cargo transactions aren't made through the net. For something like that we're going to need an introduction."

"Right." Billy stopped playing with his lip and looked me in the eye. "I might know somebody who knows somebody. But I gotta warn you, Captain, these are some pretty serious folks. You get into bed with them and you need to watch your back. I also can't guarantee what type of stuff they're going to want you to move. I know you have rules against transporting certain kinds of things."

Morgana and I exchanged looks.

"We need a cargo, Billy. I've got a crew to feed and a ship to maintain. I'd be in your debt for any help you could give us."

Billy made a dismissive gesture. "Hell, Captain, it's my pleasure. As long as you're sure you want to be dealing with people like this."

I shrugged. "We'll keep our eyes open but, like I said, we really need a cargo."

Billy nodded and stood up. "Okay. Let's go see this guy I know."

Billy led us out a back entrance to the hotel and we set off. It was midday by the local time and the streets were filled. In spite of the fact that Toula was a relatively small city, just over a dozen kilometers from end to end, there was a surprising amount of traffic. Hover cabs and limos dominated the scene, although there were a fair number of high end sport cars here as well. These were mostly private toys brought in by the fabulously wealthy who wanted to cruise the famous main strip in their own style.

Like the streets, the sidewalks were also filled with people. It wasn't exactly elbow to elbow, but we found ourselves weaving in and out through knots of crowds as we made our way to a location Billy said was nearby. It was a diverse crowd, with people from every nation represented. The snatches of conversation I heard were in a number of different languages. A large number of the people we passed were wearing ship uniforms, but just as many weren't. The weather in the city was regulated to maintain a constant temperature of 26 degrees C and everyone dressed to suit their tastes. The non-uniformed people we passed were attired in everything from formal evening wear to shorts and sandals.

We made our way through the streets for a few minutes before Billy turned into the doorway of the city's central police station.

"Your contact's in here?" I said.

Billy nodded. "Yeah. If there's anyone with cargo to move this guy will know about it."

He led us inside and went straight to the front desk. It was the cleanest, most comfortably appointed police station I had ever seen.

"Is Kovacks in?" Billy asked the desk officer.

The officer looked up at him with a bored expression. "What do you want, Billy?"

"Tell him I brought him some business."

The officer reached out and touched a switch on the desk. A moment later a gruff voice sounded from the desk speaker.

"Billy Smalls is asking to see you."

There was a brief, unintelligible growl from the speaker.

"He's got a couple of spacers with him. Says he's got some business for you."

Another incoherent growl and the connection was cut.

"Have a seat," the officer said, pointing to the waiting area across from the desk. With a number of large, cushioned float chairs arranged around a low table of crystal and genuine wood that held a rack of periodical chips and several flat-pad readers, the waiting area looked more like it belonged in a plastic surgeon's waiting room than in a police precinct.

"So who is this guy you're introducing us to?" I asked as we sat down.

"Inspector Kovacks, the police commander. He's hooked into everything going on in the city. He'll know if there's anybody looking to move some unadvertised cargo."

"Won't that get him in trouble?" Morgana asked.

Billy shrugged. "Don't see how. The Council doesn't care if he makes a few introductions on the side. As a matter of fact, I kind of get the idea it's one of the perks of the job. As long as the parties involved pay their percentage to the Council, nobody's going to bat an eye."

"This inspector," I said, "is he one of the 'serious folks' you warned us about?"

"Kovacks? Nah. He's hard-nosed, but he's just a cop. You don't want him coming after you if you're causing a fuss in his city, but he's not the one you have to worry about. It's the people he can put you in touch with that you have to watch out for. Tick them off and you can wind up in a recycler somewhere."

"Okay, Billy," the desk sergeant called. "You can go in now."

We stood and Billy led us to a security door that hummed open for us. Billy seemed to know where he was going and led us through a few short corridors to an office in the back corner of the building. Billy knocked and the door slid open.

Kovacks stood up behind his desk as we entered. He was a bull of a man, with a boulder of a head jammed on top of a thick neck and broad shoulders. His hair was a close cropped bristle and he sported a neatly trimmed goatee. His eyes were dark and intelligent and he seemed to size us up quickly as he held out a ham sized hand to each of us in turn. He gestured us into a pair of comfortable chairs facing his desk, then sat back down and rested meaty forearms on the desk.

"How can I help you folks?" Kovacks asked.

"This is Captain Pell and his security officer, Alex Feign," Billy said, using the personas he knew us by from his time as a crewmember aboard the _Prometheus_. "They run an independent transport ship and are looking for a cargo to move offplanet."

Kovaks nodded to himself, then relaxed back into his chair. "A thousand Galaxies, up front." The Galaxy was the standard trade currency. All of the larger nations used it for international exchange. Its relative value to a given nation's currency fluctuated daily but it roughly translated to one and a quarter Solars to a Galaxy.

"That seems a little steep," I said, instinctively falling back into the customary haggling that was part of business as usual on Toula. "Especially since you undoubtedly get a cut of the action from the people you're going to put us in touch with."

Kovacks shrugged. "What if they decide not to hire you? If I don't collect from you I might not get paid at all."

"I doubt that, Inspector. You're too smart to pass us along without checking things out first. Five hundred seems fair to me."

"Nine hundred," Kovacks countered.

I paused as if considering his offer. "Inspector, money is a little tight for us right now. I can go as high as seven fifty. That's it."

Kovacks held my eyes for a few moments before a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Done," he agreed.

Knowing that payoffs were the standard business lubricant on Toula, I had secreted various amounts of cash in different places about my person. Reaching into my left pocket I pulled out a small pack of folded bills. I carefully counted out his fee and placed the cash on the desk which the inspector promptly scooped up.

"Okay, Billy, take a walk," he said as he tucked the money away.

"Right," Billy said, sounding a little deflated. "Well, it was good to see you again, Captain." Billy held out his hand.

"Thanks, Billy. We'll be in touch," I said as I stood and shook his hand. Billy hesitated, standing there looking uncomfortable for a moment.

"I don't suppose Billy mentioned that he gets a ten percent finder's fee," Kovacks said with a wry smile.

Billy snatched his hand back and shoved it into his pocket. "That's okay, Captain," he said, hanging his head. "It's on me, you know, old times and all that."

I gave Kovacks a hard look then let him see me peel two fifties from the nearly depleted pack I was carrying. Grabbing the cuff of his sleeve, I tugged Billy's hand out of his pocket and pressed the money into his palm.

"You did us a real favor, Billy," I told him. "You earned it."

Billy eyed the money hungrily. A moment later it disappeared into his pocket.

"Careful what you do with that," I said.

Billy gave me a self conscious smile. "Don't worry, Captain. I don't party until after work hours." He started to turn away, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm. I was shocked at how bony it was.

"You know there's always a berth for you on board if you want it. I don't know if you've heard but King Jason is back on the throne in Gilead. He's given pardons to everyone who was convicted of crimes against the state under King Sebastian's rule. You could go home again."

"I appreciate that, Captain," Billy said, giving me a sad smile. "I really do. But I'm good here. This is what I want. I'll catch you on your next stopover." He gave Morgana a brief nod then stepped out of the office and was gone.

Once the door was closed behind him, Kovacks turned to the transparent screen rising from his desk.

"So, what's the name of your ship, Captain?"

"The _Prometheus_ ," I told him.

He pulled up the port records on our ship and spent a few moments studying his display. After a while he pulled up another file and spent some time reviewing that information.

"You're in luck, Captain," he said finally. "It seems that there is a party with an outbound shipment ready to go. Your rated cargo capacity seems like it will meet their needs. But they want their merchandise moved quickly. Can you be ready to lift ship within twelve hours?"

"If we have to," I said, warily. "What are they looking to ship out?"

Kovacks shot me a glacial look over the top of his monitor. "I thought you were smarter than that, Captain Pell. You came to me because you needed a cargo that would generate a quick profit. The people I can put you in touch with pay well, but part of what they're paying for is discrete service."

"Of course, Inspector," I said. "My mistake."

Kovacks held my eyes for a moment before looking back at his screen. He typed a brief message on his keyboard and sat back.

"Now we wait," he said.

We didn't have to sit for long. Within a minute a tone from his monitor announced an incoming message. After a glance at the screen he took a piece of note paper and jotted down a quick line.

"Go to that address and ask for Mr. Smith," he said, handing me the note.

"That's it?" I said.

"That's it. Mr. Smith will give you the particulars. Oh, and Captain, a bit of advice. Don't try to haggle with him. You really don't want to piss these people off." He flashed me a predatory smile. "After all, I do want to get my cut."

He stood and gestured us toward the door. As Morgana and I headed back toward the station entrance I couldn't help wondering about this Mr. Smith whom everyone seemed to be wary of getting on the bad side of. Smith had to be a rather intimidating character if the head of the Toula police department didn't want to cross him. I found myself looking forward to meeting him.
Chapter Six

The address Inspector Kovacks gave us was nearly two kilometers away but we decided to walk. Aside from having a chance to stretch our legs and enjoy some fresh air, I wanted to take a closer look at the city. Toula had never needed guns to protect its airspace before and that new development bothered me. Ever since it was first colonized close to a hundred years ago, Toula had been regarded by everyone as neutral territory. It was an independent settlement outside the jurisdiction of any of the star nations. The sun it orbited was far from the regular shipping lanes, while the planet itself was geologically uninteresting. There was absolutely nothing here that anyone would want, which is what made the guns so out of place.

Unless there was something going on that we didn't know about.

As we ambled through the city streets however there was nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. Tourists swarmed the sidewalks wandering from one entertainment venue to the next. The shops we passed were all open for business, their windows displaying a dazzling assortment of exorbitantly priced clothing, jewelry and other items. Prostitutes in the bordello welcome windows were provocatively dressed but appeared clean and healthy as they smiled and tried to catch the eyes of the men, or women, who were passing by. Everyone appeared happy and relaxed. If the city was under threat of attack no one seemed to be aware of it. The activity on the streets seemed completely normal. With one exception.

"A man's been following us ever since we left the police station," Morgana said to me quietly as we waited for a crossing signal to change.

"Kind of hard to miss him," I answered. "He's got to be as big as Ian."

The signal changed and we started across the street with the rest of the crowd. As we crossed, I turned my head as I pretended to look along the wide boulevard and was able to catch another glimpse of the man following us.

"Interesting outfit," I commented. Morgana gave me a brief nod. She'd noticed as well. In spite of the wide variety of attire people were wearing, it seemed a bit warm for the knee length coat our stalker had on. He was walking with his hands stuffed into its pockets so he could keep the coat close to his body. It didn't take much of an imagination to realize that he was undoubtedly armed. On any other world, security scanners would have detected the weapons and officers would arrive on the scene in minutes. But Toula was one place where public monitoring was outlawed. People came to Toula to be free from government surveillance so they could conduct whatever activity they wanted to in complete anonymity. Unless our mystery man actually started shooting at us, it was unlikely that anyone would give him a second look.

Since help from the authorities would not be forthcoming, we needed to deal with the situation on our own. I glanced around quickly and began forming a plan. We were on the edge of the gaming district and the pedestrian traffic was fairly heavy. As we crossed to the far sidewalk we stepped into the sunny side of the street. As soon as we stepped over the gutter I turned west, putting the sun's glare in our pursuer's eyes. Taking Morgana's hand I increased our pace and started weaving through the crowd. Up ahead I could see the stone columns that marked the entrance to the Emperor's Club. The casino's façade had been built to bear a passing resemblance to the Roman Colosseum. Its outer walls were covered with intricate reliefs depicting scenes of epic battles as well as epic debauchery. Although it stood six stories tall and was wider than the length of a football field, the Emperor's Club was one of the city's smaller casinos. But with a gaming room that boasted greater than one hundred thousand square meters of floor space, we should be able to lose ourselves among the tables and gambling machines to slip out through a side entrance.

We were within a few meters of the casino's driveway when two men stepped out from a doorway in front of us. I had been so intent on our objective that I never noticed them. I tried to dodge around them but they sidestepped at the same time and managed to stay in our way. I was about to shoulder my way past them when I felt a hard object press into my side. I looked down and saw that the man in front of me had the barrel of a blaster pistol jammed into my ribs. The second man was threatening Morgana in the same way.

We froze, then slowly looked up into our assailants faces. Incredibly, they both gave us broad smiles and reached out to clasp each of us in a light hug. Whoever they were they were good. To anyone passing by it would look like we were being greeted by some old friends when in actuality they were giving us a quick pat down. Just as they finished searching us I felt a presence come up behind me. I looked back to see the man who had been following us standing right over my shoulder. As I looked up at him I revised my earlier opinion—he was even larger than Ian. And unlike the men holding guns on us, he wasn't smiling.

While his two accomplices kept their weapons pressed into our middles, the giant reached for his ear. That was when I noticed the phone he was wearing. He must have been in touch with his two companions the whole time he was following us, relaying our movements to his men so that they could circle around in front of us and set up this ambush.

"Bring the car," the giant said in a deep, gravely voice.

With the barrels of their guns placed firmly against our livers there was nothing we could do. Instead, I tried to make myself relax. If an opportunity to escape presented itself, being tense would only hinder my reflexes. Moments later a black hoverlimo pulled up to the curb, dark tinted windows concealing its interior. The giant moved to the car as the gullwing door hummed open and his companions directed us to get in. We climbed inside and took the back seat while the gunmen sat in the rear facing seat across from us. Their guns never wavered. At this range, if we even twitched the wrong way they could blow gaping holes through us. We were careful to sit very still. Once the door swung down into place and locked, the giant climbed into the front. At his direction the driver nosed into traffic and we set off.

We were on the city's main boulevard, commonly known as 'The Strip'. All of the major gaming and entertainment establishments were located on this street. Towering complexes appeared around us as we drove deeper into the center of the city. Each of the resorts we passed was grander than the next, and each had a theme. Once we were past the Emperor's Club, Brigand's Cove came into view. The front of this resort had been made to look like an ancient seacoast town and even boasted an artificial lagoon with a half sunken galleon in the wide plaza before its main entrance. Across from that was Pharaoh's, built in the shape of three immense, interconnected pyramids with a half scale replica of the sphinx in its front plaza. Further along was the Frontier Club whose façade resembled an old American west town complete with wooden porches and swinging doors. After that was Camelot. This one was built to resemble a medieval castle. With soaring towers and battlements, and brilliant pennants fluttering in the wind, it was one of the most elaborate entertainment complexes in the city. Along with several floors of gaming rooms, inside the resort there was also an arena where actors dressed as knights rode live horses in jousting competitions for cheering audiences as part of an extravagant show.

The only resort that was more elaborate than the Camelot was the one we seemed to be heading toward. It loomed fifty stories above us. The front of the building curved inward and sloped down toward the main entrance. From the highest point in the center, both wings of the building also curved down in broad arcs until they reached the ground. Glass panels covered the entire face of the building and reflected the brilliant midday sky. Randomly spaced, semi-circular balconies were scattered across its face casting dark shadows which resembled craters. From the ground, the effect was that of looking at a brilliant half moon.

The Moon Palace was the focal point of the city. The Strip ran directly toward the towering resort. Then the road took a downward dip to pass under the resort complex and continue from the other side. For those who were heading to the hotel, service roads branched off The Strip and led directly to the casino's sweeping driveway. In the middle of the front plaza was an immense fountain whose jets of water shot several stories into the air. In keeping with the resort's theme, the fountain centerpiece was a massive chunk of translucent crystal that was artfully illuminated from within to resemble a glowing meteorite.

As our car slowed and pulled onto the hotel's access ramp, I was momentarily confused. My original thought was that we were being taken to some out of the way place at the edge of the city where we would either be worked over for information or just plain killed outright. Taking us to such a prominent, public place seemed unreasonable. Then I remembered that the rooms in the Moon Palace were soundproofed to allow patrons to indulge in raucous parties without disturbing their neighbors. Our captors could do anything they wanted with us and no one would hear a thing.

While I still wasn't sure why we were being kidnapped in the first place, in the back of my mind I couldn't help thinking about the last time we were in Toula, when someone had slipped a bomb aboard our ship. At the time I figured that they weren't after us as much as they were the Fleet crew we had rescued. The only thing that made sense was that the sub which had attacked their scout ship had been hiding nearby when we came along and rescued Captain Saha and his crew. I assumed that the bomb planted on our ship, along with the subsequent torpedo attacks, were their attempts to prevent us from returning the captain to Fleet Command. I had hoped that the reputation we'd established over the years as an independent trade ship would have convinced them that we were not Fleet agents. Apparently I had underestimated their enmity toward us. Whoever it was must still be holding a grudge.

Moments later the car glided to a halt. The door raised and one of the men facing us climbed out to keep us covered while we stepped out after him. Once we were standing beside the limo the second man climbed out and each of them put an arm around one of us so that they could keep their guns pressed into our sides without drawing attention to themselves. Their actions showed that they were they were experienced professionals who weren't taking any chances that we might decide to make a break for it.

"Interesting architecture," Morgana commented as she stared up at the sloping face of the building.

I looked up, following her gaze, and a moment later it hit me what she was talking about. We exchanged quick glances and I knew that I was right about what she had in mind. I only hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Just then the giant stepped in front of us. He looked each of us in the eye. That single look was enough to convey the message that if we tried anything his men would cut us down. Then he turned and led the way toward the main entrance. We followed quietly, with our two new best friends holding us tightly and smiling.

A live doorman opened one of the doors for us as we approached the entrance. He seemed to recognize the giant and greeted him with a smile and nod as we entered the building. The hotel lobby was an immense open space. The floor and walls were covered in solid marble that was polished to a high shine. Above us, railed balconies reached all the way to the top most floors of the hotel. The balconies were arranged like the inverted layers of an impossibly huge cake, each one projecting further into the lobby above the one below. Far overhead, a broad skylight stretched across the entire ceiling, admitting the midday sun. A number of banners, each of which was several stories tall, hung at regular intervals around the space, advertising the various entertainers who were currently appearing at the resort. A second fountain, a smaller copy of the one outside, sat in the middle of the lobby, with its own geysers of water that shot high into the air. Above the fountain, actors costumed in old fashioned space suits floated in the grip of antigrav fields below mock ups of antique spacecraft and 'UFOs'. Across from the entrance was the main desk where a small platoon of staff members was assisting a number of guests. And beyond the desk on both sides were the gaping entrances to the ground level casinos. Each doorway was at least a dozen meters wide, giving an unobstructed view into the cavernous gaming halls. Muting fields kept the sound from the halls reduced even though hundreds of people could be seen in each of the rooms.

In spite of the generous dimensions of the lobby, the space was filled with people crisscrossing the area on their way to their next choice of entertainment. The mere appearance of the giant however caused people to divert around him, creating a gap that allowed us to follow along in his wake. He led us toward a bank of free standing, glass encased lifts between the main entrance and the front desk. Walking to the center one he looked at the retinal scanner which recognized him and opened the lift doors. It was a private car that led directly to the penthouse. Once all of us had stepped into the car the doors closed quietly behind us. A moment later the lift began ascending so smoothly that I would never have known we were moving if it were not for the glass all around us. As the lobby dropped away beneath our feet, I looked over at the man holding a gun in my side.

"You know, if we're going to be getting all touchy-feely with each other we really should introduce ourselves," I said.

"Shut up, Pell," the giant rumbled without turning around. "I was told to bring you to see the boss. He didn't say anything about what condition you had to be in."

My mind raced. That brief exchange told me several things. The most important was that they still thought I was Cordass Pell. But whoever our captors worked for remained a mystery. One thing I did know was that the men holding us were dangerous. We needed to find a way to get away from them as quickly as possible. As the lift continued its ascent toward the highest levels of the hotel however, the chances of our escaping seemed to be rapidly diminishing.

Moments later the car slowed to a stop and the doors opened. We had reached the top floor. The giant stepped out into the richly appointed hallway and our captors followed behind him, pulling us with them. The curved hallway ran for dozens of meters in each direction. To our left the hallway opened into a small lounge area furnished with a number of thickly cushioned chairs arranged around a low table. Three men were sitting around the table playing some kind of dice game. Each of them openly wore shoulder holsters with mean looking blaster pistols strapped under their arms. They glanced up as we exited the lift, then went back to their game when they saw who it was. In the other direction the hall dead ended at a door that appeared to lead to an emergency stairwell. Two more armed men were posted there as well. Behind us a chest high wall separated the hall from the spacious atrium and the fifty story plunge to the lobby below. Directly in front of us was a pair of wide double doors which led to the only guest room on this floor—the penthouse suite. Whoever had sent the giant to find us had considerable resources at his disposal.

The giant stepped up to the double doors. The retinal scanner flashed his eyes and the door unlocked with a soft snick. Stepping aside, the giant pushed the doors open and motioned us in. His accomplices released their hold on us at that point, pushing us ahead of them. I glanced into the suite and got the impression of a spacious common area with deep pile carpeting and expensive furnishings. In the center of the far wall was a pair of wide glass doors which led to a broad balcony. The balcony doors had been opened to admit fresh air and a gentle breeze billowed the curtains.

Something about the way the room was arranged struck me as odd. Then I realized that all of the furniture had been pushed back against the walls except for two heavy chairs that were positioned in the center of the room. As I looked more closely I felt a chill go up my spine. A number of thick straps were piled on the seats of each chair and the floor beneath them was covered with a large, plastic tarp. Apparently they didn't want to stain the carpeting.

I shot Morgana a look. She met my gaze and held my eyes wordlessly. I flicked a glance into the room then back at her. Morgana nodded her head almost imperceptibly. We had only been standing there for a moment, but when we didn't move immediately the gunmen shoved us from behind a second time, starting us forward. I reached out and took Morgana'a hand. The giant eyed us suspiciously as we stepped toward the doorway. I ignored him and started giving her hand brief squeezes as we walked, counting off the seconds until we would make our move. _One, two, three—_

Without a backward glance we charged full tilt into the suite. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and I felt the muscles in my back tense as I waited for a blaster bolt to sear into me from behind. Our actions must have either caught our captors by surprise or else they figured we had nowhere to go. Either way, no shots were fired at us for those first critical moments as we sprinted across the room. Our feet slapped sharply against the thick plastic sheet in the center of the room as we raced around the chairs toward the open balcony doors. And still our kidnappers held their fire. The room appeared unoccupied, although I thought I might have caught movement in one of the adjoining rooms from the corner of my eye. I wasn't about to stop and check.

We had nearly made our way to the balcony when the first shots came streaking after us. Dodging and weaving the last few meters, we sprinted onto the balcony as glass fragments sprayed us from a shot that shattered the door right next to my head. As soon as we hit the balcony we split up. I charged to the left while Morgana headed right. The instant I reached the railing I vaulted over it, praying that another balcony was not too far below.

I slammed against the sloped glass front of the hotel and started sliding down. Looking between my knees I watched the ground rushing toward me from a dizzying height as I quickly began to pick up speed. From this perspective it felt like I was inside an immense bowl, and the slope I was on was not nearly as gentle as it had appeared from the ground. I instinctively slapped out with my hands and feet, bracing myself as I tried to slow my rapid descent. I felt the skin on my palms being frictioned away as I pressed against the glass with all of my strength. In spite of my efforts I continued to find myself accelerating. Then I realized that the nearest balcony was not only several stories below but off to one side. I began desperately flailing against the slick surface beneath me as I tried to steer my course toward it. Miraculously, I actually felt myself beginning to angle toward my target. Moments later I shot off the face of the building.

I landed hard and fought to stay on my feet. Unfortunately, my momentum was so great that I took several running steps toward the edge of the balcony, tripped and tumbled over the railing. I twisted madly as I went over the bar, somehow managing to snag the banister with one hand. My arm felt like it was being ripped out of its socket but I held on as I slammed against the iron latticework. I hung there twisting slowly in mid air for a moment until I was able to grab the top bar with my other hand. In spite of the fire in my shoulder I managed to chin myself up and over the railing to tumble to the deck.

Ignoring my injured shoulder, I rolled to my knees and pushed myself shakily to my feet. I looked across the face of the building and saw Morgana watching me from the balcony she had landed on which was a couple of stories higher than where I had wound up. As soon as she saw that I was safe she sprinted through the open balcony doors and disappeared inside. For the moment she was safe. I turned back to the face of the building and stumbled toward the balcony doors there. Grabbing the handles I tugged on the doors only to find that they wouldn't move. I was locked out!

For a moment I just stood there in shock. Most spacers relished the idea of breathing fresh air. After being cooped up within the confines of a spaceship for days, weeks or even months at a time, most people gratefully threw open every window and door they could reach to indulge themselves in the luxury of a breathable atmosphere. It was just my bad luck to happen upon the hotel room of an agoraphobe.

I was standing there trying to decide what to do when I saw something move inside the room. I cupped my hands around my eyes and squinted through the glass. As I peered into the room I saw motion again. Unlike the balcony I had leapt from, this one opened directly into the suite's bedroom. Someone was on the bed.

I started pounding against the glass to get the person's attention but whoever it was ignored me. I renewed my efforts, hammering with both fists this time, but again was ignored. Then I recognized the rhythmic motions that I was seeing. I stood there for a moment with both hands pressed against the door as I tried to come up with a way to get their attention. That was when I noticed the vibration of the glass. At first I thought I was just feeling my own heartbeat throbbing through the abraded skin of my palms, until I realized it was actually being caused by loud music coming from inside the suite. Between the room's soundproofing and the blaring music they were playing it was no wonder they couldn't hear me.

I thought about trying to break the glass but knew that it was stronger than my bare hands. I looked around desperately but saw nothing I could use to break into the room. I was about to turn away at that point when something odd grabbed my attention. I cupped my hands to my eyes again and took a closer look. It took me a few seconds to realize that the shapes I saw outlined beneath the sheets belonged to more than two people, possibly even more than three. Whoever was in there was far too involved in what they were doing to notice me.

At that instant a blaster bolt slammed into the terrace next to my foot. Time to go!

Like before, I didn't have the chance to think about what I was doing. I simply raced to the far end of the balcony as blaster fire rained down around me and dove over the side. I tried not to think about the pain in my raw palms as I pressed my hands against the glass in an attempt to control my sliding descent. Providence was with me and the nearest balcony was only a few levels down and directly beneath me. This time when I shot onto the terrace I didn't try to stay on my feet. Instead, I tucked and rolled. I tumbled briefly and slammed into the railing but suffered nothing worse than having the wind knocked out of me.

I immediately pushed myself into a crouch and glanced up. Luck stayed with me. The balcony I was on was positioned in such a way that the one I had just leapt from was between me and the men shooting at me. I surged to my feet and dashed toward the balcony door. This one was wide open and I raced inside. The room was vacant and I sprinted across to the door and rushed into the hallway beyond. I glanced around quickly, noting by the room numbers that I was on the thirty-fifth floor. To my left the hallway connected with a railed walkway that projected out to a platform in the main atrium and the bank of lifts that serviced the upper floors. From the small group of people waiting there I knew that no cars were on this floor. I also knew that I couldn't afford to wait for one to come. The giant and his accomplices had access to an express lift directly to the lobby. They would get there well ahead of me and would be waiting for me to step off into their arms. I needed another way down and I needed it quickly.

Across from me the hallway opened into the spacious central atrium. I hurried over to the half wall and looked down. Several stories below the floor I was on I could see the costumed actors floating in the air like astronauts on a space walk. An idea suddenly sprang into my mind.

I didn't let myself think about what I was about to do. Before I could change my mind I climbed onto the half wall and dangled my legs over the side as I studied the scene below. Scooting my hips half a meter to the left I lined myself up, took a deep breath, and jumped.

For the first several floors I was in free fall. As I left my stomach behind, a corner of my brain was screaming that this wasn't going to work. Then I felt myself enter the upper layer suspensor field. As I had hoped, the field grabbed me and started to slow my plummet toward the lobby. As I passed deeper into the field I felt myself being tugged to the right. Then, as I descended further, I felt myself transition into the next layer where I was pulled back to the left. By some stroke of luck I managed to avoid colliding with the various mock up spacecraft and UFOs as I passed through the suspensor fields. As I descended through the different layers I felt my downward motion slowing even more until I entered the bottom layer which completely halted my downward motion as it swept me off to the right.

Looking around I saw the actors staring at me in disbelief. I smiled at them and waited for the field to bring me all the way across to the far side of the room where a vertical bar projected down from the nearest overhanging gallery. When the suspensor field carried them across to this side of the room, the actors would grab the bar and swing around it to continue back across the room as they traveled along the invisible conveyor belt. When I reached it, however, I used the bar to launch myself toward a large banner advertising a famous comedian who was currently appearing in one of the resort's theaters. Just as I was reaching for the banner I felt myself slip out of the edge of the suspensor field. I grabbed onto the banner as I began to fall again, wrapped my legs around the shimmering material and started down.

My abused hands protested as I let myself slide toward the lobby, but I forced myself to hold on. Looking below me I saw that the bottom of the banner ended several meters above the floor. I squeezed tighter with my legs and hands, slowing my descent until I had almost reached the end. Shinnying carefully down the last few meters of fabric I lowered myself until I was hanging from the very bottom edge of the banner and then let go. I landed in the midst of a group of very surprised tourists. Straightening up I placed one arm across my middle, took a bow and sped off for the nearest gaming hall.

"Morgana!" I called as I jammed my phone into my ear.

I looked back over my shoulder as I ran. It only took me a moment to identify the penthouse lift. Looking up I saw the car inside the glass column as it slid down toward the lobby. Although I couldn't make out any details inside the car, I didn't doubt that the giant and his men had been able to follow my progress down to the lobby. They were seconds away from reaching the ground floor themselves.

"Morgana!" I called again.

"I'm here," her voice finally answered. "Where are you?"

"North casino," I said taking a look around. As I stepped through the doorway I passed through the dampening field and was immediately assaulted by the sounds of the busy gambling hall. Flashing lights, buzzers and ringing bells competed with the rhythmic notes of the bass dominated music playing in the background. Hundreds of people filled the space around me, either engrossed in whatever game they were playing or wandering around as they looked for something new to try their luck at. No one paid me the slightest attention.

"That was... pretty fast," she said.

"I caught a ride," I said. Then I realized that she was breathing heavily. "Where are you?" I asked as I wove my way deeper into the crowd and away from the entrance.

"Stairwell," she said. "Twenty eighth floor.... Meet you there... in a minute."

"No! They're right behind me. Let me know when you reach the lobby and I'll get to you."

"... Right..."

From her daily jogs I knew that Morgana could make the rest of the way down to the ground floor with no problem, but it would take time. I needed to find a way to lose my pursuers so that I could slip away and join her when she got to the lobby.

Looking around quickly I darted behind a row of holographic slot machines. More than a hundred of them were arranged in rows near the casino entrance. Although I had never understood the appeal of the machines myself, virtually every single one of them was occupied. I hurried toward the far end of the aisle as players tapped credit wands against payment sensors and pulled down on oversized handles. The brilliance of flashing lights and the profusion of mirrored surfaces in this area of the casino was distracting and I hoped to be able to lose myself amid its gaudy colorfulness. I kept low as I continued to the end of the aisle and darted around the last machine to make my way back another several rows. I stopped at one of the few unoccupied machines in the back row and cautiously peered over the top edge at the casino entrance.

I had only been watching the entryway for a few moments when I saw the giant enter the hall and pause. He swept his eyes quickly around the room but didn't see me. I watched as he glanced down and gestured to the men standing on either side of him. From my position I could only see the tops of their heads, but I knew that they were spreading out through the hall looking for me. While his men began to search, he stood squarely in the middle of the doorway to prevent me from slipping out. At that moment my plan to lose them in the crowded gaming hall didn't seem like such a good idea after all.

I ducked low and backed away from the machine to give myself a second to think. Behind me the room took several steps down to a different area where the table games were located. Serious credits were being wagered at those tables. The crowds gathered around them made that section far more congested than where I was. I had just decided that I should head in that direction when I caught sight of a security guard coming toward me. I had been so focused on evading my pursuers that I hadn't been aware of the attention I was attracting.

"Can I help you, sir?" the guard asked as he stepped up to me. His hand was hovering close to the stun baton hanging from his belt. As he approached me he ran his eye up and down my clothes. The combination of my shabby attire along with the suspicious way I was acting had naturally made me stand out to him.

This was absolutely the last thing I needed to deal with now.

"I dropped my credit wand," I said, putting on what I hoped was a casual smile. "It was right around here, I think." I looked down and started scanning the area. I forced myself not to look at him as I continued searching the floor for my nonexistent wand. "Maybe you've seen it. It's blue and gold with a red tip.... I could have sworn I lost it right around here." In the periphery of my vision I saw him step up beside me.

"If you can't find it, sir, maybe it would be easier to have it replaced. I'd be happy to accompany you to guest relations so they can issue you a new one. Compliments of the hotel, of course." I could tell from the tone of his voice that his suspicions were not fading.

"That's okay, I'm going to keep looking for a while. It was my lucky wand. I've already won nearly..."

As I glanced up in his direction I saw a figure step around the end of the row and look this way. I immediately recognized him as one of the men I had seen up in the lounge area on the top floor. Our eyes met and his hand darted inside the jacket he was now wearing.

I acted on instinct. Grabbing the guard in a bear hug, I pinned his arms to his side and threw myself backward to the floor, twisting as I fell so that we both landed on our sides. At virtually the same instant a single blaster shot tore through the air where we had been standing and slammed into the wall, shattering several of the mirrored tiles.

"What the hell—"

"Stay down!" I said as I snatched the stun baton from his belt.

With all of the buzzers and bells and flashing lights no one else seemed to have noticed the blaster shot. I got to my hands and knees, scrambled the rest of the way around the end of the row and crouched down by the last machine. Just as I got into position I heard the pounding of footsteps heading my way. Although it was difficult to hear clearly over the background noise, I listened as the running steps closed in on my hiding place. The moment I saw his foot appear around the edge of the machine I lunged toward him with the baton. The tip crackled with electricity as it contacted his shin and he went into immediate convulsions. I had dialed the baton to maximum intensity and the blue lightning danced around his leg. His finger squeezed the trigger of his pistol as soon as I touched him. He must have had the gun set for full auto because he fired off dozens of shots in the next few seconds. As he spasmed in the grip of the baton's current, his arms flew up sending blaster fire raking up the wall and along the ceiling.

That got people's attention.

A woman screamed. Moments later chairs were being knocked over all around me as people abandoned the one armed bandits and began stampeding toward the exit while dust and ceiling tiles showered the area. I deactivated the baton and my pursuer collapsed like a pile of wet laundry. As he fell he dropped his blaster pistol. I made a quick lunge for the weapon but before I could reach it someone's foot kicked it out of sight.

Cursing to myself I got up and moved with the crowd toward the door. In spite of their panic, people were diverting around the giant as if he were a boulder in the center of a raging river. I tried to keep low but he spotted me when I was still several meters away. As soon as he saw me he started wading in my direction. I locked eyes with him as we moved toward each other, waiting for my chance. I had kept a grip on the stun baton and was holding it down to my side at the ready. He must have been very sure of himself because he never reached for his gun.

We were a little more than a meter apart and I was just preparing to jab at him with the baton when a strange look crossed his face. His mouth dropped open into a silent "O" and he slowly sank to his knees. As he slipped below the heads of the crowd I saw Morgana standing directly behind him, a small fire extinguisher held above her head with both hands.

"Thought you could use... a little help," she puffed when I reached her.

"There's six more of them," I yelled over the noise of the crowd as I took her hand.

We started for the main doors when something grabbed my leg. I looked down and saw that the giant was on his hands and knees beside us, one hand clutching my ankle. I was just swinging the stunner up when Morgana smashed the fire extinguisher down onto the back of his head. There was a dull thunk and he collapsed onto his belly. As soon as I was free we allowed the crowd to sweep us toward the exit.

The lobby was a mad house. Most of the crowd was pushing toward the front door, but because of the volume of people there was a bottleneck. We moved with the crowd and eventually spilled out into the plaza in front of the hotel. I looked around quickly. In front of the entrance was a line of cabs that had been dropping off guests before the pandemonium had broken out. The lead cab had its doors open and the driver was standing at the back of his car where he had been unloading his passengers' bags. As he stood gaping at the scene around him, Morgana and I dashed toward his car. She jumped into the front passenger seat as I slid across the hood of the car and dove behind the controls.

In seconds we were rising on the car's antigrav field and pulling away. In my rear view monitor I watched the driver turn and begin chasing after us. A moment later I saw the giant emerge from the hotel entrance flanked by five of his men. He was holding one hand to the back of his head and did not look at all pleased as he followed our cab with his eyes. I wanted to put as much distance between us and them as possible but with all of the people running through the plaza I couldn't simply punch it. As I wove the car carefully through the crowd the cabbie managed to catch up to us just as we reached the hotel fountain. He ran alongside of my door, pounding on the window as he cursed me and demanded that we get out of his cab. As we drew abreast of the fountain I jerked the steering column and nudged him with the side of the car. He caught his foot on the edge of the fountain, tripped and fell headlong into the basin with a great splash.

Just before we pulled around the edge of the fountain and lost sight of the entrance, I took another look in the rear view monitor. I saw the giant turn and make his way toward a small line of private cars waiting at the valet stand. He was tossing people aside like they were toys as he made his way quickly toward the lead car in line. An attendant had just climbed into the sleek sports car when the giant reached him. He grabbed the man by the scruff of his jacket with one hand, lifted him out of the car and dropped him to the ground like so much discarded trash. Then he crammed his bulk behind the controls. One of his men scrambled into the small, two-seater with him, leaving the rest of his men standing impotently at the curb.

Ahead of our cab the crowd was starting to thin out. My hand was gripping the throttle lever as I waited for an opening. I was just about to shove the handle forward when something slammed onto the hood of our car, causing the nose to dip as the suspensor pods struggled to adjust to the sudden increase in weight. I was briefly startled but managed to keep the car under control. It took me a moment to realize that what had landed on the car was a man. He flailed his arms and legs as he struggled to find purchase on the sloped hood of the engine compartment. After a moment he managed to work his fingers into the narrow gap between the windshield and the hood and he clung to the car like a human spider. As he raised his face and glared at me through the glass I recognized him as the man who had been holding a gun on me only a short time ago. He bared his teeth at me and released his grip with one hand to reach for his blaster.

Even though he was blocking much of my view, I shoved the throttle all the way to its stops. The cab shot forward and by some miracle I managed not to hit anyone. As we sped away from the hotel I jerked the car left and right while I alternated on the trim pedals in an effort to throw him off. But as soon as he had felt the car surge forward he abandoned reaching for his gun and grabbed on with both hands.

In the rear view monitor I saw the sports car that the giant had hijacked pivot around to follow us. The taxi we were in was large and boxy, built to provide passengers with roomy comfort, while the model they had taken was compact and built for speed. Even loaded down with the giant's bulk it was more than a match for us. I forgot about shaking our hitchhiker loose for the moment and accelerated onto The Strip.

Traffic was fairly heavy and I slalomed in and out between the cars ahead of us, drawing shocked stares and rude gestures from the other drivers. For an instant I allowed my gaze to shift to the rear view monitor. I saw the giant's car zip onto the road from the access ramp and quickly begin closing the distance between us. When I returned my attention to the windshield I found myself staring down the emitter barrel of a blaster pistol.

I stomped on both of the trim pedals together, engaging the braking system.

The cab's nose dove toward the pavement as the suspensor pods whined in protest, but my action had the desired effect. He let go of the gun. It skittered across the hood and spun out of sight. As he tried to regain his grip on the cab I turned right, cutting across three lanes of traffic. I narrowly missed clipping the nose of a car in the far right lane as I slipped across its front end and slewed up onto the sidewalk.

Pedestrians screamed and scattered as I fought to bring the cab under control. I jerked the wheel back to the left and pressed the right trim pedal all the way to the floor to add power to the right side suspensor pods, causing the cab to tip up onto its left side. We barely avoided crashing directly into the front of a building, briefly side swiped the façade instead, and bounced back into the street. As soon as we were off the sidewalk I jammed the throttle forward once again.

I saw a street coming up on our right. I thought about trying to make the turn but calculated that we were going too fast. Just as I came to that conclusion the driver's side window exploded in a spray of glass fragments as the giant's man opened fire on us.

I stood on the trim pedals and twisted the wheel hard to the right. Once again the cab's nose dipped as the suspensor pods whined. The blaster shots being fired at us walked up the hood of the car, barely missing the man who was holding on for dear life. The giant's car sped past us as we pulled into a tight turn. This time the force was too much for our hitchhiker and he was sent flying from the car. From the corner of my eye I saw him smash through the display window of a curbside café. He wasn't going to be walking away from that one anytime soon.

The rear end of the cab continued to drift around to the left as I fought to control our turn. We slammed into the building on my side and scraped along the façade for some distance in a brilliant shower of sparks before I was finally able to get us back into the street. In spite of the pounding the car was taking the engine responded immediately when I shoved the throttle forward again. This was one tough machine. Moments later we were zooming down the side street. Behind us I heard the blare of horns and the crash of several cars slamming into each other in what sounded like a fairly major pile up.

I slowed just enough when we came to the next intersection to cut the wheel hard right, zipping us into the traffic pattern. We needed to get off the road before the giant could come after us. I looked around for some place to go. Morgana saw it before I did.

"There!" she said as she pointed to the driveway of a hotel across the street. A line of taxis was queued up in front of the entrance.

I turned the wheel hard to the left, cut across the oncoming traffic and sped into the driveway. I zoomed in front of a cab that was making a slow turn into the driveway and got into line just ahead of him. He blared his horn and gave me the finger but accepted his place at the end of the line.

No sooner had we gotten into line than I saw the giant's car come flying around the corner and stop. It hovered there on its suspensors for a moment before the driver's door raised and the giant got out. He ignored the traffic around him as he swiveled his head from side to side and searched for us. A car pulled up behind him and after a moment it's driver laid on his horn. I watched the giant as he spun on the car with an enraged look, pulled out an automatic rifle that he had managed to conceal under his coat, and pointed it at the driver with one hand. The man let go of his horn and took off around the giant's car.

Lowering his gun, the giant turned away and started scanning the area again. He swept his eyes briefly across the line of cabs we were in and kept going. It didn't look like he was going to notice us. Then his head snapped back in our direction. He squinted for a moment, then pointed directly at our car and called back over his shoulder to his man. He must have noticed the scraped up side of our cab.

At that moment the rear door of our car opened.

"Get on in there, darlin'," a man's voice called. Before we could say anything a middle aged couple was climbing into the back of our cab. The man was wearing a cheap suit and smelled like he had bathed in even cheaper cologne. The woman with him had on too much makeup and sported a wild mane of electric blue hair. The low cut dress she was wearing showcased an unnatural abundance of bosom and would have been a better fit twenty pounds ago.

"Oooh, Papabear," his companion cooed, "Do you think I could have one of those fancy drinks with a little umbrella in it?"

"If that's what you want, Sugar. You can even—"

"Excuse me," I said. "But this isn't a cab."

"It certainly looks like one to me," the man said. "Just take us around to the Frontier Club, son, and there'll be an extra couple of credits in it for you."

"You don't understand," I began. Just then Morgana elbowed me and nodded toward the street. I craned my neck to see the giant folding himself back into his car.

" _You_ don't understand," our passenger said. "Unless you want to bring a whole lot of trouble down on your head, you're going to take us to that casino right now. And be quick about it!"

"I love it when you're forceful, Papabear," the woman said to her companion as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against him.

I didn't have time to argue. As the giant's car started to turn in our direction I jammed the throttle forward. The sudden acceleration pressed Morgana and me back into our seats, but we had been prepared. Our passengers however were caught completely by surprise. Papabear and his busty companion were tossed around the back of the car as I pulled us out of line and sped back into the street. Behind us the more nimble sports car spun in place and came after us.

"What the fu—"

Before our passenger could begin his rant the rear window exploded, showering both of them with glass.

"Get down!" I yelled as I pulled us into a hard left and took us into a cross street. The sports car followed us easily. Even with the throttle shoved to its stops I knew there was no way we could outpace the other car. My mind raced as I tried to come up with some way to lose our pursuers. For a while I managed to keep us away from them by using the cars around us as blockers, weaving in and out among them to keep them between us and the giant's car. For the moment it kept the giant's man from opening fire on us again but I knew I couldn't keep this up for long. We were bound to get involved in a major accident unless I could find some way to lose them.

Then, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a lumbering shape moving down a narrow side street. Something about the oversized vehicle struck me as familiar and without consciously thinking about it I cut across the lanes of oncoming traffic and headed after it. A large picture on the back of the vehicle showed a man in medieval armor brandishing a sword while sitting astride a rearing horse. Written in fancy lettering above the picture was the name _Camelot_.

That's when I recognized the vehicle as a horse carrier. Built longer and wider than a passenger bus, the carrier almost completely occupied the little side street it was traveling along. Due to the sheer size and mass of a carrier, plus the fact that you wanted to keep the vehicle as level as possible so as not to spook the animals being transported, the suspensor pods on a carrier were different from those on other vehicles. To provide additional stability, the pod vanes wrapped around the bottom edge of the carrier's body and continued up the sides for half a meter. This configuration allowed the pods to project their antigrav fields down at an angle from the sides of the vehicle as well as directly down from underneath to ensure that the animals rode on as stable a platform as possible. As I focused my attention on those pods an idea came together in my mind.

I pulled us out to the left when we caught up to the carrier and squeezed in beside it. Once we had drawn alongside I slowed the cab to line us up. Behind us the giant's sports car was rapidly closing the distance. There would only be time for one shot at this.

I took a firm grip on the wheel and brought us directly in line with the driver's side suspensor pod. I took a deep breath, jerked the wheel hard to the right, and slammed the front corner of the cab into the pod. A brilliant explosion erupted from the mangled pod as the cab's bumper crushed the projector vanes. A violent shudder rippled through the carrier as smoke began pouring from the pod. A moment later the carrier's front corner suddenly dropped to the street sending a thick shower of sparks spraying high into the air as its undercarriage dragged along the pavement. From inside the carrier we heard the terrified screams of the frightened horses. The vehicle was traveling slow enough that I doubted any of the animals would be seriously hurt, but I felt bad about what I was doing to them nonetheless. I slammed the throttle forward again and managed to squeeze past the carrier just as it started to turn.

The friction of its front corner dragging on the street caused the lumbering carrier to begin a slow pivot to the left. Scant moments after we had squeezed past the front end of the carrier it slammed into the building on the other side of the street. As its momentum continued to carry it forward, the carrier wedged itself diagonally between the buildings on both sides of the street with a great crash and the scream of protesting metal, completely closing off the road behind us.

Just after the horse carrier shuddered to a stop I thought I heard a second crash. I sped us straight through the next intersection and got ready to make a hard right at the following cross street. As we were beginning that turn I glanced into the rear view monitor and saw traffic at the intersection behind us beginning to snarl as a number of frightened horses bolted from the side street and scattered.

I turned my attention back to the controls and focused on putting as much distance as possible between us and the havoc we had just caused.
Chapter Seven

"It's the right address," Morgana said uncertainly as she looked from the note in my hand to the building across the street.

After eluding our pursuers we had continued across town for several more blocks before abandoning the cab. A quick check in the back of the car had revealed that our passengers were uninjured. The last I had seen of them they were laying in a tangle on the floor of the passenger compartment clinging desperately to each other. Once I was sure that they were unharmed, we mingled with the crowds on the sidewalk, continued on foot for another block and hailed a ride. Two cab switches later we had made our way to the address Inspector Kovacks had given us.

During the ride we discussed whether we should continue to our meeting with Mr. Smith or not. Since we still weren't sure who was after us we couldn't be certain that they would not make another attempt at kidnapping us. If we headed back to the ship now I was certain we could make our way off planet with little trouble, and once we were in space we would be safe. The prototype engines aboard the _Prometheus_ would allow us to outpace anyone who might try to come after us. We could return safely to Gilead space, but we would have failed in our mission. And I didn't like to fail.

Since their first attempt to kidnap us had been such a spectacular failure however, I doubted that whoever was after us would try anything in public again. Our flight through the streets had already generated a lot of police activity across the city. Very annoyed looking officers were everywhere, especially throughout the gaming district. For the next several hours at least we should have little to fear from our unknown assailants. As long as we didn't see anyone following us I was willing to take a gamble and continue with the mission. After a quick call to the ship to advise them of our situation and make sure that they stepped up security, we directed our driver to take us to the address where we were to meet the mysterious Mr. Smith.

We had arrived at the location only moments before to find ourselves directly across the street from an imposing, three story building with a sign bearing the name Capital Investments above the main entrance. As we stood beside the idling taxi we studied the street carefully. No one seemed to be paying us any special attention and I decided that we had indeed made good our escape. A generous tip to the driver ensured that he would wait for us to conclude our business. Although I doubted that anyone had been able to follow us here, I did not want to chance waiting around to hail a ride back to the spaceport.

"That's got to be it," I said. "Kovacks isn't likely to make that kind of mistake."

"But a bank?" Morgana said. "It doesn't seem like the right place to find the type of ruthless characters Smith and his bunch are supposed to be."

"I don't know," I said. "Some of the most callous, back stabbing bastards I've ever dealt with were involved in the finance industry."

"What do we know about Capital Investments?" Morgana asked, ignoring my comment.

"Not enough, apparently."

I put in my phone earpiece and made another quick call to the ship. When I was routed through to Chris I told him to send a coded message to Morgan to pull together everything he could find on Capital Investments and send it to us as soon as possible. After getting an acknowledgment from Chris I put away my phone and turned to Morgana.

"Let's go beat the bushes and see what jumps out," I said.

We crossed the street and stepped up to the large double doors which slid open silently at our approach. As we stepped out of the glare of the afternoon sun we found ourselves in the richly appointed interior of an obviously affluent bank. The decor was dominated by a profusion of oak paneling and brass fixtures, with fancifully topped columns supporting the vaulted ceiling above a highly polished, black marble floor. Four tellers sat at a long counter on the left servicing a small line of waiting customers, while to the right were several large desks where immaculately attired bank officers sat working at their terminals. Only one of the bank officers was busy with a customer so we approached the nearest desk and told the woman sitting there that we had come to see Mr. Smith.

"Certainly, sir," she said, with a pleasant smile. "This way, please."

She led us to a locked door and glanced toward a retinal scanner. A moment later the security door hummed quietly aside and she led the way down a short corridor to a sumptuously appointed conference room. A long table of polished mahogany occupied the center of the room, surrounded by thickly padded, leather floatchairs. The woman told us to make ourselves comfortable and said that Mr. Smith would be with us shortly. In the meanwhile we were free to refresh ourselves from the bar.

Once she was gone I wandered over to the glass topped credenza and pretended to be interested in the selection. Several cut crystal decanters contained a variety of spirits. Unstopping one that held an amber colored liquid, I swirled and sniffed the contents, inhaling the bouquet of what was obviously a well aged, single malt scotch.

As I poured myself a drink Morgana stepped up next to me and scratched her earlobe, signaling that there were listening devices in the room. I had automatically assumed that there would be all types of sensors trained on us, whether we spotted them or not.

"Do you think this Smith person will be able to help us, Captain?" she asked quietly.

"I hope so," I said in a low voice, replacing the stopper and setting the decanter down. "We really need to upgrade our weapons systems. We were lucky to get away the last time with our hull intact. If we don't get some heavier firepower on board we might not be so lucky next time. If Smith can throw us a couple of good jobs we'll be able to pick up that Trident weapons pod we've been looking at. Then maybe we can start considering more... _aggressive_ jobs ourselves."

"Well, we need to do something quick because the crew's beginning to grumble. The jobs we've been able to put together over the past few months haven't exactly gotten us big pay offs."

"And that's my fault?" I growled.

"No, sir, I'm not saying that. But we need to turn things around or the crew's going to start getting ideas."

"Yeah, well, you keep your eyes on the crew and let me worry about lining up jobs. We'll have enough for that weapons pod soon and then we'll see about turning things around. There's a lot of people out there pulling down big scores. I don't see why we can't get a piece of that action for ourselves." I pretended to take a sip of my drink while actually doing little more than wetting my lips.

At that moment the door opened and Mr. Smith entered. Smith stood almost two meters tall with precisely groomed black hair and a meticulously sculpted goatee. In his left earlobe he wore a diamond stud that was at least two carats and I recognized his suit as a Cassius Baroque design which meant that it had to have

cost several thousand credits. It was difficult to gage his body accurately within the expertly tailored suit, but judging by his broad shoulders and narrow waist I suspected he was built like a wrestler. Flashing a mouth full of very white teeth, Smith extended his hand as he strode up to us, his movements fluid like those of a jungle cat stalking its prey.

I disliked him immediately. I couldn't explain it but there was just something about him that set my teeth on edge. It felt as if he were trying to intimidate me. I clamped down on my feelings as I reached for his hand.

"Captain Pell," he said, taking my hand in a firm grip.

"This is my security officer, Alex Feign," I said as I freed myself from his grasp.

"A pleasure," he said, taking Morgana's hand. The flash of interest in his eyes as he looked at her started an uneasy stirring in my gut. For a moment I thought I actually saw her staring to blush. Finally, he released her hand and gestured toward the seats at the conference table.

"Let's make ourselves comfortable."

Once we were seated Smith activated the datapad he was carrying. Datapads were twice the size of a typical flatpad. This allowed for part of the screen to be turned into a full keyboard while still allowing for a good sized monitor. Smith spent several seconds typing at his pad and studying the display before he looked up at us.

"I understand that you're looking for cargo, Captain," he said casually.

"We were told that you had something you wanted shipped off planet ... discretely," I said.

Smith studied me for a moment through hooded eyes. "It is possible that we may be able to do business, Captain. What is the name of your ship?"

"The _Prometheus_ ," I said, not doubting for a moment that he already had a complete file on us displayed on his pad.

"Ah, yes. _Prometheus_. Here we are. New Bahama registry. Hmm. I see that you were last in Toula about six months ago. No incidents with the local authorities. All port fees paid promptly. Good, good ... "

He looked over our records for a few more moments then set the pad aside.

"I don't see anything that would keep us from doing business, Captain," he said, flashing us a bright smile.

"That's good," I said as I settled back into my seat and pretended to relax. "I've got a solid crew with a one hundred percent delivery record. Ship with us and we'll guarantee to get your cargo to its destination."

"I'm sure you will, Captain." Smith paused, looking at me speculatively.

When he didn't elaborate I said, "Okay, so what's the job?"

Smith sat back and casually crossed his legs. He paused for a moment to pick an invisible bit of lint from his immaculate trousers and said, "I represent a group that has a certain cargo which needs to be shipped out immediately."

"Any special requirements for this cargo?"

"No. You will simply be transporting twenty containers to a rendezvous in deep space where another ship will be waiting to take them off your hands."

"Sounds simple enough. What does the job pay?"

Smith typed a few keys on his pad and slid it across the table to me. "Half now and the balance on completion of delivery."

"That's a nice piece of change," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"It's an important job, Captain. Do a good job for us and we may have more work for you in the future."

"And just where are we bringing this cargo, Mr. Smith?"

Smith studied me for a moment before speaking. "Do we have an agreement?"

I hesitated briefly, as if weighing it in my mind.

"Okay, Mr. Smith. We have a deal."

"Excellent," Smith said, smiling. I was getting tired of those perfect teeth. He brought up a star chart on his pad with coordinates listed across the bottom edge.

"That's out in the middle of nowhere," I commented when he slid his pad across the table for us to see.

"The people I represent prefer to keep a low profile in their business dealings."

Morgana tapped the pad's screen with a finger. "That's fine, but to get to these coordinates we'll have to cross through an area of heavy pirate activity."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Smith said, offhandedly.

"Mr. Smith, we're not exactly a fighting ship," I said. "We're not going to be any use to you if we get raided."

"I understand, Captain, but rest assured that your ship will not be bothered on this run."

When I hesitated before answering, he added, "We did have an agreement, Captain. Of course, if you're afraid..." He slid the pad back to his side of the table. He typed briefly at his pad and studied a new window he had opened. "From your shipping history I can see that your past activities here have been, shall we say, _conservative_ ventures. Perhaps I am asking too much of you."

So he did have a dossier on us. Smith didn't know it but I wouldn't have turned down his offer for anything in the world. I wasn't worried about going up against pirates. What didn't make sense to me was why he was willing to trust such an obviously valuable cargo to us when as far as he knew our ship was only a few steps away from the breaker yard. To send us into an area of known pirate territory seemed like a huge risk.

Unless he had a way of keeping the pirates away from our ship.

"I've given you my word, Mr. Smith," I said, trying to sound mildly offended, "and I always stand by what I say. Our ship may not look like much but she's got plenty of heart. We'll get the job done."

"Excellent. I see your reputation is well deserved, Captain. And don't worry about pirates. I give you my personal assurance that no one will interfere with you."

Morgana and I exchanged looks.

"That's quite a promise," I said. "Do you have some kind of arrangement with the pirates?"

Smith simply smiled enigmatically.

"Upon your return we can discuss further enterprises," he said, ignoring my question. "I foresee us working quite closely together in the future, Captain."

"Great. So, when can I pick up the first half of our payment? I've got a payroll to meet."

Smith gave us another view of his teeth. "Actually, the funds have already been transferred to your account. Call it an act of faith."

He wasn't wasting any time.

"And the cargo?" I asked.

"It should be arriving at your berth within the next twenty minutes."

"I guess that's everything then," I said as I started to rise.

"Um, if I may, Captain," Smith said as he pointed to his pad. "I notice that you have some cargo posted for sale."

"That's what brought us to Toula in the first place," I said, settling back into my seat. My senses were suddenly on alert.

"I see by the dock records that you have not been able to find buyers for the bulk of your cargo."

"We only landed a little while ago."

"Of course. I only mention it because the group I represent needs their cargo shipped out immediately. I'd hate to see you miss out on a sale because you were running an errand for me. Perhaps I can be of help."

Here it comes.

"I see that the Council has already set an assessed value on your cargo," Smith continued. "What if I were to increase the assessment by, oh shall we say, fifteen per cent and let you bond the entire thing over to the bank. For a mere six percent commission we will act as your agent and handle the sale of your merchandise while your ship is away. I can even have an account opened for you with us, so that you aren't subject to the outrageous rates you're currently being charged by the Exchange, and arrange to transfer the balance of your account to us as well. You'll find that we pay a substantially higher rate of return on your money than any other financial institution."

"That's ... very generous of you, Mr. Smith," I said.

Smith dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand.

"Not at all. As I said, I see us doing a lot of business together in the near future. Our bank believes in treating our business associates well." Pulling up a different screen Smith typed in a few commands then held out a stylus and indicated where I should sign.

"If you will just give me your signature here I can begin the process," he said.

And now he's setting the hook, I thought.

I pretended to look over the contract briefly then took the stylus and scrawled a signature on the indicated line.

"Excellent," Smith said as he slid the pad back. "I'll have my secretary forward a copy of this to your ship for your records."

"Actually," I said as I pulled out my own slightly battered palm pad, "if you don't mind I'd like to download a copy of the contract now."

There was the briefest instant when his expression froze before he brought his teeth back into play.

"Not at all, Captain," Smith said. "A wise precaution."

I placed the worn pad on the table with the I/O port facing the matching data port on his pad and set it up to receive a download. Smith tapped briefly at his screen and a copy of the contract was transferred.

"Thank you, Mr. Smith," I said, slipping the pad back into my pocket. "I feel much better now that that's done."

"You're a sharp business man, Captain," Smith said smoothly.

A truly sharp business man would have read through the contract before he signed it, but I wanted Smith to feel comfortable that he had the upper hand in our relationship.

We stood and shook hands.

"Well, Captain, I look forward to your successful return."

"I'm looking forward to that as well, Mr. Smith."

Smith escorted us back to the banking floor where we took our leave. We saw that our taxi was still waiting for us across the street as we stepped out into the afternoon sun. No one paid us the slightest attention as we hurried to it and set off back to the spaceport.

* * *

Morgana and I arrived at our berth just as the last of the cargo we had brought with us to Toula was being carried away by a ground transport. Stacked to one side were the twenty unmarked cargo cases we were to transport off planet for our mysterious clients. Each container was over six meters long by two meters wide by one deep–too large to be easily handled by manual lifters. I looked up and saw that the main cargo bay doors were open on top of the ship. One of the loading arms had been deployed, its clamps swinging into position above the first container. Squinting against the brightness of the sky I could make out Jimmy Hunter, the sniper for our new tactical operations team, manning the loader controls. I had no doubt that Chris had picked him for that duty so that he could keep an eye on things. Down on the ground Lucky was standing beside the stacked cases directing the loading arm. As soon as the first container had been locked onto he motioned to Jimmy to take it away and came over to us.

"I see our cargo has arrived," I said.

"It got here about ten minutes ago," Lucky answered. "What is it?"

"I have no idea," I said, watching as the loading arm slowly swung the first container around to lower it into the main hold. Lucky's eyes widened but he didn't say anything. "Get them loaded as quickly as possible. We'll be lifting ship as soon as we're refueled."

"Aye, Captain."

I knew that he had a lot of questions but I couldn't explain anything while we were exposed out here. I turned and headed up the boarding ramp with Morgana keeping pace beside me, leaving Lucky to finish with the cargo. When we reached the top of the ramp we walked directly into the main airlock. Both the outer and inner airlock doors were open while we were grounded and we passed directly through and into the ship. We were greeted inside by Bruce Stone, the tactical team's demolitions expert, who was posted at the airlock to make sure that no unauthorized persons boarded the ship.

"Welcome back, Sir, ma'am." Try as I might, I could not get any of the new crew to call me by my first name, even within the privacy of the ship. Since we were on a covert mission I had been able to convince them to refer to me as sir instead of Sire or Your Highness, but even so you could practically hear the capital 'S' whenever they addressed me.

"Hi, Bruce. Would you find Barney and tell him to meet us in the main cargo hold. I have something I need his help with."

"Yes, Sir," Bruce said as he reached for the comm panel.

I started for the hold immediately, my mind churning. Morgana knew my moods and she let me to brood silently as we headed toward the main hold. I was bothered by those containers. Obviously they contained some kind of contraband, and we weren't going anywhere until I knew exactly what it was we were carrying.

We reached the hold quickly, entering just as the loading arm was lifting away from the first of the shipping containers it had lowered into position. The case was secured with a combination touch pad and sealed with a red sticker bearing a scan-bar code. I circled it once but found no other markings.

"Do you think we should open it?" Morgana asked, reading my intention.

"We have to. There could be anything inside." At that moment I was remembering another shipping case we had taken aboard half a year ago, one that had been rigged to destroy the ship.

Morgana squatted down and examined the touch pad. "If Pennyworth is as good as he's supposed to be, he should be able to open it without too much trouble."

"As long as he can do it without Smith's people knowing we've been peeking at the goods," I said.

"If I can't do it, it can't be done," a voice called from the doorway behind us.

Barney Pennyworth was of average height and build with a head full of frizzy, mousy brown hair and dark eyes that always seemed to be sparkling with secret amusement. He ambled into the hold and glanced at the shipping container.

"Bruce said you were looking for me, Sir," Barney said, as he stepped up beside the container. "Is this the job?"

"That's it. I need to see what's inside without anyone knowing it's been opened. What do you think?"

He shrugged. "Let's take a look."

Barney set down the tool kit he was carrying, studied the combination keypad briefly, then slowly made his way around the container as he ran his fingers along its surface, his eyes scanning every centimeter. As a materials specialist with the Royal Intelligence Agency, Barney had spent years designing and building specialized equipment to meet unique needs. But his expertise extended into other areas as well. His file indicated that he was also a genius at figuring out ways around the tightest security measures. During his time with the RIA he had helped our people to infiltrate some of the most secure locations on a dozen worlds, places that most people had written off as impossible. To Barney, impossible simply meant a more interesting challenge. His philosophy was that if a man could design a security system then he could find a way around it.

He completed his examination of the container quickly. "I thought you were going to have a challenge for me. I can have this open for you inside of five minutes and no one will ever know we even touched it," he announced confidently. "The only problem I might have is if there's some kind of hidden trip switch. I don't see anything on the outside that looks suspicious but I can't be sure until I run a full scan." He knelt down by the container and opened his kit to pull out a portable scanner.

"What if you do find something?" I asked.

"In that case it'll take six minutes."

Morgana's phone beeped just as Barney began running the hand held device over the case. She moved aside and put on her earpiece.

After listening for several moments she said, "We're back aboard now. I'll tell him." She removed her phone and turned to me. "We just got that information you asked for on Capital Investments."

Barney would need a few minutes to run his scan so we stepped over to the comm panel mounted on the bulkhead beside the doorway. Morgana accessed the file that had been downloaded into the ship's central database and opened it. A moment later her father's recorded image popped up on the screen.

"That's an interesting company you put us onto," Morgan began without preamble. "At first they seemed like just another financial institution until we started doing some digging. I'm afraid that what I have for you is only a preliminary report, but I thought you'd want to know what we've learned so far. It seems that Capital Investments was taken over a number of years ago by another corporation. Nothing so unusual about that except that my people are having trouble tracing through the tangle of corporate connections to find the actual owner. So far we've uncovered a number of shell companies which seemed to have been created for the sole purpose of buying out Capital, each of which has turned out to be a dead end. I've got some of our best people working on the problem and I'll contact you again as soon as they learn anything else. I'd be interested to hear how you stumbled onto them in the first place. On the surface they seem like an ordinary bank, but the more we look into them the dirtier they look."

Morgan then launched into an overview of what they had learned so far. The more I listened the more I could feel my brows knitting together. The image I was getting was one of a company that had built itself up by exploiting the financially vulnerable. Capital Investments had started out as a minor lending company a little more than ten years ago. It had found its niche by extending lines of credit to people with poor credit ratings. By charging high interest rates to its roster of high risk customers and then raising those rates every time a customer was late with a payment by as little as even a single day, the company was able to quickly build up its financial legs. After a few years the company had branched out into banking. Although it still maintained its credit division, for the past several years the bulk of its business had been focused on investment banking.

While none of this was illegal, the one incongruous fact was the large number of corporate accounts the bank had managed to land with some of the most prestigious companies in the kingdom. Capital's client list read like a who's who roster for the top most profitable transnational corporations in existence. Normally these were companies who wouldn't have anything to do with a fledgling financial institution like Capital. Old money tended to trust its financial security to well established institutions. A new company like Capital Investments hadn't been around long enough to have developed a reputation among the big corporations, yet several of them had a large bulk of their assets invested with them.

After we finished listening to Morgan's synopsis of what he had learned, we spent some time skimming through the records he had forwarded along with his report. Capital's assets had grown exponentially since the company moved into the field of banking. It currently boasted branches in every system of the kingdom and had even begun to spread into other nations as well.

"It looks like Capital Investments is working some back room deals," Morgana observed, mirroring my own thoughts.

"It certainly looks that way. Did you notice the report on its holdings? They've already taken over a number of smaller banks that were floundering due to the recession. If they keep going at this rate they'll be a real monster in another couple of years."

"Monster is the right word," she said. "They can't be generating all of this revenue legally."

"I agree. Something about them smells wrong. But there's nothing in any of the information we have so far that's clear evidence of illegal activity. Even our dealings with Mr. Smith weren't technically illegal. We're just going to have to wait and see what else pops up."

"Excuse me, Sir," Barney called.

I glanced across the bay and saw that he had managed to open the shipping container. The top had been swung back on its hinges and I could see two long, cylindrical shapes inside.

"I think you're going to want to take a look at this," he said. Although he spoke calmly, there was a note of tension in his voice.

I shut down the comm panel and we walked back over to the container. My breath caught in my throat when I saw what was inside. In the crate were twin metal cylinders which tapered to chiseled points at one end. I didn't need more than a brief look to know what they were. I shot Morgana a glance and could tell from the surprised look that sprouted on her features that she recognized our cargo as well.

In the container was a pair of rapier missiles.

The uniquely shaped nose cones on the missiles were specifically designed for a single purpose—to pierce the hulls of warships. This allowed their high yield, shaped charges to explode inward and cause the maximum damage to an enemy vessel. Rapiers were more commonly known as 'ship killers' because a direct hit from just one of these missiles could easily destroy a ship the size of the _Prometheus_.
Chapter Eight

"We're carrying forty of them," I said as I looked around at the shocked faces of the ship's department heads.

After leaving Toula and setting course for the rendezvous coordinates, I had called a meeting of my senior people. Once everyone had squeezed into the conference alcove at the back of the bridge I brought up a holographic display of one of the missiles. The image hung suspended above the table giving everyone a clear view of what we were transporting.

"And you're sure that what we're carrying are these rapier missiles you told us about?" Doc Jacobs asked, peering at the floating image.

"Absolutely," Clive Mayweather answered him. Clive was a marine colonel and veteran of numerous military actions. I had recruited him to be the CO of the tactical operations unit. Along with his many other accomplishments he was also a munitions expert. Clive was familiar with every kind of weapon there was. He had confirmed my identification of the missiles the moment he saw them.

Doc sat back and frowned. "We certainly do come up with some ingenious ways to mangle the human body."

"After a hit with one of these, Doctor," Clive said, "it's not so much mangled as it is pulverized." He curled his fingers around an imaginary ball as he explained. "The missile doesn't detonate its charge until after it penetrates a ship's plating, causing the hull to contain the force of the explosion. The shock waves bounce back and forth in the enclosed space and destroy everything inside. Something as soft as a human body is virtually liquefied. Of course, most ship hulls aren't strong enough to contain such an explosion for more than a fraction of a second. But that's all it takes to accomplish its purpose. After that, a ship the size of ours would simply be blown to pieces." He mimed separating his hands and spreading his fingers. "For something larger, say a battle frigate or carrier, the explosion could end up taking out more than a dozen sections at once. Any crew unfortunate enough to be in those sections would end up smeared across the nearest bulkhead."

Lucky made a disgusted face. "Cancel my breakfast order for scrambled eggs."

"We're not actually going to deliver these things, are we, Jason?" Bobby asked. "We can't let pirates get their hands on something this destructive."

"You're right," I said. "We can't. But if we don't make this delivery we'll lose the only lead we have. Fortunately, I think we've found a way to manage both. I asked Mark and Barney to put their heads together and they've come up with a solution."

Excitement shone in Mark's eyes as he started to speak. "Actually, it's really pretty simple. The missiles' guidance system operates on a three dimensional coordinate matrix. All we need to do is modify the targeting algorithm to reflect the X and Y coordinate values across their axes and we can–"

"Whoa!" Lucky interrupted. "Can you try that again in non-geek so us mere mortals can understand?" Mark was literally a genius when it came to computer systems or any sort of electronics, but he sometimes forgot that the rest of us didn't think in terms of circuit pathways and computer code.

He paused briefly, organized his thoughts, then said, "Uh, I can reprogram the missiles to miss whatever they're targeted on."

Reprogramming the ROM chip in a missile was supposed to be impossible. From anyone else this would have been pure bragging, but coming from Mark it was a simple statement of fact.

"Won't somebody notice that they've been tampered with?" Lucky asked.

"There'll be nothing for them to notice because we won't be changing anything physically," Barney said, grinning mischievously. "That's the beauty of it. They can even run a full diagnostic and get a green light. But whenever they lock one on a target and fire it off, it'll go off course."

"The only way anyone could tell that we've done anything," Mark explained, excitement creeping back into his voice, "would be if they went through the guidance program line by line. The changes I plan to make will affect values in only two lines of code. Since there are literally billions of lines of code it's virtually impossible they'll ever find it."

Chris was looking thoughtful. "Eventually _somebody's_ going to realize that none of the rapiers are able to find their targets. What if they put two and two together and notice that all the missiles that go wrong were transported aboard our ship?"

I shrugged. "We'll deal with that situation if it comes up. Like Bobby pointed out, we can't let these weapons be delivered into the hands of some unknown party with God knows what on his agenda.

"But there's another, more important question no one has asked yet," I said. I paused, watching the puzzled faces around me for several moments before continuing. "Rapiers are called 'ship killers' because that's what they were designed to do. But why would _pirates_ want a weapon that completely destroys a ship?"

"They wouldn't!" Chris said. "They only need to disable a ship so they can loot its cargo. Blowing up their target doesn't make any sense."

"Then what do they want with these missiles?" Lucky asked.

" _That_ is the million Solar question," I said. "We've been operating under the assumption that we were running this shipment for the pirates. What if we're actually dealing with someone else?"

That thought silenced everyone for a while.

"But didn't your Mr. Smith guarantee that we wouldn't be bothered by pirates on this run?" Chris asked.

"He did. That's what initially made me think that he was connected to them. Who else would be able to guarantee us safe passage? Now I'm not so sure. What if Smith's connection with the pirates is simply that his people are paying them off to leave their shipments alone?"

Bobby frowned, shaking his head. "This is getting complicated. So now you think we're wasting our time with this run?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. As I see it there are two possibilities. Either Smith is connected with the pirates and is using this run to feel us out, or he and his people are black market arms dealers who have an arrangement with the pirates to allow their ships to pass unmolested. Either way we're committed to seeing this deal through."

"As if dealing with murderous pirates wasn't enough," Lucky quipped.

"Remember," I said, refocusing the conversation, "we're on our own out here and anything could happen. Bearing that in mind, I want to start running a series of drills. This ship is crammed full of new systems, many of which we haven't needed to use yet. I want us to be able to react instantly to any situation we run into without having to search for the right button to push at a critical moment. I've given Chris a number of scenarios that he's going to program into the computer as soon as we're through here. So, unless there are any more questions, we'll be starting the drills in ten minutes."

As the meeting broke up and everyone returned to their stations, I moved to the command chair to spend a few minutes brooding over our upcoming encounter. I wasn't worried about the pirates. Smith had been too confident that he could keep them away from us and my gut was telling me I could believe him. What I was concerned about were those rapier missiles. I had the uncomfortable suspicion that someone was expecting a major conflict to break out.

Once again I was beginning to feel that familiar sensation that events were being manipulated behind the scenes while I was stumbling around in the dark.

* * *

"They're just sitting there," Morgana said as she studied her board.

We had stopped at the extreme range of our sensors from the rendezvous location. The only thing we were picking up was a lone ship that was sitting exactly at the rendezvous coordinates. If there were another ship out there it was stealthed and not moving.

"They're running continual sensor sweeps, but we're still outside of their range."

Our upgraded sensor system gave us a distance advantage over the other ship. It also helped that we were running with all unnecessary systems shut down. In keeping with our masquerade as a poor transport ship I had also ordered that we keep our battle shields off. We were as electronically quiet as we could be short of activating our stealth system. But that meant that we were also vulnerable to a beam attack from any ship within a spherical radius of a several light seconds, or about half a million kilometers, if there were another ship out here. That was a lot of space to keep an eye on.

The atmosphere aboard the bridge was tense. Everyone was focused on their board, ready to react instantly to the sudden appearance of a hostile ship.

The two day long trip to this empty section of space Smith had selected for our clandestine rendezvous had been uneventful. As he promised, there had been no sign of pirate ships dogging our trail. To keep up our appearance as an old transport, we had maintained a speed of light factor 20, which was 400 times the speed of light, for most of the trip. At that speed we would seem to be pushing the limits of our drive system while any stealthed ship tracking us would have left a clear hyperspace wake for our sensors to detect. But we had picked up no signs that we were being followed during the entire trip.

Since we could find nothing suspicious in the vicinity I had Bobby get us under way again. As we transited back into hyperspace for the final leg of the journey, Morgana kept her eyes glued to her monitors. If we were headed into a trap, this would be the place to spring it.

The bridge was quiet as we closed the distance to the waiting ship. Time seemed to tick by slower than usual as we gradually moved into range of their sensors.

"Sir," Tom called out after several minutes, shattering the tense quiet. "We're being challenged by the other ship."

"Send the countersign," I said.

Tom spoke briefly and listened to the other ship's reply.

"They want us to drop to normal space at ten thousand kilometers and approach at sublight," he reported a few moments later.

"Somebody's a little paranoid," Chris commented.

He was right. Since we knew where their ship was we could easily have dropped out of hyperspace within a kilometer of their position with no trouble. The only reason to have us drop to sublight so far away was to keep us from launching a surprise attack against them–or to set us up for a surprise attack.

After getting confirmation from Morgana that the sensors were still registering nothing in the area, and making sure that Mark had his finger poised to raise our shields the second I gave the order, I had Tom inform the other ship that we would comply with their instructions.

Several minutes later we dropped back to normal space. As we approached our contact, Bobby brought their image up on the main screen. As soon as I got a good look at their ship I understood their caution. The other ship was a transport roughly the same size as us and looked to be in the same condition as well. Whereas the _Prometheus_ was disguised to give the appearance of a ship in a state of disrepair, judging by the condition of our contact, they truly were in no shape to fight off a raider if that was what we had turned out to be. Just to be on the safe side, I had Morgana do a focused scan of them as we approached.

"It looks peaceful enough," she said. "I'm not reading anything that looks like any kind of active weapons system. Energy emissions indicate that they've got their main drive's power plant on-line with their engines in standby. Looks like their captain is keeping their ship ready to bug out at a moment's notice, even if it's costing them fuel."

My instincts were telling me that there would be no problem with the cargo transfer, and that was troubling me. Everything was turning out to be almost too routine. It was starting to look like Mr. Smith was nothing more than a black market arms dealer who was using down on their luck smugglers to transport his merchandise.

That thought stayed with me as we got ready to do the cargo transfer. The other captain seemed jumpy and eager to complete our business as quickly as possible. He ordered us to come to a dead stop, then they cautiously drew up on our port beam but would not dock with us. Instead, he had us depressurize our cargo hold and the transfer was handled using loading arms. As soon as the transfer was complete, the other crew buttoned up their hold and immediately began pulling away. Their captain instructed us to hold our position until they were out of the area. Once they had retreated to a safe distance to maneuver, the crew brought their ship about and fled into hyperspace. Morgana tracked their progress as they took off at a dead run toward the galactic core. When their ship showed no indication of changing course after several minutes, I told Bobby to get us under way as well.

The entire episode had been a bust as far as I was concerned. Morgana's scan of the transport's engine signature had revealed that it was not one of the missing Fleet ships. I ordered copies of our scans sent back to Morgan anyway on the chance that our people might be able to identify it, although I knew it was a long shot. The transport's crew had disabled their ship's ID beacon and painted over whatever identifying markings that might have once been on its hull.

The trafficking of stolen Gilead weaponry would have to be turned over to someone else. Morgan had already assigned people to look into where the rapiers had come from. The intelligence agents of the RIA were the best there were. We'd supplied them with the serial numbers of the missiles we had transported and I had every confidence that they would eventually trace the source of the illegal flow of arms. Our job was to make an inroad into the pirate network and so far we didn't have much to show for our efforts.

As soon as we had made the jump to light speed I called another meeting of my department heads. It was time to go on the offensive.

"I've been thinking about our progress so far," I said once everyone had found a seat, "and I've decided that we've reached a dead end with Smith and his people. There's no doubt that they've got some connection to the pirates, but turning ourselves into their cargo flunkies isn't going to get us on the inside of their operation the way we want. It's time we adopted a more aggressive strategy."

"You want to switch to the back-up plan," Chris said.

"Yes. It's riskier, but we're not getting anywhere this way. Bobby, how long will it take to catch up with the _Finian's_ flight plan?"

Bobby looked off into the distance for a moment. "If we run at flank speed, we can be there in a couple of hours, give or take."

"That'll do," I said. "Unless anyone has a better idea, that's our next play. We'll engage the stealth system and make the run from here to where the _Finian_ is supposed to be. Hopefully, once we're in position someone will try to take us down." I looked at Mark. "I'll need you to coordinate with Morgana to track any inbound torpedoes. We don't want them to actually damage us but we need to convince them that they took out our engines and that we're helpless."

"Piece of cake," Mark said. "I've already tied the targeting scanners into the main sensor array and worked out a firing protocol for a stealthed target. We'll be able to take out their bird at a safe distance without any trouble."

"Don't miss. If you let them actually damage my ship I'm taking the cost of the repairs out of your pay."

"You've got my word they won't even scratch the paint," Mark said confidently. "Of course, in our current condition I'm not sure we could tell even if they did."

"Beauty's in the eye of the beholder," I chided, then turned to Chris. "How about our plan for handling their boarding party? I don't think I need to remind you that it would be a really bad thing to have armed pirates running around loose aboard the ship."

"Not to worry, Jason," Chris said. "Between the new measures designed into the ship and the surprises Barney came up with, we shouldn't have any trouble controlling their movements."

"I'll hold you to that." Finally, I turned to Clive. "What about your people, Colonel? The rest of us will handle their boarding party, but the most important part of the operation is going to depend on your team."

"We'll be in and out before they know what hit them, Sir," Clive said simply. Although I had never actually seen Clive and his people in action, I didn't doubt their ability. I had reviewed Clive's dossier very carefully before selecting him as the leader of the tactical operations unit. Out of all the potential candidates I had looked at, his record stood head and shoulders above the rest. Everything I had read in his service records, both the open file as well as the sealed one which detailed the numerous covert operations he had undertaken, said that he was a brilliant officer who kept his head under fire and could think on his feet. When he accepted this position he specifically requested Bruce and Jimmy as the other members of his team, explaining that of all the men he had ever worked with they were the best at what they did. Their service records backed up his assessment.

"Then I think we're ready to give this a go," I said. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the edge of the conference table as I looked into the faces of my people. This was the first time I would be taking this crew up against a hostile enemy. Although I felt that we had a solid plan which gave us an excellent chance of success I also knew that nothing was a hundred percent guaranteed. And the pirates were certain to be some nasty characters.

"We've planned for every contingency we could think of and I'm confident that we can pull this off," I said. "But it's important that we don't underestimate these bastards. We'll have the element of surprise on our side, but they'll be heavily armed and will have no compunction against killing any one of us at the slightest provocation. Remember, these guys have proven themselves time and time again to be cold blooded murderers and slavers. If you get into a situation where you have to put someone down, you make sure he stays down. Besides, if any of you get yourselves killed I'm cancelling your Christmas bonus." That earned me several grins.

"What if we're just wounded?" Lucky wisecracked.

"Half pay for a month," I shot back, this time getting a few polite chuckles.

"I guess that's everything," I said. "I suggest that anyone not on duty use the next couple of hours get some rack time. As soon as we're in place we're going to be running at a constant alert status. With any luck the pirates will take the bait when they pick us up in that deserted sector and come after us."

"We're certainly making it easy enough for them," Lucky said. "We're going to be parsecs away from anything else for most of the flight plan and moving slow enough for them to catch us riding a rusty tricycle. We might as well paint bull's-eyes on our asses while we're at it. Maybe I should break out some cans of red paint from the ship's stores."

Several chuckles broke out around the table.

"You're not coming anywhere near my ass with a paint brush," Ian rumbled.

Lucky cocked his head to one side and studied his friend briefly. "Actually, you're a big enough target as it is. Besides, we're probably not carrying that much paint on board."

"Are you saying I have a big ass?" Ian challenged him.

Lucky made a show of leaning over and looking at Ian's backside. "You know, I never really noticed before but you've actually got quite a cute little butt, big guy."

The new crew members were watching the exchange with puzzled expressions. It had become customary among the original crew for us to toss around jokes whenever we found ourselves in a stressful situation. And as usual, Lucky took things a step further than anyone else. It was a harmless way to relieve tension and I usually let it go on for a little while. When the time came I knew each of my people would be up to whatever was demanded of them.

"Why don't _both_ of you take your asses back to your posts and make sure everything is ready," I said, interrupting them before the conversation could degenerate any further. "That's it everyone. Final check at seventeen thirty hours."

As the meeting broke up Lucky and Ian were still exchanging quips.

"No, really," Lucky was insisting as he trotted along beside Ian's imposing figure. "It really is a nice, tight little ass. I'll bet it helps a lot with the ladies. What do you do to keep it in shape; squat thrusts, lunges, Pilates?"

"Are you calling me a tight ass now?" Ian said, glancing down at Lucky. "And how long have you been looking at my butt, anyway? Get away from me."

I rolled my eyes and turned to the bridge crew as they returned to their stations. "Mark, prepare to engage the stealth system. Bobby, set course for the _Finian's_ projected position. And hurry!"
Chapter Nine

I had been standing beside Morgana's bridge station for the past thirty minutes as we tracked the hyperspace wake shadowing us. Even though we couldn't scan the ship itself, its distortion wake was clearly visible to our new sensor array. We were cruising at a leisurely velocity of light factor 12, or 144 times the speed of light, along a flight path that kept us away from the few inhabited star systems in the area as if we were trying to be inconspicuous. Our newly installed camouflage shroud had been activated, causing the ship's name and registry number to darken into the black of the hull while a new name and registry number had appeared. Our ID beacon had also been altered. To anyone we encountered we were now the transport ship _Finian's Rainbow_.

Before leaving Haven I had arranged to have a false flight plan filed and a fictitious cargo manifest created for the _Finian_ as well. I hoped that the lure of an old transport ship carrying a valuable cargo through an isolated region of space would be too much of a temptation to resist. It looked like someone had taken the bait.

We had only been posing as the _Finian_ for a few hours when our sensors detected a faint wake signature in the area. As soon as we picked up the ship shadowing us I ordered everyone below decks into position. We had a number of surprises planned for the pirates when they tried to board us. On the bridge everyone had their whole attention focused on their consoles.

"There!" Morgana said at the same moment that I saw the change on the screen. A new, smaller wake signature detached itself from the trail of the ship following us and began rapidly closing on our position.

"I see it," Mark said. He reached for his board. "I'm raising the dorsal gun into position." One of the new Gatling guns had been installed on the upper hull just abaft of the command sail. Within seconds the concealed gun doors were retracted and the weapon raised into position.

"Tracking inbound wake signature," Mark said. "The targeting system seems to be doing fine even without a hard lock. There shouldn't be any problem taking it out."

Although the ship's sensors could not detect the torpedo itself, by adjusting the targeting system to focus on the space just ahead of the distortion wake we should be able to intercept the torpedo before it hit the ship. At least, that was the theory.

I opened the ship wide comm. "Torpedo inbound. All hands brace for shockwave and prepare to engage boarders."

"Impact in thirty seconds," Morgana said as she followed the progress of the weapon screaming toward us.

A hush fell over the bridge as we waited. For our plan to work we had to let the torpedo get close enough for the pirates to think we had been hit before we stopped it. But we needed to time it just right. If we waited too long, too close a near miss could still cripple us. And without having a solid lock on the torpedo we would be shooting at the place where we _thought_ it was. What we were attempting was very risky when you considered that a torpedo was just over two meters long. There was no margin for error.

"Impact in fifteen seconds," Morgana said.

"Lock in computer control," I said to Chris. The timing necessary to make this work was beyond human reflexes.

Chris touched a control on his board. "Computer control engaged."

Under the computer's direction, the Gatling gun quickly spun its six parallel barrels up to its firing speed of 10,000 RPMs as it prepared to unleash its lethal barrage.

"Stand by," Morgana called out. "Impact in five seconds ... four ... three ... two ... one–"

Several things happened at once. The computer fired off a precise 0.1 second burst from the gun, laying down a stream of hardened synthesteel rounds directly in the path of the incoming torpedo. Since the weapon was approaching from almost directly astern, the rounds impacted the nosecone head on, causing it to explode less than one hundred meters away. At the same instant the hyperdrive was shut down, dropping us back to normal space and leaving us adrift. Meanwhile, a series of explosive bolts which held several of the stern hull plates in place were set off. As the plates floated away, they revealed what appeared to be the mangled destruction caused by a torpedo strike. Although the ship looked open to space it was only a shallow depression in its lines while the true, airtight hull was intact below.

There was a collective exhale from everyone on the bridge.

"Now all we have to do is let the pirates make their move," I said.

Everyone seemed excited but not tense. Bobby was actually grinning as we waited for the pirates to launch their attack while Tom pressed his headphones to his ears as he listened for anything on the comm channels. Mark shut down and retracted the dorsal Gatling gun while Morgana's entire attention was focused on her sensor console.

"They're slowing," Morganna said a moment later as she adjusted her controls. "I'm losing their wake trail. They'll be here in a few minutes."

I turned to Tom. "Send out a low power SOS. I want them to keep on feeling like they're in control right up until the moment we make our move."

Tom swiveled back to his board and turned the transmitter gain down.

"Mayday, Mayday! This is the _Finian's Rainbow_! We have suffered a catastrophic failure of our drive system and need immediate assistance! I repeat, this is the interstellar transport _Finian's Rainbow_ declaring an emergency! Any ship in range of this transmission please respond!"

We waited for almost a minute before there was an answer to our SOS. Tom put it on the speakers so that we could listen in.

"Transport ship _Finian's Rainbow_ this is the, ah, _Liberty's Pride_. We have you on our sensors and are responding to your Mayday. How can we be of assistance?"

I shot a questioning look at Morgana.

"It's them," she said. "They just lowered their stealth system and dropped to sublight at extreme range."

"Talk to them, Tom," I said.

" _Liberty's Pride_ , thank God, we thought we were all alone out here!" Tom said, sounding very much like a member of a suddenly stricken transport crew. "Something went wrong with our drive system. We're not sure what happened but we had some kind of an explosion in the engine room that caused a major hull breach. We've lost our engineer and our drive system is off-line. We're running on emergency power for now, but that could go any time. The captain thinks we should abandon ship. Can you lock on and take our crew aboard your vessel?"

"I think we can do that," the pirate said. I could almost hear him grinning from ear to ear. "We'll rendezvous with you in five minutes."

"Thank you, _Liberty_. The captain will be standing by at the main gangway hatch to meet you. We're lucky you happened to be in the area."

"Oh it's our pleasure, _Finian_. _Liberty_ out."

As soon as Tom shut down the transmitter I reached for the intercom.

"Get ready, Lucky" I said. "You're on in five minutes."

"That's Captain Lucky, if you don't mind," Lucky's voice answered.

"Okay, _Captain_ Lucky, but you need to hustle yourself over to the gangway hatch to meet our visitors. If no one is there to let them in they might decide to blow the doors. If that happens I'll let _you_ explain to Ian how his ship got banged up."

"I'm on my way."

I switched channels. "Barney, they're almost here. They should be grappling onto us shortly."

"I'm all set down here, Sir," he reported.

"Excellent," I said. "We'll be down to join you soon. Stand by." I switched channels again. "Clive, the pirates will be coming through the gangway hatch in a few minutes. You have a green light as soon as we've lured them away from the area."

"Roger that," the tactical team leader answered. "We'll contact you as soon as we've secured the objective."

"Acknowledged. Good luck." I closed the comm circuit.

"They're closing with us," Morgana said a little while later, her eyes still locked on her board. "It'll be any time now." She made an adjustment and glanced down at one of her ancillary readouts. After a moment she looked over at me. "I just ran a check on their engine emissions. Their power plant signature matches one of the recordings we have for the stolen Fleet ships. It's the _Harbinger_ , a nebula class attack sub that was decommissioned and supposedly scrapped two years ago."

Encountering one of our own ships that was being used to spread terror among the shipping lanes rekindled the hatred deep inside me for what the pirates were doing. Ships which were intended to preserve the peace and provide security for my people were being perverted into instruments of murder and terror. If I had anything to say about it, this particular pirate crew had seen the last of their marauding days.

A moment later a series of hollow clangs echoed throughout our ship as the pirates' magnetic grapples locked onto our hull. I had to admire the simple efficiency of their operation. The unsuspecting crew of a normal transport ship would be easy prey for these murdering thieves. Unfortunately for the pirates, this was not a normal ship or crew.

"They're drawing our ships together," Morgana said. "They should be docked with us in another minute."

I returned to my command chair and switched the main screen to the feed from the camera on B deck that showed the gangway hatch. We could see Lucky waiting by the hatch wearing one of my uniforms. He was a few centimeters taller than me and the sleeves and pant cuffs were a little short for him, but that didn't seem completely out of place for the captain of a rundown transport. I didn't like having one of my people in such a vulnerable position but someone had to be on hand to let the pirates aboard if we didn't want them to blow the hatch in.

I just hoped they wouldn't resort to violence against a crew that didn't offer them any resistance.

* * *

Lucky was humming to himself as he waited by the gangway hatch. Humming helped calm his nerves. While he had full confidence in the plan they had worked out, he still felt a little jittery nonetheless. Movement through the viewport caught his attention and he leaned on the hatch doors to peer through one of the small windows. The pirates were extending a docking sleeve toward the ship's hull. It mated easily to the docking collar on the _Prometheus_ and seconds later Lucky heard the soft thunk of the docking clamps latching into place. He straightened and moved to the small panel on the right hand bulkhead. After a while a green light flashed on, indicating that there was standard atmospheric pressure on the other side of the hatch, and he opened the doors.

The hatch at the far end of the docking sleeve opened a moment later and a man appeared and started into the connecting passage. The pirate had a broad smile pasted on his face but his eyes were darting around suspiciously.

"Captain Murphy?" he asked as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back. It was the name Lucky was using to pose as the captain of the _Finian's Rainbow_. The fact that the man already knew that name when Tom hadn't given it to them when he'd spoken to their ship earlier was further proof that the pirates had a pipeline into the transport industry.

"That's right," Lucky said, offering his hand. "Thank you again for answering our Mayday so quickly."

The pirate strode calmly up to Lucky and took his hand. Suddenly, in one quick motion, he yanked Lucky forward as he brought up a blaster pistol with his other hand and shoved its muzzle under his chin. Lucky's eyes went wide but he made no move to try and break free.

From the far end of the docking sleeve Lucky heard the heavy clumping of booted feet. While he didn't dare move his head to look, he rolled his eyes and saw six armored figures advancing toward them. Even though he had expected the pirates to make their move to take the ship once the hatch was opened, the moment he saw the approaching armored shapes he felt himself go rigid.

The pirate holding his gun on Lucky leaned closer to him and pressed the barrel into the soft flesh under his jaw.

"You're not going to give me any trouble, are you, Captain?" the pirated asked.

Lucky jerked his head briefly from side to side.

"Good. I'd hate to get blood all over me if I have to blow your head off."

"What do you want?" Lucky asked.

The pirate gave him a nasty look. "I'm the tooth fairy," he said and clubbed him viciously across the mouth with the butt of his pistol. "And I'm here to make a withdrawal."

The blow was hard enough to snap Luck's head around. Blood exploded into his mouth in combination with a searing flash of pain. And when he felt his teeth with his tongue he could tell that at least one of them was loose. Lucky shook his head to clear it and looked up to find himself staring at his own distorted reflection in the mirrored visor of one of the armored pirates' helmets. The pirate who had struck him stepped aside and the armored man took Lucky by the arm. The power in that servo augmented grip was enough to cause him to wince.

"Check it," the pirate holding Lucky ordered, his voice sounding hollow as it came from the suit's external speaker.

The other five armored men strode into the ship with their blaster rifles held before them at the ready. As they moved into the passageway, they kicked aside and trod on pieces of electronic components that were in piles on the deck. Panels had been removed from the bulkheads on both sides of the passage just inside the hatch doors, exposing some kind of complex circuitry the crew had apparently been working on before the torpedo strike. The pirates were indifferent to the fragile components beneath their boots and they trampled roughly through the piles of equipment as they made their way inboard to the port side companionway.

They checked both ways along the main corridor but there was no one in sight. At the far aft end of the passageway the pirates could see the pulsing light strips around the hatch to the engine room which warned that the compartment beyond had been breached.

"All clear," one of the men reported.

Switching channels, the assault team leader reported back to his captain. "We're aboard, sir. I've got their captain in custody and we're about to round up the rest of the crew."

"Was there any resistance, Miguel?" the pirate captain asked.

"Not a bit. We caught them with their pants down. You should see this place, Captain. It's a real dump."

"I don't give a damn about the ship, just the cargo. Let me know when you've rounded up the crew so we can start moving their stuff over. And send Francois back now that you're done with him. He still needs to get the hold organized so we can take on that extra cargo."

"Yes, sir. It shouldn't take us more than a few minutes to lock things down over here. I'll contact you again when we're ready. Miguel out."

Shutting down his transmitter, Miguel began issuing orders to his men. He sent a pair of them off immediately to do a sweep of the ship for any wandering crew. Another pair he ordered to stand guard at the gangway entrance.

"Lucas," he said to the last of the armored men, "you're with me."

Lucas fell into place beside him as Miguel turned to the unarmored pirate who had been the first to board the captured transport.

"Francois, the captain wants you back aboard to get the hold ready for the extra cargo."

"I'm going," Francois said. He gave Lucky a sneer then spun around and started back through the docking sleeve.

Finally, the pirate turned his attention to Lucky.

"If you do as you're told, none of your crew will be harmed. But if you give me the least bit of trouble I'll snap your neck like a twig. Now take us to the bridge."

Miguel kept a painful grip on Lucky's arm, using the strength of his powered armor to handle him like a parent directing a wayward child. Lucky obediently led them to the main stairwell and up to the bridge. The climb up the two decks into the command superstructure was quick and within a minute they had arrived. As they stepped onto the bridge the pirates came face to face with what had to be the most dilapidated command center they had ever seen. Half of the ship's control systems appeared to be shorted out while those that were powered up were dominated by red warning lights. Fiber-op cables dangled limply beneath several of the consoles and a number of open access panels, their connectors appearing burned and ragged. There were even entire control boards missing from several of the stations. Their single torpedo strike had not caused all this. It was no wonder the captain wanted to abandon this ship.

There were only two crewmen on the bridge. From the stations they were manning Miguel guessed that they were probably the helmsman and the communications officer. Both of them were busy with their consoles and didn't bother looking up as 'Captain Murphy' led the pirates onto the bridge.

"We're just locking down the last of the control systems now, Captain," the helmsman said. "It's lucky that other ship ..." His words cut off as he looked up and saw the two armored pirates. One of the invaders was holding Lucky by one arm with the muzzle of his weapon pressed to his temple in an unmistakable threat.

The communications officer looked up when the helmsman stopped speaking in mid sentence and also froze. For several heartbeats both sides simply stared at each other. Finally, the pirate holding Lucky by the arm roughly shoved his captive toward the command chair.

"You will make an announcement for the entire crew to assemble in the main cargo hold," Miguel ordered. "If you try to warn your people you will be killed. If any of your crew is found in the passageways two minutes from now, they will be killed."

Lucky cautiously stepped up to the command chair as he massaged his arm where the pirate had held him. He was going to have one hell of a bruise. Without sitting down he reached for the small panel attached to the right side armrest and activated the shipwide PA. He didn't like having his back to the armed pirates and Lucky could feel the muscles along his spine tighten. He forced himself to sound calm as he spoke toward the pick-up.

"Thish ish the captain," he said, speaking slowly through his split and swollen lips. "All crew membersh are to report to the main cargo hold immediately. No exsheptionsh."

"That's enough," the pirate snapped.

Lucky closed the circuit and turned back to his captors.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now we join the rest of your crew at the main hold," Miguel said as he motioned them toward the bridge entrance with the muzzle of his assault rifle. "Don't make any sudden moves. If any of you tries to escape–"

"Let me guessh, we'll be killed," Lucky said.

Lucky, Bobby and Tom led the way slowly from the command center under the cover of the pirates' pulse blasters. When they reached B deck Miguel took a moment to step into the passageway and check on the men he had posted by the gangway hatch. His men were exactly where they were supposed to be, standing like a pair of statues before the open hatchway.

Once he was satisfied that the ship was secure, the pirate ordered the group to continue down to the lowest deck. When they turned into the starboard passageway they could see the flashing warning lights outlining the engine room door at the far end, but the passageway itself was empty.

"Dieter and Edwin must still be sweeping the ship," Lucas commented.

"And where are your people, Captain?" Miguel growled. "They were supposed to report here."

Lucky gave him a stony look. "They're probably waiting inshide. You had me order them to asshemble _in_ the cargo bay, if you remember."

"For their sake, they had better be in there. If my people catch any of them wandering the ship they'll be shot on sight." He motioned Lucky and the others toward the cargo bay with his weapon. "Open it."

Lucky stepped up to the hatch controls and thumbed the switch to open the door. The hatch slid aside and he led the way through the open doorway. Inside were the three others who were posing as members of the _Finian's_ crew. Doc Jacobs and Max were reprising their normal roles as the ship's doctor and cook, while Ian was playing the part of the executive officer. All three of them looked toward the doorway as Lucky and the others entered.

"What's the new emergency, Captain?" Ian asked.

Then he noticed Lucky's battered face and his expression clouded over. He narrowed his eyes at the two armored figures as they followed his shipmates into the hold and separated so they could cover the entire room with their assault rifles.

The cargo hold spanned all three decks and occupied the entire center section of the ship between the port and starboard companionways for more than a third of the ship's length. Although not as large as cargo holds in ships purposefully built as transports, the compartment was large enough to handle even full sized shipping containers. In spite of its generous dimensions however, there was little room to move about in the hold now. Less than five meters into the hold, stacked shipping containers reached to within a meter of the ceiling high overhead. The containers were so tightly packed that there wasn't even enough room to pass around them at either the forward or aft bulkheads. Other than the narrow open space just inside the bay doors there was only a solid wall of shipping containers.

Ian was glaring at the armored men holding them captive. "Who–"

"Silence!" Miguel barked. "You will all stay exactly where you are if you want to keep breathing." He kept his weapon trained on the prisoners with one hand while he used his other hand to reach into a pouch on the thigh of his armor and pull out a palmpad. He thumbed it on and called up a file. After studying the screen for a moment he turned to Lucky.

"Someone's missing," the pirate said, the menace in his voice clear.

Lucky glanced around at the others. "Thish ish everybody."

The pirate pointed his weapon directly at Lucky's chest. "Don't lie to me, Captain! Your crew manifest lists _seven_ crewmen, not six."

"We _had_ sheven," Lucky said, glowering at the pirate. "We losht our engineer when the hull ruptured."

Remembering the pulsing warning lights around the engineering hatches, Miguel lowered his weapon, shut down the pad and slid it back into his thigh pouch. He turned toward the stack of shipping containers and seemed to be studying them for a moment.

"Is this your entire cargo, Captain?" Miguel asked.

Lucky glanced back at the stacked containers.

"Yesh."

"These containers are too large to be moved by hand," the pirate commented.

"I don't undershtand," Lucky said.

"We're going to have to transfer your cargo to our ship using the loading arm," Miguel explained. "That means there won't be anything for your people to do. So it seems that you and your crew have outlived your usefulness."

Lucky felt himself go cold as Miguel started to raise his weapon.

That was all Ian needed to hear. Before the pirate could aim his weapon he sprang into action. Ian bent low and charged Lucas like an enraged bull, driving his shoulder into the pirate's middle. It was like ramming into a boulder. But he didn't expect to hurt him. He wrapped his arms around the pirate's legs and heaved upward, actually managing to lift the armored man off his feet.

"Move!" he yelled to the others as he drove his captive toward the remaining pirate. Ian used Lucas's armored body as a shield and charged directly into the hail of blaster fire from Miguel's assault rifle. While the servos in battle armor gave its wearer enhanced strength, reflex speeds were human normal. Miguel had been caught by surprise at Ian's unexpected attack and could not move out of the way fast enough. He was hit full in the chest with the body of his partner. The force of the momentum was so strong that he was bowled over backward with Lucas winding up sprawled on top of him.

While Ian was keeping the pirates busy, the rest of the crew ran for the stacked shipping containers. Bobby was the first to reach the wall of containers. He grabbed the hidden catch near the end of the bottom container and yanked. A concealed door swung open in the side of the container and everyone quickly piled through the opening.

The moment the pirates went down Ian spun around and sprinted to catch up with his shipmates. For his size, Ian was surprisingly fast. The distance he had to cover was only a few meters and he covered it like an Olympic athlete. But even as he was sprinting for the safety of the faux container, Miguel was acting.

The pirate used the power of his armor to toss his partner's body off of him with a single sweep of his arm. At the same time he raised his weapon, which he had managed to maintain a hold on, and took aim at Ian's fleeing back. His finger tightened on the trigger contact just as the big man reached the trick door at the far end of the shipping container. His weapon had been set to full automatic. It sprayed a barrage of blaster fire after the fleeing man as Miguel swept the weapon up.

Four of the concentrated bolts of energy slammed into Ian's back, stitching their way from his right hip diagonally up to his left shoulder. Ian was blown off of his feet. Arching his back from the force of the impacts, the big man threw up his hands as he sailed through the air and slammed face down onto the floor of the container.

* * *

When the first pirate to enter the ship clubbed Lucky across the mouth, I had to fight down the impulse to grab a blaster rifle and charge down to the gangway hatch. I knew that if he had wanted to kill Lucky the pirate would simply have shot him. But knowing that his life wasn't in immediate peril didn't make it any easier to sit by and watch as one of my people was brutalized.

"When this is over," Bobby growled, "remind me to pay that guy back for what he just did to Lucky."

"I'll hold him for you," I said.

The entire bridge crew watched the main screen as the six armored pirates came aboard and took charge of the situation. When Miguel finally led Lucky away from the area by the gangway hatch I shut off the viewscreen and pushed myself to my feet.

"Bobby, Tom, you know what to do," I said. "Remember, don't give the bastards any reason to shoot you."

"They've just entered the main stairwell," Morgana said and shut down her console. "We have to go."

I took one last quick look around the bridge to make sure that everything was set. We had added a few additional touches to increase the dilapidated appearance of the bridge such as disconnected fiber-op cables hanging from open access panels and a number of electronic components scattered about. The command center looked even more broken-down than it had the first time I had seen it.

"Good luck," I said to the two men I was about to leave to the tender mercy of the invading marauders.

"We'll see you below, Jason," Bobby said, flashing me a thumbs up.

I returned the sign but couldn't suppress a feeling of unease as I turned and hurried from the bridge. Morgana and I led Chris and Mark quickly into the small foyer behind the command center. As soon as we stepped off the bridge we could hear the pirates making their way up the stairwell. They were already past the A deck landing and would be on the command level in moments.

We hurried to what appeared to be a blank bulkhead directly opposite the bridge entrance. I pressed the hidden release and pushed open the concealed door to a bounce tube. The four of us scrambled through the doorway. I shut the door behind us just as Lucky and the two pirates stepped onto the command deck.

The bounce tube was a shaft that ran from the command deck all the way down to the bilge crawlspaces. It was isolated from the artificial gravity field and provided a secret means for the crew to move within the ship. Altogether there were three bounce tubes, the central one that we were in, which ran parallel to the main stairwell, one at the aft end of the port side companionway and one at the bow end of the starboard companionway.

As soon as we closed the door behind us, Morgana pulled out a palmpad and accessed the feed from one of the hidden bridge cameras. As we hung in the weightless environment of the tube, the four of us huddled together and watched the small screen as the pirates forced Lucky to make his announcement on the PA system.

"They're bringing everybody to the main hold just like you figured they would, Jason," Chris whispered.

"Good. We'll be ready for them." Morgana handed me a comm-link earpiece. I looped the hook around my ear and slipped the miniature speaker into my ear canal. The comm-link was bulkier than a normal phone but had far greater range and penetrating power. It would also enable me to hold conversations with numerous people at the same time over an encrypted, private frequency.

"You two wait here until they're gone, then seal yourselves on the bridge," I told Chris and Mark. "We're going to need you to be our eyes and ears throughout the ship."

"They're leaving," Morgana whispered. On her small pad we could see Lucky, Bobby and Tom heading off the bridge in front of the pirates with their fingers laced behind their heads. It was time for us to move.

Grabbing one of the tow bars that ran the length of the tube, Morgana and I started pulling ourselves down to the bottom levels of the ship. Once we reached C deck we opened the concealed door, slipped into the passageway and crept around to the port side entrance to the main hold.

The port side cargo bay door was a mess. The thick deposits of rust encrusting the edges of the doorway screamed that the hatch hadn't been opened in years. The hatch itself was covered with dents, scrapes and gouges and the door's control panel was hanging from the bulkhead by its fiber-op leads. But that was all for show. The rust was merely painted on while the apparently broken control panel was fully operational. We wanted the door to appear to be broken to ensure that the pirates used the starboard entrance. That way they would be confronted with the wall of fake containers when they entered the bay. I lifted the dangling keypad, tapped in a brief code, and the hatch hummed smoothly open for us. We slipped quickly inside and I secured the hatch behind us.

We jogged across the open floor of the cargo bay to the stack of shipping containers on the far side of the compartment. There was only the one stack of containers, but from the other side the hold would appear to be crammed full. As soon as we reached them I pulled open the door on the back side of the bottom container. Unlike the two that were stacked on top of it which were collapsible fakes, the bottom container was actually a thick walled bunker. The plan was to draw the pirate's attention to the forward end of the bay while our people ducked into the hidden door at the other end of the container. Chris would then secure the hatch into the bay from his bridge station, trapping the pirates in the hold where we would deal with them.

As we stepped into the dim interior of the container we found Barney seated on a small, folding stool watching a portable monitor he had mounted to the wall. In his hand was a small control pad and at his feet was a weapons locker. To his right a massive 'gun' was mounted atop a sturdy tripod. The gun was simply a tapered, hollow tube nearly a meter long with a double handled grip at the back end. Twin firing triggers were attached to the heavy grips. When squeezed, the triggers would open the valve at the butt end of the gun allowing a high pressure liquid to surge through the gun's barrel. Connected to the butt of the gun was a thick hose that snaked across the floor before disappearing into an opening in the bottom of the container.

Stepping quietly up beside Barney, I looked over his shoulder at the image on the screen. Ian, Max and Doc were milling around the narrow space on the other side of the container as they waited for the pirates to arrive with the others from the bridge. Just then the bay doors opened and we saw Lucky step into the compartment, followed closely by the rest of the bridge crew, and finally the two pirates.

"We need to get into position," Morgana said softly. She bent down, reached into the gun locker and pulled out a blaster rifle. It was an AP-6 assault rifle, a high discharge weapon with an oversized clip that carried enough charge for a hundred shots. If anyone could score a telling hit on a man in battle armor it would be her. Out of the entire crew, the only person who could match Morgana's marksmanship was our tactical team sniper, Jimmy Hunter.

But Morgana was only going to serve as a distraction. She would only have to keep the pirates busy for the few moments it would take our people to hustle into the protection of the container. The tripod mounted 'gun' in the middle of the container was what we would use to stop them. That gun was one of Barney's ingenious solutions to the problem of our armored visitors.

In order to generate an energy field around a starship that was powerful enough to allow the jump to hyperspace, the massive field coil that was the heart of a hyperdrive engine was turned into a superconductor by submerging it in liquid helium. At a temperature of minus 210 degrees Celsius, the super cooled liquid would instantly freeze anything it touched, including a man in battle armor. Barney had simply tapped into the reserve tank and run a high pressure hose to the special 'gun' he had constructed in his shop.

As Morgana crept to the far end of the container where she would draw the pirate's fire away from the hidden door at the other end, I turned to the tripod. Polarized goggles were hanging from the back of the gun. I took them and slipped them on.

"You'll need these too," Barney said quietly, handing me a pair of heavily insulated gloves. "Remember not to let the nozzle touch any part of your body."

I had just pushed my hands into the stiff gloves and was flexing my fingers experimentally when we heard all hell suddenly break loose in the cargo bay.

"Move!" I heard Ian's muffled voice yell through the bunker's wall. Almost immediately there was a loud crash from the bay. A moment later the concealed door at the end of the container flew open as our people started scrambling through.

My heart jumped into my throat as I realized that something had gone wrong and we weren't in position. I lunged for the nozzle gun as blaster fire began streaming into our container through the open door. Just as I reached the gun a body came flying through the door and crashed heavily on the floor. Bobby had been waiting behind the door. He slammed it shut and rammed home the deadbolts as soon as Ian's body cleared the doorway.

For a fraction of a second my mind refused to accept what I had just seen. Then the realization that one of my people had been shot galvanized me into action.

"Now!" I yelled.

Barney touched a series of switches on his control pad in rapid succession. First, powerful arc lights hidden in the sides of the dummy containers atop our bunker flashed on, flooding the compartment in a blinding wash. To anyone facing that battery of floodlights it would be like looking into the sun. Then the concealed gun ports in front of where Morgana and I were positioned dropped open. Even though I was only seeing the reflected glare and not looking into the lights directly, I still found myself squinting against the brilliance streaming through that narrow opening in spite of my goggles.

Both of the pirates had been caught by surprise and their arms flew up to protect their eyes from the blazing assault. Then a stream of blaster fire burst toward them from the far end of the container as Morgana opened fire. The barrage of powerful blasts hammered at their armor, burning streaks across their suits and tearing gouges from the decking and bulkheads around them.

The pirate called Lucas had just pushed himself up from the floor when the lights were switched on and he froze in place as he threw his arms up in front of his face. Miguel on the other hand had been caught still sitting on the deck when we sprang our trap. Blinded and confused, he seemed to have no idea where the blaster fire was coming from. But instead of freezing in place like his shipmate, as soon as the blaster fire started spraying them, Miguel lifted his hips off the deck and started madly crabbing his way backward out of the line of fire.

I was working on shoving the muzzle of my gun through the open port in front of me when I realized that the cargo bay door was still open.

"Chris! Seal the bay door!" I yelled into my comm-link, just as the end of my gun cleared the port opening. Because backsplash from the liquid helium would be instantly fatal to an unprotected person I could not open fire until the end of the nozzle was clear. As soon as it was projecting into the bay I grabbed the trigger levers and squeezed. A stream of violently frothing white liquid burst from the end of the nozzle. Lucas was standing directly in the line of fire and the stream of super-cooled liquid exploded against his chest.

Dense vapor began filling the compartment as the helium immediately began evaporating back into its gaseous form. I played the stream up and down as I tried to ensure that I completely covered Lucas. In moments, visibility in the cargo bay dropped to zero as the billowing cloud obscured everything. I took a few extra seconds to focus the spray at the area of the deck where I had last seen Miguel, then I released the triggers.

It was instantly silent.

I held my breath as I listened for any signs of movement in the hold. Nothing.

With the stream of liquid shut off the mist started to clear. In a few moments Lucas's unmoving form began to coalesce out of the swirling fog. He was still standing exactly as I had last seen him, with his arms crossed protectively in front of his face. Only now he looked like a statue carved from ice. His suit was completely white from head to toe and vapor trails streamed from every part of him. Barney shut down the blinding arc lights, returning the compartment to ship normal lighting which now seemed dim to my sore eyes. I pulled off my goggles and looked around the compartment.

"I'm not seeing any movement," Morgana's voice spoke quietly in my earpiece.

"Same here," I said as the last of the mist evaporated into the air. Searching the deck behind Lucas' frozen form I realized that Miguel was nowhere in sight and that the bay doors were closed. I tapped my comm-link.

"Chris, one of the pirates made it out of the bay."

"I'm tracking him," Chris's voice said in my ear. "He's in the starboard companionway. I'm sorry, Jason. Everything happened so fast—"

"Don't worry about it. Just keep an eye on him."

"What about Ian? I saw..."

"I know. Hold on a second."

I pulled off the insulated gloves and hurried to the corner of the container where Ian was sprawled face down on the floor. The others who had been posing as the _Finian's_ crew were huddled around his limp form. They made a space for me as I knelt down beside him. There were four holes burned through the back of his uniform where he had been hit. Acrid smelling smoke curled upward from the impact points.

"Ian?" I said, tentatively.

A moment later his body stirred and he gave a low groan.

"My ass!" he moaned.

I tore open the back of his uniform, exposing the black Kevflex body armor he was wearing. Each of us had on one of the form fitting, flexible bodysuits under our clothes in case things got hairy. To turn aside the powerful energy bolts however, one of the things the tough microweave polymer did was to become rigid for an instant at the point where it absorbed a blaster hit. In that way it changed part of the power of the blaster bolt into kinetic energy. Although the body armor had not allowed any of the shots to penetrate through to Ian's flesh, the impact force from a gun as powerful as the assault rifles the pirates carried must have been like getting hit with a major league line drive.

"Your suit's still intact," I said. "How do you feel?"

"Like I was just run over by a charging bull," he said as he slowly began to lever himself up onto his forearms. "I don't think I'm going to be able to sit down for at least a week."

"Guessh you didn't need that bullsheye after all," Lucky teased as he helped me get him to his feet. Once we had him up, I activated my comm-link again.

"Ian's fine," I told Chris. "What about that pirate who got away from us?"

"He's heading back up the central stairwell. It looks like he's trying to get back to his ship."

"Seal the hatch," I ordered. "I don't want him to run into our people over there."

"Done," Chris reported a moment later. "But now he's locked in here with us."

"I have an idea how we can handle him," I said. "What's the status of the other pirates who boarded us?"

"The two who were sweeping the ship are trapped in the starboard companionway on A deck. We've got the gravity field in that section up to 5 g's. Even their power armor isn't helping them. Once we dialed up the gravity they hit the deck like sacks of laundry and haven't been able to lift as much as a finger."

"Good. What about the ones by the gangway hatch?"

"Completely immobilized," Chris said. I could hear the amusement in his voice. "You can tell Barney that his little surprise worked perfectly. So what do you want to do about the one that's still wandering around?"

"We're going to bounce up to B deck and make him an offer he can't refuse. This is what I need you to do." As I outlined what I had in mind I moved to the weapons locker, grabbed one of the assault rifles and pocketed a couple of spare clips.

"Remind me never to piss you off," Chris said after I had filled him in on my plan.

"These are not nice people we're dealing with," I said as I slapped a charge clip in place. "He'll get a chance to come out of this alive, if he cooperates, but I'm not going to lose any sleep over cancelling his ticket if I have to."

"Hey, I'm on your side, Jason," Chris said. "I just admire the devious twists your mind takes sometimes."

"Thanks. I think." I looked up and caught Morgana's eye. She nodded that she was ready. "Stand by for my signal," I told Chris. "We're going to move into position."

I turned around and found Bobby and the others standing behind me.

"We're coming with you," Bobby said. "We heard what you're planning and you're going to need some help."

He was right. Even with our Kevflex body suits we would still be going up against a man in battle armor.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I told him. "You and Tom arm yourselves."

"What about me?" Lucky asked. "The more people you have the better your chanchesh. Beshidesh, I'd like a little pay back."

I studied his grotesquely swollen lips and the purple bruise darkening the right side of his face.

"That looks pretty bad," I commented.

"It only hurts when I laugh," Lucky said, forcing a smile with the left side of his mouth.

I looked at Doc who had opened Ian's suit and was checking his back as the big man leaned against the rear wall of the bunker.

"I examined him already," Doc said with a shrug. "There's no sign of a concussion. Must be that thick skull of his. I gave him something for the pain and I'll need to re-socket a couple of his teeth but that can wait. Medically, there's no reason why he can't go with you."

"Okay, join the party," I said.

Ian straightened himself stiffly and started toward the weapons locker as well.

"Not this time, my friend," I said, heading him off. "I need you and Barney to get that pirate out of his armor before he freezes to death."

"And that's a problem, why?" Bobby asked, as he looked up from checking his weapon.

"I know how you feel," I said, "but right now he's no threat. Besides, he may have useful information. Remember that our main objective is to gather intel on how the pirates are operating. And Doc, I need you standing by in the infirmary in case anyone gets hurt."

Ian and Lucky exchanged looks.

"In case anyone gets _seriously_ injured," I corrected myself.

"I think thish ish sherioush," Lucky said, touching his swollen lips gingerly. "I might need shurgery. Jusht imagine the sherioush problemsh it would caush if ladiesh acrosh the galaxhy were deprived of my good looksh."

I was just about to point out to Lucky that it really wasn't such a big loss when Max stepped up to me.

"If it's all the same to you, Sire, I believe I would like to accompany you as well."

I looked into the eyes of the man who had been my family's valet since before I was born and saw the iron determination there. Although I didn't know his actual age, I estimated that he had to at least be in his fifties. I also knew that arguing with him would be about as effective as commanding the wind not to blow.

"Can you handle a firearm?" I asked him.

Max quirked one of his eyebrows and stepped over to the gun locker. Pulling out one of the assault rifles, he expertly dropped and checked the clip's charge, slapped it back into place, primed the weapon for firing, reset the safety, then snapped it smartly to his chest in perfect port arms position.

A grin spread across my face. "And here I thought your expertise was limited to the kitchen."

"Oh, I can also cook," Max said dryly.

"Okay, Max, you and Lucky come with me. Morgana, you, Bobby and Tom go up to B deck by the starboard tube and cut through medical. Set up on the other side of the transverse so we can get him in a cross fire."

As soon as everyone had armed themselves we hustled out of the container and left the cargo hold. I led my group to the port side bounce tube while Morgana's team split off and headed across to the starboard companionway. It took us only a few moments to bounce up one deck where we crept cautiously into the passageway. We kept ourselves pressed against the side of the passageway as we stole quietly forward toward the gangway hatch.

Just before we reached the intersection I called my team to a halt. I heard pounding coming around the corner ahead.

"What's that banging?" I whispered into my comm-link.

"He's trying to beat his way through the hatch," Chris reported from the bridge with a chuckle. "When he got to the gangway entrance and found the hatch locked and his men trapped inside their suits, he lost it. At first he tried to radio his other men, and then his ship, but our dampening field kept him from transmitting. Then he charged the hatch and he's been trying to punch and kick his way out ever since."

"It looks like we've got his attention," I said. "Stand by to hit those airtight doors like we talked about. I'm going to get in position to flush him into the open."

Gesturing Max and Lucky to wait here, I tiptoed forward and pressed myself into the uncomfortably narrow space behind a vertical structural support. Leaning around the edge of the support I peered around the corner toward the hatch. Just beyond the point where the two passages intersected I could see the two pirates who had been left to guard the ship's entrance standing as if they were carved from stone. Another of Barney's ingenious innovations had shut down their battle armor, leaving the men trapped inside. Now the only member of the boarding party who had not been neutralized was their leader. And we were about to correct that.

At first I couldn't see him. Only a small part of the right hand bulkhead was visible from my position. Then the pirate came into view as he sidestepped along the dead end while he searched for a way to open the doors. A movement down the passage drew my attention. I looked over to see Morgana and her team emerge from the infirmary and move toward our position.

"We're in place," Morgana's voice spoke softly from my earpiece.

"Stand by," I whispered. "I'm going to let him know we're here."

I raised my weapon to my shoulder and squeezed off a quick burst in his direction. The pirate's reflexes were faster than I expected. As my first shots began to strike the bulkhead beside him, he spun around and returned fire on my position with impressive accuracy, forcing me back behind the meager cover of the structural support. I waited for his return volley to end, counted to three and popped out to fire off another volley of my own.

We went back and forth like that a few times before he decided to advance on my position. He must have thought that I was alone and pinned behind the support brace. Since he obviously had the advantage the pirate eventually decided to close in for the kill. What he hadn't counted on were the five additional guns that opened up on him from both sides as soon as he stepped into the intersection.

Although power armor offered good protection in a fire fight it was not indestructible, and the model suit he was wearing looked to be several years old. He apparently decided that a tactical retreat was his best option and the pirate lunged across the passage toward the starboard side of the ship.

"Now!" I called into my comm-link as he made a mad dash toward the stairwell.

Throughout the ship, airtight doors were positioned at critical junctions to seal off each section in case of an emergency. In the event of a hull breach, powerful hydraulics would slam the heavy doors closed in a fraction of a second to protect the rest of the ship from sudden decompression. While the doors usually operated automatically, Chris could also trigger them from his station on the bridge.

Before the pirate had made it more than a few steps toward the stairwell I heard the deep clang of the emergency doors slamming into place over the stairwell landing, trapping him on this deck.

By then we had taken up positions at the corners of the intersection and I took a quick peek into the passage. The pirate was standing in front of the sealed stairwell staring at the doors that had just sprung out of nowhere to cut off his escape route.

"There's nowhere to go," I called out. "Put down your weapon and you won't be hurt. You have my word."

His answer was a volley of blaster fire in our direction. He kept his finger on the trigger of his weapon until the clicking from the drained firing capacitor announced that his power pack was depleted. As he ejected the empty clip and was reaching for a spare one, the six of us popped from around the corner and opened fire. The air around him sizzled with bolts of blaster energy. Many of our shots scored hits on his armor in brilliant, pyrotechnic splashes. Most of them did little more than burn fresh score marks on his armor although a few dug furrows in the tough plating. Eventually, someone was going to hit a weakened area and pierce his suit.

Even as I was thinking this one shot found a vulnerable spot on his left knee. The hit caused the servos controlling the joint to short out in a brief electrical explosion. The knee of his suit locked and he began backing away in a stiff legged shuffle. But the piratel refused to give up. Even as he backed away from the fury of our combined barrage he slapped a fresh clip in place and returned fire. When we ducked back around the corner of the passage for cover, he broke and made a staggering run for the safety of the starboard side companionway. Just as he was about to turn into the companionway, Chris closed the next set of airtight doors, once again blocking his escape.

Each of the three main decks on the _Prometheus_ was laid out in the same basic "H" pattern. Two parallel companionways ran along both the port and starboard sides of the ship from the forecastle bays back to the engine room. Connecting the companionways on each deck was a transverse passageway which ran directly across the ship from port to starboard amidships and also gave access to the main stairwell. On B deck, where we were now, the transverse passage continued across each of the companionways to egress points in the outer hull. On the port side it led to the gangway hatch, which was only used when the ship could be secured to another ship or pressurized docking sleeve. The starboard end of the transverse led to the EVA airlock. With both inner and outer airtight doors, the airlock could be used to enter or exit the ship without the need for us to be docked with anything else. Now that the starboard companionway was closed to him, the pirate found himself being driven into a dead end.

As he retreated under the renewed fire from the six of us, the pirate unknowingly backed through the inner airlock hatch which had been purposefully left open. As soon as he was inside the lock, Chris triggered the door from the bridge, sealing him inside.

As soon as he was imprisoned in the airlock, I safetied my weapon and walked over to the control panel mounted on the bulkhead by the airlock door.

"Put your weapon down," I said into the intercom. I watched him through the triangular viewport in the hatch as he responded with a spray of blaster fire. When the ship had gone through its refit, I'd had the airlock reinforced to withstand an armed assault and his shots were doing little actual damage.

"Please stop shooting up my ship," I said. "Just put your weapon down and we'll let you out of there."

This time he varied his response by raising his middle finger at me. I sighed.

"Is that your final answer?"

He went back to spraying the inside of the door with another barrage of blaster fire.

I tapped my comm-link. "Chris, open the outer door."

"You got it."

Red lights began flashing inside the airlock. A moment later the outer hatch opened and Miguel was blasted out of the ship. I watched for a few moments as his tumbling form dwindled into the depths of interstellar space. Then I turned away.

"Give him a minute to think about his situation," I said into my comm-link, "then contact him and tell him that we're willing to pick him up _if_ he agrees to toss his weapon away. I don't want him shooting holes in our skiff."

"Will do, but what if he doesn't want to cooperate?" Chris asked.

"Then wish him well on his sightseeing trip across the galaxy for me," I said. I was not going to put my people at risk to save the life of a murdering bandit. "You can stand down the ship now. I'll be up to the bridge in a minute."

As the various airtight doors began retracting into the bulkheads, I turned to Morgana and asked her to oversee securing the prisoners. She headed toward the engine room where the bulk of the crew was waiting out of sight. They had already been assigned to sweeper groups and were only waiting for word from us to come out of hiding. Leaving her to round up the pirates from the different places around the ship where they had been incapacitated, I headed up to the command deck. When I stepped onto the bridge I found that it had been restored to its normal appearance.

"We got an answer from that pirate we sent on an extended space walk," Chris said as I moved to the command chair.

"What did he say?"

"When I told him what the conditions were, he made a suggestion that I don't think is anatomically possible."

"His funeral. What about Clive's team? Have you heard from them?"

"Nothing yet," Chris answered.

I looked at the clock above the main screen and was surprised to see that less than fifteen minutes had passed since the pirates had docked with us. It seemed like a lot longer. I took a few moments to glance at the different monitors around the command center. Most of the screens were displaying the activity taking place in various areas of the ship.

At the front of the bridge, the wall sized main screen was divided into three windows showing the cargo hold, the gangway hatch and the section of A deck where the pair of pirates who made it that far were pinned to the floor. I enlarged the window showing the gangway hatch. Morgana and her team were just leading away the pair of pirates we had immobilized there. They appeared slightly haggard from their experience but none the worse for wear. Their useless armor lay disassembled on the deck behind them.

I sat in my chair for a while after they had moved out of camera range, staring at the sealed hatch on the screen. Through those doors and past the other end of the docking sleeve, our tactical team was making their way through the pirate ship on a mission to neutralize its crew and take the captain prisoner. Three marines against a ship full of vicious murderers.

If they had been deserving of sympathy, I would have felt sorry for the pirates.
Chapter Ten

Clive Mayweather and his team were crouching just inside the infirmary door waiting for the pirates to leave the area. On the inside of each man's left forearm was a small monitor screen the size of a playing card. On those screens was the image being relayed by the camera at the gangway hatch. The first pirate to board the ship had just tipped his hand and was holding a gun on Lucky. Then things started to get ugly.

Clive's eyes narrowed when he saw the pirate pistol whip Lucky in the mouth. He could have slipped out of the infirmary and taken out the pirate before the man even knew he was there, but his assignment was to get aboard that ship and take its captain into custody. Unless a member of the crew was in imminent peril, anything else was a secondary priority, so he held his position and waited. But just because he and his team took no action didn't mean they had to like it. All of the men on the tactical team were marines. One of the longest standing traditions among marines was loyalty to one's team. Although they had only been part of the _Prometheus'_ crew for a short time, these were their people. An assault on any member of the crew was taken personally.

Six armored pirates walked into camera range at that moment and took over. As soon as he saw them, Clive pulled out a remote trigger and flipped up its safety cover with his thumb, exposing a single illuminated button. Mounted on the bulkheads of the passageway just inboard from the gangway hatch was another of Barney's surprises. By removing sections of the wall panels and scattering electronic components on the deck, they had made it appear as if the crew had been working on the systems inside the bulkheads. In reality what they had done was to install powerful EM pulse emitters in one wall. The emitters were designed to focus an intense burst of EM energy across that small section of the passageway. Any active electronic system in the target area would be overloaded and burned out, including powered battle armor. Protective insulation lining the opposite bulkhead would contain the burst so that no other area of the ship would be affected.

Clive kept his thumb poised over the activation switch as he watched the scene unfold on his tiny screen. All six of the pirates were in position but he couldn't trigger the pulse generator until the pirate not wearing battle armor left the area. Unlike his crewmates, he wouldn't be affected by the pulse. And as soon as he realized that his shipmates had been immobilized he would warn the rest of his crew. He could also decide to lash out against Lucky who would be helpless in the frozen grasp of the armored pirate who had him by the arm.

Although he would have liked to have stopped all six of the pirates then and there, Clive held himself in check and watched as a pair of the invaders was sent off on a mission to sweep the ship. Moments later the lone pirate not wearing battle armor was sent back through the docking sleeve while two others forced Lucky to take them to the bridge. Soon, only a single pair of armored men remained to stand guard at the open hatch. So far the pirates had acted exactly as they had predicted.

Clive waited until the last of the armored men disappeared into the stairwell with Lucky, counted off ten seconds to be sure the other pirates had cleared the area, then glanced back at his team.

"Fire in the hole," he said quietly and pressed his thumb on the control stud.

Inside the passageway, a high frequency whine quickly built up to a crescendo and was suddenly cut off as a bright flash briefly illuminated the area in front of the gangway hatch. The pirates standing guard at the ship's entrance never moved. The only noticeable change was that the tell-tale indicator lights on their chest panels had suddenly gone dark.

Clive set down the now useless remote and motioned his team to follow him. Bruce and Jimmy each took one side of a bulky, jury rigged apparatus on the deck between them and stood up. Clive opened the infirmary door, tucked the stock of his assault rifle against his shoulder and started into the passageway as he sighted along the barrel of his weapon. The black clad trio moved quickly, their soft soled boots making no noise against the deck. Clive led the way silently, moving in a slight crouch as he led his team toward the immobilized pirates, his rifle sweeping the area before them as he watched for any signs of trouble. Every few seconds his eyes would flash to the screen on his forearm. The monitor was now set to display sensor returns of anything moving nearby. The area was clear.

As they passed between the immobilized pirates they could hear the muffled voices of the men trapped inside their armor screaming to be let out. They ignored the pirates' pleas and continued into the docking sleeve. They had gone about two thirds of the way across the connecting bridge between the two ships when Clive raised his hand, his fingers closed in a fist to signal a stop.

Bruce and Jimmy set the device down in the center of the walkway, carefully arranging it so that the emitter was pointing directly at the pirate ship, then backed away. Clive kept his eyes on the open hatch ahead of them as he crept backwards as well, his weapon trained on the doorway in case anyone appeared. As soon as he was behind the device he reached out and pressed the only switch on the machine, then backed away another several paces. As the high pitched whine grew in the passageway, the three men took up defensive positions just outside the _Prometheus'_ hatch. The sound grew in pitch and intensity until its humming vibration could actually be felt in the air. Then it suddenly stopped, and an intense pulse of light burst from the front of the machine. At that instant everything aboard the pirate ship shut down, including the light in the docking sleeve, as the EM pulse overloaded all of the sub's electronic systems.

The machine was the big brother of the devices mounted on the bulkhead near the _Prometheus'_ gangway hatch. Barney had come up with a way to incapacitate an entire ship in a single stroke. The true genius of Barney's invention was not that he had devised a way to generate an EM pulse, but that he had figured out how to precisely direct the wavefront. Since they didn't want their own ship affected by the pulse, he had designed the device to send out the pulse in one direction only.

At the far end of the docking sleeve, the open hatch into the pirate ship yawned dark and foreboding. The team slid light amplification headsets down over their eyes and crept toward the pirate ship. The bulging, honeycomb patterned lenses made them look like alien insects as they stepped into the darkened doorway. The passageway they entered went straight for several meters before ending at a "T" intersection.

The nebula class sub they were entering was nearly twice the length of the _Prometheus_. Although similar in general layout, instead of a single transverse passage connecting the port and starboard companionways on each deck, the larger class ship had two such passageways, one near the bow and the other toward the stern. The tactical team had studied the blueprints of the different types of Fleet ships that had gone missing and they knew the layout of the ship they were aboard in detail. The command superstructure was forward of their position so they would need to head to the bow stairwell to reach the bridge. They had monitored the conversation between Miguel and his captain and they knew that their objective was in the command center. But they needed to deal with the rest of the crew first.

They paused when they reached the intersecting passageways. Nothing moved in either direction. Clive took a moment to consult the display on his inner forearm for the locations of the pirate crew. They were clustered in four different areas of the ship. A group of four pirates was one deck below and slightly aft of their position near the main hold. Six others were located in the engine room. Another group of five was up on A deck headed for the avionics bay in the forecastle. The rest were on the bridge.

"Bruce, you take the four tangos one level down in the starboard passage," Clive said quietly. "Jimmy, you've got the engine room. I'll take the group in the fo'c'sle. Once you've secured your area, rendezvous on A deck at the forward stairwell."

Bruce and Jimmy acknowledged their instructions. Tucking the stocks of their weapons into their shoulders, each man silently headed out. As they stepped away from the light dimly shining through the open hatch, each of them was swallowed by darkness.

* * *

Bruce Stone swept the muzzle of his gun back and forth as he moved. He played the infrared beam from the light mounted below the barrel of his assault rifle on the deck in front of him. Although invisible to an unaided eye, the wash from his light was clearly visible to him in his headset, allowing him to move easily through the inky blackness.

He went silently, the soles of his electrostatic boots keeping him firmly anchored to the decking now that the ship's artificial gravity was off. He had made his way down to the ship's lowest level and turned toward the starboard companionway. When he reached the intersection he cautiously peered around the corner toward the aft end of the passage where his tracker told him the four tangos were located. They were there, less than ten meters from his position. He slipped silently into the passageway and centered his sight reticle on the back of the closest pirate. His weapon had been fitted with a muzzle suppressor which shifted the wavelength of the rifle's discharge out of the visible range. It also dampened the sound of the burst so that the faint clicking of the firing contact would be the only sound the gun made. He could pick them off one at a time and they would never know he was even there.

Bruce carefully brought his weapon up to sight at the back of the pirate's head. They were making their way blindly through the passage, slowly pulling themselves along by a series of handholds set into the bulkheads. As they moved they spoke to each other in hushed whispers that were too low for him to make out, but they definitely seemed rattled by the sudden failure of their ship's systems.

_Scratch four bad guys_ , he thought to himself as he slipped his finger into the trigger guard and made ready to squeeze off his first shot. Just as he started to tighten his finger, the target turned in his direction and Bruce recognized him as the same man who had pistol whipped Lucky earlier. He made a split second decision and released the trigger. His orders gave him the flexibility to either eliminate the pirates or subdue them, if it were safe to do so. He had no trouble with killing the pirates. They were murderers and slavers and the universe would be a better place without them. But the way this pirate had viciously clubbed Lucky in the face was an act that called for a more personal touch. Their nervousness at the unexpected power failure gave him an idea. Bruce slung his rifle across his back and began creeping silently up behind them. With his headset adjusted to IR the pirates showed up clearly as red tinted shapes so he didn't need the light attached to his gun to stalk his unsuspecting prey. As he drew near he began to make out their conversation.

"Hey, Francois, what do you think is going on?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Do you think it's serious?"

"Stop asking me stupid questions, Fungai. You'll find out the same time the rest of us do. Now stick a sock in it!"

"But, Francois, don't you want to know what happened?"

"I know what's going to happen if we're not ready to bring that cargo aboard when the captain gives the word. Haven't you found the manual release for the hatch yet?"

. . .

"Fungai?"

At that moment Fungai was struggling to free himself from the iron grip of an arm that had suddenly locked itself around his throat. With his breath choked off by the invisible arm and a hand clamped tightly over his nose and mouth, Fungai couldn't make a sound. Moments later, as his unknown assailant increased the pressure on his throat, Fungai felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

Bruce kept applying the choke hold for several seconds after he felt the pirate go slack in his arms to be certain the man was unconscious. Then he secured his wrists behind his back with a self adjusting binding strip and sent him floating down the passageway with a gentle push before turning to the next man in the group.

"Fungai?"

"What do you think happened to him?"

"Geez, Sanchez, I wish you guys would stop asking me that! I'm not psychic, and I sure as hell can't see in the dark. Let's just get into the cargo bay so we can grab a couple of torches from the emergency rack. Dammit! I can't find the bay door. Can you find the hatch release from where you are?"

. . .

"Sanchez?"

When Sanchez didn't answer, Francois felt his heart surge into high gear.

"Joachim?" Francois called to the fourth member of the group in a voice barely above a whisper. When the last man failed to answer him he felt himself beginning to tremble uncontrollably. He began searching frantically for the cargo bay hatch. After several seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity he encountered something soft and warm on the bulkhead. It took him a few moments to realize that what he was touching was a hand placed protectively over the release handle he had been searching for.

"Sanchez?" Francois asked meekly. "Joachim?"

The silence stretched out for a long time during which he felt his heart beginning to pound even faster. It was hammering so hard that it felt like it was trying to tear itself right out of his rib cage.

"Who ... who is it?" he finally managed to force himself to ask.

"Your worst nightmare," a strange voice answered quietly in his ear.

Before he could finish drawing a breath to shout, Francois felt something suddenly snake around his throat.

* * *

Jimmy Hunter continued aft along the B deck passageway toward the engine room. Just like on the _Prometheus_ , the engine room spanned all three levels of the ship. It was the single largest compartment aboard, occupying the entire aft quarter of the ship. Because it was so large, the cavernous space could be accessed from all three decks via hatches which opened onto one of the many catwalks that ran throughout the compartment.

When he reached the end of the passageway Jimmy paused at the hatch to check the screen on his inner forearm. The six pirates in the engine bay were scattered throughout the compartment as they searched for an explanation to the sudden failure of their ship's systems. None of them were near the hatch in front of him so he pulled the manual release and slowly slid the door open enough for him to slip through. The railed catwalk he crept onto wrapped around the entire compartment halfway between the deck and the overhead. Scattered around the room were the bobbling lights from a number of hand held torches. Jimmy reached up to his right temple and switched his headset from infrared to light amplification. The illumination from the flashlights was enough for his visor to make the room seem like it was bathed in daylight.

Jimmy lowered himself to one knee and cradled the stock of his sniper rifle against his shoulder. It was a long range needle, one of his favorite weapons. He looked through the scope as he thumbed up the magnification to zoom in on the first of the pirates. Once he had his target dialed in, Jimmy slid his finger into the guard and lightly touched the trigger. With his target zeroed in, his finger on the trigger activated the targeting laser which painted a red dot on the exact spot where his shot would go.

Exhaling a long slow breath, Jimmy gently squeezed the trigger until the gun gave a soft pop as the induction chamber sped the dart on its way. He watched through the scope as his target jerked once then slowly slumped over. In the weightless environment the pirate didn't fall but simply floated limply where he was. Because they were looking for prisoners to interrogate he had loaded the weapon with a clip of anesthetic rounds instead of the lethal, neurotoxic needles. The pirate would wake up in a few hours with nothing worse than a mild headache and a bad taste in his mouth.

"One," he whispered to himself.

Jimmy lowered his rifle and looked around for his next target. He had clear shots at two more pirates from his position and he took them out quickly before he was forced to move. He shuffled sideways along the catwalk and paused when another of the pirates came into view around the side of the hyperdrive housing. Raising his weapon to his shoulder again he quickly zeroed in on his target and fired off another shot.

"Four."

Jimmy continued to shuffle around the perimeter of the room until he saw a partially concealed light bobbing among the tangle of equipment underneath the enormous engine mounts that held the drive system in place. The man had crawled completely under the engine and even through his headset Jimmy could barely see him amid the tangle of twisting conduits and brace struts. He saw no clear target presenting itself from this position so Jimmy stretched out on his belly, flipped down the pair of small support legs near the end of the barrel, and settled the rifle on the edge of the catwalk as he played with the zoom setting on his scope to search for a shot. It took a while but eventually he found a small, triangular opening barely a dozen centimeters across that would give him a shot at the man's leg, if he held still. He waited until the pirate stopped moving for a moment and squeezed off the shot. The pirate jumped like he'd been stung by a bee. He tried to twist around in the narrow confines of the space beneath the engine and grope for the dart in his calf, but after a few seconds his body went limp.

"Five," Jimmy whispered and lifted his face away from the scope's eyepiece to sweep his gaze around the room as he searched for the last man. There was no movement anywhere. He pushed himself up into an easy crouch and was just starting to shuffle along the catwalk again when he heard something behind him. He snapped his head around and saw the last pirate lunging for him, the massive spanner in his hand an instant away from caving in his skull.

Although the pirate attacking him was an experienced spacer who was no stranger to weightlessness, he didn't have Jimmy's training or the advantage of his electrostatic boots. Warding off the potentially lethal blow with a sweeping arm block, Jimmy grabbed the man and pivoted around, pulling him into a tight corkscrew around his body and launching him head first at the bulkhead behind him.

The throw should have slammed the pirate into the wall plating and stunned him at least momentarily, but he reacted faster than Jimmy expected. In one fluid movement the pirate tucked into a ball and rebounded. Almost as soon as Jimmy had propelled him toward the bulkhead, the pirate was soaring right back at him, the spanner once again swinging for his head. Jimmy was forced to throw himself over backward in a move that was only possible in zero gravity. With his boots keeping him connected to the catwalk, he arched his body back, bending at the knees until he was parallel to the deck. An instant later he felt the rush of air brush his cheek as the pirate's sweeping blow barely missed connecting with the side of his head.

The momentum of his swing caused the pirate to begin to spin wildly when his blow did not connect. But before he went corkscrewing away like a top, the pirate managed to grab the catwalk railing with his free hand. With a powerful, one handed jerk he launched himself back at Jimmy once again.

This time Jimmy was ready for him. He was already upright and facing the pirate as he flew back toward him. It was only then that Jimmy realized that the pirate was wearing his own light amplification headset. But that wouldn't help him now. Just as the man started his swing Jimmy lunged to the side, slipping just out of range. As the pirate flew through the space he had been occupying a moment before, Jimmy sprang back toward his attacker. He swept in, grabbed the pirate by the scruff of his neck with one hand and the seat of his pants with the other and drove downward with all his strength, smashing the pirate face first into the catwalk. A powerful spasm shook the pirate's body accompanied by a loud smack as the man's head connected with the metal grating. Then he was still.

"Six."

* * *

Clive Mayweather was making his way silently along the port side companionway on A deck as he headed toward the forecastle compartment. As he crept along the passage he could hear the sound of access panels being opened in the avionics bay ahead. He kept his assault rifle trained on the open doorway he slid his feet silently along the deck, his light amplification headset pushed up on his forehead as he crept along. The pirates had set up portable work lights in the compartment to help them as they checked for damage and the light spilling out through the open hatch was more than enough for him to find his way. But it also meant that he had lost his advantage. They would see him coming long before he could get close enough to take them out quietly. He needed a new plan.

After taking a few more paces he stopped when he was still several meters away from the hatch. Any closer and he would step into the light spilling into the companionway. As long as he stayed out of the light he would remain invisible to them. Unfortunately, the pirates were not in his line of sight, leaving him with no shot. They had stepped away from the doorway and were working somewhere behind the bulkhead to his right. He needed to get closer.

He thought for a moment, then looked up at the overhead. The entire ceiling was concealed in shadow. He flexed his legs and pushed off from the deck, rolling to his toes in the practiced movement that would disconnect the magnetic soles of his boots from the flooring. As soon as he was free he tucked his legs and performed a slow motion somersault until moments later he was standing upside down on the ceiling. Clive crouched low to keep out of the light and crept silently along the deeply shadowed overhead as he made his way to the open doorway. As he approached the door he slung his assault rifle and reached for the blaster pistol on his hip. He hesitated, then decided to draw the small needler from the holster under his left arm instead. If possible he would take them alive. But one way or another he needed to neutralize these men so he could continue with the main objective of his mission. He thumbed off the pistol's safety and stole up to the edge of the hatch to carefully peer inside.

From his position Clive could see two of the pirates as they were examining components in one of the equipment racks just inside the bay. The other three men had to be somewhere deeper in the compartment out of sight. He could take out the two by the doorway now if he wanted to, but he still needed to somehow draw the others closer without alarming them. The problem was the portable work lights the pirates had set up in the compartment. One of them was just inside the doorway. If he tried to enter the bay he would be spotted easily and any chance of surprising them would be gone.

One obvious solution presented itself. He raised his pistol and carefully sighted into the bay over the edge of the hatch frame.

"This isn't good," one of the pirates was saying as he examined the control chip he had just pulled out of its rack. "Half the components on this board are completely fried. Even if we reset the breakers we're not going to have power to any of the systems. We need to swap out the chips in all of these control boards."

"What do you think could have caused it?"

"The only thing I know of that could do something like this is an energy surge of some kind, like an EM pulse."

"An EM pulse? But from where? The only thing anywhere around here is that old transport we're locked onto. You don't think ..."

"I don't know. But somebody better let the captain know–"

At that moment the work light behind them erupted in an electrical flash and went out.

"What the fu—ow!" The pirate reached for his shoulder where he felt a sudden sharp jab. Just as his fingers clamped down on the spot his sight started to dim. As the drug pressed him down into unconsciousness, the pirate's gaze drifted toward the open hatch. Just before his vision darkened completely he saw the blurred shape of something hanging upside down from the passageway ceiling.

"Hans?"

The second pirate was reaching for his partner when he felt a sting on the back of his neck. A cold numbness spread quickly from the spot and he felt himself going lightheaded. Moments later his eyes rolled up into his head and he lost consciousness as well.

"What's going on over there?" a voice asked from the far side of the avionics bay. When there was no reply, the three men started back toward the other end of the compartment.

"Hans? Davy?"

The trio exchanged baffled looks as they cautiously pulled themselves across the bay through the maze of circuitry towers. The closer they came to their stricken comrades the further they moved away from their own work light and the deeper into shadow they came. One of them stopped as soon as he saw the shadowy forms of the two unconscious men floating near the bay entrance.

"Hold up. Something's wrong. Quentin, you hang back while we check this out."

Two of them slowly pulled themselves toward their unconscious crewmates while the third man remained behind an equipment rack watching. His attention was so focused on his partners that he failed to notice the shadowy form creeping amid the tangle of power conduits and support braces over his head. With the artificial gravity off there was no true up or down in the ship. But the human brain is hard wired to think in terms of up and down and it never occurred to the pirates to search the ceiling. As the two pirates reached for their helpless crewmates, the shape unfolded itself from where it was hiding beside one of the overhead support struts and reached for the lone crewman. Before he knew anyone was there a hand clamped over the pirate's mouth and he was jerked upward into the tangle of bundled trunk lines that snaked across the ceiling. He struggled for a few moments before succumbing to the pressure across his throat.

When they couldn't rouse their unconscious crewmates, the last two pirates started backtracking toward the place where they had left their companion.

"Quentin, I think we need to... Quentin?"

The pair searched for their missing partner but could find no trace of him.

"Where'd he go?" one of them asked and turned to his partner. In the dim light it took him a moment to realize that his partner wasn't looking at him but was staring at something on the ceiling behind him. Following his gaze he looked up and saw an indistinct shape huddled amid the tangle of conduits and bundled cables.

"Jesus! What the—"

The needler in Clive's hand spat two times in rapid succession. The darts found their targets and within seconds the last of the pirates joined their unconscious crewmates.

* * *

Jimmy and Bruce had been waiting by the bridge stairwell for only a few minutes when Clive appeared from the port side passageway. He lowered himself to one knee beside them and consulted his forearm screen briefly before he spoke. There was no need to discuss the status of their individual missions. The fact that they were here told him what he needed to know.

"There are six tangos on the bridge, including the primary objective," he said quietly. "We'll go in as planned. Bruce, you take the port entrance and I'll cover the starboard side hatch. Jimmy, you hang back and provide back up support if necessary. Needlers only. We have to take the PO alive."

The three of them silently checked their pistols and gave the ready sign. They had gone over the plan several times before leaving the _Prometheus_ and each man knew his part. Although it had a similar layout to the command center aboard the _Prometheus_ , the bridge of the pirates' ship was larger than theirs _._ And unlike their ship it had two entrances, one on the port side and one to starboard. Once they controlled those points of egress the pirates would be trapped.

Clive pulled a small infrared light from his equipment harness and clipped it to the barrel of his pistol. He slid his goggles down over his eyes and led the way up the stairs into the command superstructure, holding the needler out in front of him in the classic two handed combat grip.

Soon they were stepping into the small foyer behind the bridge. Clive and Bruce separated and crept toward the open hatches at the opposite ends of the foyer. They could see the wash of flashlights being played around the interior of the bridge and they switched their headsets to low light mode. Jimmy took up a position beside the stairwell where he could watch both hatches. He was their insurance in the unlikely event that one of the crew managed to make it off the bridge.

Clive and Jimmy pressed their backs against the bulkhead and slid silently up to the edges of their respective hatches. Clive reached for his harness, tugged free a stun grenade and twisted the activation ring. He looked back over his shoulder as he held up his free hand and silently counted down with his fingers.

Three ... two ... one...

He pressed the firing stud with his thumb and swung his arm in an arc, tossing the flash-bang around the edge of the hatch. As soon as Clive released the grenade he and Bruce turned away from the hatches, squeezed their eyes shut and pressed their palms over their ears. Jimmy hunkered down in his position and copied them. In the weightless environment the grenade continued in a straight line trajectory toward the middle of the command center where it drew the attention of one of the pirates.

"What the hell–" they heard a voice say from inside the bridge.

In the airtight confines of the ship, even with their eyes closed and their ears covered, the three of them still saw the flash of the grenade through their eyelids and heard the loud report of the explosion. Following on the heels of the explosion, Clive and Bruce sprang into the hatchways with their guns at the ready. Inside the command center they found that the grenade had done its job. All of the pirates were floating helplessly around the room, their hands clamped either across their eyes or over their ears as they groaned softly to themselves.

Clive and Bruce casually began shooting the stunned men. Within seconds the last of the pirates was unconscious. Then Clive stopped suddenly as he realized something was wrong. He quickly counted the incapacitated pirates. One was missing. Just that quickly their plan had hit a snag.

Clive darted his eyes around the compartment. He looked into the shadowed corners where a man could hide but he couldn't see anyone. He got Bruce's attention, pointed to his eyes then held up one finger. Bruce nodded and moved cautiously deeper into the room as he searched for the last pirate while Clive stayed in his doorway and covered him.

As they searched for the missing man, Jimmy stood guard in the foyer. Clive hadn't given him the all clear signal so he continued to remain on alert. His attention was so focused on the open hatch where Clive was that he never saw the shadow steal up behind him.

If his hearing had not been compromised by the recent flash-bang explosion he might have heard the pirate when he opened the door to the refresher compartment. In spite of clamping his hands over his ears, the concussion from the blast had temporarily dulled his hearing and he never knew anyone was there until he felt the muzzle of a blaster being pressed into his temple.

As soon as he felt the gun at his head Jimmy froze. The pirate reached around him without a sound, took his pistol out of his hands and shoved it into his own waistband. Then he wrapped his arm around Jimmy's throat and stood him up.

"Put your guns down or you man dies!"

Clive spun around and had his gun trained on him in an instant. In that brief moment he had also switched weapons. The pistol he was holding was no longer a needler but a powerful hand blaster. He assessed the situation quickly and took a step into the foyer toward them. His weapon never wavered.

Bruce appeared from the other hatch a moment later with his needler aimed at the pirate as well.

"Stay back!" the pirate warned. He placed his back against the rear bulkhead to try and keep Jimmy's body between them like a shield as he started sliding closer to the stairwell.

Jimmy was calm as he watched Clive take another step toward them. He knew that he was in a serious situation but he had faith in his teammates.

"I said put your guns down!" the pirate repeated.

"That's not going to happen," Clive said calmly. Then he spoke to Bruce without taking his eyes off the pirate. "You got him?"

"Got him," Bruce said as he spread his feet and steadied his aim on the pirate.

"I'll tell you one thing," Clive said to the pirate. "If you harm that man there won't be a damned thing you can do to keep me from climbing up in your ass and causing you a world of hurt. That's a promise. Your only chance is to let him go."

The pirate heard the uncompromising resolve in his voice and pressed the muzzle of the gun harder into Jimmy's temple, driving his head over onto his shoulder.

"I'll do it," the pirate said, watching the dim forms of the two men who had him trapped in a cross fire. "I'll do it!" He was now only a few steps away from the stairwell.

Clive considered his options for a moment then calmly shot Jimmy in the chest. The whining report from the blaster seemed unnaturally loud in the foyer and the bright flash from the shot burned the scene into their retinas.

Jimmy spasmed from the impact of the shot and went limp in the pirate's grasp.

For the briefest instant the pirate was stunned by the realization that the invader had just shot his own man. In that moment his hold on Jimmy relaxed. It was all the opening Bruce needed. He fired off three quick shots. The first struck the pirate in the forearm that was across Jimmy's throat, the second hit him in the opposite shoulder, and the third caught him in the neck.

Injected with three times the normal dosage, the pirate immediately lost consciousness. As his hold on Jimmy relaxed, Clive stepped up to him and casually plucked the blaster out of his hand.

"I believe you," Clive said.

Life flowed back into Jimmy at that moment and he looked up at Clive and smiled.

"Thanks," he said as he shoved the pirate's limp arm away from his throat. He looked down and brushed his hand slowly over the area of his chest where he had been shot. The flexible bodysuit was thickest around the torso and had turned aside the blaster bolt, even at point blank range.

Jimmy searched the pirate's limp form, retrieved his pistol from the unconscious man's waist band, safetied it and returned it to his holster.

"A little different than we planned," Bruce said as he joined his teammates. "But that's the last of them. All we need to do now is figure out which one of these jokers is the captain."

Jimmy turned and reached for the pirate that had been threatening him, snagged him by one wrist and held up his arm. Four captain rings circled the end of his sleeve.

"That makes things easy," Clive said. "You two secure the rest of the prisoners and I'll notify the ship."

As Bruce and Jimmy entered the bridge and began binding the pirates' hands behind their backs, Clive reached for the comm-link in his ear.

* * *

From the corner of my eye I saw Tom slap a hand to his earphone just before he spun toward me.

"Message from Mr. Mayweather, Sir!" The entire bridge crew stopped whatever they were doing and focused on him. "They've secured the pirate ship and have its captain in custody."

Whoops and cheers went up across the bridge.

"Have them bring the captain directly to the infirmary. Then tell Morgana her teams can board that ship and start rounding up the rest of the crew. I want those pirates locked down as quickly as possible."

"Yes, Sir," Tom said and swiveled back to his console.

"You've got the conn," I said to Chris as I sprang to my feet. "Let me know if the sweeper teams come across anything interesting. I'll be down in the infirmary."

"Excuse me, Sir," Tom said. He swiveled back toward me with a smirk on his face. "I'm picking up a faint transmission on the emergency band. It's that pirate we blasted out of the airlock earlier. He says he's tossed away his weapon and is asking, very politely I might add, if we could please pick him up."

I looked at Bobby who had started laughing out loud.

"Feel like going for a little ride?" I asked.

"I think I can spare a couple of minutes," he said when he got himself under control a moment later.

"Take Mark with you and _don't_ let him on this ship until he strips off his armor."

"Yes, sir," Bobby said. He locked down the helm, waited for Mark to secure his station, then the pair of them headed toward the skiff bay.

I turned in the opposite direction and started toward the main stairwell. Capturing these pirates was our first big break. I had a lot of things I wanted to ask their captain. He could either cooperate or be forced to answer, but easy or hard I was going to get the answers to a number of questions. Although I realized that it was a childish impulse, I found myself hoping that the pirate captain would give me a reason to conduct the interrogation the hard way.
Chapter Eleven

To say that I was angry would have been a world class understatement. As I stood over the unconscious pirate captain I struggled to control my temper. His face was completely relaxed from the effects of the needler darts and if anything he looked peaceful and innocent. But looks could be deceiving.

Before questioning him I had decided to wait and see what an initial sweep of their ship turned up. In their hold we found the cargo from their latest victim still secured in its shipping containers. There was no trace of the other ship's crew however. I had relayed the container serial numbers and a general description of the contents to Morgan via an encrypted hyperchannel transmission. It took him only a short time to get back to us. The cargo had been stolen from a transport named the _Lucky Lady_ sometime within the past thirty-six hours. The ravaged ship had only recently been discovered by the authorities who had also made a far more gruesome find—the entire crew had been murdered. For whatever reason, these pirates were not interested in trafficking human cargo.

Such senseless killing was something I had never been able to understand. But I didn't need to understand it to know that it needed to be stopped.

After he filled me in on the history of the cargo we had recovered, Morgan asked me how we managed to come across it. There was no way to avoid it at that point so I told him. I thought he was going to have a stroke when I explained how we had set ourselves up as a decoy to draw the pirates into attacking us. Because I knew he would have tried to talk me out of it if he had known, I had purposefully neglected to mention my little back-up plan to him.

I let him rant at me for a few minutes before I finally had to cut him off and remind him that, while I loved him like a father, this was something I felt I needed to do. Eventually I was able to calm him down when I pointed out that not only had we recovered the cargo, but that we had also captured the pirate ship and the crew responsible for the attack without a single loss.

Before signing off, I gave him our coordinates and told him to arrange for the nearest Fleet ship to be dispatched to take the pirates into custody. We would be leaving their ship adrift with its crew locked aboard once I finished interrogating the captain and wouldn't have the time to bring the ship in ourselves.

That had been more than an hour ago. Since then the search teams hadn't turned up anything else of interest, although they were still looking. In addition to the teams scouring the ship, Mark and Ian were busy trying to download information from the ship's navigation system. We were hoping that we might be able to learn the location of the pirates' base of operations, but they had found something odd during their search through the flight recorder files. For some unexplained reason, there were several sections of the recorder's files that were blank. Mark had been able to determine that they hadn't been erased, but he couldn't explain why the data was missing. It was as if the unit had simply recorded nothing during those periods, which should have been impossible. As far as they could tell the system hadn't been tampered with, which left them at a loss to explain the discrepancy. It was a minor mystery that we would solve later if we could. If not, Morgan would have specialists from the Agency examine the system.

Our discovery of the hijacked cargo had given me the beginnings of an idea. If we managed things properly we might be able to work our way into the pirate network far deeper than we could have hoped. But I needed the answers to a few things first. And the pirate captain was the key.

I had just gotten myself in the proper frame of mind to deal with this piece of human garbage when the door to the infirmary opened. I glanced up to see Bruce Stone enter escorting one of the pirates. The pirate's wrists were cuffed behind his back and Bruce had him by one arm as he roughly pushed the man ahead of him. The pirate seemed a little wobbly on his feet and one side of his face looked swollen.

Doc Jacobs glanced up from where he was just finishing up with Lucky. He had brought down the swelling of his face and had just re-socketed his loose teeth. Treatments with a dermal regenerator had faded the bruise on his face until there was only a pale yellowish-brown blotch on his cheek.

"What's wrong with him?" Doc asked Bruce.

"Broken jaw," Bruce stated simply. As if on cue, the pirate swayed in his grip and gave a low moan.

"Put him on the first bed," Doc said. "I'll get to him in a minute."

Bruce frog marched the pirate to the indicated table and none too gently pushed him down and began strapping him securely in place.

"The discoloration will fade in an hour or so," Doc told Lucky as he examined his face gently. "Just remember, no solid food for the next ten minutes until that tooth sets. After that you're good to go."

"Thanks, Doc," Lucky said as he hopped down from the padded table. Glancing over at the swollen face of the prisoner Bruce was strapping down, Lucky did a double take.

"What happened?" Lucky asked.

"He tripped," Bruce said as he snugged the last belt tightly in place, making certain that the pirate couldn't move.

"Shame," Lucky commented, then exited the infirmary humming to himself.

It was only then that I recognized the pirate as the same man who had pistol whipped Lucky at the gangway hatch. As I looked at his face a little more closely I saw an elongated bruise along the side of his jaw which bore a striking similarity to the shape of an assault rifle stock.

Bruce noticed my look and straightened to face me.

"Will there be anything else, Sir?" He stood quietly at attention, waiting for my response.

I looked at the pirate for a long moment before I turned back to Bruce. "No. Just make sure that the rest of the prisoners are secured so there aren't any more... accidents."

"Yes, Sir," he said, inclining his head slightly.

Doc stepped over to the prisoner as Bruce followed Lucky out of the room.

"That's a broken jaw, alright," Doc said after a brief examination. "I bet that hurts like hell."

The pirate looked up at him miserably.

"Doc," I said. "I'd like to get started over here as soon as you can free yourself up."

Doc took a moment to study the bio-monitor panel on the side of the bed as he checked the pirate's vitals.

"The injury's not life threatening and his condition is stable," Doc noted. "You don't mind if I come back to you after we're done with your captain, do you?" he asked the restrained pirate. The pirate closed his eyes and resumed whimpering.

Doc stepped up beside me, leaving the pirate to bemoan his misery alone.

"Bring him around," I said.

Doc loaded a hypo gun and pressed the pneumatic injector to his shoulder. Almost at once the pirate leader began to wake up. His eyes fluttered open and quickly cleared. After a few moments he came fully to his senses. The relaxed, innocent expression he had worn while unconscious was suddenly replaced by a cruel and arrogant one as his personality asserted itself on his features. He struggled against the restraints but could do nothing more than wriggle helplessly.

"Release me!" he snapped.

I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes at him.

"You're not in any position to make demands." The hard edge in my voice sounded strange even to me. I was working very hard to keep my temper in check.

The pirate locked eyes with me for several moments then stopped straining against the restraints. I could see by the belligerent look in his eyes that he was not giving up, only waiting to see what would happen.

"You and I are going to have a little conversation, Captain," I said. "There are a number of things I need to know about your operation and you're going to fill in the blanks for me. If not, things are going to get very unpleasant."

I was prepared for any number of reactions, but I didn't expect what actually happened. After staring at me for a few seconds he started laughing.

"Who are you? Gilead Intelligence? You don't scare me. You're not going to do dick! Gilead has rules. Stop wasting your breath and just get me my lawyer."

Whoever he was, the pirate wasn't stupid. He must have realized that only a well trained, well equipped group could have laid such a trap and overpowered his crew so quickly. What galled me was his attempt to hide behind the laws of my kingdom.

"You're right," I said. "Gilead does have rules. We believe in justice. Right now I'm interested in justice for the transport crew that you murdered when you stole their cargo." My voice had taken on a calmness that seemed in sharp contrast to the seething anger I was feeling. From the corner of my eye I saw Doc watching me carefully. He had been around me long enough to know what it meant when my voice dropped this way.

The pirate captain sensed the shift in my mood and looked at me warily.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the pirate said. "We bought that stuff off another ship a couple of days ago."

So it was going to be the hard way after all.

"Do you know what this is?" I asked, indicating the machine he was strapped into.

Craning his neck, the pirate looked back at the complex mechanism behind him and the transparent dome suspended over his head.

"It's called a neural assayer," I said as I lowered the dome into position. "It's actually a very useful device for treating brain trauma. But it has other applications as well. For example," I nodded to Doc who moved to the operator's station and turned the machine on, "right now we're mapping your neural pattern."

His eyes went wide as the machine's scans sent tingles along his scalp. "What are you doing?"

"Like I said, we're making a map of your brain activity. Once the machine has analyzed your neural pattern, we can set up a harmonic resonance field. That's when things get interesting. I don't understand it completely myself but what it does is make the subject very susceptible to suggestion. Essentially, we shut down your conscious mind and you'll answer anything we ask with complete honesty."

"You can't do that!" the pirate snapped.

"Why do people keep saying that to me?"

"But this is illegal," he insisted.

I brought my face to within centimeters of his.

"I can't think of anything I hate more than slime like you hiding behind laws that were put into place to protect the innocent," I said quietly. "And for the record, you're right. This type of interrogation isn't strictly legal. Fortunately, we're light-years away from Gilead space." I straightened and looked at Doc Jacobs. "How's the mapping going, Doc?"

"All finished," Doc said.

I looked back down at the pirate who had started struggling against the restraints again.

"By the way," I said. "I'd hold very still if I were you. I understand that it's tricky enough just balancing the harmonic field properly. If it's not done right ... well, let's just say you'll live but you'll need someone to cut your meat for you for the rest of your life."

"You're crazy!"

"No, but I am pissed off," I said through clenched teeth. "Which is not a good thing for you."

"Wait! You don't have to do this," the pirate said. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Oh, I know you will," I said.

I gestured to Doc and he made an adjustment on the console. The pirate's expression slackened immediately, his eyes taking on a glazed look as he stared unseeing into the distance.

Unlike the dire side effects I had warned him about, the truth was that the procedure we were putting him through was actually quite harmless. I simply wanted to scare the living hell out of him. He was correct however about this method of obtaining information being illegal. Anything we learned through this type of interrogation would be thrown out of court. The reasons had more to do with the technical prohibition against compelling a citizen to testify against himself than from any concerns for the person's safety. But these pirates were not Gilead citizens and any information I learned from him was not going be used in a trial.

"Now, Captain," I said as I pulled up one of Doc's rolling exam stools and sat down beside him, "I'm going to ask you some questions. You will answer my questions truthfully and in detail. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he said, sounding almost mechanical.

"Let's begin with your ship ..."

It was more than an hour later before I was finally finished questioning him. His name was Ryder Sloan, and for the past two years he and his crew of ruthless brigands had grown rich by hijacking cargoes from unarmed transports. By the time I was finished with him I was even more disgusted than I had been before. I felt dirty, like I had been soiled simply by my proximity to this human cesspool. In spite of everything I had been through when I was kidnapped and sold as a slave, it was still difficult for me to believe that human beings could be so inhuman. The atrocities he revealed were enough to earn him and his crew the death penalty several times over. But the most unnerving part of what I learned came when I realized that he didn't have the slightest bit of remorse over what he had done. He was a complete sociopath who had no empathy whatsoever for anyone else.

It was not his sadistic acts I was interested in however, but what he could tell me about the pirate network, or the Brotherhood as he called it. During my hour long interrogation I learned that the pirates were far more organized and informed than we had first suspected. Not only had the Brotherhood supplied Sloan with the stolen sub he had been using to wage a terror campaign against commercial shipping, but he was also given detailed information about specific ships and their cargoes to help him plan his acts of piracy. While this confirmed what we already suspected, the one critical bit of new information I learned was the identity of his contact: Mr. Smith.

It was Smith who had arranged for him to purchase the ship he now captained. It was Smith who supplied him with the flight plans, crew rosters and cargo manifests of target transports. It was Smith who supplied the assault rifles and space armor that allowed the pirates to so easily overpower the transport crews. It was Smith who sold them replacement weapons when their torpedo inventory ran low. And it was Smith who purchased their stolen cargo after they hijacked the shipments. For a time that had even included the transport crews. Recently however, Smith had stopped buying human cargo. Since Sloan did not want to be bothered with feeding and maintaining prisoners until he could find someone willing to pay for slaves it meant the crews of the ships he captured had to be disposed of. The one condition Smith insisted on was that no witnesses were ever left behind. It was up to Sloan how he managed that, but on this point Smith was unwavering. For the pirate captain the decision was simple. If Smith didn't want prisoners they were of no value. And blaster clips were cheap.

When I had learned everything I could from him I had Doc deactivate the assayer. The pirate's eyes cleared at once. He blinked a few times and darted his eyes around the room before they settled on me. Although he had no control over what he revealed under the machine's influence he could remember everything. I had wrung him dry of every bit of information I could think to ask about the pirate organization. He knew that I had learned enough to have everyone in his crew executed but, instead of fear, what I saw in his eyes was burning hatred.

Let him hate me. After he and his men were picked up by the ship Morgan was sending for them he would find that the time he had spent with me was only a preview of what was to come. Since Sloan and his crew were not Gilead citizens they were not entitled to the same rights as my subjects. Because of their acts of piracy they were going to be treated as terrorists. And as long as they were not being held in Gilead territory, my operatives had a certain measure of latitude in how they conducted their investigations. The pirates were going to be interrogated at length by experienced intelligence officers who were far better at getting information from their subjects that I was. They wouldn't stop until they had extracted every last dirty little secret each of the pirates had. While I had strictly forbidden the use of torture, the opportunity to collect valuable intelligence from them was too great to pass up. The pirates would be transported to a facility that was maintained by the RIA on a small moon outside of Gilead territorial space. They would be held there and questioned until I decided what was to be done with them.

Although I disliked resorting to this type of legal subterfuge, I was fighting to protect my people and I was determined to do whatever I could to stop these bastards. But I was going to have to keep an eye on things. We were walking a fine edge here and it would be easy to step over that line into darkness. As evil as Sloan and his ilk were, I could not let them turn us into monsters in our quest to put an end to their evil.

I stood and made my way to the comm panel on the infirmary wall and called the cargo bay.

"Did you get everything you wanted from our guest?" Lucky was asking me a few moments later.

"And then some," I said. "In fact, I learned enough to put together our next play. In order to pull it off I'm going to need you to get their cargo transferred to our ship."

"We're just about finished putting the cargo bay back together," Lucky said. "As soon as we're done I'll start bringing their containers aboard. Are we going back to our original plan?"

"More like the backup plan to our backup plan," I said.

"I didn't know we had a second backup plan."

"I'm still working out the details," I admitted. "Let me know when you've gotten everything loaded. As soon as you're finished I'm going to call a staff meeting to fill everyone in."

"Will do. It shouldn't take us more than an hour or so."

I had just closed the comm circuit when the infirmary door slid open and Morgana entered.

"One day you're going to have to tell me how you do that," I said to her.

"Do what?"

"Show up just when I'm about to call you."

"Oh, that. It's part of my job description. Always anticipate what the Captain needs and be ready with it even before he knows he needs it. ... So what do you need?"

"Your ear," I said. "I want to bounce an idea off of you for something I have in mind."

I often took my ideas to Morgana before I shared them with anyone else. She would listen objectively to whatever I said and give me an honest and perceptive critique. She also had a devious little talent for being able to identify a person's weak spot and knew just what buttons to push to get the reaction she wanted. By the time Lucky finished transferring the pirates' cargo to our hold, we had hammered out all of the details to the plan I had come up with. If everything worked out, the pirates should actually end up extending us an invitation to join their Brotherhood.

Either that or they would kill us.
Chapter Twelve

"That does it," Lucky announced. "Our cargo list is now uploaded to the net." He closed the window on his flatpad and turned toward me. We were standing beside the comm-net board at the entrance to our docking berth on Toula.

The cargo we had taken from the pirate ship consisted of high end electronics—mainly holographic tri-vid players and sensurround music systems. The pirates definitely knew how to select their targets. The council had already valued our new cargo at more than seventeen million Solars. I knew we could get another ten to fifteen percent above that if we were persistent enough.

"Make sure you haggle for the best possible prices," I said. "I want everyone to know that we're here with a rich score."

Lucky gave me a roguish grin. "With everything still new in the box we won't have any trouble getting top solar." Lucky had a talent for negotiating the best deals possible on any merchandise. I had no doubt that he would secure an excellent price for our new cargo. And that should make Mr. Smith sit up and take notice.

According to what I had gotten out of Captain Sloan, Smith was expecting to profit from the sale of what was now our cargo. In exchange for supplying Sloan with the flight plans and manifests of target transports, the pirate captain agreed to turn his stolen merchandise over to Smith at a fixed rate of thirty-five percent of the cargo's value. Smith would then take care of moving the stolen goods and would supply Sloan with information on his next target. Having millions of Solars slip through his fingers was not going to sit well with Smith.

After ensuring that our merchandise had been listed in the system, Morgana and I headed for the hover cab waiting just outside our berth, leaving Lucky to handle the sale of our cargo. Fifteen minutes later we were being shown into the back conference room of the Toula branch of Capital Investments. We were waiting for only a few minutes when Smith entered the room, his smile set on wide and annoying.

"Captain Pell, Ms. Feign, welcome back," he said, shaking our hands like an old friend and settling into a seat on the opposite side of the table from us.

"Thanks," I said. "We're here for the rest of our pay."

Smith chuckled. "Straight to business, eh, Captain." He placed his datapad on the table and began typing at the screen, "I trust there were no difficulties with the transaction."

"No," I said. "We met your contact exactly where you told us he would be. Why?"

Smith continued typing on his pad for several moments before answering.

"It's just that you were gone for quite some time," he said finally.

"I wasn't aware that I was expected to check in with you," I said, folding my arms defensively. "We met your ship at the assigned place and time and delivered your shipment as we agreed. Where we went after that isn't really your concern."

Smith looked up at me from the tops of his eyes and his smile took on a predatory feel.

"Peace, Captain. I was only concerned that something might have happened to you. I know you were counting on the balance of the payment to perform some maintenance and upgrades to your ship."

"We had some minor engine trouble and had to stop for repairs," I said dismissively.

"Nothing serious I trust."

"Nothing we couldn't handle."

"I'm so glad. Ah, here we are." Smith entered a few last commands into his pad. "All monies have been transferred to your account."

I pulled out my battered palmpad and tapped briefly on it as I pretended to check our account. I kept the screen tilted away from him as I worked so that he could not see the display. What he didn't know was that during our first meeting, while his datapad had downloaded a copy of the contract to my pad, mine had uploaded a powerful virus into his. In spite of its size and battered appearance, the palmpad I carried had more raw computing power than a dozen of his. The virus I had uploaded to his pad was something new from the Royal Intelligence Agency. It was a specially designed infiltration program known as a tapeworm that would find its way through every program in his pad and collect information from each file it encountered. The program would continue working its way through file after file collecting data until it was remotely triggered. Then it would download all of its secrets to me. The more he used his pad the more I would learn about his business dealings. I triggered the virus program now and watched the task bar growing across the bottom of my screen as the download began.

"I see you were able to finish moving the cargo we bonded over to you," I said, covering my actions.

"A simple matter for someone with my extensive contacts," he bragged.

A moment later the download was finished and I set the pad down on the table.

"The last time we were here you mentioned the possibility of future work," I said.

"Doesn't your crew want to take a few days off to relax in town first? After all, you've just made a tidy profit."

"I'd rather we kept busy for now," I said.

"Commendable," Smith commented. He settled back in his seat and looked at me briefly, his eyes taking on a distant look, as if he were deep in thought. That look gave me the creeps. Finally, his gaze seemed to snap back into focus and he spoke. "Actually, as it so happens I do have a client who has a shipment to be moved. I was expecting another ship that I usually do business with to handle the run, but something seems to have delayed them."

Something told me it was Ryder Sloan's ship he was talking about.

"Sorry to hear it," I said, sounding anything but sorry. "But then it's an opportunity for my ship."

"Yes." He regarded me silently for a while. Smith sat studying me as if he were trying to reach a decision about something, giving me that creepy, distant look again. When it seemed like he was having trouble making up his mind I decided to force the issue.

"Apparently we've come at a bad time," I said, scooping up my palmpad and tucking it away. "If you decide that you're interested in doing business with us again you know how to contact me. Right now I need to get back to my ship and oversee some business of my own." I hesitated before getting up, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

Smith continued to study us for several more moments. Then his expression relaxed and life returned to his eyes as he made up his mind. "Captain, a moment of your time before you go." He tapped at his datapad briefly and slid it toward us so we could read what was displayed on its screen. I brushed my finger across the display to scroll down the list that was there.

"These items are being offered for sale through the spaceport comm-net," Smith said. I frowned and waited for him to continue. "I was wondering if you could tell me a little about them."

"There's nothing to tell," I said. "It's the cargo we brought with us this trip."

"Really?" he said, without a trace of surprise in his voice. "I wouldn't have thought that you would have had the time to arrange for another cargo, what with making a delivery for us and having engine trouble."

I leaned on the edge of the table and looked hard into his eyes. "Not that I need to explain myself to you, but after we finished our repairs we took a roundabout route on our return trip to see if we could pick up another job."

"Judging from the merchandise you are offering for sale I'd say that your efforts were successful." He slid the datapad back to himself and looked at the list of items we had posted on the net. "This is quite an impressive cargo you managed to acquire. Would you mind telling me how you happened to come across it?"

"Actually, I don't see how that's any business of yours," I growled.

Smith ignored my tone and continued. "The reason I'm asking is because your cargo seems to match a shipment that was recently reported stolen from a transport operating not too far from the area of space you were in."

Morgana and I exchanged looks.

"I think we're done here," I said. We rose to our feet and turned to leave.

Smith suddenly broke into a laugh. "Captain, wait. Don't go. This is Toula. No one cares where you get your merchandise. I was only curious about how you managed to come up with a new cargo so quickly. After all, it wasn't very long ago that you came to me looking for something to fill your empty hold."

I stopped where I was and looked back at him as if trying to decide whether to stay or go. Smith gestured us back to our seats.

"Please sit down, Captain," he said. "As it so happens I do have a proposition to discuss with you."

Morgana looked at me. I nodded and we both resumed our seats.

"I must say, Captain, I had no idea how resourceful you were. Landing such a valuable cargo was quite a feat–however it was accomplished."

"Just a matter of being in the right place at the right time," I said. "Now about that job we were discussing...?"

Smith folded his hands on the table in front of him and resumed speaking. "As with our prior arrangement, an... associate of mine needs a number of containers transported to a confidential location." He paused to consult his pad briefly. "According to your ship's specs, your hold should be just large enough to accommodate the shipment I need transported. Of course, that means there won't be any room for anything else in your hold."

"Are you offering to take our current cargo off my hands?"

"I think a rate of twenty-five percent of the going retail value–"

"Eighty-five percent," I countered.

"Captain Pell, be reasonable," Smith said with a condescending smile. "I need room to negotiate with potential buyers. At eighty-five percent there's no room for any profit margin on my end. I'm thinking more like ... thirty-five percent."

"Seventy-five percent," I said immediately. "And not on consignment this time. You buy my cargo outright." Seventy-five percent was still pushing things. But if I was right, Smith needed me to accept the transport job he was offering. Therefore he had to take the cargo we were carrying off our hands, even if it cut his profit margin.

Smith narrowed his eyes as he considered my offer.

"Forty-five percent."

"Come on, Alex," I said to Morgana as I moved to stand up again. "Call me when you're serious about wanting to do business again, Mr. Smith."

"Wait, Captain," Smith said and let out a long breath. His expression soured to the closest thing to a frown I had ever seen cross his face. "Very well, fifty percent. That is my final offer."

I sat back in my seat, rested my elbows on the arms of the chair and folded my hands across my stomach as I stretched my legs out under the table.

"Mr. Smith," I began. I was actually starting to enjoy his predicament. "While I am sincerely grateful for our business dealings so far, I think we need to review our relationship. My ship is an independent transport. I don't work for you. That's _my_ cargo up for sale and I know that I can get at least seventy percent of the retail value on the open market. Now I will consider selling my cargo to you at a discount if I can be assured of a job that will make up the difference. Due to our past relationship I'm willing to settle for a rate of, oh let's say, sixty percent. And that is _my_ final offer."

Slowly, as if it were causing him physical pain, a smile gradually spread across his face. But it was a smile with his mouth only. His hard eyes were studying me like a predator sizing up his next kill.

"Very well, Captain. Sixty percent."

"Direct purchase."

"Direct purchase," he agreed. "Now that we have that settled, can we discuss the cargo I'd like you to transport for us?"

"Absolutely," I said, settling myself even deeper into the self adjusting cushions of my floatchair. "I assume it's the same arrangement as last time. You want us to rendezvous with another ship and transfer the cargo in deep space."

"Not exactly," Smith said. "Your ship will be making the final delivery, but you will need to make one stop along the way. My associate is very protective of his privacy. You will rendezvous with a ship at predetermined coordinates in space, but instead of transferring your cargo to them you will take a pilot aboard your ship who will bring you to your final destination."

I thought about it for a moment then shrugged. "That shouldn't be a problem–as long as the price is right."

Smith slid his datapad across to me. I glanced at the figure on the screen and smiled.

"We have a deal," I said.

Smith reached across and tapped the screen, bringing up a small window with a series of coordinates.

"Your clients really do like to meet in out of the way locations," I commented after I had read the coordinates.

"This is not a client. In fact, if my associate approves of you he may offer you a long term arrangement that you should find very interesting, not to mention profitable. But you need to be at these coordinates in three days. That would mean you need to lift ship sometime in the next few hours."

"That doesn't give us a lot of time. I still have to finish offloading our cargo and then get your containers loaded. Then I need to refuel and top off the air and water reserve tanks. I also need to–"

"Three days, Captain. That's the schedule," Smith said, cutting me off.

"Relax, Mr. Smith. I told you I'd move your cargo for you."

"I'm in your debt, Captain," Smith said dryly.

"Don't mention it. As soon as you transfer the money for the stuff you're buying from me and make the down payment for the cargo you want me to move, we'll be on our way."

* * *

"I still think you were too heavy handed with him," Morgana said quietly. We were sitting in the back of a hovercab on our way back to the ship. As the driver wove his way through the busy streets we kept watch for anything suspicious but no one seemed to be following us.

"I disagree," I said. Although the privacy panel was closed we weren't certain the driver couldn't hear us so we made sure to speak in low voices. "I think he had to buy our cargo. I'm positive it was Sloan's ship that he was expecting to make this run, so without us he's stuck."

"That's not what I mean," Morgana said. "Smith is dangerous. He's the point man for a very powerful organization. He's not someone you want to go around antagonizing."

"Actually, that's why I was pushing back against him so hard. I want him and his people to think that they're dealing with someone who is just as hardcore as they are. They've got to believe that we're every bit as ruthless as the other crews they've recruited if we want them to extend the same invitation to us."

"I think the cargo we showed up with has already gone a long way toward establishing our credentials," Morgana said. "If his people are as well connected as we think, they already know what happened to the original transport and its crew."

"Exactly. And he has to believe that we're the ones who actually pulled off that attack. He would have been suspicious if I hadn't stood up to him."

Morgana pursed her lips briefly in thought. "Maybe so, but I still think you need to be a little less aggressive in your dealings with him. Getting into a chest thumping contest with him is only going to make him get his back up. And I can tell that he's the type who likes to keep track of the slights that others do to him so he can pay them back later."

I knew she had a point, but there was something about Smith that just rubbed me the wrong way. And to be honest, I really enjoyed making him squirm.

"You're probably right," I admitted, "but it did confirm that his people are very interested in meeting us. I agree with you that Smith is just the front man for the Brotherhood. This mysterious 'associate' of his has to be the man he reports to. We cost them a lot of Solars with that cargo we intercepted. They've got to be dying to know how a beat up old scow like ours managed to pull off that job."

According to what I had learned from Sloan, the pirate ships operated independently once they put to space. For security reasons there was never any communication between Smith and the ships working for him until they returned to Toula for new target assignments. As a result, Smith would have no idea what had happened to Sloan's ship or how we had come into possession of what should have been his cargo. And with Smith and his people in the dark we were free to create any back story we wanted to explain how we came into possession of that cargo.

When I had laid out my new plan to Morgan to have ourselves recruited by the pirate network, he was even more upset than he had been when he learned about us taking down a pirate sub on our own. Our heated conversation had burned up the hyperwaves for quite a while as we argued the issue back and forth. Eventually however, in spite of his misgivings, Morgan finally admitted that my plan had a good chance of succeeding.

Fortunately, he didn't know just how much I was going to have to amend what I was planning to do.

The original plan had been for us to use the reported slaughter of the transport's crew as proof of our own ruthless nature. Seeing us as vicious cutthroats, I had expected Smith to make the offer for us to join the pirate Brotherhood right there in the bank. It had seemed like a fairly straight forward plan. What I hadn't counted on was being sent off world to an undisclosed location as part of the recruiting process. Apparently we were victims of our own success. Whoever was pulling Smith's strings wanted to meet with me personally. That was the only reason I could see for his sending us away like this. If I was correct, our destination had to be the pirate's main base. And if I could pull off this meeting without getting us all killed it would be an incredible intelligence coup. But heading off into the unknown was extremely risky. As fast and powerful as the _Prometheus_ was, it was not indestructible. We would have to be on guard the entire time.

Of course this change in plans was not something I would be discussing with Morgan. If the pirates discovered a discrepancy with our cover story they could decide that the simplest solution would be to just make us all disappear. Morgan was going to blow a fuse when he learned the kind of danger I was putting us in. But I felt that the chance to move up another rung on their organizational ladder was too important an opportunity to pass up. After months of dead ends we were finally in a position to make a major inroad into the pirate network and I was determined to see where this lead took us.

As the cab pulled up to the entrance of our spaceport berth, I hoped that I was making the right call. The lives of everyone aboard our ship were on the line. Each of them had known the risks when they agreed to come with me on this mission and I knew that they would follow whatever course I chose without reservation. But that only made it all the more important for me to make the right decision.

My attention returned to our surroundings as we arrived at our berth. There was a lot of activity taking place around the ship. I paid the driver and we climbed out onto the neocrete field. As we stepped through the gate I studied the three flatbed transports lined up beside our ship. The shipping containers from our hold had been lowered onto their cargo beds. Although we had only been carrying three containers, the value of the high-end electronics made it a rich cargo nonetheless.

Lucky was talking to the driver of the lead transport and scrawled his signature on the driver's flatpad as we came up to them. Taking his pad back, the driver tipped his head to us as we approached and climbed up into the cab. A moment later his transport's engine powered up and his rig lifted off the ground on its suspension field and started forward.

"Well, the easy part is done," Lucky said, turning to us as the transports got under way. "Now I just have to shoehorn all those new containers into our hold." He nodded toward the fence behind me. When I turned around I saw a line of transports idling just outside our berth. Once the trucks carrying away our sold cargo had cleared the bay entrance, the line of waiting transports started in. I counted fifteen trucks in total, each one bearing a full size shipping container. Our hold could accommodate a stack of three containers that size, with a maximum of five in each row. It would be crowded but with careful loading we would be able to squeeze the entire shipment aboard. As the first transport moved into position underneath the waiting loading arm, I wondered what we would be transporting for them this time.
Chapter Thirteen

I had been sitting in the bridge conference alcove with Morgana, Chris and Mark for the past several hours. We were reviewing the last of the information I had downloaded from Smith's datapad. It was late in the evening on the third day following our departure from Toula and all of us were starting to get bleary eyed. The four of us had been spending most of the time since leaving Toula pouring over Smith's files. We were hoping to learn something that would give us an insight into the inner workings of the pirate Brotherhood. While we had gotten little sleep over the past few days, our efforts had not been wasted.

The depth of access the pirates had into what seemed to be the database systems of every transportation combine in existence was frightening. Suspended above the surface of the table were dozens upon dozens of image windows displaying everything from the cargo manifests to the flight plans and crew rosters of ships registered to a myriad of different companies. The lists included information on cargoes that had been shipped from every major world during the past several months. Many of the shipments I recognized from reports I had reviewed back on Haven. They stood out to me because each one had been hijacked in recent pirate attacks. And this was only part of what we had discovered.

Apart from the information on the transportation combines, we also found files on a number of pirate ships and their captains. These were cross referenced with the different cargoes they were credited with hijacking. It was all here, neatly categorized and detailed, enough evidence to convict every one of these crews for piracy and murder. The only problem was finding them. Smith's records did not include specific information on each ship's movements. And with every new thing we learned about the pirates new questions popped up as well.

"It's no wonder the pirates have been taking down the most valuable cargoes," Chris said as he grabbed another window with his finger and pulled it in front of him. "With all of this information at their fingertips they could pick and choose exactly what they wanted to go after."

"We always suspected there was more than pure luck guiding their attacks," I said. "It's just unsettling to realize how far reaching their intelligence is."

"Which makes it all the more puzzling why they would hijack a shipment of mining equipment," Morgana commented as she reduced the window she had been viewing and traded it for a new one. Before we left Toula, I had Barney had break into the shipping containers that were crowded into our hold. All we found was heavy duty mining equipment. A quick check of a few random serial numbers confirmed that it was the same shipment Morgan had told me about just before I left Haven.

"They obviously didn't steal this cargo for its value," Chris said, "so they must need the machinery for something."

I nodded. "Agreed. But the more important question is: how are they getting all of this information in the first place? They would need to have inside people in every one of these companies to pull all this data together."

"It doesn't seem possible that they could have that many moles in place," Morgana said.

"No, it doesn't," I agreed. "The only other explanation is that they've somehow found a way to hack into all these databases." I thought about it for a moment then turned to Mark. "Could they have something like the tapeworm we used on Smith's datapad?"

Mark shook his head. "I doubt it. Our people only just perfected the technique. And it wouldn't do them any good even if they did have one. A tapeworm might be able to get past the firewalls on someone's datapad, but database systems are something else. Their processing power and storage capacity allow them to run much more sophisticated protection than anything you can fit on a simple pad. Besides, as far as I know, every major business these days is running the Praetorian security platform. _Nothing_ can hack that."

"I've heard of Praetorian," I said. "Our military uses it. The joint chiefs swear by it."

"What's so special about Praetorian?" Chris asked. As Mark opened his mouth to answer Chris held up a hand to interrupt him. "In _simple_ terms, please."

Mark composed his thoughts for a moment before beginning. "Praetorian is based on a learning algorithm. Basically that means that it's able to think for itself. It can spot dangerous programs on its own, even ones that it was never programmed to recognize as viruses, and come up with ways to neutralize them. In all the years since it was first put on the market there's never been a single case of a virus getting past it."

"Wait a minute," Morgana said. "Doesn't Praetorian also make anti-virus software for datapads?"

"They do," Mark admitted. "In fact they're the leading manufacturer of anti-virus software for anything run by computer, which is just about everything these days. But those are simplified versions of the full scale program. Like I said, a datapad doesn't have the processing power or storage capacity to run the full program. They make up for this with regular updates. Whenever one of the full versions encounters a new virus it sends data on the program back to the company and the solution for the virus is then distributed in the next update broadcast."

"So let me get this straight," Chris said. "It's impossible for them to hack into these databases and they can't have spies in every transport combine in existence. Then how the hell are they getting all of this information?"

No one had an answer.

"Excuse me, Jason, but you wanted to know when we were getting close to the rendezvous coordinates," Bobby said from the helm. "We're five minutes out."

"Thanks, Bobby. Okay, everybody, we'll have to get back to this later. It's time to get ready for our guest."

I shut down the display and the group of us stood and assumed our stations. Across the bridge everyone began making the changes that would turn our cutting edge command center into the patched together bridge of a dilapidated transport.

"Anything on sensors?" I asked once the bridge had undergone its transformation.

"The space ahead reads clear," Morgana said.

I hadn't expected to pick up anything. If the pirates were bringing us deeper into their ranks they would be sending one of their top ships to meet us, and those wouldn't show up on a regular sensor sweep. I sat brooding silently for the next few minutes as a tense quiet fell over the bridge. Soon Bobby was counting down the last seconds before dropping us out of hyperspace. A flash on the main screen and we returned to sublight. Nothing was visible ahead but empty space.

"Scan the area," I said.

Morgana ran a new sweep. "Nothing."

I turned to the helm. "Bobby?"

"We're dead on, Jason," Bobby said as he double checked his board. "Someone should be here to meet us."

I was itching to flash the area but had to restrain the impulse. I knew the other ship was out there, but I didn't want to tip our hand and let them know that we were aware of the stealth technology they possessed. We would just have to wait and play their game.

An urgent beeping from Morgana's console drew everyone's attention.

"Ship decloaking ahead," Morgana announced.

A second urgent beeping sounded from Mark's weapons board. "They're scanning us for a target lock!" he said. "Should I—"

"No! Take no action," I ordered. "They could have fired on us while they had their stealth system engaged. They're just trying to rattle us."

"It's working," Bobby said quietly.

On the screen ahead of us, the black ship became visible as a vague outline as it activated its running lights. We held our position as it moved closer and we were soon able to make out more details. Its lines followed the classic design of a Fleet military vessel, although any identifying markings had been removed. As it drew near I could also see that it was nearly twice our length. I turned to Morgana who was already running a focused scan on it.

"Its engine emissions match those of the _Retribution_ , one of the missing aurora class subs from the Gnosis scrapyard."

"I'm glad they were able to find a use for all those stolen ships," Chris commented dryly.

"Message from the pirate ship, Sir," Tom said. "We're being ordered to hold position and await their shuttle."

On the main screen we could see a small craft detach itself from the pirate sub and head toward us. I was curious to see who was coming aboard my ship so I put Chris in charge of the bridge and left for the gangway hatch with Morgana.

We arrived at the hatch just as the shuttle locked onto our hull. I stood in front of the doors while Morgana went to the hatch controls, a drawn needler ready in her hand. When the docking light flashed green I motioned for her to open the hatch.

Two people stood in the doorway when the doors retracted. A gruff looking pirate wearing a protective vest and helmet stood holding a woman by the arm. The tinted visor of his helmet hid the top half of his face. All that could be seen of his features was a stubble covered chin and a slash of a mouth that was drawn down into a frown. In his free hand was a blaster pistol which he pointed at me as soon as the doors opened.

It was his companion however who captured my entire attention. She was stunning. She was several centimeters shorter than the man, with the top of her head just reaching his nose. She had an elfin face with full, pouty lips, large doe eyes, and a wavy mane of honey blonde hair which cascaded past her shoulders. She was wearing a nondescript flight suit that could not hide the very feminine contours of her body. She also seemed intimidated by the man who was gripping her by the elbow. Seeing her discomfort bothered me for some reason.

Morgana took a step away from the hatch controls so that she was in the man's range of vision. His head snapped in her direction when he noticed her and he tensed as he recognized the weapon she was holding. His body and head may be protected, but a hit in either the arm or leg from one of her neurotoxin darts would stop his heart before his body hit the deck. After a moment he returned his attention to me.

"Are you Pell?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"I'm Captain Pell," I said. "You want to put that away, please? My security officer doesn't like weapons aboard our ship. They make her nervous."

He considered his situation for a moment, then slowly lowered the pistol, although he didn't holster it. Morgana kept her gun trained on him.

The pirate took half a step forward and shoved the girl roughly through the hatch. She stumbled against me then quickly drew back. For an instant she shot the pirate an angry look, then looked up at me warily. Without another word the pirate reached for the control panel inside his shuttle and closed the hatch. Morgana went back to our panel and closed our ship's doors as well to allow the shuttle to undock. Moments later the shuttle pulled away from our hull and headed off.

I turned to study our new arrival. She was cowering against the bulkhead. My first impulse was to put my arm around her and reassure her that everything was going to be alright, but I thought she would probably shy away from me.

"I'm Cordass Pell," I said. I motioned to Morgana. "And this is my security officer, Alex Feign, Miss...?"

"Angela," she said softly. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "You're supposed to take me to the bridge."

"Right. It's this way." I gestured toward the main stairwell and she stepped timidly up beside me. As I started toward the stairwell I looked over at Morgana. For some reason she was frowning as she studied the young woman. Then I noticed that she hadn't yet put down her pistol. A moment later she noticed me watching her and after a beat she reluctantly holstered her weapon. Although she had put her gun away, Morgana followed closely behind us all the way to the command deck, keeping a wary eye on our visitor.

All activity came to a halt when we stepped onto the bridge as everyone turned to gawk at our guest. She dropped her eyes self consciously, then looked up at me.

"I need to be there," she said quietly, pointing at the helm station.

I nodded to Bobby who jumped up from his seat and gestured gallantly at his vacant post.

Angela walked to the helm and smiled shyly up at him. She reached into a pocket on the leg of her flight suit and pulled out a device about the size of a palmpad. She seated herself at the helm, studied the control panel for several moments, then placed the device near the upper right corner of the console where it magnetically affixed itself. Then she sat back and waited.

The face of the device glowed on and columns of symbols raced across the small screen. Moments later different parts of the helm console began flashing on and off by themselves. Bobby instinctively reached for his board, but before he could touch any of the controls Angela's hand shot out and closed on his wrist.

"It's alright," she said in her quiet voice. "It's just the governor. It's supposed to do that."

Bobby looked at me and I waved him back as I stepped up to the helm.

"Exactly what are you doing?" I asked as I came up beside her.

"I'm not doing anything," Angela said nervously. "It's the governor. It's how I fly the ship."

At that moment the other bridge systems began flashing on and off. Surprised exclamations erupted around me.

"... just came on by itself!"

"... have no control..."

"... won't respond..."

From the corner of my eye I saw Morgana scowling at her console.

"Captain, something has taken over our bridge systems," she said. "None of our boards are responding. Communications, sensors, drive systems—everything is off-line. We have no control over any of the ship's functions." A moment later her console went completely dark. Once that happened her head snapped up in Angela's direction and she drew her needler.

Angela's eyes went wide when she saw the pistol aimed at her.

"Captain, I promise you it's not doing anything to damage your ship!" the young woman said.

Morgana stepped up beside me and continued to hold her gun on her.

"The captain asked you a question," she said. "What are you doing?"

Angela spoke quickly, her eyes never wavering from the weapon aimed at her. "I... I don't know exactly how it works. All I know is that the governor plots our course and takes over the ship's functions."

"I thought you were a pilot," I said.

"I am. But he doesn't trust anybody with the coordinates of the base we're going to. That's stored in the governor's memory. Without it I couldn't get us back there. Now that it's in place your ship will fly itself there all on its own. But when we get there you'll need me to bring us in. The channel is too tricky. You need someone who knows the way to get the ship through safely."

"Who is this 'he' you mentioned?" I asked.

"The commandant. He's in charge of everything."

"And just who is this commandant?"

"Please, Captain, I can't tell you anything more."

"Can't or won't?" Morgana growled.

Angela met her hard gaze briefly then turned to me. "Please, Captain, I _can't_ tell you any more. He... he has my father. If I don't do what he wants he'll have him killed!" She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed.

Morgana looked like she wanted to throttle her but I placed a hand on her arm and pushed her gun down. For a moment I thought she was going to argue with me but then she reholstered her weapon and stepped back.

I placed a hand gently on Angela's shoulder. "Who is your father and what does this commandant want with him?"

She sniffed back her last few tears and looked up at me with red rimmed eyes. "He's a structural engineer. The commandant needs him to finish his base." She took my hand in both of hers. Her skin was soft and warm and her touch sent a tingle up my spine.

"Please, we need to get moving! They're watching us!"

I pulled my hand out of her grip, uncomfortable with the effect she was having on me.

"Get us under way, then," I said gruffly, forcing myself back into character. "I'm sorry about your father's trouble but I'm here on business. Take us to wherever you're supposed to take us and be quick about it." I returned to the command seat and dropped myself down into it. Like the other consoles around the bridge, my command board was completely dark. I was getting a bad feeling about this arrangement.

Angela turned back to the helm and powered up the engines. She was just reaching to engage the drive system when she paused, her hand hovering above the activation controls.

"Captain Pell," she said uncertainly. "There's something wrong."

I frowned then tapped the face of my inactive board. "You need to be a little more specific."

"I... well, it's your navsys. It's supposed to give me an ETA for our arrival back at the base."

"And?"

"It says that we'll arrive in just over twelve hours. But that's not possible."

Of course. With that device of hers overriding our controls the navsys would calculate our ETA based on the actual output of our new engines.

"Just ignore it," I said. "Our engineer's been trying to fix that glitch for some time now. Mostly we just sort of guesstimate how long it will take us to get somewhere." I started to reach for the intercom, but saw that it wasn't working. I turned to Morgana. "Go down to the engine room and tell Ian we're still getting that false reading from the navsys." As she passed my seat I lowered my voice and added. "Tell him to cut the engine output. I don't want her to know what this ship's really capable of."

As Morgana exited the bridge Angela finished her preparations and engaged the main drive. The stars slowly drifted to port on the bridge display as the ship came about to a new heading. Moments later we made the jump to hyperspace. Angela's eyes were glued to the readout on the console in front of her as she watched the ship accelerate.

"Captain Pell," she said, "this says your ship is moving at better than light factor 80!"

I stood and ambled over to the helm. I looked down at the board for a few moments then gave the side of the console a sharp slap.

"Ignore it," I said with a shrug.

"But, Captain—"

"I said ignore it. Do you really think _this_ ship is capable of pulling that kind of speed?"

"Well, no."

"I told you. It's some kind of glitch... Look."

The velocity indicator suddenly began to drop. In moments it had settled at 11.8.

"See," I said. "It's just a glitch. What's our ETA now?"

She checked the readout again. "One hundred twenty-six hours."

"I assume that's more in line with what you were expecting." I looked around the bridge once more. It was unsettling to see every console completely inert. "Well, since you've taken control of the ship away from me, I'm going to relax. Chris, you have the conn."

* * *

The use of the device Angela called a governor had taken us by surprise. With all of the bridge systems essentially shut down we had no way of knowing where we were headed and no way of calling for help. We were completely at the mercy of this young woman the pirates had sent to pilot us back to their base.

The trip would take us more than five days at the speed Ian had reduced us to, and I was determined to make use of every minute. My main concern was finding a way to pinpoint our position once we arrived at their stronghold. If we could calculate its coordinates I would be able to send a strike force against them and hopefully put an end to the pirate threat in one stroke. But with our sensors off-line and the navsys slaved to her override device we would have to come up with something creative. Which is where Barney came in.

As soon as I left the bridge I met with him in his shop to discuss the problem. Barney had been following what was happening on the bridge through the security camera network until Angela activated the governor and the transmission was cut off. For the first time since I had known him his self assured attitude seemed to waver. Without being able to directly examine the device she was using to control the ship he wasn't sure he could get around it. I assigned Ian and Mark to work with him and left the three of them alone as they pooled their abilities to try and find a way to regain control of the ship.

For myself, I spent the next several hours of our journey stalking through the ship's passageways as I thought about possible scenarios for when we arrived at our unknown destination. The problem was that we knew nothing about where we were going. If I had known that they had the means to take control of the ship away from us so completely, I would have thought long and hard before agreeing to this rendezvous. But we were locked on this path now and there was no turning back. And with no intelligence on our destination I would be making up our plans as we went along.

After several hours of fruitless walking I decided to check in on our trio of resident geniuses. When I entered Barney's shop I found them huddled around the compartment's comm-net panel. Mark was typing away feverously on the keyboard as Ian and Barney looked over his shoulders. After a few minutes however he threw up his hands and let out an exasperated breath.

"It's impossible," he said, pushing himself back from the console.

"And yet we're completely locked out of every bridge system," Barney said.

"But that's _not_ possible," Mark continued to insist. "There's no way they should be able to cut us off from every bridge system so completely. They'd need to be able to block every single one of the interlink pathways between each of the systems. I've been working with this ship's systems for years and _I_ don't know all of the interlinks."

"I gather you haven't made any headway," I said as I walked in on their meeting.

"Unfortunately not," Barney said. "It's as if the bridge doesn't exist. We're completely cut off from every system on the command deck. I've never seen anything like it."

"How are the rest of the ship's systems holding up?" I asked Ian.

The big man shrugged. "Everything's running normally. We just have no control over anything."

I wandered around the compartment as they went back to talking among themselves, eventually making my way to the outer wall. Tapping the port control, I retracted the viewport cover and spent several moments watching the elongated needles of light swimming slowly past the ship which was how the stars appeared at hyperlight velocities. As I stared at the scene through the port my mind went back to the first moments after I had regained consciousness on that prison transport four years ago. I remembered how much I had wanted to have a viewport to look through at the time. I was sure that if I just could have seen the stars I'd have been able to figure out where I was.

"Sir?" Barney said.

I realized that I'd spoken aloud.

"It's nothing important," I said. "I was just thinking it's too bad that we can't simply take a look outside when we get there and reckon our position from the star patterns. But we're going to be far too deep into the core for any of the constellations to be familiar." From the corner of my eye I saw Barney suddenly sit bolt upright. I turned and watched him as he sat staring at the bulkhead for a few seconds and a smile slowly grew on his features.

"Of course. I'm such an idiot." He turned to look at me. "And it will work! Sir, you're a genius."

Now it was my turn to stare blankly at him for a moment.

"While I appreciate the vote of confidence," I said, "would you mind telling me what you're talking about?"

"We've been so focused on getting control of the ship back that we lost sight of our real objective," Barney explained. "We don't need to have control of the ship to figure our position. All we need to do is take star sightings when we get there. Once we identify enough stars we can figure out where we are by triangulating their positions relative to ours."

"That's the problem," Mark said. "We can't take star sightings when she's got us locked out of the ship's sensors."

Barney was grinning like the Cheshire cat. "But we don't need the ship's sensors. We can launch a portable sensor suite to take the readings."

For several moments the room was silent as the three of them exchanged looks. I could almost hear their minds shift into high gear.

"I see two problems," Ian said. "First, they're going to be watching us very closely when we get there, so it's going to be extremely difficult to get anything off the ship without them seeing it. Second, even if we can manage to launch some kind of sensor suite, as soon as it starts scanning they're going to pick it up."

Barney's grin grew even wider. "Not if all it's doing is taking _passive_ scans.... Light! All it needs to do is analyze the light coming from the stars. Every star gives off a unique spectrum. It's as individual as a person's DNA. Passive spectroanalysis of the surrounding stars is bound to turn up a number of them that can be identified with the navsys database. We simply download a copy of the navigational database into the suite and have it scan for stars that match ones we have on file."

"But how do we download a copy of the navsys database when we can't access any of the bridge systems?" Mark asked.

"The isolated files core," Ian said. He turned to Mark who was looking a little lost. "Every Fleet ship has an isolated set of operating system programs. In case something happens to corrupt one of the control systems we can simply purge the affected system and reinstall a copy of the original program from the protected core." He looked back at Barney. "And I think I know what we can use as a platform for a portable sensor suite. We're going to need something that's relatively small, able to propel itself, with its own stealth projector and the ability to carry a sensor package—"

"A torpedo!" Mark said. "We can reconfigure one to use optical sensors only. But torpedoes don't have the storage capacity to carry a copy of the navsys files, so we—"

"Remove the warhead and install a quantum processor package," Barney said.

"This just might work," Mark said as an edge of excitement crept into his voice. "That still leaves us with the problem of getting it off the ship. They'll pick up the change in our energy emissions as soon as we power up any of the launchers."

"That's the easy part," Ian said. "If it comes down to it we can just open a port hole and shove the thing out. As long as the stealth projector is working they'll never see it leave the ship. What we need to do..."

They were so engrossed in their planning that they didn't pay any attention to me as I headed toward the exit. Now that they seemed to be making progress toward solving their problem, I needed someone to help me with mine. I was just reaching for the hatch control when the door was opened from the other side. Morgana was standing in the doorway.

"I really wish you'd tell me how you do that," I said.

"We need to talk."

I stepped into the passageway with her.

"What's on your mind?" I asked as the door closed behind me and we started walking.

"It's our guest."

"Has she done something else to the ship?"

"No. Little Suzie Homemaker hasn't done anything but sit there and let her device do all the work."

"You don't like her very much, do you," I said.

"Gee, how could you tell?"

"It's the little things like the way you keep pointing guns at her. Why does she bother you so much?"

Morgana made a sour face. "There's something wrong about her. I don't know why but she just grates on my nerves whenever I'm in the same room with her."

"Kind of like the way our Mr. Smith grates on my nerves."

She shot me a thoughtful look for a moment. "There's something else, too. Have you noticed the way the rest of the crew, the male crew, seem to be tripping over their own feet around her?"

I had noticed. I also remembered the way she had affected me. "She is very attractive," I said, hoping that I wasn't opening a new can of worms.

"Is she?" Morgana asked.

"Of course she can't hold a candle to you—"

"That's not what I'm getting at. What I mean is... is she really that much more attractive than other women, or is it something else?"

"Okay, now you're losing me," I said.

"Well, some women have a way of carrying themselves that makes them seem more attractive than they are. I knew an ensign once who could have any man follow her around like a love sick puppy just by playing with her hair a certain way."

Now it was my turn to frown. "Are you're saying she's just _acting_ pretty?"

"No, it's more than that. I can't put my finger on it but something about her just doesn't add up."

She seemed harmless to me, but I had learned to trust Morgana's instincts. "At least her movements are restricted so she can't cause any trouble," I said.

"Uh-huh," Morgana said. She sounded anything but convinced.

"Okay, we'll keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't start a riot. But you didn't come looking for me just to tell me that our guest is turning heads."

"No, I didn't." Morgana stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips. "She _says_ that she's getting a migraine and wants to go to the infirmary."

The infirmary was one of the few off limits areas of the ship. Along with the engine room, avionics bay and torpedo room, the infirmary was one of the only spaces that had not been disguised to appear like part of a beat up old scow because we needed those systems fully functional at all times. Once she saw the inside of the infirmary she would know that the _Prometheus_ was more than what it appeared to be.

"Well, she can't," I said flatly. "We'll send her to the cabin we prepped for her and I'll have Doc look in on her there."

Morgana relaxed at my words. I accompanied her to the bridge because I wanted to see Angela's condition for myself. It did seem a little coincidental that shortly after arriving on board she was asking to be let into one of the few spaces that were out of bounds.

When we arrived I found her bent over the helm console resting her head on her forearms. She slowly cracked open one eye to look up at us as we approached. As we stepped up beside the helm she gingerly pushed herself up into a sitting position

"Your security officer wouldn't let me leave the bridge without your permission, Captain," Angela said softly.

"That is her job," I said as I looked at her. Even at a quick glance I could see that her complexion was pale and waxy and she had sweat beading her forehead. "I'm going to have our doctor take a look at you. I'm afraid our infirmary is out of commission at the moment, but we have a spare cabin you can use. Doc will come and examine you there."

"Thank you," she said as she pushed herself slowly to her feet. "I get these headaches from time to time. It's nothing serious but I'd appreciate something to dull the pain. After that I'll just need to sleep in a dark room for a few hours and I'll be fine."

"My security officer will show you to your cabin," I said.

"Thank you, Captain," she said weakly. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

She started to leave the bridge, then turned back to the helm as if she just remembered something. Reaching to the upper corner of the console she pulled the governor free. The other bridge consoles remained dark while the helm continued to be the only functioning system. She looked up at me and smiled self consciously.

"I'm supposed to keep this with me," she explained as she slipped the device into her pocket. "It's keyed to my biorhythm. If I get more than a few meters away from it, it will shut down and bring the ship to a dead stop." Why did her explanation sound more like a warning?

Turning away again she allowed Morgana to direct her off the bridge.

Once they were gone I moved to the helm and stood beside Bobby who had reclaimed his seat and was experimenting with the controls.

"Anything?" I asked.

"I'm still locked out," Bobby said, shaking his head. "The system won't take any input from the console. I can't even see what our heading or velocity is. When she took that governor thing with her, half of the readouts that had been working shut down. We're flying completely blind now. The only thing I can read is the ETA timer. According to it we've got a little over a hundred and twenty-three hours flight time to go."

I reached around Bobby and tried a few of the controls myself with the same results.

"Go down to Barney's shop and get Ian," I said. "While our guest is off the bridge let's see if we can figure out just what she did to us." It still didn't seem possible for someone to gain such total control of our ship using a device no larger than a palmpad. Ian knew the systems on this ship better than anyone alive. If anyone could find a way to reverse whatever she had done it would be him.

As Bobby left the bridge I looked over at Chris who was still sitting in the command chair.

"Keep an eye on things," I told him. "I'm going to talk to Doc."

Chris gave me a wry smile and poked at the station's darkened command board. "I'll do what I can."

I left the bridge and headed to the infirmary. The door was locked when I arrived and I quickly typed in the access code. As long as our guest was aboard all sensitive areas would be secured to keep her from stumbling across anything we didn't want her to see.

"Doc?" I called as I stepped into the main ward and the hatch slid closed behind me.

"I'll be out in a moment, Captain," Doc's voice called from his office.

While I waited I slowly paced across the empty compartment. Three vacant bio beds projected from the bulkhead to my right directly across from the inactive monitoring station on my left. Immediately past the patient monitoring console was the surgery niche with its operating table and overhead surgical suite. And tucked into the opposite corner just past the last bio bed was the neural assayer. All in all it was a compact space but one stocked with all of the equipment necessary to conduct virtually any procedure that could be performed in a full hospital. I wandered over to the operating niche and ran my hand absently across the padded table. It was right here, not too many days ago, that I had undergone my transformation from Jason Raynor, reigning monarch of the most powerful star kingdom in the galaxy, to the smuggler captain, Cordass Pell. So far that was the most extensive use the surgical bay had been put to on this trip. I'd like to keep it that way.

"Jason," Doc's voice called from behind me. "What can I do for you?"

I turned and found Doc Jacobs standing in the doorway to his office.

"Our guest claims she has a migraine," I said.

"And you think she's faking it for some reason," he said. It wasn't a question.

I shrugged. "You tell me. From the way she looks she seems to be pretty sick, but Morgana's got her back up about her."

Doc reached for his portable med-kit on the edge of the monitoring console. "Then I guess I should go have a look at her."

I accompanied him up to A deck. On the way I spoke to him about the effect Angela seemed to be having on the crew. Doc didn't think it was anything more than infatuation with a pretty new face but said he would keep an eye out for anything unusual. I left him at her cabin door and returned to the bridge. When I got there I found Ian on his back underneath the helm console as he tried to trace the problem.

"What's the verdict?" I asked.

"I've run a full diagnostic on every one of these circuits. There's nothing wrong with any of them," Ian answered, sounding exasperated. "Whatever that device of hers did is beyond me." He turned off his scanner, snapped the access panel back into place and sat up.

"So it looks like our young passenger is going to stay in control of our ship until she decides to release us," I said. I reached up and massaged the bridge of my nose as a wave of fatigue washed over me. My lack of sleep over the past few days was beginning to catch up with me.

"If you don't need me anymore I'll be getting back down to the shop," Ian said as he stood up. "We've pulled one of the torpedoes to start on the modifications we talked about. We're hoping to have it ready in a few hours."

"That's something," I said. "Keep me advised on your progress."

After Ian left the bridge I glanced around the incapacitated control center of my ship. Although all of the bridge systems were inactive I still had each post manned. Access panels were open on each console and portable scanners were being used to run diagnostics on every circuit. In spite of all our efforts however the consoles continued to remain dark. After completing a frustrating circuit around the bridge I returned to the command chair and instructed Chris to let me know if they had success regaining control of any of the ship's functions. Then I left for my cabin to get some much needed rest.

At the moment there was nothing more for me to do. In spite of the fact that we'd uncovered a significant amount of intelligence on the pirates and their operations, until we could find a way to track the movements of their ships we weren't any closer to actually being able to stop them. I just hoped that our plan to learn the coordinates of their secret base worked. If we could get that information back to Admiral Magus, he could send the Fleet in to mop up. I hoped that once their center of operations was gone the individual pirate ships would become less of a problem.

By the time I reached my cabin I was so tired that I didn't even bother to turn on the lights. I made my way directly to my bunk, pulled off my boots and stretched out on top of the covers. I was asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.
Chapter Fourteen

"What do you mean she's missing?" I asked groggily as I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. It seemed like I had only laid down a moment ago, although the clock showed that I had been asleep for nearly three hours.

"Just that," Morgana said. "I stopped by her cabin to check on her and she wasn't there. I've got people searching the ship for her now. It shouldn't take us too long to find her. There are only so many places she could be."

I swung my legs over the side of the bunk and fumbled for my boots. "But how could she get out of her cabin? I thought she was locked in."

"She was, but the door was unlocked when I got there," Morgana said, sounding frustrated. "And before you ask, there were no signs of it being forced. So, either someone let her out or she has a way to override our locks."

She paused and seemed to be listening to something. That was when I noticed the comm-link earpiece she was wearing.

A moment later she tapped her earpiece. "Keep her there. We're on our way." She cut the connection and looked back at me. "They just found her outside the infirmary."

I finished pulling on my second boot and stood up. Morgana held out a comm-link to me and I immediately put it on.

"How long was she out by herself?" I asked as we headed for the door.

"We don't know exactly, but when I checked her cabin an hour earlier and the door was secure."

One hour. Damn. She could have been all over the ship in that much time.

We hurried down to B deck. Angela was backed up against the bulkhead next to the infirmary door under the watchful eye of our tactical team leader, Clive Mayweather. Although he was armed, his pistol was holstered as he stood watch over her. From his expression he seemed to be struggling with himself to maintain a professional detachment as he stared at our wayward guest. Standing off to one side was Doc Jacobs. Unlike Clive, Doc seemed deep in thought as he stood watching the two of them.

"Oh, there you are, Captain," Angela said, turning toward me as we approached. "For some reason your crewman seems to think I'm up to something." She paused and pressed a hand to the side of her head. "Like I tried to explain to him, all I want is something for my headache. The doctor's first treatment is wearing off." Just like the last time I had seen her, her complexion was pale and waxy. She really did seem to be sick.

"How did you get out of your cabin?" Morgana asked.

Angela seemed puzzled by the question. "I opened the door. There was no one around so I just came here. I know you said your infirmary wasn't in working order, Captain, but I hoped I would find the doctor nearby." She narrowed her eyes at Morgana. "Or aren't people allowed to get sick on your ship?"

"Your cabin was locked," Morgana said, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Well, it opened for me with no trouble," Angela insisted. The two of them stood glaring at each other for several moments.

"You say you came directly here after you left your cabin," I said, interrupting their standoff.

As Angela turned to look at me I was suddenly struck by how beautiful her eyes were.

"I wasn't sure where the infirmary was exactly," she said, "so I spent a few minutes looking for it, but yes, I came here more or less directly. Why? You do believe me, don't you, Captain?" As she looked at me I felt myself being drawn into the depths of those eyes. At that moment I found it hard to believe that she was being anything but completely truthful with me. In fact I found it difficult to focus on anything except—

"Captain!" Morgana's voice pulled me back to the moment. "I said, what do you want to do with her?"

It took me a beat to organize my thinking.

"Right. Um, take her back to her cabin and I'll have Doc bring her something."

Morgana took Angela firmly by the elbow and led her away. I followed them with my eyes as they walked away, enjoying the sensual sway of two sets of very attractive hips.

"How are you feeling, Jason?" I heard Doc ask me once the women were out of sight.

"Great!" I said. That was an odd thing for Doc to ask me. Then I realized that I did feel surprisingly good. Those three hours of sleep must have been just what I needed. I turned to Doc and found him looking me as if I were a specimen under a microscope.

"What?" I asked.

Doc looked from me to Clive then folded his arms in concentration.

"I'm not sure," he said.

"By the way, what are you doing up at this hour?" I asked.

"I was working in my lab when I heard someone knocking on the infirmary door," Doc said. "When I answered it I found our passenger standing there."

"So she did get a look at the infirmary after all," I said out loud. That realization hit me like a dash of cold water in the face. Suddenly my thinking wasn't so fuzzy.

"I don't think so," Doc said. "I turned off all the lights before I opened the door and none of the equipment was running. At best all she saw was the inside of a darkened compartment for a few seconds before I stepped into the passage. That was just before Mr. Mayweather here arrived on the scene." Doc turned and looked at Clive.

"And how are you feeling?" Doc asked him.

"Just fine, Doctor," Clive answered somewhat dreamily. He was staring off in the direction the women had disappeared in. After a moment he shook his head and seemed to pull himself together.

"Um, that is, if you will excuse me, Sir, I'd like to get back to my men. We're still working on that armor we took from the pirates."

I was having Clive's people rehab the suits we had captured in the hope that we could use them. I wasn't sure what we could do with them, but something was telling me that having a few of their suits of battle armor in working order could come in handy. So far they had found that two of the suits were beyond repair. The one that had been subjected to near absolute zero temperatures was a total loss as was one of the suits we had blasted with the EM pulse. The remaining four seemed salvageable. Unlike normal environment suits however, which were flexible and would fit people within a range of sizes, battle armor was composed of rigid segments and had to be adjusted to fit each person individually. Three were being adjusted for Clive and his team with the fourth being kept in reserve.

"How is that going?" I asked.

"They're older model suits than we're used to, but the four that we're working on are in good condition apart from some minor repairs we had to make. We're also adding a few upgrades while we're at it. After that we'll only need to refill the air tanks and swap out the battery packs and they'll be good to go."

"Excellent. I don't know if we're even going to need them but I'd like them ready by the time we get to wherever we're going, just in case."

"They will be, Sir," Clive assured me before turning and walking off.

Once he was gone I turned back to Doc who still seemed to be lost in thought. "Okay, Doc, so what's got you up in the middle of the night?"

"I'm still going over the test results on our passenger. I found something that—"

At that moment Morgana called me on my earpiece.

"Just a second," I tapped my comm-link. "Go ahead."

"I wanted to let you know that I'm posting a guard on our little guest's door," Morgana said. "She won't be taking any more unescorted jaunts in the middle of the night."

For a moment I was torn. Angela seemed like nothing more than a harmless victim of the pirates herself. It seemed pointless to have someone assigned to keep an eye on her around the clock. Then I decided that until we knew more about her, having a guard on her wouldn't hurt anything. Besides, I knew I'd get an argument from Morgana if I didn't let her post a guard.

"If you think it's necessary I don't have any objections," I said.

"I do," was her terse reply before she cut the connection.

I turned back to Doc.

"You were telling me that you found something wrong with Angela's tests," I said.

"Not wrong actually," he said

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"I'm not sure," Doc said, frowning.

"You're not really giving me a lot to go on here, Doc. Why don't you start with something simple. For example, I assume you could confirm that she is a woman at least."

"Oh, she is very much that alright."

"Okay, so does she actually have a migraine?"

"According to my scans, yes. Migraines aren't something I can test for directly, but she displays all of the classic physiological symptoms."

"So then what's wrong?"

"I don't know." Doc was sounding frustrated. "Everything about her tests seems perfectly normal, but there's still something different about her that I can't put my finger on."

"Well, when you figure out what it is let me know. In the meantime why don't you go see what you can do about her headache. She was looking pretty sick a minute ago."

Looking slightly befuddled, Doc started off. One thing I had learned about Doc was that he was persistent. Like a terrier working at a bone, he would keep at a problem until he had it solved. Whatever was bothering him, I was sure he would figure it out eventually.

Since I was awake now, I decided to go back to my cabin and work on a couple of ideas I had come up with for when we arrived at the pirate base. We would reach their stronghold in just over five days and I wanted to have some type of plan in place by then.

* * *

An unfamiliar scene appeared on the main bridge screen when the ship dropped back to normal space. We had traveled so deep within the galaxy that the core appeared like an immense, glowing whirlpool before us. The stunning vista stretched across the entire screen, completely filling it. For a while we were all struck speechless as we stared at the incredible magnificence of the scene facing us. The only thing marring the beauty of that scene was a hazy blob directly ahead.

Angela had taken over the helm post again, leaving Bobby to stand impotently to one side and watch. She looked across the board briefly, then reached for the governor which she had repositioned in the upper right corner of the console. She made a quick adjustment and sections of the helm that had been inactive for the past several days glowed to life.

"Sensors are back on-line, Captain," Morgana reported a moment later. I glanced in her direction and saw that parts of her board had come back up as well. She reached for the console experimentally but found that her controls were still nonfunctional. "But I'm still locked out of the system," she reported as she cast a nasty look in Angela's direction.

Angela ignored her and tapped the throttle icon, engaging the engines and starting us forward. On the screen the blob began to grow. I watched as the unknown object continued to expand before us, growing steadily to fill more and more of the main screen. For some reason it reminded me of a storm cloud forming on the horizon—dark and ominous.

Morgana looked down at her board as one of the displays caught her attention. "We're headed toward a dense concentration of objects," she said. She studied the monitor briefly then looked back at the main screen as surprise registered on her features. "It looks like an asteroid field."

Leaning forward in my chair I focused on the image on the main screen. As I watched the hazy cloud it slowly resolved into a group of individual shapes that I could now recognize as a huge field of asteroids. Angela said nothing and continued us on a course that took us directly toward the field. Soon it had expanded to the point where it was occupying the entire display. I had never seen a field this large.

Morgana stood up and took a step toward the helm. "Captain..."

I motioned her back as I got to my feet and moved to stand next to Angela's chair.

"I assume you noticed all those big rocks in our way," I said.

"Yes, Captain," Angela answered. "I know what I'm doing."

She touched the governor again and Mark jumped as a section of his board became active.

"Navigational shields just went up," Mark said. Navigational shields were powerful force fields that swept the area ahead of the ship to ensure that any small debris was pushed aside. Even something as tiny as a grain of sand could spell disaster if a ship struck it at high speed. The navigational shields prevented such collisions, but there was a limit to the size of the objects they could handle. Most of the asteroids in the field ahead were far too massive to be shunted aside by our shields. Anything that large we would have to steer around manually.

I realized then where she was taking us and had to admit that I was impressed by the pirate's ingenuity. No one ever went _into_ an asteroid field.

Angela studied the field briefly, then altered our course to head toward three large asteroids on the perimeter of the field which formed a surprisingly regular triangle. As we came around the huge rocks I could see that they were held together by three metal bars. The bars had been painted black and were all but invisible until we were almost on top of them. As Angela lined the ship up with the opening between the asteroids I could see that, when viewed from this angle, there was a fairly unobstructed corridor into the field. The asteroids were a navigational marker.

As we approached the trio of asteroids I began to notice little, intermittent flashes ahead as the shields began to repel tiny fragments of rock. As we drew closer to the field the flashes increased in frequency until there was a constant fireworks show going on around us. Soon we were passing between the marker asteroids and heading into the field. For the next several minutes Angela kept her concentration focused on the panel in front of her as she guided us deeper and deeper into the field. Everyone watched anxiously as we wove our way among the slowly tumbling boulders. Even at the dead slow speed we were maintaining, one wrong move could damage or even cripple the ship. She proved to be a competent pilot however and kept us at a safe distance from the larger bodies while our shields pushed aside the smaller debris.

As we moved deeper into the field I noticed that the asteroids were growing in size. After a while we found ourselves skirting around huge floating mountains, many of which were several kilometers across. The bridge was silent as Angela continued to pilot us through the hazardous environment, displaying a skill that rivaled Bobby's piloting abilities. Finally, as we nosed our way around a large, potato shaped asteroid, one that was several times larger than anything we had seen so far came into view. Once it was in sight Angela put us on a direct heading for it.

"Chris, go down to Ian and tell him to check the environmental system," I said as I sniffed at the air. "I'm catching a whiff of something unpleasant. I don't want another batch of sick lichen fouling the air purifiers."

Chris stared at me for a moment before he nodded and left the bridge.

Andrea was studying the immense asteroid closely as she slowed the ship and began circling it. Eventually a deep depression came into view and she steered us toward it. I could just make out what appeared to be a large crater hidden in the shadowy center of the depression. From our trajectory it soon became obvious that she was going to take us directly into it, confirming my suspicion.

"Captain Pell," Angela said suddenly, "I'm getting a warning light on an exterior hatch."

"Let me guess, starboard cargo bay three? You can ignore it." The warning light meant that Chris had delivered my message. Ian and Barney were getting ready to launch the modified torpedo.

"Another glitch, Captain?" she asked.

I shrugged. "We've got a few systems that need a little tweaking."

Angela gave me a probing look for a moment then turned her attention back to the controls. Soon she was slowing us to a halt as she lined us up with the crater opening. From our position I could see that the crater was actually the entrance to a deep tunnel. As she went about preparing to pilot us into the asteroid I wondered briefly about the modified torpedo my people were preparing to launch. We hadn't anticipated being in the middle of an asteroid field when we came up with our plan. All of this floating rubble was going to make it difficult for the sensor suite to take accurate star sightings. And, assuming that it was able to complete its survey and calculate our position, our makeshift drone still had to find its way safely out of the field so that it could send a clear transmission back to Fleet headquarters. While its on-board guidance unit should be up to the task, assuming that it didn't have to avoid too many asteroids at the same time, I wasn't sure if the torpedo carried enough fuel to get completely clear of the field. What had seemed like a straight forward plan at first now seemed like a long shot. But we had no alternative so I decided to trust the fates.

"Captain!" Mark called as he gawked at a new reading that had popped up on his board. "I think you should take a look at this!"

I stepped over to his station and saw that someone had acquired a targeting lock on us from inside the crater. What had drawn Mark's attention however wasn't the targeting scan itself but the power signature of the weapon source. There seemed to be only two guns tracking us, but the power fields they were emitting made the guns we had encountered on Toula seem like toys in comparison.

"As you can see, Captain, they're quite capable of defending themselves," Angela said as she reached for the governor once more. This time the comm system came on-line. "This is Angela piloting the _Prometheus_. Stand by to receive my clearance code." She tapped at the governor briefly then sat back and waited.

Several moments later a voice answered from the bridge speaker. "Clearance code confirmed. Defense systems are standing down."

Angela closed the comm system and started us forward again. The crater ballooned before us and quickly grew to fill the entire screen. Soon we were being swallowed by the immense opening.

As we entered the tunnel, Angela switched on the ship's search lights. In the wash of the lights we could see a pair of enormous guns that were slowly retracting toward recesses on either side. Each of the cannons was longer than our ship. Unless we could come up with a way to neutralize them, the Fleet would be walking into a trap when it tried to attack the pirate base.

As we progressed deeper into the tunnel the darkness became all consuming in spite of our search lights. Navigational sensors showed a confusion of twisting and branching passages ahead. We were flying into a labyrinth. Now I understood what Angela had meant by the channel being too tricky to navigate. Although navigating through the asteroid field was dangerous it could be managed by a skillful pilot. But trying to find your way through the twisting confines of this tunnel would be impossible if you didn't know where you were going. I watched as time and again she not only chose the correct branching passage, but negotiated hairpin turns and avoided unexpected rock outcroppings which were hidden around blind corners. Only someone who was intimately familiar with these tunnels would be able to find their way safely.

We had been corkscrewing through the twisting tunnels for some time when I began to notice a dim glow ahead. By then I estimated that we had penetrated several kilometers deep into the body of the asteroid. The light grew steadily until I could see that it was coming from a side tunnel just ahead. Soon we were negotiating that final turn to where the passage opened into an immense chamber. We were entering an underground installation.

I couldn't tell the actual size of the chamber, but it was easily several kilometers across. Habitat modules and other structures projected inward from all sides. A large part of the chamber was taken up by docking slips, many of which were occupied. Those ships that were here appeared to be completely powered down, as if they were being warehoused. I was stunned when I realized that there was enough room here for a fair sized fleet. Off our starboard bow I could see numerous heavy duty machines at work in an area where nothing had yet been built. At this distance they looked like a swarm of insects greedily chewing at the rocky walls. That was when I realized what the mining equipment we were carrying was for. The pirates were excavating further into the asteroid to expand their base.

As soon as we were clear of the tunnel Angela turned us to port, angling us toward a dense cluster of habitat modules. She continued to keep our speed down since there were numerous smaller craft crisscrossing the area. At one point we passed two of the occupied docking berths. A pair of ships was moored there and I was surprised when I recognized them as missile cruisers. Although we weren't able to scan their engine signatures, there was no doubt that these were the same missile cruisers that had gone missing from the Gnosis scrap yard six months ago. Unlike other ships that had been stolen by the pirates, these ships still bore the names and registry markings that identified them as Gilead Fleet vessels. As we passed the docks I could see that the cargo hatch was open on one of the ships. Above it I watched as a loading arm swung into position and begin lowering a cradle of missiles into the ship. Even at this distance I could tell that they were rapiers.

A supply tug crossed in front of us a moment later, cutting off my view. I went back to my command chair and dropped into the seat as I thought about the implications of what I had just seen. The pirates were on a war footing. But who they were preparing to go to war with remained a mystery.

A few moments later Angela slowed us and began angling toward a cluster of habitat modules. As she brought us in close and cut our forward momentum, a mooring claw reached out and attached itself to our hull. We wouldn't be going anywhere until they released us. She switched the main screen to a port side view and we watched as a docking sleeve extended toward the ship. Moments later it sealed itself against the gangway hatch.

Once we were docked Angela shut down our systems and removed the governor from the helm console.

"The Commandant is going to be waiting for us," she said as she stood up.

As I got up from my seat Chris was just returning to the bridge. "Captain, Ian wanted me to tell you that he checked over the air system and everything's fine." In other words the drone launch had gone according to plan.

"Excellent," I said. "Oh, after we're gone let him know that he can get started on that maintenance job he's been wanting to do. I have a feeling we're going to be here for a little while."

I turned and followed Angela from the bridge as Morgana fell into step beside us. When we reached the gangway hatch Doc was waiting for us.

"All set?" I asked him.

"We're good to go," he said as he patted the portable medkit hanging at his side.

Angela gave me a puzzled look.

"Doc's still a little worried about your headaches," I said. "He wanted to go with us to be sure that you were okay."

"I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but I'm fine," Angela said as she reached out and placed her hand on his. "My head hasn't bothered me since your last treatment."

Doc smiled at her in a fatherly manner and casually removed her hand. "It's no problem, dear. I was a little concerned by the fact that the first treatment didn't do the trick. I just want to be sure I'm around if you have another relapse."

She looked from Doc to me then shrugged. "As you like, Doctor, although I assure you I'm fine."

Just then a green light lit on the control panel beside the gangway entrance. Morgana touched the hatch control and the doors hissed open.

The pirates had sent someone to meet us. As I looked up at the imposing figure waiting just inside the docking sleeve my breath caught in my throat. Standing on the other side of the gangway hatch was the giant!
Chapter Fifteen

"You're late," the giant growled.

Angela seemed to shrink under his gaze. "We made the best time we could. Their ship couldn't go any faster."

"Hmm," he grunted as he glanced toward Morgana and me. Then he looked at Doc and his eyes narrowed.

"What's that?" he rumbled menacingly.

Doc followed his gaze to the bag hanging at his side. "It's my medkit. I'm a doctor."

The giant extended one hand toward him, palm up, and waited. Doc slipped the bag's carry strap off his shoulder and handed it over. The big man opened the kit and rummaged through its contents. Once he was satisfied that Doc wasn't carrying any weapons he thrust it back at him.

"He's waiting," the giant said.

He turned and started off down the boarding tunnel, forcing us to keep up with him. The tunnel ended at a standard airlock. Both hatches were open and we walked directly through the lock. Spaced around the edge of the inner hatch was a series of red pulsing lights, like some type of hazard indicators. The giant paid them no mind and we followed directly behind him into the habitat. When we stepped through the inner hatch I noticed the same ring of lights outlining the other side of the doorway as well. The corridor we found ourselves in was wide and brightly lit. It stretched for about fifty meters in both directions, with each end terminating in a pressure hatch. A number of people were moving through the hallway, but they barely gave us a glance as they went about their various errands. It was like being in any habitat module or space station, until I noticed that most of the people who passed us were wearing obedience collars. The poor devils shuffled through the passageway with their eyes downcast, surrounded by an air of depressed resignation. When I noticed how each of them was careful to give a wide berth to the airlock doorway I understood the purpose for the lights. The agonizing, electrical fire an obedience collar could send screaming along your nerves was something anyone would want to avoid.

Anger welled up inside me and it took every bit of my self control to keep from revealing my feelings. Having lived with one of those evil devices around my neck for a year I knew exactly what they were feeling. But if I wanted to learn what was behind the pirate Brotherhood I had to remain in character. I stole a quick glance at Morgana and Doc and saw from their hard expressions that they were feeling the same things I was.

The giant turned right and led us through a series of connecting corridors for the next few minutes. Although the installation was far from crowded, there seemed to be a fairly large number of people here. At one point we were forced to step aside as a small group of men in battle armor marched past. Even the giant was careful to give them space. Eventually we arrived at a pair of massive security doors. Two guards were posted outside the doorway, each armed with a military assault rifle. At the giant's direction one of them pressed the door control and the big doors slowly slid apart.

We followed him through the open doors into a spacious office. The far wall of the room was dominated by a wide viewport that provided a sweeping view of the cavern. Positioned on a raised platform in front of the viewport was a large desk, its surface littered with scattered piles of flatpads. And standing on the far side of the desk with his back to us was the commandant. The giant directed us into a line in front of the desk where we waited to be addressed. Although I couldn't see the commandant's features, I was surprised when I suddenly recognized the set of his shoulders and the familiar way he stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Impressive, isn't it," he said without turning around. I sensed Morgana stiffen beside me as she recognized his voice.

A moment later he turned toward us. It was my uncle, Duke Sebastian.

A smug little smile played at the corners of his mouth as he faced us. Although it had only been half a year since I had last seen him he seemed much older than I remembered. Worry lines creased his face while purple smudges darkened the skin beneath his eyes. His complexion had a grayish pallor to it while his hair had gone almost completely white. His once impressive physique seemed to have shrunk in on itself. It was his eyes that surprised me the most however. They looked haunted. Whatever demons he was fighting were taking a toll on him. He was wearing a white uniform similar to the one he had been dressed in when he had me brought in for trial several months ago, right down to the saber at his side. But this one was embellished with even more gold braiding and ribbons than his old uniform.

After allowing us to study him briefly, Sebastian stepped around the desk and stopped directly in front of me. Because of the platform he was standing on I was forced to look up to meet his eyes. Surprise must have been showing on my face because he smiled broadly and drew himself up taller as he faced us.

"You're..." I began.

"The _rightful_ King of Gilead," Sebastian said as he examined me. "And you are the elusive Cordass Pell. I understand that you led Our people on quite a merry little chase around Toula not too long ago." He glanced at the giant who narrowed his eyes at me, and I could swear that I actually heard him growling.

"We have been wanting to meet you for some time now, Captain. If truth be told, you have become something of an enigma to Us. You first came to Our attention several months ago when we learned that you were transporting Gilead Fleet personnel aboard your ship. Hardly typical for an independent transport. Then it was reported that your ship had been destroyed in a freak explosion, which seemed to be confirmed by the fact that you were not seen or heard from for the next six months. Then, quite unexpectedly, you suddenly pop back up on Beta Antares. And when We dispatch some of Our people to summon you before Us, you manage to escape from their custody with almost ridiculous ease."

"That was you in the penthouse," I said, remembering the movement I had noticed in one of the side rooms when Morgana and I had made our mad dash for freedom.

"Indeed," Sebastian said. "As fortune should chance, We were conducting an inspection visit when word of your arrival reached Us."

Inspection?

"And now you go and deliver yourself right into Our hands," Sebastian said as he laughed and grabbed me by the shoulders. I stiffened involuntarily at his touch. "Relax, Captain, We've already learned what We wanted to know. Although it would have been easier if you had just let Our people ask you a few simple questions, anyone who could orchestrate the feat you and your crew did couldn't possibly be working for my dullard of a nephew."

I thought back to the arrangements they had made for us in the penthouse suite of the Moon Palace. Being strapped to a chair and subjected to whatever inducements the giant dreamed up to make us answer their questions did not fit my definition of 'easier'.

"I'm not sure I know what feat you're talking about," I said.

Sebastian adjusted his scabbard and perched himself on the edge of his desk. Gesturing at the profusion of flatpads scattered across the desktop, he said, "Come now, Captain, there's no need for modesty. We are kept quite well informed of everything worth knowing that takes place among the inhabited worlds. For example, We know all about your raid on the _Lucky Lady_ —the transport you intercepted on your way back to Toula. Although her owners might want to change her name now." He chuckled at his own joke. "We must say, We were impressed with that piece of work. Our own agents couldn't have done any better." Sebastian paused briefly, then wagged a scolding finger at me. "Of course, you must realize by now that the cargo aboard that ship was intended for Us."

"First come, first served," I said. "I hope we didn't inconvenience you."

Sebastian stared at me for several beats. I was beginning to wonder if I had pushed him too far when he threw his head back and laughed.

"Do you hear that, Leonard?" he said, addressing the giant. "This saucy fellow would banter with Us!"

Leonard?

I glanced at the giant from the corner of my eye. This time there was no mistaking it. He was definitely growling at me.

"I didn't say anything," I said, leaning away from him.

"Come now, Leonard," Sebastian said as he stood and walked back around his desk. "Captain Pell and his crew are guests." He searched briefly through the scattered flatpads before he found the one he wanted. "In fact, they may soon become new allies."

He pushed the pad across the desk toward me. As he lifted his hand away I noticed that it was trembling. Snatching his arm back quickly, he clasped his hands firmly behind his back again.

"We would like to offer you a rare opportunity, Captain, an arrangement that should prove profitable for both of us."

I leaned forward and picked up the pad. The first page of a lengthy document was displayed on the screen. At the top of the page in a bold, fanciful font was the document's title.

"Letter of Marque and Reprisal?" I read.

"Yes," Sebastian said. "A somewhat outdated concept that We have decided to resurrect for Our purposes. Such commissions authorize a private captain to act as an agent on behalf of the monarchy against the ships of enemy nations. Essentially, it is a license giving you the right to raid the ships of Our enemies and confiscate anything of value they may be carrying. We are extending this offer to you."

I was familiar with the concept of Letters of Marque, having studied them in school. Although the law was still on the books, Sebastian was correct in that it was an outdated concept. In fact, such contracts hadn't been needed since the very earliest days of Gilead's existence, since before the formation of the Fleet. The legal authority to issue a Letter of Marque and Reprisal came from the fact that the commission was being granted by the nation's sovereign. It also meant that the countries involved were at war. But Sebastian no longer sat on the Gilead throne and we were not at war with anyone—technical points that he was apparently willing to overlook.

"I don't understand," I said. "Exactly who is your enemy?"

" _Everyone!_ " he snapped. An intense light burned in his eyes as he glared at me. "When I was forced out of power by my idiot nephew, not one national leader spoke up on my behalf. Not one! Now they can reap the fruits of their indifference." He gestured toward the viewport behind him. "From the sanctuary of this protected fortress Our agents are even now reaching out to cripple the economies of Gilead and the other star nations. By disrupting interplanetary commerce We are wreaking havoc with the financial infrastructures of their countries. Soon, when they have been weakened enough, We will begin the next phase of Our plan." He lowered his arm and leaned on the table with both fists. "War. We shall ignite interstellar war on a scale that has never before been seen. And while We trick the fools into battling amongst themselves, We will sit within the security of Our citadel and laugh at them as they deliver ruin unto each other. In time, when they have wrought so much destruction that they are no longer able to defend themselves, We will assume control. We will regain the rightful inheritance which was stolen from Us and more." A wild gleam shone from his eyes as he lowered himself into the thickly padded chair behind his desk. Steepling his fingers he narrowed his eyes at me.

"We are offering you the opportunity to join Us, Captain. Join Us and become part of history. You will find that We can be quite generous with Our friends. Our enemies on the other hand..." Sebastian studied me expectantly.

The tension in the air was palpable. I knew that if I did not accept his offer we would not be allowed to leave this room alive.

"I would be honored to join you, Your Highness," I said, making a slight bow.

"As you should be," Sebastian replied as he relaxed back into his seat with a smile. "Not everyone is afforded the opportunity to participate in one of the greatest pivotal moments in history. In time all of human space will fall under Our dominion. You will be witness to the birth of the first galactic empire!" He paused then, and some of the passion seemed to run out of him. "But We forget Our manners. You must be tired after your long journey. We grant you leave to return to your ship while We order a celebration banquet to be prepared in honor of your joining Our ranks. Leonard will see you back to your ship. Someone will contact you when everything is prepared."

Looking down at his desk, Sebastian picked up one of the flatpads and began reading. It was a clear dismissal. We were just turning to leave when Angela spoke up.

"Commandant, I wonder if I could stay and talk to you for a moment."

Sebastian seemed startled by her voice, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. Looking in her direction he put on a broad smile that struck me as being forced.

"Of course, my dear," Sebastian said. "We always have time for you."

The giant ushered us out of the office at that point. Morgana, Doc and I followed him back through the base to where our ship was docked. When we arrived at the entrance to the airlock the giant looked at us and simply pointed into the boarding tunnel. We headed into the tunnel without question. As soon as we had cleared the second airlock door, the hatch closed behind us. I was not surprised to see that the controls on our side had been deactivated. With the airlock sealed and our ship secured by the mooring claw, we were prisoners for however long Sebastian wanted to hold us.

* * *

"You do realize he's insane," Morgana was saying.

"I know," I said. In spite of everything he had done, I still felt a pang of sympathy for my uncle. This was not the same man who used to ride me on his shoulders around the capitol grounds as a young child or who gave me my first instruction in the sword. Madness had twisted him into someone I barely recognized now.

"But more than just being insane," I said, "he's dangerous. And the most frightening part is that, as crazy as it is, his plan could actually work."

We were sitting at the meeting table in the bridge conference alcove. All of the department heads were present with the exception of Ian who was still working on the maintenance job he had started when we docked. I had just finished recounting what had happened during our meeting with Sebastian and was waiting for my people to give me their reactions.

"You really think this nutty plan of his has a chance?" Lucky asked. He was holding the flatpad Sebastian had given me, casually scrolling through the document on its screen. "It seems so far-fetched."

"I don't know about the whole galactic empire thing," I said, "but he's definitely causing some serious problems for international economies. Look at the effects the pirate raids have already been having. Prices for everything from food to utilities are at historic high levels. If things continue at this rate, economies everywhere are going to collapse. It's just a matter of time."

"So you think he's actually been able to sell this wild scheme of his to the pirates," Chris said.

"Actually, I don't think the pirates give a damn whether he ever becomes the first galactic emperor or not," I said. "I think they're in this for the money, plain and simple. As long as he is able to identify rich targets and continues to supply them with the technology to pull off their raids they'll keep doing his dirty work."

"Okay, that much I'll grant you," Mark said, "but interstellar war? Sneak attacks against unarmed civilian transports are one thing. But even with all of the ships and weapons they've stolen, if they try to launch a major offensive against any of the star nations they're going to get their clocks cleaned."

"Sebastian's not planning on sending his ships against anyone's fleet," Morgana said.

"You saw it, too," I said, catching her eye.

Chris looked from me to Morgana and back. "Am I missing something?"

I glanced around the table at the faces of my senior people. Apparently Morgana was the only one who had seen what I'd seen. I turned to Chris. "Did you happen to notice the pair of missile cruisers we passed on our way into the cavern?"

"Sure, but they're only two ships. You can't wage a war with just a pair of missile cruisers."

"Did you take a good look at their hulls?" I prompted.

Chris thought for a moment, then his expression fell as realization dawned. "They still had their Fleet markings."

"Exactly," I said. "All they have to do is let someone get a good look at the ships before they launch an attack—"

"And they'll think Gilead is behind the pirates!" Chris finished.

"Bingo. With tensions as high as they are, that's all the justification anyone will need to declare war against us."

"Excuse me, Sir," Clive interjected, "but even if one of the other nations did decide to go to war with us, Gilead has the largest and best equipped armed forces of any nation. They couldn't hope to win."

"I respect your loyalty, Colonel, but even Gilead would be hard pressed to defend itself if we were attacked by several fleets at once. What's to stop Sebastian from sending those missile cruisers out to attack ships from two, three, or more different nations? And don't forget, if word spreads that Gilead is the one responsible for the pirate attacks, every kingdom in the galaxy will want a piece of us. Things could end up getting very ugly, very quickly." It was suddenly quiet around the table as the implications sank in. "If Sebastian is allowed to go through with his plans, _billions_ of people are going to die."

"And when it's all over," Mark said, "he'll just step in and pick up the pieces. It's brilliant, sick, but brilliant."

"It seems like he's thought of everything," Chris commented.

"Maybe," I said. Something about all of these plans within plans was bothering me.

"Okay, I know that look," Lucky said. "You've got a bug up your butt about something. Spill it."

"One thing isn't making any sense," I said. "If it's always been Sebastian's plan to grab control of the other kingdoms, why were there attacks on Gilead ships for all those years? Even as far back as when Sebastian was regent, before he tried to have me assassinated, there were regular attacks happening against our ships."

"If I may, Sire, perhaps he was trying to throw off suspicion," Max offered. Although Max wasn't technically what I considered a department head, I welcomed his input. I had learned years ago that he had a keen ability to read people. He was also the only person at the table who had known Sebastian longer than I had myself. "It would have been very suspicious if every nation's shipping were being attacked except ours. If there is one thing I have observed about the Duke over the years, it is that he is very crafty. He is particularly fond of using misdirection to keep his opponents off balance."

"Maybe," I said as I thought about it, "but I'm still having a problem with the whole scenario. The raids on our ships have been causing serious problems with our economy for a number of years. Before I returned and had him removed from power, there was no need for Sebastian to want Gilead's economy weakened. In fact, for his plan to work, it would have been better for Gilead to maintain a strong economy to support military actions against the other kingdoms. Weakening our economic base would have been counterproductive."

"Well, we all agree that your uncle isn't the most stable individual," Lucky said.

"Sebastian may be insane," I said, "but there's still a kind of twisted genius to his plan. We know that his man, Smith, hands out the target assignments. He could easily have arranged for the pirates to raid ships that would only have minor repercussions on our economy. No, that's not it. We're missing something." In my mind I quickly ran through everything I knew about the pirates but couldn't resolve the conflict.

Eventually I looked over at Doc Jacobs who had been sitting quietly throughout the meeting staring at his portable medical scanner.

"What about you, Doc?" I said.

After a moment Doc switched off the scanner and looked up. "I'm not very good at political intrigue, but I can tell you that Duke Sebastian is a very sick man."

"I think we've already established that much, Doc," Lucky quipped.

"I'm not talking about his mental state. According to the scans I took of him, the Duke is suffering from some kind of degenerative neurological condition. In fact, if I had to make a guess, I'd say that his condition is terminal."

For a while I could only sit there as I tried to come to terms with this new revelation. After everything he had done, I was surprised by how strongly I reacted to negative news about my uncle's condition. Finally I asked, "What's wrong with him?"

Doc let out a long breath and said, "I won't know for sure until I finish analyzing the scan results. All I can tell you right now is that there's evidence of accumulated poison in his tissues, especially in his central nervous system. Based on my preliminary analysis I'd say that he's suffering from long term exposure to some kind of neurotoxin. Violent mood swings, uncontrollable tremors of the extremities, paranoia—these are all symptoms of advanced neurological deterioration."

"How long do you think he has?" I asked.

"Judging by the rate of cellular decay, I estimate two to three months."

Mark said, "So if we just wait, our problem will take care of itself in a few months."

"Unfortunately, I doubt it will be that simple," I said. "This pirate Brotherhood has grown into something pretty powerful, and more importantly, profitable. There's just too much money to be made for the pirates to simply close up shop. If Sebastian is dying, someone will step in to fill his shoes after he's gone. There might be some internal fighting before someone finally manages to claw his way to the top, but that spot wouldn't stay vacant long. They may not share Sebastian's ultimate goal but they'll keep on raiding the shipping lines until international economies collapse."

For a while everyone sat silently absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Hey, Doc," Lucky said suddenly, "why were you running a medical scan on the Duke in the first place?"

"I asked Doc to go with us and scan anyone we came into contact with," I explained. "It seems that Doc discovered something interesting about our passenger and I wanted him to see if he got similar readings from anyone else at their base."

"That little slip of a girl?" Lucky said. "What's so special about her, well, aside from the obvious?"

"Doc's the one who figured it out, so I'll let him tell it," I said.

Doc set his scanner down and clasped his hands together. "I noticed something odd when I ran a scan on the girl after she first complained about having a migraine. At first all the tests came back just the way you would expect. Migraines are caused by pressure fluctuations in the blood vessels of the head and those are the readings I was getting. To be on the safe side I also ran a general body scan to be sure I wasn't missing anything, but again everything came back normal. It wasn't until I got back to the lab and happened to glance at her genetic profile that I—"

"Excuse me, Sir." Jimmy Hunter had just entered the bridge. I had left him posted at the gangway hatch entrance in case Sebastian sent someone for me. "It's that girl who piloted the ship here. She's asking to come aboard again. She wants to talk to you."

"Speak of the devil," Lucky said.

"Go ahead and finish what you were telling them, Doc," I said as I stood up. "I'll see what she wants."

I followed Jimmy down to the gangway hatch where Angela was being guarded by the third member of the tactical team, Bruce Stone.

"I'll take it from here, Bruce," I said when I reached the hatch.

Angela looked up at me with a worried expression. Waves of anxiety seemed to radiate from her. "Is there someplace we can speak privately, Captain?"

"Let's go to my cabin," I said, gesturing her aboard. A short time later we were standing inside my quarters. Angela was wringing her hands nervously and looking around.

"May I sit down?" she asked.

I indicated a chair facing the room's desk. As she sat I walked to the other side of the desk and took a seat myself.

"What's got you so upset?" I asked.

She seemed to be searching for the right words for several moments before she finally spoke. "It's my father. The commandant just told me that my father has finished the plans for the rest of the base. As soon as they're done excavating far enough into the asteroid the workers are going to begin the final phase of construction." She paused and stared at me with large, soulful eyes. I sat quietly and waited for her to continue. When I didn't react, she added, "Don't you understand? The construction crews can finish the work now that the plans are complete. He doesn't need my father anymore."

I sat studying her for a moment. "You're worried that the commandant is going to have your father killed."

Angela broke out in tears. "Please, Captain Pell, I need your help," she said between sobs. "I don't know who else I can turn to."

I considered what she had told me. "Killing your father seems a little reckless to me," I said. "Wouldn't it make more sense for him to just lock him up somewhere in case he needs him again in the future?"

"You don't understand," she said. "He's... he's not sane. He did the same thing to the engineers who designed those giant cannons you saw at the entrance to the tunnel. Once they were finished designing the guns he had some of his men cycle them through an airlock without environment suits. He doesn't trust anyone who isn't a sworn member of the Brotherhood."

"What about all the others I saw around the base?" I asked. "All those people wearing obedience collars?"

"They're just slave labor. He brought them here to expand the base and do all of the work to keep everything running. This entire installation was built using forced workers. He's been having the pirate captains bring him the crews from the ships they hijack for years. There's got to be close to five hundred workers here. He says he'd got more than enough people to finish the work now. Once the base is completed he's going to eliminate most of them too. He gets rid of anyone he doesn't need anymore."

I studied her for several moments. "You're not wearing a collar," I observed.

An angry look clouded her features. "He doesn't need to collar me. He knows I'll do anything to keep my father safe. And I was his insurance to keep my father working."

"And what about you, now that your father is no longer useful to him?" I said.

"I... I suppose he'll have me killed as well," she said quietly.

I sat back in my chair and regarded her for a while. "Exactly what do you want me to do?"

She chewed her lip for a moment before answering. "Would you be willing to help me smuggle my father away from here?"

"You realize that I've just agreed to join the Brotherhood myself," I said. "All I have to do is tell the commandant about this little conversation and he'll probably blast you out of an airlock as well."

Angela hung her head as more tears flowed. "It doesn't matter," she said as a large tear splashed into her lap. "If I can't save my father I might as well be dead. He's all I have. You were my last hope." She sat sobbing quietly for a moment, then looked up at me and wiped her eyes. "I... I can pay you," she said softly.

"Where are you going to get money?"

"I don't have any money," she said, "but I can pay you in another way." She stood up and slowly began to undo the front of her clothing. After a moment I stood and walked around to her side of the desk. She looked shyly up at me as I reached out and placed my hands on top of hers. She lifted her chin, tilting her mouth up for me to kiss. Moving her hands aside, I started to refasten her clothes.

"You don't need to do that," I said.

"You don't want me?" she said, sounding surprised by my refusal.

"I've never been much for taking advantage of people," I said.

At that moment the cabin lights suddenly went out.

"What's happening?" Angela gasped as she threw herself against me in the darkness. A moment later, dim emergency lights glowed on around the base of the room's bulkheads.

"My engineer is taking care of a few maintenance issues," I said. "Excuse me." Taking her by the shoulders I moved her back a step then returned to my seat.

She looked around nervously for a moment then slowly lowered herself back into her seat as well.

"Assuming that I was willing to help you," I said, "how do you propose we pull this off? I have no idea where your father is being held, let alone how to sneak him out of there without anyone noticing."

Angela reached into the neck of her blouse and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. She unfolded it and pressed it flat on the desk.

"I drew this map for you." Leaning forward to better see in the low light, she pointed at different areas of the drawing. "We're here. My father is locked in a small compartment here, not far from the commandant's office. There's a guard posted in front of the door with a key card. All you have to do is get rid of the guard and we can use his card to free my father. It shouldn't be too hard to smuggle him aboard your ship after that. Once we have him on board I can pilot us out through the tunnel. I don't care where you take us after that, I just want to be away from here."

I took some time to study the map. From what little I had seen of the base, her drawing looked accurate. "What's this over here?" I asked, tapping a large, unmarked section.

"That's the slave barracks. The slaves are given six hours out of every twenty-four to rest. Whenever they're not working they're locked in there."

"And this?" I asked, pointing at an adjacent area.

"That's the dock entrance for the construction teams. Once they're suited up, the workers go out through this airlock and are shuttled to their work site for the day."

I continued to study the map for a while and noted several other areas that were blank as well. When I asked her about these she was only able to identify the galley. The rest she said were restricted sections of the base that she had never been in. Finally I sat back.

"What you're proposing is very risky," I told her. "There are a lot of things that could go wrong." I held her eyes for a while as I tried to judge what was going on in her mind. "I'm still not sure why you came to me with this. There's no reason for me to stick my neck out for you."

"I don't know, really," she said. "I suppose it's because you seem different from the other captains. I just have this feeling that you're the kind of man who'll do the right thing." After watching me for a moment she stood up, shoulders drooping. "I should be going. The commandant doesn't know that I'm here."

I stood as well. "I'll see you off the ship."

As I stepped up beside her she took my hand in both of hers. "I'm putting our lives in your hands, Captain. Please help us."

I pulled my hand out of hers after a moment and gestured toward the cabin door. "I'll let you know what I decide." I escorted her out of my cabin and off the ship as my mind whirled with possibilities.
Chapter Sixteen

Starboard cargo bay three was the smallest of the auxiliary cargo compartments on the ship. It had earned that distinction ever since its twin on the port side had been converted into Barney's lab. Although small for a cargo bay, the compartment was large enough for us to use as a staging site for covert activities. Our makeshift drone had been launched from this same compartment just before we entered the pirate's asteroid base. What made the compartment so useful was the fact that it had its own exterior hatch. Although designed to allow bulky cargo or equipment to be loaded without depressurizing the main hold, we would be using the bay to launch a clandestine mission into the heart of the pirate stronghold.

As Barney finished giving some last minute instructions to the team I was sending, I stood to one side and tried to stay out of the way. In the center of the compartment were two of Barney's latest creations, which he was calling stealth scooters. He was squatting next to one of the scooters as he pointed out different features of the machine to the team. The drone he had built with Ian and Mark had actually given him the inspiration for these latest inventions. Like the drone, the scooters were built from what used to be two of our torpedoes. After removing the warheads he had attached a pair of seats and a set of manual controls to each one. This would allow the person in the front seat to steer the scooter while the stealth emitter kept the riders hidden from enemy scans. They were clumsy looking machines, but they would get the job done. We were going to use the scooters to send the tactical team back through the tunnels to sabotage the guns. It was a big risk considering that we had no idea what the internal layout of the control bunker was, but it was the only chance I saw for us to put the guns out of commission.

"Should be just like riding my hovercycle back home," Bobby said as he straightened up from his inspection of the scooter controls. He paused and raised his arms as Jimmy made some adjustments to the sides of his armor so it would fit his torso better. Bobby, along with each of the tactical team members, was wearing one of the rehabbed battle armor suits we had taken from the pirates. The suit Bobby was wearing was a little small for him, but by opening the plates to their maximum settings it had been made serviceable. Gaps between the armor plating would be more pronounced if he made any extreme movements, but they weren't planning to engage in any battles. The suits were mainly to disguise them so they could move freely through the command bunker without being challenged. Only the helmets needed to be attached in order to seal the suits for their trip through the vacuum outside of the ship. Jimmy finished his adjustments a moment later and Bobby rotated his arms experimentally.

"That's a lot better. Thanks," Bobby said.

Barney looked at me and nodded. "That's everything."

I stepped forward and looked into the faces of the four men I was sending into danger. Although Bruce had not been on the bridge to see the guns when we first entered the pirate base, from my description of the weapons, our demolitions expert was confident that he could put them out of commission even though we had a limited supply of explosive aboard.

"We need those guns taken out," I said. "But don't take any unnecessary risks. Even if the drone made it safely out of the asteroid field and has already transmitted its message, it will still take at least a week for the Fleet to send anyone way out here. If you can't figure out a way to disable the guns, back off and we'll try again later. I can always come up with some excuse about needing to make repairs before we can put out to space again. That should buy us a day or two."

"Piece of cake," Bobby said, smiling.

Of the four of them, Bobby was the only one who was openly excited about the mission. He was also the one I was the most worried about. Clive and the others were combat veterans who I knew could handle themselves, but Bobby was no soldier. He was one of the best intuitive pilots I had ever seen, but his natural environment was shooting curls on a surf board, not conducting covert sabotage missions. The only reason I was sending him was because he was the only one who could find his way back through the maze of tunnels. Bobby had an extraordinary sense of direction and could always find his way even if he had only been to someplace once. Although Angela had done the actual piloting of the _Prometheus_ into the asteroid, Bobby had been standing beside the helm watching everything she did. He assured me that he could find his way back without a problem.

I wished them luck then Barney and I exited the bay. We watched from the passageway as the four of them picked up their helmets and drew them on over their heads. Following standard safety protocol, each person had another team member review the status indicators on the chest of their suit as a final check. I was glad to see that Clive and the others were looking out for Bobby. I knew they would do everything in their power to get him back in one piece. In a few moments each of them had gotten an OK from one of the others. With their suits secure, they each stepped up to their scooters and brought a leg over the machines to settle themselves into place. Bobby and Clive would lead the way on one scooter while Bruce and Jimmy brought up the rear.

As they switched on their scooters I pressed the hatch control and closed the door, sealing the bay. I watched the small monitor panel beside the door as powerful pumps evacuated the atmosphere from the compartment. As soon as a vacuum had been established I extinguished the lights in the bay and opened the outer hatch.

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I thought about what they were about to attempt. Not only were four of my people placing themselves in peril but the lives of every crewmember in the Fleet battle group that would be dispatched here hung in the balance as well. When I took a longer view, I realized that the future of every inhabited planet in the galaxy also stood to be affected by what happened here.

Nothing like a little pressure to keep things interesting.

* * *

Bobby watched the interior hatch close, sealing them off from the rest of the ship, then settled himself on his scooter and powered it up. As the air was evacuated from the compartment, he ran through a last check of the controls. Barney had made the controls as simple as possible. All Bobby had to worry about was finding his way back through that labyrinth of pitch black tunnels.

Although the compartment they were in was the smallest of all the storage bays, it still took some time for the atmosphere to be completely evacuated. Once all of the air had been removed from the bay the lights went out. A moment later, the outer hatch began to open. A bar of light painted itself across the back wall of the compartment as the door slid aside until the four of them were spotlighted in the pale glow coming from outside. Booby glanced up at the indicator panel above the hatch, waited until the artificial gravity monitor glowed red, then fired a short burst from the scooter's thrusters. They rose smoothly off the floor of the bay and headed out.

Since the cargo bay was on the ship's starboard side they had the bulk of the ship between them and anyone who might be watching from a nearby viewport. Bobby headed them directly away from the ship to keep the _Prometheus_ behind them as a shield for as long as possible. Following close behind them Bruce and Jimmy matched their trajectory.

Only when the ship had dwindled to a small fraction of its normal size did Bobby turn them toward the tunnel entrance. Now that they were far out into the middle of the cavern he increased their velocity, accelerating them toward the tunnel entrance, although he kept their speed well below the maximum acceleration the torpedo engine could produce. Even though they were shielded from sensor scans someone might notice the engine trails of two small objects racing across the middle of the cavern and he did not want to draw attention to their presence. Once they had reached what Bobby felt was a reasonable speed he cut their thrust to allow them to coast the rest of the way.

At the rate they were traveling it would be a few minutes before they reached the mouth of the tunnel. Although he had spent several years in space as the pilot of the _Prometheus_ , Bobby had little experience using an environment suit, and no experience at all with armor. He felt strangely isolated within the confines of his artificial enclosure and found his senses playing tricks on him. In particular, although he knew they were moving through vacuum, his mind kept insisting that he should be hearing the rush of the wind or at least feel the pressure of it blowing against him. The only thing he heard however was the rasp of his own breathing within his helmet, an oddly hollow sound that lent a surreal feeling to the experience. Because they wanted to avoid detection they had to maintain radio silence so they couldn't even talk to each other. For a time he just watched the mouth of the tunnel as it slowly grew before them. Now that they were outside of the ship, the opening seemed many times larger than it had before. The black entrance appeared foreboding as it loomed larger and larger ahead of them. As he stared into that gigantic opening a shiver raced up his spine. He suddenly felt very vulnerable out in the open like they were.

After a while he twisted around, eventually managing to turn himself enough so that he could see Clive sitting directly behind him. The tactical team leader seemed to be perfectly relaxed as he sat astride their makeshift transportation, although he realized that it was hard to tell much through the rigid suit. Slightly above and off to their right he could see Bruce and Jimmy paralleling their course.

Clive gestured to him. At first Bobby didn't understand what he wanted. Then he realized that Clive was motioning for him to lean toward him. Shifting in his saddle, Bobby leaned back while Clive leaned toward him until their helmets were touching.

" _Something wrong?"_ Clive asked.

Bobby was surprised that he could hear him. Then he realized that the sound vibrations were being transmitted through the connected helmets.

"Just feeling a little spooked," Bobby admitted. "We're so exposed out here."

" _You'll get used to it. If you haven't peed your suit by now you won't. To tell you the truth, I'm impressed by how well you're handling it. A lot of people have real trouble their first time doing EVA. Try to keep your attention focused on a fixed point. That usually helps."_

"Thanks." He wanted to say more to keep the conversation going but he couldn't think of anything to talk about.

Clive sensed his unease. He decided to keep Bobby talking for a while to keep his mind focused on something other than where they were. _"How far apart do you think we should plant the tracking beacons?"_ he asked.

Hanging from the side of their scooter in a small cargo net were several dozen tracking beacons. The baseball sized objects would emit an electronic pulse on a specific microwave frequency once they were activated. The bursts given off by the beacons would show up on the bridge screen and act like electronic flairs, showing the path they had taken. They planned to plant the beacons along their path through the tunnels as a way for the _Prometheus_ to follow them in case they were not able to get back to the ship before it had to leave. Barney had called the trackers electronic breadcrumbs.

"I figure we should drop one every five hundred meters or so as well as right before each turn," Bobby said after thinking about it for a moment. "As long as they have good line-of-sight between the markers they shouldn't have any trouble finding their way."

" _Five hundred meters it is. What about finding your way through the tunnels? Have you tried the infrared setting in your helmet yet?"_

"Actually, I haven't," Bobby said, suddenly remembering. "I'll give it a try now."

One of the upgrades Clive's team had made to the battle armor was to add a range of visual spectrum settings to the helmet face plates. Since the tunnels were not lighted, they needed a way to navigate through the twisted passages without drawing attention to themselves. Barney had replaced the torpedo warheads with powerful infrared spotlights. With their faceplates set to infrared they should be able to see the interior of the tunnel in a kind of murky twilight.

Sitting upright in his seat, Bobby chinned the control switch in his helmet to activate the heads-up display on his faceplate. A row of function tiles appeared across the top edge of his visor while a number of suit status monitors flashed into existence along the bottom edge. Focusing on the tile for the visual settings, Bobby blinked twice in rapid succession to bring up the sub menu and made his selection. His view instantly changed. The lights that had been shining at him from the numerous habitat modules suddenly shifted into various shades of reddish orange, depending on the amount of heat being emitted. Unlike before however, he could not only see the lighted viewports but each module was visible now as well, appearing as differing shapes of deep red which faded to purple at the edges. He even saw a number of larger structures throughout the cavern that he hadn't noticed before. Although they had no viewports they appeared as gently pulsating blobs in the darkness. These he assumed to be power generators or other machines that maintained critical functions for the inhabited modules. It took him a few moments to adjust to the different way everything looked in the infrared spectrum, but once he did he was confident that he would be able to see well enough to find his way through the tunnels.

After a while he double blinked his visor back to the standard setting. He leaned back toward Clive who met him halfway to touch helmets again.

" _What do you think?"_ Clive asked.

"It takes a little getting used to but I should be able to see well enough to keep us going in the right direction."

" _Excellent."_ Clive paused as he pulled a tracking beacon out of the net. _"We're almost there. I'm getting the first beacon ready."_

Bobby sat up and looked forward. They were rapidly approaching the tunnel entrance. Less than a minute later they were passing into the mouth of the tunnel. Bobby had to fight down the feeling that they were being swallowed whole by some behemoth monster.

As they passed out of the light in the cavern, Bobby switched on the infrared spotlight on his scooter and changed his visor setting. Since there were no heat sources inside the tunnel there were no bright spots of light around them. Instead he could see the rocky walls of the tunnel outlined in a murky, rust colored light. Barney had used the most powerful infrared lights he could scrounge up aboard the ship and Bobby found that he could see along the tunnel for nearly a hundred meters. Up ahead the tunnel took a sharp turn to the right. As they approached the turn Clive depressed the activation switch on the beacon he was holding and tossed it at the nearest wall. A number of specially hardened points studded the surface of the beacon. Proximity sensors inside the beacon registered when the device was within a meter of the wall and activated the spike which was most directly facing the wall. The tiny piton was then fired off to imbed itself firmly into the rock. A microfilament wire trailed behind the piton which the beacon used to reel itself down into position.

Clive reached for another beacon as Bobby was preparing to make the first turn. Using the scooter's thrusters he spun them to the right until they were drifting sideways and facing the tunnel wall. Moments later they passed the lip of the turn and Bobby fired the main engine to start them forward. As they passed the edge of the turn and the light from the underground base faded away, Bobby pictured the tunnel in his mind's eye, recalling the twists and turns they had negotiated aboard the _Prometheus_. The next turn should be up ahead on the left. They would also have to negotiate their way around a jagged spike of rock that should be projecting up from what would be the floor of the tunnel given their present orientation. Playing the thrusters gently, he turned the scooter back to the left and started them across the broad width of the tunnel at an angle, aiming for where he thought the entrance to the correct branching passage should be.

As Bobby concentrated on finding their way, Clive launched the second beacon at the tunnel wall and reached for the next one.

* * *

The _GSS Valiant_ sat motionless at the edge of an uncharted star system deep within the galaxy. It had tracked its quarry for more than five days through hyperspace until the ship dropped to sublight several hours earlier. By using its stealth system and staying at the extreme range of its sensors the _Valiant_ had been able to avoid detection. Via tight beam transmission it had relayed its progress to the other ships that were following behind it at the extreme range of their own sensors. The last message its captain had sent was that the ship they were tracking had reached its destination. Unfortunately, by the time the _Valiant_ arrived at the system their quarry had down jumped into, the other ship had disappeared.

The star system they found themselves in was not like anything the crew had ever seen before. The system's star was an M class red dwarf. Sensor readings revealed that it was cold by stellar standards, with a surface temperature of barely more than fifteen hundred degrees C. Fluctuating gravitational forces early in the history of the system had torn apart the few bodies that might have formed planets, leaving only scattered clusters of asteroids orbiting the star. Normally, one would expect that the space close to such a dim star would be dark, but this system was an exception. The system they had entered was so close to the center of the galaxy that the swirling galactic core formed a dazzling backdrop to the vista.

On the bridge of the _Valiant_ , Captain Robert Owens was standing over the sensor officer's station reviewing the data transmission they had just received from the _Prometheus'_ probe.

"There's no question, sir," the sensor operator said to his commanding officer as he pointed at the display on his console. "The coordinates their drone transmitted put them deep inside this asteroid field."

"Of course they do," Owens said. "I suppose we're just going to have to go in there after them." Captain Owens straightened and looked at the main screen. The asteroid field they were talking about was visible ahead as an indistinct blur on extreme magnification. "How long until the rest of the battle group gets here?"

The sensor officer glanced at his board. "ETA two minutes."

The captain stepped back to his command chair and settled himself in place. "Helm, plot us a course to those coordinates."

"Already plotted, sir," the pilot replied.

Owens suppressed a smile as he acknowledged the response from his helmsman. He was always pleased by how well his crew functioned, half of the time even anticipating his orders. He glanced at his command board and saw their course trajectory and estimated travel time of two hours displayed on the left side his panel. After a moment he touched a control on the right edge of his board. "All hands to battle stations," he said toward the pick-up. "This is not a drill. Full power to defensive systems. All gunnery teams stand by."

For the next minute and a half the crew of the _Valiant_ rushed to their battle stations throughout the ship.

"All battle stations manned and ready," the first officer reported ninety-three seconds later.

"Thank you, Exec," Owens said. "Helm, prepare to get us under way."

"Battle group arriving in ten seconds," the first officer said. "... three, two, one..."

The captain watched his board as the other 14 ships of their battle group flashed into existence around them.

"Raise the admiral's ship," Captain Owens said to his comm officer.

"I've got the _Gulliver_ , sir," the comm officer reported a moment later. "Admiral Saha is on the beam."

"Put it on the main screen."

The main screen shifted to show the interior of a bridge which was many times the size of the _Valiant's_. Looking back at him from the command center of the nearby carrier was Rear Admiral Arun Saha, commander of the battle group _Endeavor_. Admiral Saha's ebony features were drawn into a tight frown. "Talk to me, Captain."

"We still haven't been able to locate the _Prometheus_ , sir, but we have pinpointed the coordinates we received from their probe."

"Let me guess, they went into that asteroid field, didn't they," the admiral said.

"Aye, sir. We've plotted a course to their reported coordinates and are preparing to enter the field."

"Very good, Captain. Send us your trajectory data and I'll have the rest of the battle group plug it into their navsystems. Same drill as before. Your ship will take point and the rest of us will follow. I'm signaling the other ships to go to alert status. Remember, Captain, the _Prometheus_ must be protected... _at all costs_."

Admiral Saha watched Captain Owens' expression tighten as he absorbed the full implications of his orders.

"Understood, Admiral."

Owens was a good man, the admiral thought. He had been Saha's executive officer for several years before he was promoted to admiral. In fact, Saha had been the one to recommend him for his own command. He was a man who could be counted on to get the job done. Because of that relationship Saha also felt honor bound to make him understand that he was not being asked to put his ship in harm's way on a whim.

"I just want you to know, Captain," Admiral Saha said, "that the same orders stand for every ship in this battle group. It is absolutely imperative that we protect the _Prometheus_ , even if we have to sacrifice every last man we have to do so."

Captain Owens was not usually given to betraying his feelings with his expressions but surprise registered on his features at the admiral's comment. "Whoever is aboard that ship must be pretty important."

"More than you know," the admiral said soberly.

Owens nodded at the main screen. "Thank you, sir."

"We're going to be right there with you, Captain. You'll have the firepower of an entire battle group backing you up. That means I'm expecting everyone to come back from this mission. Besides, I'm looking forward to being invited over again for another one of Maryann's excellent Founder's Day dinners."

Owens smiled slightly. "I'll have her set an extra place. Don't worry, sir, we'll find the _Prometheus_ and we'll make sure she gets back in one piece. _Valiant_ out."

* * *

Admiral Saha sat back in his seat as the connection to the _Valiant_ was cut. Throughout the ship the alert claxon began to blare as the immense carrier came to battle ready status. As the _Gulliver's_ captain went about preparing the vessel for combat, Admiral Saha brought up a tactical view of the system they had entered on his board. The asteroid field was so dense that it appeared as a single return on his screen at this range. And it was into the midst of that briar patch that he was going to be taking his battle group.

Of the thousands of personnel in the battle group, Admiral Saha was the only one who actually knew what was at stake. He alone knew that the King of Gilead was aboard the ship they had been tasked with following, posing as the smuggler captain, Cordass Pell. When the chair of the Joint Chiefs had brought him into the loop about the King's activities a little more than a week ago, he had been shocked to learn that his Highness would actually put himself at such risk. After giving it some thought however he realized that this was just the kind of thing that King Jason _would_ do. He had gotten to know the King personally after he had rescued Saha's crew six months ago following the pirate attack on his ship. Although at the time King Jason had lost all memory of his true identity, he still displayed the qualities that made him such an inspiring leader. Jason Raynor was the kind of man who put the welfare of his people above his own safety. That kind of thing was why so many were willing to put their lives on the line for him.

As the battle group prepared to converge on the pirates' base of operations, Admiral Saha forced himself to contain a growing feeling of excitement. Putting an end to the pirates had been the number one priority for every man and woman throughout the Fleet for the past several years. In the next few hours they might actually accomplish that goal. He tried not to feel overconfident, but he couldn't envision anything that could withstand the combined firepower of his battle group. Unless the pirates had somehow miraculously managed to amass a fleet of warships with greater destructive power than he had under his command, he was going to reduce whatever base they had to slag.
Chapter Seventeen

"Greetings and felicitations, Captain Pell," Sebastian said as he welcomed us to his compartment again. "And these fine people must be your officers."

Sebastian's invitation had stipulated that I bring my senior officers with me. It was typical of Sebastian to want to stage a formal event. He always enjoyed being the center of attention. It also meant that he would have all of my senior people in one place.

I gestured to the others who were accompanying me. "My security officer, Ms. Feign, and my medical officer, Doctor Jacobs, you've already met. This is my first officer, Christopher Conrad, and my chief engineer, Ian Brunner."

Sebastian nodded at each of them in turn then motioned us in from the passageway. At first the room seemed to be just the way I remembered it from our first meeting. Entering the room we were again confronted with the flatpad strewn desk before the oversized viewport. To one side however a retractable partition had been opened, more than doubling the size of the space. The new area was an abrupt contrast to the stark appearance of the main portion of the room. Paneled in dark mahogany that had been polished to a buttery finish, the new area was a richly appointed dining salon that would have been more at home in a grand mansion than tucked into a space habitat. Several paintings adorned the walls in gilt frames, one of which I recognized as the missing work of a famous master from Old Earth. In the center of this space a long, formal dining table had been set up. The table and its matching chairs were made from genuine wood and sat under an elaborate chandelier which sparkled with hundreds of twinkling lights as it cast a warm glow on the room. On the table, settings for seven people had been arranged, with the appropriate legions of silverware and crystal for several different courses in place. Arranged in a line down the center of the table, as well as on a long credenza placed against the back wall, were a number of silver warming covers placed over a variety of platters. Waiting against the walls were several white jacketed servants, one for each place setting.

Standing near the head of the table was Angela. She was fidgeting nervously as she waited for the rest of us, her eyes downcast. Sebastian led us to the table and took his place at the head setting and indicated for me to sit on his right side. Morgana sat next to me with Angela opposite me on Sebastian's left. Doc and Chris were seated across from us next to Angela while Ian was seated to Morgana's right. The giant, who had summoned us from the ship and escorted us to the commandant's compartment, moved to stand against the wall behind Sebastian's chair as we sat down. He seemed quite prepared to remain at that post for the entire meal.

As we took our seats the servants stepped forward from their places against the walls and poured wine for each of us into artfully sculpted, crystal goblets. The wide, gold filigree band that bordered the rims of the glasses was a bit flowery for my tastes, but there was no denying the superb artistry of the glassware and every other piece at our places. The flatware was silver with ornately designed gold handles that matched the serving platters which were also silver with gold accents. Judging by the sheen of the dishes and their translucent edges, I suspected they were bone china. Sebastian always did have a taste for the finest quality.

Glancing up at the woman pouring for me, I wasn't surprised to see that she was wearing an obedience collar. A quick look around the room confirmed that all of the servants were likewise outfitted. With an effort I once again forced myself to swallow my outrage and waited for Sebastian to speak. If we were going to learn any more about the operation of the Brotherhood I needed to maintain my composure and stay in character. It was customary in formal settings for the host to begin the meal with a toast. I knew how much of a stickler Sebastian was for etiquette and protocol so I waited to follow his lead.

Once everyone's wine had been poured he raised his glass and said, "To our future endeavors together."

As I took a sip of what turned out to be an excellent table wine, I noticed a faint image imbedded in the side of the glass. Holding it up to the light, I turned the goblet slowly until I could make out the image. It was a variation of the Raynor house crest, although far more elaborate in detail. In the center of the design I could see the initials SR inscribed in fanciful script. I looked around at the rest of the table settings and saw that everything from the silverware to the dishes was likewise embossed with the same crest.

Once everyone had taken their first sip I raised my glass as etiquette dictated and offered a return salutation. "To the continued success of the Brotherhood under the inspired leadership of His Majesty, Sebastian Raynor, future Emperor of the combined nations of man."

Sebastian acknowledged my toast with a smile and everyone took another sip. Once the toasting was done, the servants uncovered the platters and began serving us. For more than an hour everyone exchanged polite but banal conversation as we moved through the various courses. When the desert dishes were cleared and the fruit course set before us Sebastian sat back and gave me a long look.

"We must say, Captain, it has been quite a while since We last enjoyed the company of anyone as much as We have yours. We find it most refreshing to have the opportunity to engage in conversation with someone who is so well versed in so many divergent topics."

"You are most kind, Your Highness," I said before I forked a single cube of melon into my mouth and set the utensil down. There had been so much food that I couldn't eat more than a small bit from each course. Since we were being served a formal dinner, I knew that fruit was the eighth of nine courses, with only the nuts and raisin course remaining. As the servants poured coffee into delicate demi-tasse cups, I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin and pushed my plate away. Now that the coffee had been served, it was appropriate for us to discuss business.

Sebastian studied me for several more moments before resuming. "You continually surprise Us, Captain. Not only have you proven yourself to be exceptionally, shall we say, _creative_ at acquiring merchandise, but you actually know which fork to use for each course."

"Actually, Your Highness, my mother believed that it was important to master the social graces. She was very strict in my instruction." What I told him was true. Mother did believe it was important to have a firm knowledge of proper social etiquette. But unlike Sebastian, who actually enjoyed all the pomp and ceremony, mother's view had been a more practical one. To her it was a tool for diplomacy. As the ranking diplomats for the nation, our family was expected to be versed in the customs and etiquette of any culture we interacted with because you never knew what social setting you might find yourself in. Privately however she found all of the various rules to be somewhat silly. Sebastian would have been shocked to learn that in the small periods of private time mother had, the woman he knew as the prim and proper Queen of Gilead, who never had so much as a hair out of place in public, liked to unwind by kicking off her shoes and sitting with her feet curled up underneath her as she ate some kind of finger food (barbecued chicken wings were her favorite indulgence) and immersed herself in a trashy romance novel.

As I thought about the difference between mother's public and private personas, my mind flashed back to the talk I'd had with Morgana when we first embarked on our mission. I finally understood what she had been talking about. While my mother had enjoyed the verbal fencing that was part of her life as the queen, even though she found formal social customs amusing, Morgana was not like that. She was direct with her opinions and not given to dissembling. The public face my mother had presented as Queen was not something Morgana would be comfortable assuming. Was I asking too much of her?

Of course, this was the wrong time to wander off on such a tangent. I filed this new insight away for a future time and returned my attention to the present. I was still trying to learn as much as I could about the organization Sebastian was running and this chance to speak with the leader of the pirate Brotherhood was too valuable an opportunity to let slip away.

"It seems that her efforts were not wasted," Sebastian said. "And, Captain, you may refer to Us as Commandant, at least for the time being."

"Commandant," I said, "if it's not too much of an imposition, I was wondering if you could tell me a little about how this arrangement between us is supposed to work."

"It's quite simple actually. You will consult with Mr. Smith who will furnish you with all of the necessary information on your assigned targets. He will provide you with such details as..."

As he was speaking I noticed that Angela took a sudden interest in him. All throughout dinner she had simply sat at her place and picked at her food with her head down while Sebastian and I talked. Now she seemed strangely intent on following what he was saying. And for the briefest moment I thought I saw a flash of annoyance flicker in her eyes. Sebastian must have noticed that my attention was focused away from him because he glanced in her direction and stopped speaking.

For a moment he seemed to have been thrown off balance and was searching for what he wanted to say next. "But those are details for another time," he said eventually, cutting short what he had been explaining to me. "Mr. Smith will tell you everything you need to know. You may address any specific questions you have to him."

"Thank you. I will," I said. I was momentarily frustrated that Sebastian had cut short his explanation. So far I had learned nothing I didn't already know. I thought for a moment and decided to take the conversation in a different direction. "There was something else I was wondering about—my ship. The one I have is not the best suited to waging this type of... activity. I was hoping you might be able to help me acquire something more appropriate—something, quite frankly, with more firepower."

Sebastian smiled. "I think that can be arranged. After all we can't have you ill equipped to conduct your raids on Our behalf now can we. You understand however that the cost of whatever vessel you are provided with will be charged against any future profits you generate." He stopped abruptly, flicked another glance at Angela before he continued. "But this also is something to discuss with Mr. Smith."

What was going on? It seemed obvious that I wasn't going to get anything out of him as long as she was around. But if he was so reluctant to discuss business in front of her, why didn't he just send her away?

Sebastian paused and dipped a handful of nuts and raisins out of the bowl that had been set in front of him. He tossed some of the mix into his mouth and chewed slowly for a while before he resumed speaking. "And now, Captain, as much as We have enjoyed this time together, We are afraid that—"

At that moment an alarm claxon began blaring. Red lights also started flashing in time with the pulse of the alarm. Sebastian looked around in confusion as the giant stepped forward from his place against the wall and pressed a finger to his ear as he listened to a message coming to him over his phone.

The only thing I could think of was that our group had been discovered attempting to infiltrate the command bunker for the tunnel guns. If that were true, things were about to get ugly.

* * *

Bobby pushed himself upright in his seat and readjusted his hold on the control grips of his scooter as he noticed a glow coming from up ahead. By the infrared setting of his visor he saw a reddish incandescence shining from around the bend in the tunnel in front of them. As they approached the turn he slowed the scooter and edged them forward at a crawl. This was the first time they had encountered evidence of a power source other than the wash of their own infrared 'headlights'. According to his memory, they should be approaching the final turn which led to the tunnel entrance. If so, then the glow he was seeing had to be coming from the control bunker for the gigantic guns that guarded the base.

As the nose of the scooter edged around the turn Bobby could see the entrance to the tunnel several hundred meters away. On infrared, the mouth of the tunnel appeared as a black void, while the guns and the control bunker glowed with an eerie inner light. The immense guns were retracted into their niches on either side of the passage with the control bunker carving an arc between them along the roof of the tunnel.

Now that the bunker was in view Bobby felt his stomach muscles begin to unclench. Although he had been fairly certain that he remembered the way back, until he actually saw the bunker there was still a small, nagging worry in the back of his mind that he might end up getting them lost.

Once they had navigated the turn Bobby started them forward slowly. For the first hundred meters or so he kept them tucked in close to the tunnel floor as he watched for any activity from the bunker. His eyes darted about nervously as he searched for a sign that their presence had been detected, but everything remained quiet. It soon became apparent that they had not been spotted and he forced himself to relax as they drew closer to their objective. When they had almost reached the bunker he pulled back on the control grips and started them up toward the broad arc of the complex overhead. A minute later he slowed them to a crawl once more as they approached a rectangular viewport in the side of the bunker. Although he knew not to bring them in too close because they might been seen by someone inside, Bobby wanted to sneak a quick look to get an idea what the internal layout of the bunker was like. As they drifted close enough for him to see through the port however all he saw at first was a confusing view of a dull gray surface. At first he thought that he was looking at the room's ceiling. It was only when he saw a pair of feet walk by moments later that he realized that what he was actually looking at was the floor of the bunker. The control center was inverted relative to their orientation, making it appear that people were walking upside down.

Carefully manipulating the scooter controls, he rolled them over until the bunker was now underneath them. As they hung suspended above the control bunker he took a moment to look both ways, noting how the installation curved up in both directions as it followed the contour of the tunnel. It reminded Bobby of a section from one of those huge wheels on an old fashioned space station that relied on centrifugal force to generate a sense of gravity. Modern grav plating would provide gravity for the personnel inside this bunker, but the perspective of a floor that was curving up in both directions would take some getting used to.

Unfortunately they couldn't get any closer to the viewport without making themselves obvious to the people inside. Instead, Bobby turned his scooter and started along the curve of the bunker as they studied it to learn what they could from the exterior. Apart from its novel shape however the bunker appeared no different from any other deep space habitat and they learned nothing about the interior layout.

They followed the arc of the bunker until they reached the gun on the left side of the tunnel. The immense weapon was the length of their ship. It gave Bobby a chill to be this close to the monstrous cannon, but he kept his fear in check and led them along the body of the gun so that Clive and the others could inspect it. When they reached the end of the weapon he flew them in a tight arc around the muzzle of the gun and stopped for a moment so they could take a look inside the barrel. The bore of the gun ran out of sight into the distance and was wide enough to admit both of their scooters with room to spare. The only features they could see from this perspective were a series of magnetic induction rings spaced at regular distances along the length of the barrel. The rings were to focus the plasma blast generated by the weapon. A shiver ran up his spine again as Bobby thought about what would happen to them if the weapon were fired now. If they were in this position when the gun discharged, their molecules would literally be torn apart until they were reduced to a drifting cloud of disassociated atoms.

Although the gaping barrel made him nervous, Bobby would have preferred to fly straight inside the guns to sabotage them rather than what they were planning to do. Unfortunately they were not carrying enough explosives to seriously damage the weapons directly. Bruce Stone was their demolitions expert and he had been adamant that there was nothing aboard their ship that they could transport manually which would be able to put guns this size out of commission. The small pouches of charges that he and Jimmy were carrying at their belts were not enough to even put a dent in these massive barrels or damage more than a few of the induction rings, which would not stop the guns from being fired anyway. But Bruce was convinced that they could put the weapons out of service permanently by destroying the generators that powered them. He had told Jason that the explosives they had with them were more than enough to accomplish this, as long as they were placed properly. The problem was that in order to do what Bruce had in mind they needed to enter the installation.

When he figured they had seen enough, Bobby led them back over the 'roof' of the bunker then brought them down carefully until they contacted the surface. Dismounting, they turned the scooters upside down so that the seats and steering controls were hidden, then used magnetic ties to lash them in place amid a confusion of exposed machinery that seemed to be part of the mechanism for raising the guns into firing position. Wedged among the various clusters of coolant tanks and power relay junctions, the scooters should be hidden from casual notice.

Once they had secured their transportation, they crept to the edge of the structure on foot, using the magnetic soles of their boots to keep them in contact with the building. When they were close to the edge, Clive removed a small drone from an equipment pouch on his belt. The disk shaped body of the drone was the size of a man's palm and was painted with the same ablative coating as their ship. From another pouch he withdrew a small control pad. Releasing the drone so that it remained floating in front of him, Clive activated the control pad. A line of tiny blue lights illuminated the edge of the drone and then faded away as it powered up. A moment later it moved away from them as it dropped closer to the surface of the bunker and began skimming the exterior of the structure. Soon it disappeared over the edge of the roof as it made its way toward a viewport beneath them. The miniature spy stole right up to the lip of the viewport and extended a hair fine fiber-op camera to peer into the window.

The four men crowded together to see the image that was being picked up by the drone. On the screen of Clive's control pad they could see that the viewport opened into a wide hallway which curved upward out of sight in one direction and ended at a wall full of black faced monitor panels in the other. Bobby watched as complex patterns of indicator lights blinked on and off in the shiny black surfaces, relaying the status of unknown systems going through their mysterious functions within the bunker complex. A wall prevented them from seeing all the way across to the other side of the building, but they noted several doors spaced along it that would open into other rooms. Although they continued to watch the screen for several minutes, in that time they didn't see anyone moving through the hallway. It was hardly definitive proof but it seemed to confirm their suspicion that the bunker was not heavily manned.

There had been some concern that the intense power fields this close to the guns might interfere with the drones, but Clive hadn't experienced any difficulty operating the robot camera. Satisfied that the drones would perform as needed, he gave a signal to the others. They spread out to deploy their own drones to begin the process of mapping the bunker. The structure was large, more than two hundred and fifty meters from end to end. To cover the installation as quickly as possible each of them would use their drones to map a different part of the bunker. Clive and Jimmy used their drones to record what they could through the viewports and along the sides of the bunker while Bruce and Bobby guided theirs along the wide roof of the complex, each scanning one half of that surface. Even with the four of them working together it took them several minutes to scan the entire thing.

Eventually the mapping was done and the miniature robots zipped directly back to where their operators were waiting. As they returned, each had their recordings downloaded to Clive's pad which used a special program to integrate the different scans into a single, three dimensional model of the bunker. Once the model was complete Clive activated the projector. The four of them stood in a circle as a miniature holographic model of the bunker flashed into existence before them. Clive made an adjustment to his pad and the exterior faded away to reveal the interior sections of the bunker. Areas outlined in white were those spaces the drones had been able to observe directly through viewports. Red areas, of which there were at least twice as many as white, represented sections the program had created based on extrapolations made from what could be seen. There were also several areas that were blank voids, where the program did not have enough data to even extrapolate what might be there. The number of blank spaces far outnumbered both the red and white areas together. Had they been able to use the full array of sensors the drones possessed they could have collected much more data and been able to put together a far more complete model of the bunker, but the risk of having their scans detected was too great and they were forced to rely on limited visual scans only.

Bobby had been staring at the image and trying to make sense of what he was seeing when a tap on his shoulder caused him to twist around. Beside him Clive was pointing at something off to their right. Bobby looked in the direction indicated but didn't understand what Clive was trying to tell him. After a moment Clive made an adjustment to the control pad and changed the hologram back to the exterior view of the bunker. He made the image grow and expand until he had zoomed in on a specific place about one third of the way along the bunker from where they were standing. Bobby studied the image for a moment then realized that Clive was pointing out an airlock. He felt his heartbeat start to race when he understood they were going to try and enter the bunker, but he put on a smile and gave Clive a thumbs-up.

Clive turned off the control pad, deactivated the magnetic soles of his boots and pushed off from the surface of the bunker. The others joined him and soon they were using their suit thrusters to move toward the airlock. They reached the area quickly and halted at the edge of the roof while Clive sent his drone out once more to check the area. He followed the drone's progress on the screen of his pad, seeing what it saw through its visual scanners. Wide viewports were positioned on either side of the airlock hatch. The ports revealed the interior of a staging area with environment suits lining both side walls and equipment cabinets arranged along the far wall. The compartment was empty of people however.

At Clive's signal, Jimmy came forward and maneuvered himself over the edge of the roof. He descended toward the sealed hatch while the rest of them held their positions. From a small kit at his waist he selected a tool and quickly removed the cover to the control panel. Jimmy used a probe wand to study the circuitry for a few moments, then gave a thumbs-up to the rest of the team. He would have no trouble bypassing the control system and opening the hatch door.

It only took a minute for Jimmy to complete his task but to Bobby the time seemed to drag by. He was once again feeling exposed and vulnerable as they hung suspended above the bunker. With nothing to do at the moment his imagination started to wander. He began to speculate what would happen if Jimmy were discovered attempting to override the hatch controls, or if they were seen hovering above the complex, or if their presence inside the bunker were discovered. None of the scenarios he imagined ended well for them. After a while he forced himself not to think about what he could not control.

His breathing. If he focused on his breathing he would be fine. He concentrated on taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. It was a technique Jason had shown him some time ago to help relieve stress. In and out. In and out. As he continued to focus on his breathing he felt himself starting to relax. By the time Jimmy was finished running the bypass he was almost breathing normally.

As the airlock doors slid open, Bobby and the others joined Jimmy and maneuvered themselves inside. The interior of the airlock was empty and there was no one visible through the inner hatch window. As soon as they were all inside the lock, Jimmy worked the controls to close the outer doors and pressurize the compartment. As the pressure in the airlock rose they felt themselves settle to the floor of the compartment as a sensation of gravity began to pull at them as well. The feeling slowly intensified as the grav plating in the deck gradually increased to a full g. Soon the wall panel indicated that standard air pressure and gravity had been achieved. Jimmy pressed the control to open the inner door.

They kept their helmets on as they stepped into the staging area to hide their features in case they encountered anyone who might recognize them as strangers. They moved carefully into the room, stepping as quietly as the bulky suits would allow. But space armor was built for power and protection not stealth and their feet thudded against the flooring in spite of their attempts to quiet their footfalls.

Directly opposite the airlock was another doorway, the only other exit from the room. Having no other choice they strode to the door. As they stepped into the range of the sensor, the door slid open. They tried to remain as nonchalant as possible as they stepped through into the next room.

They found themselves in a barracks. Around them were rows of stacked bunks where a number of men were reclining. At a glance Bobby figured that there were close to two dozen men staring at them. He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach when he caught sight of the weapon racks on the walls between the bunks and the blaster rifles that were stored there. As they came to an abrupt stop one of the men looked at them and frowned.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Shift change isn't for another ten hours."

Bobby felt his heart begin hammering within his chest.

At that moment an alarm claxon sounded.

* * *

Admiral Saha had been watching the progress of his ship on the main bridge screen as the _Gulliver_ nosed its way through the asteroid field. The view on the screen was distorted by the millions of tiny flashes constantly going off around them as the carrier's shields repelled the miniscule particles which pervaded the field, making it difficult to see clearly. Larger bodies, some the size of a grown man, were also being repelled by their shields to be sent spinning off into space. Anything much larger than that had to either be avoided or blasted out of their path. While shields were effective at blocking the energy of a laser or particle beam, they would at best only deflect matter, and then only if it wasn't too massive or moving too fast.

Directly ahead a particularly large asteroid was drifting slowly toward them. The admiral glanced at his board and saw that the body was registering nearly half a kilometer in diameter. Before it got too close, the helmsman adjusted their heading, angling the ship down to allow the immense chunk of rock to pass safely over them.

They had been making their way through the asteroid field for more than an hour now. Although their destination was not far ahead, the process of winding through the field of floating boulders was proving to be very time consuming. Not only did they need to avoid collisions with the numerous asteroids but they had to maintain a constant sensor watch to ensure that their presence was not detected by the pirates. So far all of the ships in the battle group had been able to avoid any serious collisions and their sensors showed no evidence that they were being scanned.

The admiral stood and took a slow walk across the bridge. A tense quiet filled the command center as they steered a course through the asteroid field while each officer maintained a ready vigilance at his or her respective post. The feeling was as much one of expectation as it was wariness. He was familiar with this sensation. It was the feeling that arose before a battle.

As he paced across the deck, the admiral passed behind the command station. Captain Rogers was seated in the command chair keeping a careful watch on his board. His people knew what they were doing and he was smart enough to give them the room to perform without hovering over them constantly. As Admiral Saha passed his station he noted that the captain had his board set to monitor several different systems. Chief among these were the helm, sensors and engines—the same systems the admiral had been monitoring himself.

Admiral Saha continued to the starboard bulkhead where he clasped his hands behind his back as he looked through the wide port there. Unlike smaller ships, the carrier's bridge had a number of viewports positioned on each wall in addition to the monitor screens at each station. With the bridge perched atop the command superstructure, the ports provided them with a sweeping view in all directions. Like the image displayed on the main screen, the constant pinpoint flashes going off around the ship made it difficult to see anything clearly. It was like trying to see through a glittering snowstorm. In the distance the admiral could make out two of the ships from their battle group as they carefully picked their way through the hazardous field. He could only see part of each ship between the asteroids however. At this distance they appeared to be a pair of frigates, probably the _Fearless_ and the _Javelin_ he guessed from their positions relative to the carrier. Although the battle group had entered the asteroid field in a standard starburst formation, it was impossible to maintain strict positioning in this environment.

"Message from the _Valiant_ , Captain," the comm officer announced into the hushed bridge atmosphere.

Admiral Saha and everyone else, apart from the helmsman, turned toward the comm officer.

"They report that they are on station, but so far have not been able to locate any sign of a base." The comm officer slid one of the earphones away from his ear and looked at his commander.

Captain Rogers stood and walked over to the comm station. "Have they verified their coordinates?"

The comm officer spoke briefly into his microphone then nodded. "Yes, sir. They're holding position less than a kilometer from the coordinates they received from the _Prometheus_ probe. Also..." He paused, frowning as he listened to the report over his headphones. Captain Rogers waited patiently as the officer asked for the message to be repeated. Finally the comm operator looked up. "Sorry, sir, we're getting a lot of signal interference. Their commander says there's no trace of the _Prometheus_."

Admiral Saha was starting to get a bad feeling. He stepped up beside the captain. "Can you establish a visual link with the _Valiant_?" he asked.

The comm officer made a few adjustments to his console and nodded. "Aye, sir. It won't be the cleanest picture but you can talk to them."

"It'll do. Patch it through to my station." The admiral glanced at Captain Rogers and hooked a thumb toward his board. Nodding, the captain joined him at his station.

"Captain Owens on the beam, Admiral," the comm officer said as Saha took his seat.

Reducing the windows he had been using to monitor the ship's progress and moving them to one side of his board with a swipe of his fingers, Admiral Saha opened the communications window. A static filled image of the _Valiant's_ commander appeared in the black surface of the console.

"Captain Owens, do you have any idea what could have happened to the _Valiant_?" the admiral asked.

On the screen Owens scowled as he glanced down at something out of sight below the monitor. "An idea is all we do have at this point, sir. We're working on something that's a little bit radical but which seems to be the only thing that fits the facts." He looked up at the admiral and continued, "Assuming that the drone transmitted the correct coordinates, the only thing that makes sense is that they went inside one of the asteroids."

Admiral Saha sat in stunned silence for a moment as he considered the idea of the pirate base being located inside an asteroid.

"That's... incredible, Captain," Admiral Saha said. "Do you have anything to back that up?"

"We're working on that, sir. We've taken up position beside a large, potato shaped asteroid and are keeping a close eye on a huge body nearby that measures more than twenty kilometers in diameter. That's our best guess for where they went. We haven't picked up any energy readings or signs of artificial structures yet, but that's not surprising considering the layers of rock it must be buried under. The asteroid's got a slow rotation to it so we're going to keep monitoring it until it completes a full cycle. We're hoping—"

From the monitor they could hear someone speaking excitedly in the background on the _Valiant's_ bridge. "Captain, we're reading active sensor scans from the asteroid now, sir!"

Captain Owens glanced off to one side. "Can you localize it?"

"The source is at the edge of the asteroid and seems to be rotating in our direction," a voice said in the background.

"Status of our stealth system?" Owens asked.

"Stealth system fully engaged, Captain," a different voice said. "They won't be able to pick us up on their sensors."

Owens looked back at the screen. "Admiral—"

"We heard, Captain. Can you patch us in to your monitor so we can take a look at this asteroid?"

"Switching feed," Owens said. A moment later the picture changed to show the slowly revolving asteroid confronting the _Valiant_. Along the bottom edge of the image a number of readouts were providing sensor data on their objective. As Admiral Saha and Captain Rogers watched, a dark area slowly came into view on the surface of the great rock.

"There," Owens' disembodied voice said. "That looks like some kind of opening."

Several moments later a different voice said, "Sensors confirm that as the source of the scans."

"It seems that your theory has been proven correct, Captain," Saha said. "Good work."

"Thank you, Admiral. Are we going to continue as planned?"

"Yes. Stay on station and report anything new. The rest of the battle group should be in position in about," he checked the right side of his board, "eighteen minutes. And keep this channel open. I want to study your asteroid a little longer."

"Acknowledged."

Admiral Saha looked up at the captain of his flagship. "What do you think?"

Rogers studied the image of the immense asteroid for several seconds and took a quick look at the accompanying data readout below it. "Our ships are going to have to get a lot closer than they normally would in order to have a clear line of sight, and their placement is not going to be by the book, but I think it will work. We just have to be sure each ship keeps out of every other ship's firing vector."

"I agree. See to it, Captain."

A thin smile spread across Captain Rogers' face as he nodded to the admiral. "Aye, sir." Rogers headed back to his command seat, turned to the comm officer and said, "Send the order, Mr. Sloan. Battle group to assume nova formation."

"Aye, Captain. Nova formation."

Within moments each of the ships in the battle group confirmed their orders. All around the great carrier, the other ships of the battle group changed their trajectories and began to spread out. The starburst formation they had adopted upon entering the system was the standard pre-attack configuration used by a Fleet battle group. It allowed the ships to quickly rearrange themselves for any of several different battle formations depending on the conditions they encountered. Nova formation was the complete englobement of a target. While not feasible when engaging a mobile enemy, it was ideal for confronting a stationary target such as a space station. Careful work had gone into identifying the optimal position that each ship in the group should adopt to ensure that the target would not only be completely surrounded, but that the attacking ships would be kept out of the range of each other's firing arcs. Although it was notoriously difficult to accomplish a nova formation without alerting the enemy, once it was established the enemy was in for a nasty time unless they surrendered.

Because the pirate stronghold was located deep within an asteroid field however, a new element had been added. With all of the surrounding asteroids it was going to be impossible to position each of the ships at their normal locations. At best they would be rough approximations of where each one was supposed to be. But it should still be effective enough to pulverize the enemy position should they choose to put up a fight.

"Admiral!" Owen's voice called from Saha's board.

Admiral Saha snapped his attention to a small window that had opened in a corner of the feed from the _Valiant_. Captain Owens was peering up at him from that new window.

"There's been a change in the scan signature from the asteroid," Owens said. "They've switched to a weapon scan."

The admiral studied the data readout below the image and immediately ordered general quarters throughout the battle group. The pirates had been alerted to their presence. It was sooner than they had hoped, but not completely unexpected. The alarm claxon was loud enough in the command center to catch everyone's attention, but not so loud that it distracted the officers from their business of controlling the ship. Nevertheless, after a few moments Captain Rogers shut off the claxon, even though the alert lights continued to flash throughout the ship.

Admiral Saha made a few adjustments on his board and sent a parallel of the feed he was now receiving to the captain's station.

"What do you make of this, Captain?"

Rogers studied his console for a moment, then he suddenly leaned forward as he reviewed what he had just seen.

"Is this right?" he asked.

"If it is," the admiral said, "we don't want to get anywhere near those defenses."

Rogers settled himself back into his seat with his eyes glued to the data being displayed on his board. The energy readings they were getting from the enemy's weapon scans were more powerful than anything he had ever seen. They were even more powerful than the batteries in place aboard the defense platforms orbiting Haven. As he digested the new information, Captain Rogers began considering options.

"Their guns are recessed inside that tunnel," Rogers said, swiveling around to face the admiral, "so that's going to limit their firing arc. We should still be able to establish a nova perimeter, but each ship is going to have to be mindful of the asteroid's rotation. We'll need to keep out of the range of those guns as well as watching out for other ships in our formation. Not impossible, but tricky." He paused and studied a different readout briefly. "Unfortunately, the asteroid's composition is going to work against us. It's largely nickel-iron composite. If the pirates buried their base as deep as I suspect, it'll take some time for our guns chew through enough of the asteroid to reach them. Missiles would be our most effective option but they'll still take some time to penetrate to the core of something that big and they'll be less precise. Since we want to get our people out of there in one piece we have to be careful not to go blasting chunks out of the asteroid at random. That leaves us with a frontal assault, which means charging right into those guns. But that's a suicide run."

Saha nodded. He had reached the same conclusion himself. "Given the power of those guns, they've got to be pretty massive. That could work to our advantage."

"To _our_ advantage?"

"Yes." The admiral spread his arms and rested his palms on the edge of his console. "You can't reposition all that mass in a hurry. Their guns can probably be turned quickly enough to track the larger ships in our group, but something small and agile should have a good chance of getting through."

Rogers' eyebrows arched upward. "You want to send fighters up against that?"

"Absolutely," Saha said. "I'm not talking about trying to fly into the tunnel, but they should be able to get close enough to unleash a Hellhound or two. That should take care of our problem. Then it's just a matter of sending in the marines to mop up."

Hellhounds were medium range ship-to-ship missiles designed to take out weapon emplacements. They were fast and accurate. And they carried one hell of a punch.

"That could work," Rogers agreed.

Just then Captain Rogers and Admiral Saha had their attention drawn to their respective boards as they heard a commotion coming through the transmission from the _Valiant_. The telltale hum of a ship being flashed reverberated from their screens. The electronic systems aboard the sub had given off a sympathetic pulse in response to a powerful signal sent out by the pirate base. That pulse would make the _Valiant_ stand out clearly on the pirates' sensor screens in spite of their stealth system. The pirates had found the sub. Captain Owens' image spun away from the small window as he began issuing orders.

"Shields on. Full power to drive systems," Owens ordered as the battle alert claxon sounded on his ship. To prevent their being detected, the _Valiant_ had taken their engines off-line. It would take several seconds before they could be powered up enough to move the ship. In spite of the urgency of their situation, Captain Owens remained unruffled and continued issuing his orders calmly. "Helm, as soon as you have power, move us out at flank acceleration. Take a heading of 103 by 45, relative."

"Captain, I'm reading an energy surge from the crater!" an anxious voice in the background called. Admiral Saha recognized the _Valiant's_ sensor operator, Lieutenant Perth.

"Emergency power to shields. Helm—"

The screen went blank.

Admiral Saha slowly pushed himself to his feet as he felt his bowels turn to water.

"Rob?" Saha said. "... _Valiant_ come in. Please respond."

Saha looked over at their own sensor operator. After a moment the officer looked up at him with an expression of shocked disbelief etched on his features.

"She's not there, sir. The _Valiant_ is... gone."
Chapter Eighteen

"What is happening?" Sebastian demanded above the din of the alarm claxon.

The giant turned to a small control panel on the wall behind him, his fingers still pressed to the phone in his ear, and turned off the alarm. No, not a simple phone I realized. The earpiece he was wearing looked identical to the military comm-links we had aboard the _Prometheus_. Was this yet another instance of stolen Gilead technology? The giant continued listening to his earpiece for a few more moments, spoke briefly in response, then looked at Sebastian.

"A large group of ships is closing on our position," the Giant said. "According to our scans the number and size of the ships is consistent with the make-up of a Gilead battle group. I've ordered the base defenses activated."

The group of us from the _Prometheus_ exchanged surprised looks. There was no way the Fleet could have responded to our signal so soon. The only possible way for them to be here this quickly was if the battle group had already been nearby when... Morgan! It had to be. He never liked the idea of us being out here on our own. He must have sent someone to shadow us. A sub at maximum sensor range would be able to track us without being picked up on our sensors. At that moment I wasn't sure whether I wanted to hug him for racing to our aid or throttle him for ignoring my instructions.

Sebastian's brows knitted as he digested the information. Then, almost as if a switch had been thrown, his expression cleared. He pushed himself to his feet and strode purposefully over to his desk. Reaching for the small control pad set into the corner of the desk he tapped a control and the window behind his desk became a viewscreen. The image of a man appeared. He was sitting in some kind of control center with his back turned to the screen talking rapidly to someone out of view.

"Report!" Sebastian barked.

The man spun around and gawked at the screen.

"Well? Report," Sebastian repeated.

"Commandant!" the man said.

"We know who We are," Sebastian said. "What We want to know is what is going on out there."

"Ships, Commandant! A whole fleet of ships is coming this way!"

Sebastian said something under his breath then stepped up to the screen and crossed his arms. "Listen you brainless oaf, We want you to look at the sensor display and tell Us what those ships are doing."

"Yes, sir! Of course, sir! At once, sir!" The control room operator looked off camera. "Well, um, they seem to be splitting up." He frowned and tapped at his console. "It's hard to get a clear reading with all of the asteroids, but the ships seem to be heading off in different directions now."

"What are their relative bearings? How exactly are they... Never mind!" Spinning around Sebastian jabbed at the panel on his desk and switched the screen to the feed from the control bunker's sensors. The display showed the approaching ships spreading apart as they moved through the nearby asteroids. From time to time one or more of the ship icons would disappear briefly as they passed into the sensor shadow behind an asteroid. Although they were moving slowly, from their positions I immediately recognized the maneuver they were performing. Any doubts I had about whether the approaching ships were from Gilead or not were completely pushed aside.

Sebastian continued to study the screen for a few moments then turned to make an adjustment on his panel. The image leapt from the screen to form a three dimensional projection above his desk. The 3D image clearly showed the approaching ships moving into the beginnings of a spherical formation around the pirate base. Sebastian took one look at the new image and hammered the desk with his fist. Although he had in no way distinguished himself during his brief time in the Fleet, Sebastian was no fool when it came to battle tactics. He would recognize a nova formation.

Sebastian stared at the image for several moments before he jabbed at his desk panel once more. The sensor projection was joined by a smaller image window of the control room operator he had been speaking to.

"They have to be getting an intelligence feed from somewhere," he said. "There must be a sub positioned nearby. Flash the area."

"Sir, I..." the man looked confused as he searched the console.

"Find that damned sub!" Sebastian raged at him.

A moment later the man's expression brightened and he reached for a control.

Near the center of the 3D image a small dot suddenly popped into existence.

Sebastian said, "We want a warning shot sent across her bow at once. They must be made to withdraw."

The giant stepped up beside Sebastian. "Commandant, that ship needs to be destroyed, not warned off."

"Destroyed?" Sebastian said as a confused look came over him. "But, they're from Gilead. Don't you think it would be better to—"

"No. That ship must be destroyed." The giant looked at the image of the control room operator. "Tell the gun crews to target that ship and destroy it. _Now_."

"Yes, sir!" the operator said.

"That's not what the commandant ordered," I said, coming to my feet. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Those were my people out there. The giant looked at me and raised a cautionary finger. "This does not concern you."

After struggling with himself for a moment, Sebastian seemed to shake off his confusion and he turned to me. "Yes, Captain, this is Our decision. Those are enemy forces threatening the sovereignty of Our outpost and must be dealt with accordingly."

"But, Commandant," I said as I watched a targeting reticle appear and center itself atop the pulsing icon, "your first order was—"

"We are very well aware of what Our orders are, Captain!" Sebastian snapped. "Mind that you know your place."

Before I could say anything the giant spoke again. "Our gunners have achieved a target lock. Cannon number two is being readied to fire..."

A moment later the pulsing dot representing the nearby sub disappeared.

* * *

Bobby nearly jumped out of his boots when the alarm claxon started blaring. For several seconds both his team and the pirates in the barracks simply stared at each other. Then a voice boomed from the PA system.

"A fleet of enemy ships is approaching the base! All gun crews report to your stations!"

For several moments everyone remained frozen where they were.

"Didn't you just hear the order?" Bobby said, surprising himself as he stepped forward and addressed the room full of pirates. "The commandant sent us to guard this installation in case any of the enemy tries to enter here. The rest of you need to get to your stations immediately." At first no one reacted.

" _MOVE!_ "

That did the trick. In moments every man in the barracks began racing to equipment lockers and pulling on protective gear. Clive motioned to his team and led them through a doorway on the far side of the room. Stepping through they found themselves in a wide hallway which curved gently upward in both directions. A surprising number of people were rushing about. Apparently the bunker was more heavily occupied than they had first believed.

The moment he entered the corridor Bobby paused and bent over, resting his hands against his thighs. His heart was pounding and he needed a moment to catch his breath.

"That was quick thinking in there," Clive's voice said to him over his suit radio. "You could be an officer with that kind of command presence." Now that they were inside the base it was safe to use their suit comms. Their transmissions were encrypted and would simply blend in with all the other background electronic noise.

"No problem," Bobby said after his racing heart had slowed a bit. "You can thank my father for the attitude. You did _not_ want to be on his bad side when he took that tone." He gulped several more breaths then straightened. "I'm good."

"This way," Clive said after glancing in both directions. They started moving at a slow jog as they made their way along the corridor. In spite of the number of people rushing about, everyone was quick to get out of the way of four men in battle armor. It was a strange sensation to be jogging up what seemed to be an ever curving slope while feeling that they were still on a level surface. As they moved further toward the end of the complex they found themselves encountering fewer and fewer people until they were the only ones in the hallway.

After a short time they could see the end of the corridor ahead. Bobby recognized the wall of black monitor panels they had observed through the viewport earlier. The panels were still displaying what was to him a mysterious pattern of lights. When they reached the end of the hall, the three marines stepped up to the panels and studied them while Bobby kept watch.

"The generators are being spun up to full," Clive said. "They're getting ready to fire the guns. There's also a small, secondary line leading off to another area, but I'm not sure what that's for."

"Where are the generators?" Bobby asked.

Clive studied the panels for a moment, then turned and pointed to the last door in the corridor. As they stepped up to the door it slid open for them. They stepped through and found themselves in a wide compartment. To their left was a security door with an armed guard posted in front of it carrying a plasma rifle. A second guard was seated at a desk console beside the doorway. Directly above the door was a sensor bubble and positioned on the ceiling and on both walls were small blaster turrets. Clive immediately recognized the arrangement as being identical to the way the Fleet protected high security areas. As soon as they stepped into the vestibule the guard leveled his weapon at them as the trio of mounted turrets brought their muzzles to bear.

"No one's supposed to be in here," the armed guard said.

Clive stepped forward. "We were sent to protect the generators. The base is under attack."

The guard with the rifle narrowed his eyes. "We didn't receive any orders about that."

"Look, I appreciate that you're trying to do your job," Clive said, "but we need to get in there and make sure that no one is able to get at those generators."

"You're not going anywhere until I get confirmation that you're even supposed to be here." The guard said. He jabbed in their direction with his weapon. "Now put your hands up."

The four of them slowly raised their hands. While their battle armor gave them some protection from blaster fire, a plasma rifle at point blank range could punch right through even their tough plating.

Taking a solid stance, the guard turned his head slightly toward his partner while he kept the four of them in his sight. "Cooper, get on the comm to the main control room and see if they sent anyone down here."

As the seated guard contacted the bunker control room Clive pointed at the security door with one hand. "You really need to let us in there. While we're standing here wasting time enemy saboteurs could be—"

"Shut up!" the pirate said. "How do I know that you're not saboteurs? My orders are to see that no one gets in there. And until I'm told different..."

At that moment the lights dimmed as a subsonic vibration reverberated through the base. It was the unmistakable sensation of a vast amount of power being suddenly released. Clive acted in that instant.

Activating his gauntlet gun, Clive raked the area in front of the security door with blaster fire. The wrist mounted guns were another of the upgrades they had made to the suits. He swung his arm back and forth as he laid down a heavy spray of fire. The blaster bolts tore through the bodies of both guards and chewed gouges in the walls. The instant he opened fire the automated defenses in the room sprang to life, showering them with return fire. The team separated immediately, causing a momentary hesitation in the automated guns as the computer decided which target each gun would track. As blaster fire bounced off their armor and chewed holes into the floor around them, they each returned fire. While Clive and his team could move freely about the room, the turrets were locked in fixed positions. It was not long before the armored men were able to score hits on each of the turrets and blast them to ruin. Less than thirty seconds after the shooting had begun it was over.

Clive took a quick look around the smoke filled room then raised his arm and fired one last shot at the sensor bubble over the security door.

"We might have thirty seconds or three minutes," Clive said as he dragged the guard's body away from the door. "You've got to get that door open, Jimmy."

As Jimmy started working on the security panel beside the door, Bruce hurried over to the door they had entered through. There was small control panel with an emergency lock switch on the wall beside it. Bruce slapped the lock button and a red light started blinking above the door.

"The door's locked," Bruce said, "but I'm guessing they can override it from outside."

"Jam it," Clive ordered.

Raising his arm, Bruce shot the panel. It exploded in a bright shower of sparks, leaving the cover hanging askew.

Then the rest of the team joined Jimmy as he worked on opening the security door. There were more safeguards in place here than there had been on the airlock door and it was taking him some time to bypass the additional measures. He had been working on the door for perhaps a minute when they heard pounding coming from the hall. After a while the pounding stopped. It seemed too soon for them to give up, Bobby thought. He looked back at the room's entrance and saw a red spot beginning to brighten on the wall just past the door.

"They're coming through," Bobby warned as sparks began to shower from the center of the glowing spot.

"Jimmy?" Clive said.

"I need a little longer," Jimmy said.

Clive turned to look back and saw a line being cut through the wall beside the door. At the rate they were cutting he estimated that they would have an opening big enough to step through in a couple of minutes. He tapped Bobby and Bruce and motioned for them to spread out. They moved apart as they each raised their arms and took aim at the place on the wall where the pirates were cutting through.

Bobby watched as the line being cut through the wall described an arc near the ceiling and started down. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. He shifted his position to have a better angle on where the pirates would be coming through when something on the floor caught his eye. It was the guard's plasma rifle. He stooped over and picked up the weapon. The clip was fully charged which would give him about twelve shots. Tucking the stock into his shoulder he lowered himself to one knee as he raised the weapon and sighted at the wall. Having the rifle in his hands helped to bolster his nerves. Several seconds later the sparking dot returned the spot where they had started cutting.

It was silent for a moment, then the cut section of wall shuddered as it was struck from the other side and slowly toppled inward to crash against the floor. A few seconds later a face cautiously peered around the edge of the opening. The instant he saw movement Bobby's finger spasmed against his trigger. The shot went wide, striking the wall and exploding in a brilliant shower of metal fragments and dispersing energy. The pirate yelped and immediately pulled back.

It was silent for several more moments.

Then a large group of men charged through the opening at the same time, shouting and firing as they came. Although they were not wearing battle armor they did have protective vests and helmets. Close to a dozen pirates rushed into the room. Each one was armed with a blaster rifle and they immediately started firing in the direction of Clive's team. In their rush to get through the opening however the pirates bumped into each other and stumbled over the thick section of wall laying on the floor, making their shots go astray. Clive, Bruce and Bobby took careful aim from their positions and scored hits immediately on the tightly clustered pirates. A number of them staggered as their vests absorbed blaster strikes, but they recovered quickly and continued to advance into the room. A few who were unfortunate enough to get hit in the arm or leg went down immediately to lay writhing in pain.

While the vests protected the pirates from blaster fire, Bobby's plasma rifle was a different matter. The rifle barked twice in the first few moments of the pirates' charge through the door, each time scoring a telling hit. One of the attackers had a leg sheared off below the knee. He fell screaming, causing several of his fellows to topple across him. Another caught a blast directly to the chest which sent him hurtling against the far wall. He slid to the floor and lay crumpled against the base of the wall as a pool of blood formed beneath him.

Bobby was in the process of priming the weapon for another shot when a new group came through the opening. Before them they were pushing a pair of protective blast shields. The curved shields were two meters tall and one meter wide with a narrow view slit. Those pirates who were still able to move scrambled to get behind one of the shields. Blaster fire from Clive and Bruce bounced harmlessly off the shields.

Pushing himself to his feet Bobby fired off a blast directly at the closest shield. His shot exploded against the front of the shield and spilled away around the sides of the curved surface. Although his shot had left a burn mark on the armor plating it had not penetrated the shield. Bobby cocked the gun again, ratcheting the slide along the barrel of his weapon and fired off another shot. Although he scored another direct hit on the shield the effect was the same.

In moments the pirates brought both shields together, creating a two meter wide barrier behind which they barricaded themselves. Individual pirates popped out from around the sides of the barrier and returned fire at them. Because they didn't want to expose themselves for more than a moment they didn't have time to aim properly and most of their shots were off the mark. Those shots that did find their target were deflected by the team's armor. For the moment the battle was a stalemate.

As Clive and Bruce fired back at their attackers, warning lights began to flicker on their helmet displays. The gauntlet guns were meant to be a surprise weapon and were not intended to last through a sustained fire fight. As they continued to return fire at the pirates they exhausted the last of their charge clips. Once these were drained and they switched to the only alternate energy source available to them—their suit power packs. By drawing on the suit packs they could continue to shoot back at the pirates, but they were quickly running down their reserves. Bruce and Clive husbanded their shots, reserving their return fire for those instances when a pirate poked his head around one of the shields to shoot at them. In this way they could continue fighting for several more minutes, but at the end of that time their suits would be out of power, leaving them helpless.

Things remained at an impasse for a while with neither side able to score a hit. Then the pirates began inching their shields forward, gradually closing the distance between their groups. Even though Clive and his team were wearing battle armor, if enough men piled on top of them they would be overwhelmed. A blaster pressed point blank into the gap between their protective plating would allow a fatal shot to rip through them, pulping their bodies inside their suits.

"Now would be a good time, Jimmy," Clive said as he fired off a quick burst at a pirate who had popped out from the left side of the shield. One of shots struck the man just below the bottom edge of his face shield. The lower half of his face disintegrated in an explosion of blood and spraying bone fragments as his body tumbled backward.

"Got it!" Jimmy said.

The massive security door slowly began to slide open behind them. As Clive and the others backed through the widening gap, Bobby began cocking his gun and firing off shots as quickly as he could, alternating his aim between both of the shields. Blast after blast hammered against the shields, causing the pirates to stay huddled behind the protective barriers as the shields shuddered under the rapid fire impacts. Bobby kept firing as he backed toward the door, forcing the pirates to keep their heads down as he covered the team's retreat. Just as he reached the doorway the rifle ran out of charge. Pulling the trigger one last time brought only an impotent click from the firing capacitor. Once that happened Bobby turned and dove through the door as several pirates sprang from behind their protective cover and fired.

As blaster fire sleeted after Bobby, Jimmy pounded the emergency close switch with his fist and the door slammed shut behind them. Grabbing the edges of the wall mounted control panel with his fingers, Jimmy used the power of his armor to rip the cover plate from the wall. He started searching through the circuitry inside the opening for a moment, thought better of it, then simply grabbed a hand full of components and yanked. Electrical fireworks erupted from the box as the control panel shorted out.

They found themselves inside a narrow corridor only slightly wider than the door they had come through. The passage continued for a few meters before it curved sharply downward at a ninety degree angle and disappeared straight down. Red and yellow stripes on the floor warned that a change in gravity orientation took place ahead. They would have to walk around the downward bend in the floor and proceed down a long passage to reach the generator room.

"Will they be able to open it from the other side?" Clive asked, looking at the door they had just come through.

"Not right away," Jimmy said. "A series of deadbolt rods slid into place when I closed the door behind us. Since this hallway is only as wide as the door we came through they won't be able to cut through the walls to get at us like they did before. They're going to have to cut through the door itself, and that's going to take some time. I'd say we have between half an hour and forty-five minutes."

"Unless... " Bruce said as he stepped up to the door and began examining the seams where the door and walls joined.

"What is it?" Clive asked.

"They might be able to get through using shaped charges," Bruce said. As a demolitions specialist he was an expert at judging the stress tolerances of different types of construction. He ran his eyes along the edges of the door for several more seconds before he turned back with a doubtful frown. "Without knowing more about how this place was put together I'd say it's fifty-fifty that they'd end up causing a rupture that would open this section of the bunker to space. They'd have to be pretty desperate to try that."

"And if they are that desperate, how long do we have?" Clive asked.

"As long as it takes them to place the charges," Bruce said. "Not long."

"We'd better get moving then," Clive said. He glanced at Bobby and noted the hunched position he was standing in.

"Bobby? Are you alright?" Clive asked.

"I think I might have a problem," Bobby said.

Clive stepped up beside him and saw the way he was holding one arm across his middle. Searching his armor quickly Clive found a burn mark on the rear of his suit close to his spine. The mark was centered in a place between two plates and he could see a blob of grey sealant that had leaked out to plug a hole in the suit. While the sealant had kept the suit airtight, it meant that a shot had penetrated his armor.

Bobby swayed slightly and started to collapse. Clive grabbed him and slung an arm around his shoulder to keep him on his feet.

"Sorry," Bobby muttered.

"Don't apologize. You did real good in there, son," Clive said as he adjusted his grip on Bobby. "If it weren't for you all of us would have taken fire."

"Glad I could help," Bobby said weakly.

"Don't try to talk," Clive said as he started along the corridor. "Jimmy, you've got point."

The strength of his powered armor allowed Clive to carry Bobby with ease. Half a dozen paces later they were moving through the ninety degree bend in the corridor. The fluctuating gravity fields made Bobby's head spin although Clive didn't seem to be affected as he led them around the curved flooring. Soon they were heading straight down into the body of the asteroid. As they moved through the passage they could hear a deep hum vibrating in the air around them. Clive recognized it as the thrum of the generators that supplied power to the plasma cannons.

The passage ran for more than fifty meters before they came to another ninety degree bend. Once again they negotiated the disorienting gravity fluctuations until the corridor leveled out once more. After another few meters the corridor opened into a vast room with a vaulted roof that was several stories over their heads. The sound of the generators was louder here but still surprisingly subdued considering the amount of energy that was being channeled through them.

In spite of his injury, Bobby's sense of direction continued to report to him about his surroundings. From what he could tell, they were directly underneath the command bunker which was now dozens of meters beneath their feet. In the center of the room was a pair of complicated towers of machinery. Each of the monstrous generators was large enough to power a small city.

"Jimmy, secure the perimeter. Bruce, you're up," Clive said. As Jimmy moved off to search the room, Bruce jogged over to the nearest generator to begin his sabotage.

Clive eased Bobby down to the floor beside the entrance to the room and removed his helmet. Bobby's face was pale beneath a sheen of sweat.

"Well, this sucks," Bobby said through clenched teeth.

Clive removed his own helmet and opened a panel on the chest of Bobby's suit to study the bio readouts.

"The suit's autodoc compressed the wound and plugged the hole with coagulant," Clive said.

"Too bad it can't do anything about the pain," Bobby gasped.

Clive adjusted a control on the panel. Bobby immediately felt a cool numbness spread through his middle where there had been only fierce pain moments before.

"It can," Clive explained as he studied his face, "but it needs to be done manually. You don't necessarily want to cut off all sensation during a fight. You could end up causing yourself more harm if you ignore an injury and keep moving."

Clive watched Bobby's expression relax as the anesthetic took hold. In a moment he tried to push himself away from the wall but Clive put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

"You can't feel it with your system pumped full of pain killers but you're injured internally. You need to keep still or you're going to bleed out before we can get you back to the ship. The suit will keep your vitals stable for now, but you need to move as little as possible."

Bobby gave him a lopsided smile. "I appreciate the effort, Colonel, but you and I both know that the only way out of here is back through the door we just sealed behind us. This just turned into a one way mission."

Clive studied his bio readouts for another moment then closed the panel. "And I admire your bravery, son, but we're not trapped yet. There's more than one way out of here. You just sit still and save your strength for when it's time to move. That's an order."

Bobby gave him a weak salute. "Yes, sir."

Pushing himself to his feet, Clive glanced at the hall they had entered through then looked back down at Bobby.

"I'll tell you what you can do," Clive said. "You can keep an ear out for anyone entering that hallway. We don't want any of those bastards sneaking up behind us before we're finished here. If you hear anything, give a shout over the comm set. Can you do that?"

"I can do that," Bobby said as he rested his head back against the wall.

Clive didn't like the pallor of his complexion. There was only so much the suit's autodoc could do for him. If his condition deteriorated any more he was going to have to key the suit to place him in stasis. That should keep him alive for a while, but he would need to have proper medical care soon or he would die.

There was nothing more Clive could do for him at the moment so he turned away and looked around the vast room. In spite of what he had said to Bobby he wasn't sure if in fact there was another way out of here. While Bruce and Jimmy did their jobs, Clive began searching the room for a way out.

* * *

Admiral Saha felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. He had seen people die before, but no matter how many times it happened he never got used to it, especially when it was a friend. What never failed to make an impression on him was the random suddenness of death. One moment the person is here, the next they're gone. But now was not the time for mourning. Clamping down on his feelings he settled himself back into his seat and looked toward the captain of his flagship.

He drew in a deep breath and forced his voice to remain steady as he said through clenched teeth, "Captain Rogers, send a warning to the rest of the fleet to stay out of the firing arc of those guns."

"Aye, Admiral," Rogers said. If the captain heard anything unusual in the admiral's voice he kept it to himself.

The bridge was silent as Captain Rogers broadcast his warning.

Seated at his console, Admiral Saha replayed the last few seconds of the transmission from the _Valiant_. One moment he was watching an image of the asteroid as it rotated, bringing the crater opening into view, and the next moment there was nothing but static. He replayed the recording again, now at one tenth speed. This time he detected a momentary flash just before the transmission was cut. It seemed incredible but there was no denying the facts—the ship had been completely destroyed with a single blast. He replayed the transmission once more at normal speed, then reached for the intercom.

"Captain Kirov to the bridge."

As a carrier ship, the _Gulliver_ boasted a compliment of twelve fighter squadrons. Foremost among the fighter aviators were those pilots who comprised the elite Alpha squadron. And leading this squadron and responsible for all of the pilots aboard the ship was the senior pilot known as the wing commander. Wing commanders were seasoned pilots who had distinguished themselves throughout their time in the service. They were the best of the best. On the _Gulliver_ that officer was Dmitri Kirov. As he ran the recording again, Admiral Saha knew that he would need the best of the best if they were going to breach the pirates' defenses.

In spite of the vast size of the ship, Captain Kirov arrived at the bridge in minutes. Because they were at alert status he was dressed in his flight suit, with only his gloves and helmet missing.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Captain Kirov said.

"Take a look at this, Captain," Saha said as he projected the recording of the pirate asteroid as a 3D image above his console. He ran the recording through once at full speed, then again at one quarter. Captain Kirov watched without comment. After the image disappeared in a sudden flash for the second time, the admiral put up a paused image of the pirate stronghold for them to study.

"That tunnel appears to be our only way into their base," Saha said, pointing at the small crater on the image. He tapped at his board and brought up a series of readouts alongside the hologram. "This is what our sensors recorded before the transmission was cut."

Kirov studied the data for a moment then looked up at the admiral.

"Fighters could do it," Kirov said simply. "Anything bigger would be too slow to evade those guns."

"My thoughts exactly," the admiral agreed.

The wing commander looked thoughtful for a moment. "May I see the playback again, sir?"

Admiral Saha replayed the recording once more at normal speed.

"It seems odd that their entire defense would be built around just those guns no matter how powerful they are," the captain said eventually.

"That's all we've been able to pick up," Saha said. "They have a powerful energy shield across the entire mouth of the crater now so our sensors might be missing something, but the _Valiant_ didn't detect anything else even before... their transmission was cut."

Kirov glanced at the lines of data hovering in the air beside the image then said, "I can have my ship prepped to launch in ten minutes."

"Hellhounds?" Saha asked.

Kirov nodded. "I'll have the crew mount two, just in case, but one should be more than enough."

Fighters could carry a maximum of twelve missiles, depending on the mission. For this mission speed and maneuverability were critical so payload mass would need to be kept to a minimum. Maneuvering in space was more complicated than flying through an atmosphere and hellhounds were much bulkier than the missiles normally carried by a fighter. Because of the intensity of the pirates' energy barrier however, the standard pike missiles that were usually carried by their fighters would not do. Although the pirates' screens could not stop them, the less massive pikes would be deflected off course. That would not be the case with hellhounds. They were specifically designed to punch directly through shielding with minimal deflection. But carrying the hellhounds would make Kirov's ship slower to respond—and an easier target.

Admiral Saha held his eyes. "We need those guns taken out, Captain, but I'm not ordering you to do this. I simply wanted your opinion on feasible options."

"I don't really see any other options, sir, not if you want to gain access to their stronghold."

Saha's expression was grim, but he nodded his assent. "Will you be taking your entire wing?" Fighters aboard a carrier were grouped into three wings of four squadrons each. A full wing would give him thirty six ships.

"I don't think so. Just my squadron should do. It'll be helpful to have multiple fighters out there so the pirates have more than one target to keep track of, but I'd like to minimize the number of ships in the air. We're going to need to maneuver quickly and you don't want the space around you too crowded in this kind of situation. All those drifting hunks of rock are going to be enough to worry about." Although fighters carried both navigational and combat shields, they were nowhere near as powerful as those aboard the carrier.

"Very good, Captain. Good luck."

The wing commander drew himself up straight. "I'll go see to the ordnance, sir. We'll signal when our ships are in the tubes."

For the next several minutes the admiral lost himself studying the frozen image of the pirate asteroid base. As he sat there he ran through various scenarios in his mind about the different ways Captain Kirov's squadron could approach their objective. The biggest problem was the time the captain needed to get a target lock before he could launch a missile. Although the targeting computers were fast, Kirov would still need to hold his ship on a fairly steady line toward the cave entrance for at least a few seconds to ensure a target lock. But that would also give the pirates a chance to get a lock on him.

It seemed like only a couple of minutes had passed when word reached to bridge that the squadron was ready to launch. While the wing commander and his squadron had been readying their ships, Captain Rogers had ordered the carrier turned broadside, repositioning the _Gulliver_ so that the launch tubes Alpha squadron would be using were pointed in the direction of the pirates' asteroid.

"Alpha squadron is ready for launch," Rogers said.

"Launch fighters," Saha ordered. The words felt heavy in his mouth.

The pilots of Alpha Squadron braced themselves as the magnetic guide rails within the launch tubes hurtled the fighters into space. As their ships erupted from the side of the carrier, the pilots took control of their ships and made the minor course adjustments needed to close up their formation. The momentum from their launch had them traveling at sufficient speed for the time being and they did not yet need their main engines.

As they had discussed during the mission briefing, they would not be holding to strict formation for this operation. Not only would all the floating bits of rock make that impossible but they needed to keep their ships moving in unpredictable patterns to prevent themselves from being target locked by the immense guns that were their objective. A single blast from one of those guns would obliterate any fighter it hit and continue on with virtually no loss of destructive force.

From the carrier's position the pirates' asteroid stronghold was hidden behind a large, misshapen lump of rock. To the fighters it meant that they were shielded from those guns, at least for the moment. For the first minutes of their flight each pilot kept his or her attention glued to their sensor screens as they jinked their ships about to avoid the random bits of rock around them. The constant sparkling display caused by sand sized particles impacting their shields reduced the effective range of their sensors, but they found that they were able to detect and avoid anything large enough to damage their ships.

By the time they had begun to accustom themselves to flying through the hazardous space, they were approaching the edge of the huge rock that was shielding the objective. Just as they were about to round the limb of the asteroid, a tumbling shape off to one side drew Kirov's attention. There was something about it that triggered his pilot senses, warning him that it was not a natural object. He wondered why his threat detection system hadn't warned him about it. A quick glance at the sensor return showed that his scanners were only picking up a weak, intermittent return from the object, as if they were having trouble reading it. It was his eyes that eventually told him the real story. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he recognized the object as the remains of a sub's command sail that had been violently torn from the main body of its ship. What remained of the sub's ablative coating was interfering with his fighter's sensors.

"My god..." came a voice over their battle frequency.

"Cut the chatter, Alpha four," he said automatically, although there was no reproach in his voice. "On my mark we will break and engage the enemy position. Space it out and remember to keep moving. If they get a target lock you're toast."

As they flew around the edge of the asteroid, the pirate stronghold came into view. The immense asteroid loomed in front of them appearing to be almost the size of a planet at this distance. Their approach had been timed using the telemetry data from the _Valiant_ so that the tunnel leading into the giant rock was facing them virtually head-on.

"Break, break, break," Kirov ordered. The squadron immediately broke from their loose formation to begin the series of erratic movements designed to confuse the enemy's tracking system. No sooner had they broken formation than a powerful blast flashed at them from one of the particle cannons. The brilliant shot streaked through their midst. It missed the fighters and slammed into to body of the asteroid they had just swung around. The blast tore a large chunk free from the already misshapen lump of rock. Even with the anti-glare faceplates of their helmets their eyes were dazzled by the flash of the compressed particle beam.

Alpha squadron lit their main engines and dove toward the asteroid. It was a risky maneuver, accelerating toward their objective, but they needed to close the distance between themselves and the guns as quickly as possible. Because the cannons were recessed within the cave to afford them the protection of dense rock, their firing arc was restricted. Ironically, the closer the fighters came to the asteroid the safer they would be. A second shot flashed at them almost immediately after the first one had been fired. It also missed, but came close to taking out one of Kirov's wingmen. The wing commander sent his ship into a corkscrew loop to one side while his wingmen looped in opposite directions as they tried to keep their ships away from the trajectory of that last blast.

Around him, the other members of Alpha Squadron opened fire, loosing their missiles at the entrance to the pirate base. The other ships had been equipped with pike missiles. Their lower mass would not interfere with the maneuverability of the fighters and firing them at the base would serve to distract the enemy. A lucky shot might even damage one of the guns, although that was unlikely. In a few moments the missiles began to impact against the asteroid. Since the other pilots hadn't waited to acquire a target lock the strikes were scattered across its surface. Even so, the pilots' instinctual reflexes were so good that more than half of them reached the broad crater. But as he watched, Kirov noted how the missiles veered off course as they passed through the powerful energy shield. None of them actually entered the tunnel or came close to the protected guns.

While he jinked his ship in erratic patterns, Kirov also tried to keep the nose of his fighter pointing at the cave entrance to give his targeting computer a chance to get a...

_Target lock_ flashed on the heads up display on his canopy as the targeting reticle changed from flashing red to solid green. His thumb mashed the fire button on his control stick and he felt the slight bump of the clamps disengaging as the missile was propelled away from the ship. As soon as it was free of the fighter, the missile's engine ignited and it streaked forward. Captain Kirov watched the missile for a moment as it raced toward its target. Its trail was distinctly different from the other missiles—broader, longer, more brilliant. It was as if it were announcing its contempt for the defenses arrayed against it. He knew that it was moving far too fast for those massive guns to track and intercept. In another few seconds it would—

The hellhound exploded.

Before the missile had even reached the energy shield it erupted into a brilliant fireball. For a moment Kirov was confused. The particle cannons had not opened fire. So what... As he thought about what had happened his mind replayed what his eyes had seen. Just before the missile exploded there had been a series of flashes to one side of the cave entrance. With all of the pinpoint flashes going off around his ship he had ignored them at first. Then he realized what he had seen. The pirates had anti-missile batteries hidden in the crater floor. What he had seen were the muzzle flashes of one of the gun turrets unleashing a stream of slugs at the incoming weapon.

As his ship continued to fall toward the asteroid the danger of their situation became obvious. Although they would be out of the firing arc of the cannons when they got close to the surface of the asteroid, they would be at point blank range to those other guns. The hardened slugs that could be sprayed at them from those batteries would tear through the fuselages of their ships like tissue paper.

As if in response to his thoughts the target lock warning buzzer suddenly blared from his console.

"Abort! All ships pull up!" he called into his mic even as the glittering explosion from the destroyed hellhound continued to expand before them.

Firing his maneuvering thrusters, Kirov turned his ship until its nose was angled away from the asteroid and slammed his throttle to full power as he jinked his ship erratically to throw off the enemy targeting computers. Unlike atmospheric craft, they could not use air friction to redirect their momentum into a different heading. They would continue toward the asteroid at the same velocity until they turned around and accelerated in the opposite direction. But turning their tails to the enemy position now would be suicide. They would not only need to apply thrust long enough to stop their motion toward the asteroid, but they would have to then continue to fire their engines until they began to accelerate away from it. All during that time they would be easy marks for the nimble guns that could track and target them far quicker that the huge cannons.

Their only chance was to apply thrust at a right angle to the direction they were traveling so that they would pass beyond the edge of the asteroid. Once out of the danger zone they could worry about cancelling their forward momentum to head back to the carrier. But even as the though came to him Kirov knew that it might already be too late.

As he held his throttle against its stops, from the corner of his eyes Kirov saw the flash from one of the guns on the crater floor as it opened fire. A moment later he saw one of his wingmen's ships erupt in a ball of fire. A second explosion flared somewhere above him seconds after that.

He never knew it when the stream of rounds punched through his own ship and triggered his engines to overload.
Chapter Nineteen

The giant listened to the report coming over his earpiece then turned to Sebastian. "The control bunker reports that the enemy sub has been completely destroyed."

Although I had known what had happened from watching the sensor scan, I still felt a hollowness in my chest at the finality of those words. The typical attack sub carried a crew of a hundred and forty six. All of those lives had been erased in an instant. Anger started to build inside me and I turned toward Sebastian, but the look I saw on his face brought me up short. He actually seemed upset by what had happened.

Sebastian walked slowly back to the dining table and dropped himself into his seat. For a moment he sat staring at the surface of the table, his face drawn in a tight mask of conflicting emotions. "It was their own fault," he said finally. "They forced Us to defend Ourself. If they hadn't threatened Us We would never... It didn't have to be like this." After another few moments he raised his head. "They brought it on themselves by threatening Us," he said to no one in particular. He seemed to be trying to justify his actions to himself more than anything else.

Oblivious to Sebastian's conflict of conscience, the giant had been slowly pacing the floor listening to his comm-link when he suddenly stopped.

"They did _what_?" he said. He listened for several seconds. "How did they get inside in the first place?" Another pause. "I'll deal with that later. Right now I want you to take every man you can find and... I don't care about... Now you listen to me!" His voice had taken on a lethal quality. "I don't care what you need to do but you get in there and you stop them. I want them turned into lifeless corpses by the time I contact you again or I'm going to turn you and every one of those incompetent idiots stationed there with you into corpses!" He cut the connection and spun toward the Commandant.

"Four men in battle armor have locked themselves in the generator room for the particle cannons," he announced.

Sebastian frowned. "Our people?"

"No," the giant fixed his gaze on me. "From what they've been able to piece together they got into the bunker through the main airlock."

"Did they come from that sub?" Sebastian asked.

"I don't think so," the giant said as he continued to stare at me. "None of the perimeter alarms were tripped. They must have already been inside the base." He took a step toward me. "And there's only one ship here with outsiders aboard."

Sebastian followed his gaze to me. For an instant his eyes widened, then a look of fury descended on his features. "Guards!" he yelled.

Several things happened in that moment. Springing to her feet, Morgana reached behind her neck, withdrew the knife she had secreted there, and in a single motion hurled it toward the door to the room. The balanced blade spun through the air and landed dead center in the small control panel beside the door. The panel erupted in a shower of sparks and the doors which had barely begun to open froze in position, leaving a finger's breadth gap. From the hallway I could hear the frustrated shouts of the guards on the other side of the doors as they struggled vainly to force the heavy security doors apart.

At the same time Sebastian surged to his feet, knocking his chair over backward as he reached for the saber at his side. He freed his blade in one quick, practiced motion and pointed it at me as I pushed myself up from my seat. A vicious grimace twisted his features as he glared at me. His enraged expression reminded me of the last time I had faced him in the senate chamber on Haven, only this time there was no one nearby to hand me a blade of my own. Behind him I saw the giant round the head of the table and move toward me. Sebastian held his position as his bodyguard strode past him, hanging back to let his man work. I began to back away from the table as the servants ran about in confusion and dove for cover.

The giant was almost on top of me when another imposing figure stepped between us.

"I got this, Captain," Ian said as he placed himself between me and the giant.

Ian balled his right hand into a fist and smacked it into his palm then gestured for the giant to come to him. The giant's eyes slid from me to Ian. After a moment he smiled and began to move toward my engineer.

As big as Ian was, the giant stood a full head taller than him, but that didn't seem to bother Ian as he took a solid stance and readied himself. The giant might be taller than him but Ian's frame was thick with muscle.

When he was less than a meter away, the giant lunged forward, launching a right hook that looked powerful enough to rip Ian's head from his shoulders. With surprising agility Ian slipped under the arc of the punch and sank a punishing blow deep into the giant's middle. The air was driven from the giant's lungs as the strike actually lifted him onto his toes. As his heels came back down Ian followed up with a left cross to the side of his face. The smack of the blow sounded loudly in the room and the giant's head snapped around from the force of the punch.

Ian danced away, watching for his opponent's reaction. For a moment the giant simply stood frozen in a fighting crouch. Then he shook his head and looked back over his shoulder at Ian. His eyes narrowed. He straightened and turned to face Ian again. Reaching up with the back of his hand he wiped away a thin line of blood from the corner of his mouth then licked his knuckles clean. He twisted his head from side to side and rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles before bringing his fists up again. He bent into a fighting crouch once more and started forward.

Slowly the two began circling. They closed with each other and began trading blows that would have crippled anyone else. I watched as Ian raised his right arm, blocking an especially savage punch that was aimed at the side of his head as he slipped inside the giant's guard to deliver a straight jab to the middle of his face. I could hear the crack of the giant's nose shattering and saw the spray of blood explode behind Ian's fist. The blow should have staggered him, but the giant acted as if he didn't feel it. Moving with sudden speed he caught Ian on the side of his jaw with a vicious elbow strike. As Ian's head snapped around from the blow, the giant followed up with a series of punishing punches to the ribs and stomach. Ian's body shuddered from the pounding and I was sure that he was going to sag to the floor at any moment. Instead, he surprised both me and the giant by lurching forward and grabbing him in a bear hug, locking their bodies together.

As I watched the two big men struggling to gain an advantage over each other, I caught a sudden blur of movement from the corner of my eye. With Sebastian visible on the other side of the brawling men, I had no idea who it could be. I was just starting to raise my hands defensively when Morgana leapt past me and delivered a flying kick to the figure coming at me.

"Oh no you don't, sister!" she said as she landed a solid kick in Angela's side, launching her at the dining table. Angela slammed into the edge of the table with bone shattering force and tumbled backward across it with a crash of breaking dishes. Rolling off the far side of the table, Angela fell to the floor amid a shower of broken dishes and glassware. For a moment I wondered if Morgana had killed her. But sooner than I would have thought possible she popped up and brushed herself off.

She glared at Morgana, then suddenly sprang forward. Planting one hand on the table top she executed a one handed handspring high in the air, tucked her legs and completed a forward somersault to land lightly on the near side facing us.

"That's going to cost you, _bitch_!" Angela hissed.

Morgana assumed a fighting stance. "Bring it."

Doc Jacobs hustled Chris out of the way as the women eyed each other. What Doc had learned from his medical scans of our passenger was that she was a product of genetic engineering. What he had finally realized was bothering him about her genetic profile was that her DNA was unnaturally perfect. Someone had spent a fortune to resequence her genes while she was still a fetus to make her into a superwoman. Unlike a normal person's genes which showed occasional mutations here and there, Angela's profile showed no defects whatsoever. According to Doc's scans, her modified DNA made her faster, stronger and more intelligent than most people, with almost super human agility and an accelerated healing capacity. He also found that she possessed the ability to control her body's endocrine system. In particular she could consciously manipulate her pheromone production. This enabled her to influence the men around her by making them infatuated with her. This effect was even more powerful if she touched someone, allowing her chemical influence to be absorbed directly through their skin. The one drawback to this ability was that her biochemical charms had the opposite effect on members of the same sex. Women in range of her influence were repelled by her, which explained Morgana's instant dislike of her.

Once Doc had made me aware of her special nature, I found it possible to ignore her attempts to manipulate me. Given her special abilities it didn't seem likely that her being aboard our ship was mere coincidence. She had been sent for a reason, probably to see if we were truly the independent trade ship we claimed to be. Looking back I realized that her migraine attacks had been a ploy to get unrestricted access to the ship so that she could search for any signs that we were something other than a down on our luck merchant vessel. Unfortunately for her, Doc had a more critical eye than she expected.

For a time I wondered if the Pirate Brotherhood might be composed of a number of such supermen and women, but Doc's scans during our initial visit to the base had revealed that no one else we encountered was a product of gene manipulation. Not even the giant, the one person I had been certain was such a modified individual. Ironically, Doc's scans had revealed that his size was actually the result of a natural mutation, a condition known medically as acromegaly.

While the specifics of Angela's background were still a mystery, it seemed obvious that she was an agent for the pirates. As she and Morgana squared off against each other I worried that Morgana might be outclassed. Morgana was one of the most skillful fighters I had ever seen, but I was worried that her skills would not be enough against Angela's enhanced abilities.

After a moment the women stopped circling. Suddenly, faster than seemed humanly possible, Angela sprang at Morgana. For the next several seconds they both launched and parried blows that were almost too fast to follow with the naked eye. Both of them seemed to be holding their own for a while until Angela spun about and lashed out with one foot, catching Morgana in the stomach. This time it was her turn to fly backward. She slammed against a wall and slid heavily to the floor. Clutching her middle with one arm, Morgana glared up at her.

"Get up. I'm just getting started with you," Angela said.

Morgana cautiously got back to her feet and pushed herself away from the wall. Cold fury shone in her eyes as she stepped toward the slight form of her opponent. Angela stayed where she was and held her hands low, almost daring Morgana to strike her. Morgana advanced on her slowly as Angela held her ground. When she was close enough, Morgana let loose a flurry of punches and kicks at her adversary. Angela moved with inhuman speed, sliding away from every strike at the last possible moment without bothering to block anything thrown at her. Morgana stepped back and paused after just missing her target with a spinning kick that would have caved in the side of her skull had it connected.

"Is that all you've got?" Angela taunted.

Morgana took a deep breath and adjusted her stance, shifting her feet slightly to increase her traction. I could see her tightening her hands into hard fists as she studied her opponent. Then she launched another series of powerful strikes and kicks, each of which Angela again dodged with apparent ease. Then, just as Morgana was retracting her leg following an unsuccessful hooking kick to the ribs, Angela lunged forward and drove her fist into the center of Morgana's body just below her sternum.

Morgana expelled a powerful gush of air as she folded in half around that fist. Her feet lifted into the air and she slammed face down on the floor. I started to move toward her when a roar from the other side of the room drew everyone's attention.

The two big men had somehow fought their way around to the far side of the table. I looked up to see the giant hoisting Ian over his head, feet bicycling uselessly in the air. The giant's face was twisted into a mask of animal fury with a grotesque goatee of blood painted across the bottom half of his face beneath his mangled nose. With an enraged shout he body slammed Ian onto the dining table. The table collapsed, splintering under the force of the blow. Dishes, cutlery and serving platters were hurled in all directions. Ian groaned and feebly tried to roll from his back as the giant stood over him.

As the giant reached down to grab Ian by the throat, Angela turned back toward Morgana with a sadistic grin.

"Giving up so soon, dear?" she said as Morgana lay on her stomach and struggled to draw a breath. "I had hoped you might be able to put up a better fight than this."

I was moving to place myself between the two women when Sebastian stepped in front of me.

"Not so fast, Captain Pell," he said as he pointed at me with the tip of his saber. "We have some unfinished business." As I looked up at him he narrowed his eyes and gestured with his weapon. "As you can see, your people are outclassed. As for you... If there is one thing We cannot abide it is disloyalty." He advanced toward me, holding his saber threateningly. "And there is only one penalty for disloyalty."

As he continued to advance toward me I backed away until I felt myself pressed against the wall. With nowhere to retreat to I watched helplessly as Sebastian closed to within striking distance and drew back his sword arm.

* * *

Clive spent a long time searching through the generator room for a way out with no success. Most of the wall space was taken up by a confusion of pipes and power conduits, junction boxes and display panels. The only breaks in the walls were a number of small air vents that were barely large enough to stick his arm in. Since the room they were in was buried under more than fifty meters of solid rock they couldn't even blast a hole through one of the walls to escape. If they were going to get out of here they would have to do something unexpected.

He had just completed a full circuit of the room when a deep, vibrating hum reverberated through the structure of the base and the lights dimmed. At the same moment that the main lights had dimmed, Clive saw bright flashing coming from the far side of the room. It was a brief burst of intense, white light that cut off as abruptly as it had started. It was as if lightning had flared inside the room for a moment.

He knew what it was immediately. Particle cannons emitted a short blast of high energy plasma. By passing the ionized gas through a powerful magnetic field the plasma was concentrated into a coherent beam that could be accelerated to near light speed. But the plasma itself was too powerful to be constrained for long. Although theoretically it could be held inside a magnetic bottle indefinitely, the power cost was prohibitive. Instead, large gas reservoirs known as flash chambers were used to store vast quantities of hydrogen. By passing a powerful current through the gas it was quickly excited to the point where its electrons were stripped away, creating in an instant the charged particles needed to power the weapon. Once created, the plasma was compressed into the force chamber of the cannon from which it was released in a single burst. Given the size of the guns the pirates were using, the flash chambers must be immense. The flash of the ionizing gas was the only thing that could cause the intense burst of light he had seen.

The image of a pair of thick hatches immediately came to mind. Clive remembered passing the twin doors during his circuit of the room. One had been midway along the wall on this side of the room. The other had been in the middle of the opposite wall, right where the flashing had come from. Warning signs posted on each door had made it very clear that an extremely hazardous environment lay beyond. He had briefly examined the doors as he made his way around the room, but paid them little mind. Through the small, thick windows set into each door he had seen long, narrow passages that led deeper into the body of the asteroid. Way down at the far end of each of these passages was another heavy door which gave access into the isolation silos where the flash chambers were contained.

Given the critical importance of the magnetic containment system that kept the volatile plasma away from other matter, there was a slim possibility that there might be a maintenance access of some kind leading out of the silo to allow workers to inspect the system. If so, it might be possible for them to escape that way. But it was not an option he would take if they had any other choice. Temperatures inside a flash chamber reached nearly ten thousand degrees Celsius. Even with the gas insulated within the flash chamber itself, the heat that escaped into the isolation silo could raise the ambient temperature around the chamber to more than three thousand oC. Anyone inside the silo when the cannon was fired would be reduced to ash in the space of a heartbeat.

But no other options had presented themselves and Clive found himself forced to make a difficult decision. They could barricade themselves in the generator room and try to fight off whatever forces the pirates sent in after them, or they could dare the risky trip through one of the isolation silos and hope that the cannon wasn't fired while they were inside.

Under normal conditions the four of them would be able to hold off a force much larger than theirs indefinitely from inside the generator room. The narrow hallway that led into the room would force anyone who tried to come at them to bunch up in that bottleneck, making them easy targets as they got in each other's way. But the blast shields the pirates had used in the security lobby swung the odds solidly in their favor. Tucked in behind those shields the pirates could send an overwhelming force against them with impunity—which left Clive with no real choice.

He had only been standing there for a few seconds when the sound from the generators deepened again as the lights dimmed once more. This time the flashing came from the door on the near side of the room.

Before the generators had spun back up to full speed he was moving, his mind made up. Given the size of the guns, he estimated that the flash chambers had to be large enough to hold at least a thousand cubic meters of gas. It would take time to refill that much space before the cannon could be fired again. Enough time hopefully for him to examine one of the isolation silos to see if there was in fact a maintenance access to the outside.

He hurried to the hatch whose small window had recently been ablaze with fierce light and pressed the door control. The oval doorway was less than a meter wide and just over one and a half meters tall. Once the thick door had retracted into the wall, Clive squeezed himself through the opening. It was a tight fit in his armor but by turning sideways he was able to squeeze through. As soon as he had cleared the doorway the hatch sealed itself behind him to protect the environment of the generator room. He hurried along the narrow passage and soon was standing before the inner hatch. He noticed that the air was warmer at the far end of the passage. He took a quick look through the hatch window and could see the immense shape of the flash chamber on the other side. When he thumbed the open switch for the door a blast of intense heat slammed into him. The exposed skin on his face prickled as if he were standing in front of a blast furnace. He recoiled from the searing temperature, instinctively clamping his eyes closed and raising his hands to ward off the heat. After a moment he found that he could open his eyes to narrow slits and he leaned forward and poked his head warily into the space beyond.

Clive found himself peering into a circular shaft that ran for at least fifty meters both above and below him. Suspended in the center of the shaft was the flash chamber itself, a translucent cylinder inside a heavy metal-ceramic framework that was encircled by thick magnetic constrictor bands spaced at one meter intervals along its length. He estimated that the flash chamber had to measure at least three meters in diameter. Given these dimensions he calculated that the reservoir could actually hold closer to three thousand cubic meters of gas. He had trouble imagining the destructive power of a cannon that was able to loose that large a concentration of ionized matter in a single burst, but knew that the shields of even the largest Fleet ships would not be able to withstand that much firepower.

Looking above and below him he found a series of rungs set into the wall of the silo. There was no artificial gravity field in the shaft and it took him a moment to mentally reorient himself to see the tube as inverted. Above his head, which was actually the bottom of the silo, was a dead end. Beneath him was the top of the silo. There he could see that the flash chamber was coupled to a plasma conduit which disappeared through the ceiling. And set into the ceiling just above where the ladder ended he could see a circular hatch. That was their way out.

Although it was still incredibly hot in the silo, he found that the searing temperature of a few moments ago was beginning to recede. He felt the air moving around him and realized that the hot air was being drawn out as refrigerated air was pumped in to reduce the temperature in the silo. The wall was still much too hot to touch with bare skin, but they would be safe in their armor—as long as no one fired the cannon while they were still inside the silo.

Closing the hatch he quickly retraced his steps back to where Bobby sat propped against the wall beside the entrance passageway. At first he thought the young man was unconscious but Bobby raised his hand slowly and flashed him a thumbs up as he returned.

"All quiet so far," Bobby reported softly as Clive knelt down beside him and flipped open the monitor panel on his suit. Bobby's vital signs had dropped over the past few minutes.

"So what's the verdict?" Bobby asked weakly. "Do you think I'll ever be able to play the piano?"

"You'll be playing the piano before you know it," Clive said with more conviction than he felt.

"That's good. I never could play the piano before." Bobby smiled weakly at his own jest.

"That joke is older that I am," Clive said.

"Nothing like a classic," Bobby said, then grimaced as a spasm of pain lanced through him. When the pain subsided and he could breathe again, he asked, "By the way, did you happen to find a way out? I'd kind of like to get back to the ship."

"As a matter of fact I did. It's going to be a tight squeeze but we should come out in the tunnel not far from where we left the scooters."

"That's... good," Bobby said. His voice had begun to slur. "I don't think I could ever play the piano before. You know, before like when it was before and I saw the tree on the roof." His voice trailed off and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Clive grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him as he called his name. Bobby mumbled something incoherent but was otherwise unresponsive. Clive looked at the bio monitor panel again and saw that his blood pressure had taken a sudden drop. He realized that Bobby must be hemorrhaging internally. There was no choice now. He typed in the code to have Bobby's suit place him in stasis and pulled his helmet back on. As soon as the helmet was sealed to the suit's neck collar, the autodoc injected him with the chemical compound that would slow his body functions and lowered the internal temperature of the suit to just above freezing. They were now in a race against time.

Clive pushed himself to his feet just as Bruce and Jimmy were returning. After completing his security sweep of the room, Jimmy had gone to help Bruce plant the charges. Clive could see that the bags attached to their belts were now empty. As they returned they both looked down at Bobby's unmoving form.

"I put him in stasis," Clive explained, answering their unasked question. "We need to get him to a medical bay soon if he's going to have any chance. How did it go with the charges?"

"Everything is in place," Bruce said. "Since the pirates know we're in here I couldn't do what I had originally planned and I had to get a little creative. They'd have found the stuff I was going to plant with a quick search. Once I thought about it I didn't have a lot of options." Bruce paused and Clive could sense his discomfort.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Clive said.

Bruce took a breath and continued. "I decided that the only way to be sure the guns are out of action is to take out the main transfer nodes in the generators. I found an access panel and planted a small charge inside each of the nodes. The only way they could find it would be for someone to open the housing and stick his hand inside the chamber and feel around for it. Since it's not on a timer there's no electronic signal for them to detect. They'll never even know it's there. Of course they'd be fools not to check the generators over for sabotage, so we also planted timed charges in the obvious places. They should be able to find and disarm those easily enough. If they're not careful when they go to remove them they could still do the job for us but that's not what I'm counting on. When they go to fire the cannons the power surge will be more than enough to detonate the charge I planted and that will take out the transfer node."

"Is that going to be enough to take out the guns?"

Bruce smiled. "Oh, yes sir. The explosion itself won't destroy the generator but the node will be completely ruined. And without the transfer node to direct the power flow all that energy won't have anywhere to go. There'll be a chain reaction that should send both generators up. In fact," Bruce said, glancing around the room uneasily, "we need to be as far away from here as we can before it blows. If it works like I think it will, we're going to want to have as much solid rock as possible between us and this bunker when that happens."

Clive understood what had Bruce so uncomfortable. They no longer had control over the destruction of the guns. The pirates would destroy their own weapons, and the control bunker as well, the next time they tried to fire them. And if they hadn't made their way out of the generator room by then, they would go up as well.

At that moment they heard a muffled explosion from the entrance corridor. The pirates had decided to blow the security door. They waited for several moments but there was no sudden outrush of atmosphere. The bunker had not ruptured. One potential disaster had been avoided. And with their men now entering the generator room, it was unlikely that the pirates would fire the guns again until they had searched for booby traps. The window to make their escape was now and they needed to hurry.

Clive picked up his helmet. "I've found our way out. Seal your suits and stay close."

They all drew on their helmets. Bruce and Jimmy each took one of Bobby's arms around their shoulders and supported him between them as they followed Clive to the nearest silo hatch. It took them a bit of maneuvering to pass his limp body through the small doorway but they eventually managed to get him into the narrow passage. As the hatch closed behind them they could hear the pirates approaching the generator room through the corridor that led back to the bunker.

They moved as quickly and as quietly as they could along the narrow tunnel. Soon they came to the end and Clive opened the hatch into the isolation silo. Leaning through the opening he pulled himself into the gravity-less environment then turned to help the others maneuver Bobby through behind him. Once they had him through Clive started along the ladder, tugging Bobby behind him with one hand as the others pulled themselves into the shaft. Bruce was the last one into the silo. As he closed the second hatch behind him he saw that the pirates had not yet thought to check for them here. He hoped their luck would hold long enough for them to make it back to their scooters. As he stared at the confined space around them and the volatile flash chamber a few meters way he felt decidedly uneasy. This would be a really bad place to be ambushed.

The climb up the shaft went fairly quickly. Without a gravity field to drag them down they ascended rapidly, pulling themselves along the shaft by the rungs set into the silo wall. When they reached the hatch they found that it could be opened manually by simply pulling on a release handle set into the door. The hatch opened easily, swinging smoothly down into the silo.

On the other side of the hatch was an airlock. Through the small window set into the outer hatch they could make out what appeared to be the tunnel that led into the asteroid. They were almost out.

But there was a problem. The airlock was too small for more than one of them at a time. This would not have been more than an inconvenience if the hatch could be operated from the outside, but from the configuration of the door it was obvious that it could only be opened from inside. It was no doubt a security measure to prevent unauthorized access into the bunker, but it meant that they would have no way to get Bobby through since he could not operate the lock controls himself.

Clive immediately ordered Bruce and Jimmy through ahead of him.

"But, sir..." Jimmy started to object.

"No arguments," Clive said quickly, cutting him off. "I'm not planning on leaving anyone behind. You two just be ready to help me with Bobby when we cycle through." One of the fiercest traditions among marines was that they did not abandon comrades.

Bruce cycled through quickly and soon Jimmy was entering the chamber. The airlock was so small that cycling through took less than a minute. Clive watched through the circular window inset in the door as Jimmy exited the chamber a short time later. As soon as he closed the outer hatch the airlock automatically began to repressurize.

As air cycled back into the lock, Clive reached for the clips on the shoulders of Bobby's suit that held his backpack in place. He released them quickly, then reached around his waist for the matching pair of release clips there. In the gravityless environment it was a simple matter for him to pull the pack away from the suit with one hand. The backpack housed the suits' air tanks and main power cells. Small, emergency batteries would continue to power the armor for another ten minutes or so which was more than enough time for them to cycle through the lock, but with the backpacks removed they would have only the air that was trapped in their suits to breathe. Clive hoped it would be enough.

Once he had disconnected Bobby's backpack he checked his face quickly through the helmet visor. Frost had begun to creep in from the edges of the faceplate and Bobby appeared to be resting peacefully. The bio monitors in the chest panel confirmed that he was in deep hibernation. With his metabolism reduced to a fraction of normal, the air in his suit should be able to sustain him for quite some time.

Once he had seen to Bobby, Clive checked the airlock and found that the cycle had completed. Pulling open the door he guided Bobby's limp form up into the circular chamber then tucked his backpack against the wall to one side. He was just reaching up to undo the first of his own suit's shoulder clips when a blaster bolt slammed into the ceiling near his head.

He started, the sudden motion sending him tumbling against the silo wall. He grabbed the nearest rung of the ladder with one hand to steady himself and looked down. A number of pirates had entered the silo fifty meters below. A pair of them was struggling over something that Clive quickly realized was a blaster rifle. After a moment one of the pirates took a swing at the other, connecting with a solid blow to the mouth that sent the second man floating out into the silo. A moment later one of the pirate's arms brushed against the outer casing of the flash chamber. The man shrieked and spasmed violently as the hot alloy burned him. As he recoiled from his contact with the chamber casing, his companion gestured at him emphatically and pointed at the flash chamber. The shooter had been reckless enough to actually open fire inside the isolation silo. Fortunately his shot had missed the flash chamber or none of them might be here now. All he had done was to alert Clive to their presence.

As the pirates began to swarm up the silo wall after them, Clive quickly released the remaining clips and struggled out of his backpack. He pushed the pack ahead of him into the airlock then pulled himself in after it. Wriggling and squirming his way into the small chamber he found that he was just able to squeeze into the claustrophobic space. He started to reach down and close the hatch behind him but found that he couldn't bend enough to reach it with their suits pressed against each other. Icy fingers clutched his stomach when he realized that he wouldn't be able to close the hatch.

Looking between his feet he saw the pirates climbing rapidly up the silo wall. They would be on them in moments. He stared down the silo impotently as the enemy drew closer, his mind spinning as he tried to come up with a way out of this predicament. He quickly realized that there was no way he could save them. But there was another option. He could see to it that the pirates were stopped here.

With calm acceptance he extended his arm and prepared to open fire with his gauntlet blaster. If they couldn't escape he was going to take as many of the pirates with him as he could. The airlock should protect Bruce and Jimmy from the blast when he ruptured the flash chamber. Then they would be free to return to the ship.

As he sighted along his forearm, taking aim between his boots, a though struck him: _Boots?_

In a sudden flash of inspiration he activated the magnetic soles. Extending one leg down through the open doorway he pressed the bottom of his foot against the open hatch and pulled it closed behind them just as the first of the pirates reached the top of the silo. The control that worked the cycling pumps was a simple handle set in a groove in the wall that he had to grasp and pull down. Deadbolts slid into place around the rim of the inner hatch with a solid thunk, locking their pursuers out, while the pumps began evacuating the atmosphere inside the chamber.

Thirty seconds later a small light glowed red beside the outer hatch. Clive pulled the release, pushed the hatch open with one hand and began working Bobby's body up through the narrow opening. Jimmy and Bruce reached for Bobby as soon as he started to emerge from the hatch and quickly pulled him out. As they drew Bobby's limp form out of the small chamber, Clive reached down and grabbed the two backpacks. He passed them up to the waiting hands overhead and started to pull himself out when he realized that it was starting to get hard to breathe. He found himself taking deeper and deeper breaths yet was beginning to feel like he was suffocating. He started to get light headed and his limbs began to feel heavy and sluggish as he struggled to pull himself up through the circular opening. He felt himself growing sleepy as darkness began to close in from the edges of his vision. For a moment he wondered where he was. There was something important he was trying to do but he couldn't remember what it was. He sensed that someone seemed to be pulling him, turning him around. He allowed the strange hands to move him, letting the swaying motion lull him deeper and deeper into—

The sudden taste of fresh air snapped him back to his senses.

"Colonel!" he heard Jimmy's voice call him.

He found himself standing beside the open airlock hatch, his magnetized boots holding him in place. Jimmy had him by the shoulders as he looked at him in concern.

Clive drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the darkness retreated beyond the edges of his vision. "I'm okay," he said. "Thanks." He clapped Jimmy on the shoulder.

Glancing around he saw that they were in a wide, funnel shaped depression. Beside the hatch they had just emerged from a thick plasma conduit rose from the circular floor of the depression. The ribbed, black tube extended straight up over their heads for several meters then bent and ran off at an angle, disappearing out of view past the edge of the funnel.

A sudden motion behind his men caught his attention. The hatch was beginning to close. He realized that there must be a control inside the silo to close the hatch. Once it was closed the pirates would be able to cycle through after them.

Clive snatched the empty munitions bag from Jimmy's belt and launched himself toward the hatch. He stuffed the bag into its hinge and hoped that the material was durable enough to withstand the pressure of the hatch mechanism. The hatch slowed and ground to a halt, leaving a gap of a few centimeters.

"Let's move," Clive said.

Clive had Jimmy take the lead while he and Bruce each grabbed one of Bobby's arms. Using their suit thrusters they started up out of the funnel. As they emerged over the lip of the depression they could see the looming shape of one of the particle cannons overhead. The immense gun had been run out into the middle of the tunnel on an enormous manipulator arm, its great maw aiming out of the tunnel's mouth. The pirates were in for a nasty surprise the next time they tried to fire that weapon.

They turned away from the great gun and made their way to the cluster of machinery where they had hidden their scooters. They unstrapped the scooters quickly and used the magnetic ties to lash Bobby to the rear seat of Clive's scooter. As soon as he was secured they activated the stealth emitters and started off into the tunnel.

Clive adjusted his visor setting to the frequency for the beacons they had left behind them to mark their way. A series of lights appeared on the heads-up display of his face plate, pulsing along the tunnel to where they disappeared around a turn in the distance. Clive accelerated his scooter away from the bunker, keeping well clear of the giant cannons as they retreated into the depths of the tunnel. Minutes later they were negotiating the first turn as they made their way back through the labyrinth of passages.

* * *

"Flight deck reports that the last fighter is back aboard, sir," the comm officer said. "Crash teams are standing down. Lt. Herrick was able to bring in her ship without incident. She's reported to be in good shape, although the flight mechanic says her ship is a write off."

Of the nine ships in Alpha squadron, only two had made it back to the _Gulliver_. Both fighters had taken damage when ships close to them had exploded. Ironically, it had been the explosions of those ships that had saved them. The force of the blasts had pushed their fighters out of the firing range of the defensive batteries surrounding the entrance to the hidden stronghold. Lt. JG Sanders, squadron designation Alpha seven, had lost one of his lateral stabilizers but had taken no other damage aside from some superficial scorching. He had been able to bring his fighter back with little difficulty.

Alpha three had been a different matter. Lt. Herrick's fighter had been peppered by debris from the explosion of Captain Kirov's ship. Several pieces from his ship had torn through the fuselage of her fighter knocking out one of her engines and destroying two thirds of her instruments. The cockpit had depressurized instantly but her flight suit had kept her alive. Miraculously none of the debris had struck her, even though one piece had come within centimeters of her head.

But the damage to her fighter had been severe. The single remaining engine could only generate half its normal thrust and was subject to sudden, unexpected flare outs. The flight controls were stiff and sluggish and the navigational shields had failed, exposing the ship to the damaging effects of repeated micrometeoroid collisions. By the time she returned to the carrier her once smooth and shiny craft had the deeply pitted and abraded appearance of something that had been subjected to the fierce ravaging of a sand storm. It had taken every bit of her piloting skill to bring the crippled fighter back to the carrier while keeping out of range of the pirates' guns. However she had made it back to the _Gulliver_ alive, after which Admiral Saha ordered the flight deck secured. Fighters would no longer figure in their assault on the pirate stronghold.

Once the surviving pilots were safely aboard, Admiral Saha settled himself at his board and studied the tactical display he had called up. The battle group had completed the nova formation and was awaiting his orders. With the enormous particle cannons guarding the entrance to the stronghold they could not go in after the pirates. They would have to drive them out.

While the ships under his command carried a number of weapons that could tear through even the kilometers of rock protecting the pirate base, his first priority was to ensure that the King was safe. But that didn't mean he had to sit on his hands and do nothing.

"Captain Rogers, signal the rest of the battle group to prepare to fire on the pirate asteroid. Bombardment is to be limited to blasters and tier 3 level missiles and down. I want to shake their tree without causing any major damage... for now. If we can make them think we're going to come blasting through the body of the asteroid to get at them maybe we can scare them into making a run for it. And be sure to repeat my standing orders not to fire on any ship without my express permission, even if one of our own ships is taking fire."

"Aye, Admiral," Captain Rogers said before he turned to his console.

As the captain relayed his orders to the rest of the battle group, Admiral Saha prepared himself for the upcoming engagement. One way or another, he was determined to see that this pirate business was brought to an end, once and for all.
Chapter Twenty

"The base is under attack!" The giant's voice cut through the air like an electric shock.

I stood with my back pressed against the wall as I met Sebastian's enraged gaze. He had raised his arm to deliver a one handed slash at my head when the giant called out. Although I was poised on the balls of my feet to dive out of the way, I didn't like the odds. Even in his present condition I knew how good Sebastian was with a sword. With nothing to parry his blow it was likely that he would cut me down before I could get out of the range of his strike.

For several moments we stood frozen in that pose. Then Sebastian lowered his arm and stepped back a pace. Glancing over his shoulder he gestured to the giant.

"Watch them," he said.

The giant had been standing over Ian's prostrate form with his hands clamped around his throat. He straightened, dragging Ian up from the floor. Striding toward the wall where I was standing he roughly slammed Ian into place beside me. Ian managed to keep to his feet as he gulped air and glared at the giant. Following his lead, Angela hoisted Morgana up. She lifted her into the air by the front of her clothing and tossed her at us like a rag doll. I managed to place myself between her and the wall and took most of the force of the impact.

"I'm fine," Morgana said me as I steadied her, although she was leaning most of her weight on me. She looked anything but fine. A nasty bruise was beginning to darken the left side of her face where her head had struck the floor and that eye was swollen half shut. After a few moments she took her full weight back. She seemed to be standing easily enough by that time so I let go of her.

A quick glance at Ian told me that the big man was not fine however. He stood hunched over with his right arm clamped tightly to his side. His complexion was pale and he was breathing in short, ragged gasps through clenched teeth. He caught me looking at him and shook his head. Before I could say anything to him Doc and Chris were herded against the wall by Angela. Doc must have seen Ian's expression because he went right up to him and gave him a quick check over. A gentle touch to Ian's side brought a sharp intake of breath and a twisted grimace.

"You've got a couple of broken ribs," Doc said. "Try not to move too much."

Ian grunted in response.

I looked over at the giant and saw a satisfied smile flicker across his features. Then he brought his hand up to tap his comm-link and listened briefly.

"The sensor operators are reporting a sortie of nine fighters approaching the tunnel entrance," the giant rumbled to Sebastian without taking his eyes off of us.

For the next few minutes we followed the doomed fighter assault. Sebastian brought up another holographic display, allowing us to view the one-sided battle. We watched as the hellhound missile attack was thwarted by the base defenses and then as the defensive batteries destroyed ship after ship of the attacking force until only a pair of crippled fighters were left to crawl back to the carrier. A hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I watched my people being picked off one by one. With those defensive batteries in place to support the action of the big guns, any attempt to assault the pirate stronghold was going to result in heavy losses.

When the last fighter had limped behind the protection of a large asteroid, Sebastian turned to face me again.

"It didn't have to be like this," he said through clenched teeth. From his expression he was plainly blaming me for what was happing outside.

"What did you expect?" I snapped, trying to keep my temper in check. "Your pirates are rampaging across the galaxy, killing and looting at will. The economies of every major star nation are on the verge of collapse. Did you really think that governments were just going to sit back and do nothing?"

For a moment he looked confused. Then he seemed to collect himself.

"The fools would not listen to Us," Sebastian growled. "We offered them Our leadership, Our wisdom, and they turned Us out in favor of Our stripling nephew. And what has been the result? All of the changes, all of the _progress_ We had made over the course of many years has been undone in mere months. Our people need mature leadership. You see, Captain, it is not for Our own glory that We seek to return to the throne. The people need Us to lead them in the right direction. We know what is best for them."

I wondered how many leaders throughout the ages had deluded themselves into believing that they alone knew what was best for those they governed. I met his eyes. Madness shone there.

I said, "Murdering innocent merchant crews, forcing the populations of entire nations into wholesale poverty, igniting a war that will result in the deaths of countless billions of innocent people, _this_ is what is best for everyone?"

Sebastian raised his chin. "If some must be sacrificed to serve the greater good, then so be it. It is no more than the pruning of excess branches. More the fool you for not realizing this simple truth. But do not lay this trouble at Our feet. The peoples of Gilead and the other star nations brought this on themselves when they cast Us out. We are simply doing what must be done to set things aright."

Pruning branches? These were people's lives he was talking about. I shook my head. I was afraid that he might be too far lost in his delusions to reach, but I had to try.

"Commandant," I began slowly, "you have been lied to. Someone has been using you to—"

"Silence!" Sebastian yelled. "You have no right to speak to Us in such a manner!"

His hand reached for the hilt of his saber and jerked it part-way out of its scabbard. I held my breath as I waited to see if he was going to draw on me again. After a while however he relaxed his grip, letting it slide back into its sheath.

"You are but a pawn in a game that you cannot possibly understand," Sebastian said, giving me a distasteful look. "But it is not you as much as it is the ones who hold your leash that We must hold to account, those who sent you here in the foolish hope that you might be able to disrupt Our plans. As you see, you have failed. And like any vicious dog you must in the end be put down." I felt an icy chill go through me at his words.

"However, We would first know the exact nature of your orders. For that, We will leave you to Leonard's tender mercies. He has never yet failed to, shall We say, convince agents such as yourself to divulge whatever information they possessed. We suggest that you tell him whatever he wants to know. It will go better for you in the end. Well, if not better, then at least quicker." He paused to study me briefly. "Although, it has been Our experience that men such as yourself tend to foolishly cling to what you consider honor and usually refuse to cooperate—at least in the beginning. In the end however, they all offer up everything they know. Leonard can be very... persuasive. Farewell, Captain Pell. Die honorably."

The giant gave a jerk of his head, indicating for us to move toward the room's entrance. He brought us half way across the compartment and stopped us in the center of the room where he could watch us. Then he took a few steps toward the jammed doors, glanced at the shorted out control panel and looked at Angela. She sauntered casually over to the panel and grasped the protruding knife handle. Although the blade was buried deeply in the panel she withdrew it easily.

"Cute toy," she said as she examined the weapon. She flipped it casually, caught it by the blade, then tossed it again to take it by the handle once more. She looked at Morgana, smiled, and grabbed the bare blade with her other hand. With what seemed to be little effort she snapped the blade in two and dropped the pieces to the floor. Turning back to the panel she grabbed it by the edges with one hand and effortlessly ripped it from the wall. Reaching into the opening she began making adjustments to disengage the safeties and release the security doors.

At that moment an intense explosion erupted in the hallway. The force from the blast was so great that both doors were ripped from their tracks and hurtled into the room. Angela was standing right next to the doors and was struck hard by the edge of the one nearest to her as it was blasted from its frame. She flew back into the room, slammed into the Commandant's desk and tumbled across it to land in a heap on the far side. This time she did not get up right away.

The blast was so strong that my group was forced to cling to each other to keep our balance. Even the giant took several staggering steps as he struggled to remain on his feet. Moments after the blast several figures came hurrying through the swirling smoke.

"You fools!" Sebastian roared. He had barely managed to keep from being knocked to the floor by clutching the edge of his desk. "What in hell did you think you were doing? You could have..."

His voice failed him as he watched the figures pouring in through the opening. They were not the guards he was obviously expecting. A dozen spacesuited figures materialized out of the billowing smoke, blaster rifles sweeping the room ahead of them. At a gesture from their leader six men approached the giant and leveled their rifles at him, six red dots from their laser sights centering on his chest. The giant glared at the men who were standing just out of his reach and slowly raised his hands. Another gesture from the leader sent four more men to cover Sebastian.

With the situation under control, the leader strode over to me, reached up, twisted and removed his helmet. I found myself looking into Mark's grinning face.

"What kept you?" I said.

Mark pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and grinned even wider. A rustle behind me drew my attention. I glanced back and saw Angela struggling to pull herself up from the floor.

"You need to get several guns on her right away," I warned him. Mark called two of his team away from the giant and one more from Sebastian to cover her. He knew what she was and the threat she represented. As his people lined the prisoners up in front of Sebastian's desk, Mark gestured to the last man in his party. The man approached and slung his rifle on one shoulder then slid up his suit's visor to reveal Max's face.

" _Captain_ ," Max said as he handed me a holstered blaster. It was the first time in my life that he had ever addressed me as anything other than Sire or Your Highness. I could tell by his expression that he was a little uncomfortable with the informality but understood the necessity of maintaining my cover. I also saw that he was careful to keep his face turned away from Sebastian as he distributed weapons to the others.

I quickly checked the gun, flicked the safety off, then affixed the holster to the thigh of my pants by the velcrite strip on its side.

"Any trouble getting in?" I asked Mark.

He raised the muzzle of his rifle and rested the stock on his hip in what I suppose he thought was a dashing pose. "Not a bit," he said. "We used the hatch in the starboard cargo bay to leave the ship without being seen and made our way around to the construction dock. Like we figured, the security on the worker's airlock wasn't hard to bypass." He tipped the muzzle of his rifle at Angela. "Her map turned out to be pretty accurate, too. It helped us find our way right here. Thanks," he said, smiling at her. Angela glared back at him but held her tongue. "The few pirates we did run into never knew we were there until we had them surrounded. There's less of them manning this base than you would think, given its size. Most of the people here were slaves."

I nodded as he spoke. I had suspected as much. With their prisoners' movements restricted by obedience collars, a large number of slaves could be controlled by a small number of guards.

"What did you do with them?" I asked.

"By now all the slaves should be aboard the _Prometheus_. We took a number of key cards from the guards and used those to shut down the security arches around the doorways that would have set off their collars. That seemed to be major security feature here. They were so concerned with keeping the slaves in that they didn't have much more than token measures to keep anyone out."

"And the pirates?" I asked.

Mark grinned again. "Locked in the slave barracks."

"Excuse me," one of the slaves that had been serving dinner had come up to us as Mark was giving me his report. I recognized her as the woman who had poured my wine. There was a hard resolution in her eyes that reminded me of what I had seen in the eyes of the group we had led to freedom from Rabine's plantation. It told me that in spite of whatever the pirates had done to her they had not broken her spirit. "Is it true that you're here to rescue us?"

"I won't lie to you," I said. "Our mission wasn't to rescue slaves. In fact we didn't know that there was anyone here except the pirates. But we're sure as hell not going to leave anyone behind now that we're here." I gestured to her obedience collar. "And we'll get that damned thing off your neck as soon as we can, too."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes glistening.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Sasha Goodkin," she answered.

"Sasha, can you get your people together and wait for us by the doorway? We'll be heading back to our ship in a minute, but I want you to wait for us. We can't be sure that we rounded up all of the pirates and the corridors might not be safe."

"Of course, Captain," she said in a voice that sounded like she was used to taking charge.

As she moved off to gather the other slaves together, I turned and walked over to Sebastian. I was careful to keep out of both Angela and the giant's reach as well as out of the line of fire of the men covering them. My uncle's eyes blazed hatred at me as he stood supporting himself with one hand on his desk. The excitement from the recent events seemed to have taken a toll on him. His complexion had paled even more and I noticed that the arm he was using to support himself trembled slightly. He seemed as if he needed to sit down but was stubbornly refusing to let me see his weakness.

"We suppose Our idiot nephew will reward you for bringing Us back to face his so called justice," he said. I ignored his taunting. His saber had been taken from him and he was too weak to pose a threat. As he stood there facing me in a uniform that had become too large for his wasted frame he looked like a pathetic shadow of his former self. I wondered if any trace of the man I had once known was still inside him.

"What happened to make you so bitter?" I asked.

Sebastian pushed himself away from the desk and glared at me. "How _dare_ you speak to Us in such a manner! We are of the Royal House and you will address Us with the respect due one of Our standing!" So much for being a saucy fellow who could banter with him. Time to try a different tack.

"Your Grace," I said, "are you aware that someone has been slowly poisoning you for the past several years?"

A scowl drew his eyebrows together. "What nonsense is this," he snapped, but I could see that I had struck a chord in him.

"Our ship's doctor did a medical scan on you earlier and detected residual traces of a powerful drug in your system. It's the cumulative effects of this drug that have been causing your health to deteriorate."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at me. "You are lying. We have not been poisoned."

I glanced at Doc Jacobs who stepped forward. "I'm sorry, um, Your Grace, but you have. You've been having trouble with your memory, haven't you. It was probably minor at first but over the last couple of months it's gotten a lot worse. You're also finding yourself getting confused whenever you try to concentrate." Sebastian's frown deepened as he listened but he said nothing. "There have been other symptoms, too—trembling in your arms and hands, facial tics, sudden flashes of anger for no reason. You feel tired now after even minor exertion and your joints have become stiff and painful."

"What you are describing are merely the normal signs of aging," Sebastian said, but the doubt was evident in his voice.

"No, sir," Doc said emphatically. "They aren't. Neither are those purple smudges under your nails."

Sebastian looked down at his hands. Dark purple crescents that looked like some kind of ugly bruising showed at the base of each of his nails.

"That's the result of the accumulated toxins in your tissues," Doc continued.

"But... that's not possible," Sebastian said as he stared off into the distance, a confused look on his face as his mind worked. "How..."

"It's probably being introduced in something you eat or drink," Doc said. "If it's what I suspect, the compound we're talking about is odorless and tasteless and breaks down very quickly inside the body, making it difficult to detect without doing a microscan of the brain tissue." Sebastian looked up, meeting his eyes. Doc went on. "The drug is called Vistarax. It's a neural inhibitor originally developed as an antipsychotic agent. But it was found to have other effects. Quite simply it plays on a person's fears and insecurities causing the subject to develop a feeling of paranoia as well as making them susceptible to suggestion. In this condition it is easy for another person to impress ideas on them. Over a long enough time, a skillful person can even manipulate the subject into believing things that had never actually happened."

I interrupted at that point when I saw Sebastian's expression darken. "What he means is that someone has been feeding this poison to you to make you do things against your will."

"No," he said, shaking his head in denial. "It's not true. You're wrong. You're lying!"

Sebastian grasped his head with both hands as he struggled to come to grips with what we were telling him.

"I think you know that we're telling you the truth," I said calmly.

"But he wouldn't do something like that," Sebastian said, still trying to deny what I suspected he knew to be the truth. "He wouldn't."

Angela's head snapped around and she shot a hard look at him.

Sebastian continued to wage his internal battle for several moments before he finally lowered his hands and looked up. "He told me—"

I have no idea where Angela had hidden the knife. Faster than the eye could follow, she plunged it into Sebastian's neck. Blood spurted from his throat as she yanked the blade free. Even as Sebastian began to sag toward the floor Angela grabbed the desk behind her and flung it at the men holding their rifles on her. She had moved so quickly that they didn't have the chance to fire off a shot before the heavy desk slammed into them, bowling them over like so many tenpins.

Diving aside, I just managed to avoid being hit by the desk myself. Morgana had jumped with me and together we both shoulder rolled and came back to our feet. At that moment I was very glad of the time she had been making me put in at the gym. I would never again complain that she was pushing me too hard.

As soon as we were back on our feet, I did a quick scan of the room. By then Sebastian had slumped to his knees, his eyes as wide as saucers while his mouth worked silently like a suddenly beached fish as he tried to staunch the rush of blood with his hands. Across the room Angela was sprinting toward a blank section of wall with the giant close behind her. She reached the wall quickly and pushed open a disguised panel that led to a hidden passage. Beside me I saw Morgana draw her blaster in a lightning move and fire off a shot at our fleeing quarry. But the giant had stepped directly behind Angela at that exact moment and the shot struck him in the back as he was moving through the open panel. He stumbled and gave a low grunt but kept moving.

Morgana darted after them the instant after she fired, but the panel slammed closed just before she reached it. No amount of pushing or banging on it could force it to open for her.

As Morgana tried to find a way to go after them, I moved to Sebastian's side. I knelt and put my arm around his shoulders and held him as he slowly began to sag backward. The bones of his once broad shoulders felt like sticks in a loose bag. As I lowered him gently to the floor his eyes met mine in a silent plea, but there was nothing I could do for him. His blood flowed warm and sticky across my hand and up my sleeve as I supported him in his final moments.

"Who is it? Who did this to you?" I asked him desperately.

Tears welled in his eyes and ran down the sides of his face. His mouth worked slowly as he tried to speak but the only sound he was able to make was a strangled gurgling as bloody spittle ran from the edge of his lips.

I leaned in close, lowering my voice so that only he could hear me. "Uncle, please, tell me who did this to you."

He blinked several times in confusion before understanding finally showed in his eyes. I nodded as his probing gaze searched my face.

"Yes uncle, it's me. _Please_ tell me who did this."

He held my eyes for several moments, and for just an instant I thought I saw a shadow of a smile touch his lips. Then a sickening choking sound came from his throat as his eyelids fluttered and began to close. His chest spasmed once, twice, then slowly deflated. The blood flowing from the wound in his throat slowed to a trickle then halted altogether as his heart gave up the fight.

And he was gone.

I slid my arm from underneath him and stood up. Pity, rage and frustration battled inside me as I stood looking down at his body. We had come so close! We had followed every lead, had analyzed every clue, and had finally reached what we thought was the end of the trail, only to find that is was a blind. I had tried my best and had failed. Someone else had been pulling Sebastian's strings all along, manipulating him and us from the shadows like a master puppeteer. How long this had been going on we couldn't be sure but based on his condition Doc estimated that the drug had first been introduced into Sebastian's system ten years ago or more.

Ten years ago. My parents had been alive then. They had been in their prime with long lives ahead to look forward to. I myself had been a teenager, young and naïve I realized now, fixated on the time when I would be old enough to enter the Fleet academy and begin my training to become an officer. In those days my head had been full of visions of myself resplendent in my dress uniform, leading fleets of warships into heroic battles against overwhelming swarms of enemies, and returning triumphant to the adoring cheers of the people. The business of managing the Kingdom had been something far off in the hazy future, a distant time when my parents would be too old to keep up with the demands of office. They would retire then to enjoy many peaceful years together while I took up the mantle of rule.

It was a child's dream, idyllic perhaps, but one at least based in reality. And I missed it. I resented the loss of the future that should have been mine. My parents should still be alive, still guiding the affairs of the Kingdom in their wisdom. I should be serving as a rising officer in the Fleet, still several years away from my first command. Yet that life had been denied to me.

At that moment I was feeling very young, very vulnerable, and very alone.

I looked up as Morgana came up beside me and I met her eyes. Something in her look told me that she understood what I was feeling. Then I glanced around at the others with me. I could feel their warmth and support as they waited for my next orders.

I felt my mood shift. No, I was not alone. And together we were going to get this son-of-a-bitch who was playing games with our lives. For ten years he had spun his plans, working his evil from the shadows. But I knew he was out there now and I was determined to root him out. I didn't know what his ultimate aim was but I was not going to rest until this bastard was brought to justice.

I squared my shoulders and turned back to Morgana. "Can we go after them?"

"The door locked behind them," she said, shaking her head. "There's no way to open it from this side. That panel's a solid sheet of synthesteel. It's going to take something more powerful than hand blasters to get through there."

I nodded and turned to Mark. "We need to catch them if we can. Do you have any more..." I broke off then as I heard something. Mark started to speak but I waved at him to keep quiet. It was there again. It was like the echo of a low boom from a great distance. Moments later it came again. As all of us paused to listen, the booming began to return at irregular intervals. Sometimes it seemed close, at other times far off. Occasionally I could also feel a faint trembling through the decking beneath my feet. I suddenly knew that sound.

"The battle group is bombarding the asteroid," I said. I exchanged a quick look with the others. Those ships were quite capable of reducing this asteroid to gravel.

"Change of plans," I said. "It's time to go." I hated losing Angela and the giant but we needed to get moving before the base came down around us. As everyone started toward the open doorway I paused to glance down at Sebastian's body. He was still my uncle, no matter what he had done, and since learning that he had been under the influence of a mind controlling drug for a decade or more I wondered how responsible he actually was for his actions.

"I want to take the Duke's body with us," I said.

Two men were detailed to bring the body. In his emaciated state they were able to carry him easily between them.

The others were waiting for me at the doorway, weapons at the ready. I wiped my hand on my uniform to clean off as much of the blood as I could and drew my pistol. Nodding for Mark to take the lead I moved to help Doc with Ian. We encountered pirates only once on our way back to the ship. It was a group of three men who took one look at us and fled full-out in the opposite direction. Most of their people had been sent to reinforce the forward bunker leaving only a few guards and technicians left to man the main complex.

We moved at a brisk pace and arrived at the airlock to our ship in minutes. The slaves hesitated until I pointed out that the warning lights around the hatch were off. Even then they were still reluctant to step up to the doorway until an especially loud explosion erupted closer than any we had heard before. The floor shook more noticeably than it had from any other blast accompanied by a groan of stressed metal. They hurried forward with the rest of us then.

We moved quickly through the airlock and into the boarding tunnel. I hammered the door control switch as we passed out of the airlock, sealing the base end of the tunnel behind us, then hurried to follow everyone into the ship. As soon as the last of us were through the gangway hatch I closed the ship's doors and released the clamps which held the docking sleeve sealed against our hull. With a burst of escaping air, the docking sleeve began to automatically retract away from the ship. I sent the men carrying Sebastian's body to the infirmary along with Doc and Ian, ordered the rest of the rescue party back to their duty stations, and turned to my officers.

"Any word from the team we sent to sabotage the guns?" I asked Mark.

He frowned. "No."

I nodded and tried not to worry about my people. Clive and his team were seasoned combat men. They had been instructed not to use their comm units on the mission to prevent the pirates from picking up their transmissions, so the fact that we hadn't heard from them meant nothing.

"Get to the bridge and have Tom break communications silence," I said to Chris. "Contact the tactical team and find out the status of their mission. If those guns are still operational we're not going anywhere. Then run an emergency preflight check. We need to be out of here five minutes ago."

"You got it," Chris answered before he turned and ran off.

I turned back to Mark, "I want you to power up the weapon systems as soon as you get to your post. I have a feeling we're going to have to fight our way out of here."

His eyes narrowed and he nodded. "We'll be ready."

My mind raced for a moment then I looked at Morgana. I really wanted her eyes watching the sensors. The pirates had subs and torpedoes and I needed someone with her experience who knew how to detect stealthed threats. Unfortunately, there was something equally important I needed her to do.

"We're in a bit of a jam with Bobby off the ship," I said to her. "We need someone to pilot us until he's back and you're the best qualified to fill in for him. I can cover your post from my command board until—"

"Excuse me, Captain," a woman's voice spoke up. I turned to find myself facing one of the freed slaves. I had almost forgotten about the others that had come with us. As I looked at her my memory supplied her name: Goodkin, Sasha Goodkin.

"Yes, Ms. Goodkin?"

"I can pilot this ship," she said.

I frowned. "This ship isn't like anything you've ever handled before. When was the last time you piloted something this size?"

Ms. Goodkin smiled sardonically. "I was the first officer on a galaxy class cargo transport called the _Dawn Star_ before we were hijacked a few weeks ago. The company I worked for had made several cuts in crew size over the past years and I regularly took a shift at the helm to supplement my pay. I have a C-2 operator's license. Please, Captain, if there's anything I can do to help get us away from here I'll do it. I want to help."

Considering the trouble I'd had with the last outsider who had been allowed to helm the _Prometheus,_ I should have had an immediate aversion to the idea. As I looked at her however I somehow felt that I could trust her. For one thing, I recognized the name of her ship. The _Dawn Star_ was the transport Morgan had told me about just before we left on our mission. It was the ship whose hijacking had been such an enigma at the time because all it had been carrying was mining equipment, the same mining equipment we had just brought from Toula. According to Morgan's report the _Dawn Star_ was indeed a Galaxy class freighter. Ships in that class had an unladen mass over three hundred thousand long-tons. If she had experience handling something that big, the _Prometheus_ should be no problem for her.

I regarded her for several moments. Normally I would never allow someone unknown to man the helm. As I looked into her earnest face however I realized that I needed to have my attention free to oversee everything happening around the ship. If I had to closely monitor the sensors as well as the command board, my attention was going to be divided. But if Sasha could pilot the ship then Morgana could man her normal post and I would be free to concentrate on the overall picture. She shouldn't have to do anything more complicated than move us away from the berthing slip and start us toward the exit tunnel, something fairly simple for even a rookie pilot. She shouldn't have to man the station for long either. Bobby and the others would be back aboard soon. And if it turned out that she couldn't handle the ship I could always override her station from my command board.

"Alright," I said. "Come with us."

Sasha fell into place with the Morgana, Mark and me as we started for the bridge. As we crossed the portside passageway I suddenly realized just how crowded the ship was. We had taken aboard nearly five hundred additional people. They were huddled everywhere along the corridor bulkheads as far as I could see. I could only spare a brief glance into the anxious faces of the refugees filling the passageways but the sight of their haggard faces and emaciated bodies added fuel to the fire in my belly. The pirates had a lot to answer for.

We hurried to the main stairwell and rushed up to the command level. Sasha's stride faltered for a moment when we stepped onto the bridge. The dilapidated appearance throughout the common areas of the ship had not prepared her for the ultra modern command center.

"This ship is more than it looks like at first glance," I said as the others moved to their posts.

Sasha took a quick look around then continued toward the pilot's seat. "You have a gift for understatement, Captain," she said as she seated herself at the console.

I followed her to the helm and stood behind her as she familiarized herself with the controls. I felt myself relax as I saw her going through the controls in an organized fashion, carefully studying the instruments before she touched anything. When she did reach for a control it was with deft fingers that activated the right systems in the proper sequence.

"What do you think?" I asked her after a few moments.

"It's not much different from a Nebula class ore freighter I flew for a few years," she said as she brought the engines on-line.

"Be very careful," I cautioned her. "It's got a lot more power than anything you've ever piloted before."

She nodded without taking her eyes off the controls. "I don't doubt it." She glanced at a series of indicators. "Main drive system will be up to power in a few moments, Captain."

Once I was sure that she knew what she was doing I moved to the command chair. I glanced across my board and saw that all onboard systems were being powered up for our departure. I couldn't help but smile as I thought about how surprised the pirates were going to be when they realized that we had been able to regain control of the ship.

Shortly before we arrived at the pirate base, Barney, Mark and Ian had finally figured out how Angela had been able to take control of the ship so easily. I was stunned when they told me what they had discovered. The device she called the governor was not the real problem. It was little more than an interface unit with a single purpose: to communicate with an infiltration program that had already been planted throughout the ship's systems. The way they had gotten the program aboard the ship in the first place however was ingenious. And frightening.

This infiltration program was not some rogue application that had been downloaded through an unsecure datanet connection, it was part of the ship's own anti-virus software. Praetorian was more than just a powerful anti-virus application, it was actually a Trojan horse in disguise. Virtually everything on a ship from the main drive down to the door sensors was controlled by some type of software. By disguising their infiltration program as part of the virus protection application, the designers had built their own back door into every system on the ship. All they needed to do was transmit the proper command codes and they could take control of any system on any ship whenever they wanted to, or download whatever information they were interested in from any file. This also explained how the pirates had been able to access the supposedly secure databases of every transport combine throughout the galaxy. Virtually every computer system everywhere ran Praetorian for virus protection. Whoever controlled Praetorian for all intents and purposes also controlled all computer based technology throughout the galaxy.

Once Ian and the others understood just how Angela had been able to take control of the ship's systems, removing the threat was simple. Using the protected files in the isolated core, the three of them had systematically deleted and reinstalled every operating system aboard the ship. It was a time consuming chore that could only be done once the ship had been powered down, but with patience and enough time they had eventually been able to purge the malicious software from every system aboard the ship. The only thing that hadn't been reinstalled of course was the Praetorian program itself.

I settled back into my command chair as I felt the _Prometheus_ coming to life around me. It felt good to be in full command of my ship again.

"Sir," Tom called out. "I've been able to raise the tactical team. They report mission accomplished. They're on their way back through the tunnels now and should reach the cavern in a few minutes." He paused, cupping one hand to his earphone as he listened intently for a moment. When he spoke next his voice had taken on a somber tone. "They also report one casualty. It's Bobby Dare, Sir. Colonel Mayweather says he's been critically injured. They have him in stasis but the Colonel says he needs immediate medical treatment."

I was reaching for the intercom even before he finished speaking. "Infirmary!"

Doc's voice answered after a few moments. "Something tells me this isn't a social call."

"Doc, it's Bobby. He's been hurt. The tactical team is bringing him in now."

"What happened?"

"We don't know yet, but it's serious enough that Clive had to put him in stasis."

Doc muttered something under his breath, then, "I'll have a medical team standing by."

"Tell your people to meet them at the EVA airlock on B deck."

"Will do. Infirmary out."

I looked over at Tom. "Tell Clive we'll pick them up at the tunnel entrance. Have them bring Bobby aboard through the airlock. If it's that serious I don't want to have to wait for the cargo bay to repressurize."

"Aye, Sir," Tom said as he turned back to his console.

As he relayed my message I swiveled toward Mark. "Run out the forward Gatling gun on the port side and target the mooring claw they've got holding us here."

"Yes, Captain!" Mark said.

"Helm, stand by to get under way," I ordered.

"Thrusters standing by," Sasha said.

I brought up the targeting display for the gun on my board. The camera was looking back along the side of the hull to where the immense claw was clamped onto the ship. I watched as Mark centered the targeting reticle on the heavy manipulator arm.

"Fire Gatling gun," I said.

A stream of dense slugs tore into the arm. I watched the bursts from the gun ripping into the arm for several moments then turned back to Sasha.

"Helm, engage the _main drive_. One percent thrust only."

I saw Sasha stiffen briefly before she reached for her console. She had been expecting to move us out under thruster power but there wasn't time for that now.

"Engaging main drive," she responded as the engines powered up. "One percent thrust, aye."

I could feel the ship vibrate beneath us as it struggled to pull away from the claw that held us securely. Structural stress began to register on my board but remained within tolerance levels. When we hadn't broken free after several seconds I ordered her to increase thrust to five percent. I watched the engine output climb as she increased power.

"Engines at five percent," Sasha reported after a few moments.

"Be ready to turn us away from the docking complex the second we're under way," I warned her. "We're going to take off pretty quickly once we break free." Ahead of us I could see the forest of derricks and support gantries that surrounded the docking complex where we were moored. If we crashed into those our escape would be short lived. But there was enough distance between us and them that she should be able to turn us aside safely. Just in case, I kept my hand near the override controls.

In spite of the increase in thrust we still weren't moving more than a minute later. I upped the magnification on the gun camera. Although the rounds were doing a good job of chewing up the casing on the manipulator arm I realized that they were having little effect on the solid beam that formed its core. I studied the image for a moment.

"Mark, shift your fire about ten degrees right," I said.

After a moment I heard him gasp as he realized what I was looking at. I watched as the cross hairs of the target reticle swung to center on the arm joint and he opened fire once more. This time the vibration in the ship was much more severe as the manipulator arm shuddered under the pounding assault. Soon ragged hunks of metal were being torn from the robotic limb.

"Jason!" Morgana's voice grabbed my attention. "One of the missile cruisers just left its docking berth." Those were the ships we had seen being loaded with 'ship killer' missiles.

I reduced the gun camera's window and brought up the sensor scan. As I watched the sensor return the missile cruiser headed out into the middle of the cavern until it had positioned itself with a clear line of sight to our starboard hull and began turning in our direction. In that position they were outside the firing arc of our bow mounted laser and blaster cannons while having a clear field of fire at our exposed flank.

"Mark..." I said.

"I see it, Jason," Mark said as he started rapidly pressing controls on his board.

"The cruiser is initiating a weapon scan," Morgana warned.

"Mark..." I said again.

"I'm working on it," Mark said. My command board showed that he was running out both guns on our starboard side.

"Target lock," Morgana said. "The enemy has us painted for— _Missile launch_! One weapon is closing!" At this range the missile would reach us in seconds.

" _Mark_!" I yelled.

"Now!" he said at the same moment.

Both guns opened fire on the inbound missile. A fraction of a second later the missile was caught in a cross fire and exploded. The ship shuddered even more violently for a moment as the shockwave from the exploding missile washed over us. As long as we remained tethered here we were sitting ducks.

"The missile cruiser is closing on our position," Morgana said.

That was odd. Why would they want to close with us when they had the obvious tactical advantage? I studied the sensor display on my board for a moment then turned to Mark again.

"Put up the shields," I ordered.

As the distance between our ships shrank it became apparent that they were not planning another missile launch. The closer they came the more they risked being caught in the explosion themselves. But a beam attack could still deal us serious damage without endangering their ship and I saw no reason to leave ourselves open to such an assault.

Even as I was thinking this the missile cruiser opened fire on us. A powerful laser slammed into the energy barrier protecting the command superstructure while blaster fire hammered at our starboard flank. Our shields had gone up just in time.

"Shields are holding," Mark reported.

Suddenly a loud creaking sounded throughout the ship. I looked back at the gun camera to see the manipulator arm shift slightly. Hydraulic fluid was spurting from ruptured lines as the Gatling gun continued to tear apart the joint mechanism. I shifted my eyes to the sensors and saw that the missile cruiser was continuing to bear down on us. Its laser cannon raked across our shields as its blasters continued hammering at our flank. Glancing at a different section of my board I noted that power to the shields was dropping. If we continued to just sit here and take punishment the shields were going to fail.

"Increase thrust to ten percent," I ordered, dividing my attention between the gun camera, the power reserves for the shields and the sensor scan of the approaching ship.

"Answering ten percent thrust," Sasha reported a moment later. Trial by fire, I thought to myself as I glanced in her direction. She seemed composed and focused as she kept her attention locked on the controls. I hoped that she was as competent at the helm as she claimed. We were going to take off like a shot when we broke free. The creaking returned again, even louder this time. I noted that structural stress levels were red lining.

Suddenly, the manipulator arm failed completely, pulling apart at the joint. The _Prometheus_ surged forward, half of the mooring arm still attached to our hull and trailing behind us. On my monitor I could see the exhaust from the main drive scorching the habitat walls. Even at just ten percent output, the power from the drive funnels was incredible. The metal habitat walls glowed red then white hot and began to slag wherever our exhaust touched. In moments explosive outbursts appeared as the softened walls ruptured, now no longer strong enough to contain the pressure of one atmosphere against the vacuum within the cavern. Furnishings and equipment spewed through the rents in the habitat hull. Then the heat of our exhaust touched off something volatile and a series of explosions erupted in our wake.

I shifted my eyes to the main screen and saw that we were hurtling toward the towering gantries and loading arms ahead. My hand darted toward the override controls but Sasha beat me to the punch. With reflexes that rivaled Bobby's piloting skill, she turned the ship at the last instant, heading us out into the cavern to avoid crashing headlong into the projecting structures. She fired the breaking thrusters, slowing our headlong rush. The missile cruiser swung into view on the main screen as we turned to face it. As it drew closer, the cruiser's crew opened up once again with its laser and blaster cannons, bathing our forward shields in a brilliant pyrotechnic display. That was when I decided I'd had all I was going to take from that ship.

"Take us out on a parallel course directly under her keel as close as you can manage," I said to Sasha, then, "Mark, stand by starboard Gatling guns."

The ship facing us was a Gilead Fleet vessel and I knew all about its capabilities as well as its weaknesses. Whoever was flying that ship was foolishly choosing to close with us, a tactical mistake they would regret. A missile cruiser was not designed for close in fighting. Its purpose was to stand off at a distance and launch missiles at an enemy while it stayed behind the protective line formed by the other ships in its fleet. But the pirates did not understand how to properly use the ship they had stolen. They would not be able to fire on us once we were beneath their keel. And that part of the ship also had the thinnest hull plating.

Moments later Sasha had us moving toward them on what looked like a collision course. On the main screen the missile cruiser grew quickly, its prow swelling to fill the entire screen. The laser beam and blaster fire from their ship continued to pound at our shields. Then, as we closed with the pirates, I saw the thrusters on the cruiser's bow fire, bringing its nose up as the crew desperately tried to turn away at the last moment. Seconds later we were slipping in beneath them.

"Give me a ninety degree roll to port," I ordered as we passed under the cruiser's bow. The view on the main screen revolved as our ship rotated smoothly along its long axis, lining our starboard side up perfectly with the cruiser's keel. The pattern of plate seams and other details on the cruiser's hull were plainly visible on the main screen as we sped by, our ships no more than twenty meters apart. I spared a brief glance in Sasha's direction. The lady knew how to handle a ship.

I looked at Mark. "Fire."

He opened up with both Gatling guns, raking across the ship's exposed underside. The slugs tore through the hull plating like it was cardboard. Atmosphere erupted through the lengthening rent in the ship's hull followed quickly by a series of explosions as we opened section after section to space. Then a violent shudder passed through the entire length of the ship as an immense fireball spewed from its belly. The missile cruiser began to tumble out of control, its engines flaring erratically.

"They're heading for that cluster of habitat modules where we were docked," Morgana reported. "Or what's left of it." Our engines had already done quite a bit of damage. At the speed the cruiser was moving there would be very little left of either the ship or the habitat modules once it hit.

"Sucks to be them," I said.

"Captain," Tom called. "Colonel Mayweather is reporting that his team has just entered the cavern."

"Tell them to hold position there. We're on our way. Helm, take us to a heading of—"

"Jason!" Morgana's voice called out. "A ship just pulled away from the habitat modules. It reads like a long range shuttle. I'm picking up two life signs aboard."

No need to guess who that was.

"Rats leaving a sinking ship," I said. "Let me guess, they're heading for the tunnels."

"Actually, no," Morgana said in surprise as she studied her console. "They're headed toward the opposite side of the cavern."

"Track them," I said. "I'll bet anything they're going for a secret bolt hole. But we need to pick up our people first. Helm, bring us around to the tunnel entrance, best possible speed."

"Aye, Captain," Sasha said as she turned us toward the place where our crewmen were waiting. The ship came about smoothly under her touch and accelerated toward the distant tunnel entrance. I was impressed with how well she had kept herself under control during our brief clash with the missile cruiser. She had proved that she could indeed handle the ship. I moved my hand away from the override controls and swiveled toward Chris.

"Tell Doc to get his team into position at the EVA airlock. Have them depressurize the lock and open the outer hatch. We're going to do this on the fly." Then to Tom, "Contact Colonel Mayweather. Tell him to be ready to move his entire team into the lock as soon as we get there. They'll have to leave the scooters."

Less than a minute later the gaping entrance to the tunnels was looming ahead of us. Had Bobby been at the helm he would have sent us in some dizzying acrobatic tumble to line up our airlock with the waiting team. Sasha's handling of the ship was different, but no less skillful. First she turned us to port, quickly rotating the ship through a flat, one hundred eighty degree spin to wind up with us flying backward. Then she rolled the ship eighty six degrees starboard to line up the EVA hatch with the team's position and deftly fired the breaking thrusters to bring us to a dead stop beside them. They were aboard less than a minute after we stopped, then we were accelerating back across the cavern in pursuit the fleeing shuttle.

"They seem to be heading toward a tunnel on the far side of the cavern," Morgana reported. "It's a lot smaller than the way we came in." The tone of her voice told me that we might be heading for a problem.

"Can we fit?" I asked.

She adjusted one of her scanners and I could tell from her expression that she was running a quick calculation in her head. "If we fly dead center we should have about... six meters clearance on all sides."

That was not a lot of room for error, especially at the speeds we would need to be traveling at if we were to keep up with our quarry. Even so, I had seen what Sasha could do with the ship and I was developing a good deal of respect for her piloting skills. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees.

"Miss Goodkin?" I said.

She turned and looked back at me over her shoulder.

"I can handle it, Captain," she said, her eyes meeting mine steadily.

"Pursuit course," I ordered and settled myself back into my seat. "Let's run those bastards down."

She turned back to her board and focused all her attention on following the fleeing transport. We were halfway across the cavern when I heard a warning tone coming from Morgana's console.

"The second missile cruiser is powering up its engines," Morgana said.

Damn! We didn't have time for this. If we were forced to engage them we would almost certainly lose the shuttle.

"Mark, can you get a firing solution on it?"

Mark's fingers played across his controls for a moment. "We've got a lock," he said in a satisfied tone.

"Fire," I ordered.

On the main screen I watched as the torpedo darted away from our ship and turned quickly to starboard, disappearing from view as it homed in on its target.

"Impact in twenty-three seconds," Mark announced.

"I'm picking up a target scan from the missile cruiser," Morgana said. "They're locking on us.... Missile launch! Multiple contacts heading our way."

My eyes darted to the sensor display on my board. I saw eight missiles heading toward us while the cruiser released another volley behind that one. Icy fingers gripped my insides. After seeing the way we had handled the attack by the other ship, this crew was apparently going to try and overwhelm our defenses with sheer numbers. It was a good play. Even with our newly installed anti-missile guns, sixteen of them at once was pushing things.

"Mark, stand by on the port side Gatling guns," I ordered, hoping that the computer could lock onto all of the missiles in time to intercept them. If even one got through we were finished.

Then, as I continued to watch the sensor return, I saw the cluster of missiles begin to break up. One after the other the missiles began to veer off course. In moments all but three had turned away from their original trajectories. I let out a long breath.

"Remind me to give Barney a bonus for reprogramming those guidance systems," I said.

"Hey," Mark spoke up, "I had something to do with it too, you know."

"Fine," I said as I watched the sensor screen. "I'll put you down for a bonus as soon as you take care of those last three missiles."

"Oh!"

Mark quickly pressed a control and the missiles disappeared from the screen one after the other as the Gatling guns took them out. The last one was close enough when it blew that we heard the patter from the shredded bits of its housing sleeting against the outer hull as the ship trembled from the shockwave.

Moments after we destroyed the last of the missiles our torpedo reached the cruiser. The ship had only barely gotten under way when the torpedo slammed into its bow. I had trained one of the ship's cameras in that direction and I watched as the torpedo exploded in a brilliant fireball and the cruiser's nose crumpled in on itself. The cruiser shuddered visibly, even from this distance, and its drive system cut out.

"Scratch one missile cru—"

Mark was cut off in mid sentence as the missiles that had gone astray began impacting the walls of the cavern. Brilliant explosions erupted all around us, buffeting the ship about as the missiles slammed into section after section of the pirate base, obliterating large areas of the complex in huge, fiery explosions. As the shockwaves from the various blasts slammed into us from all sides, our ship was violently thrown about. I gripped the armrests of my chair to keep my seat.

"Are we still tracking that shuttle?" I called to Morgana.

"Don't worry, Captain, we're not going to lose _that_ ship," Sasha said.

I looked at the helm and saw that she was clutching the edge of her console with one hand while she flew the ship with the other. When there was a momentary lull in the buffeting she reached over her shoulders, pulled out the restraint straps and quickly locked herself into her seat.

"You're not getting away that easily, you witch!" she growled.

I shot a glance at Morgana who looked back at me with raised eyebrows. There was obviously some story there that I'd have to remember to ask our new pilot about later.

As the explosions from the missile impacts continued to go off around us, I saw that we were rapidly approaching the far side of the cavern. Although I couldn't make out the shuttle on the main screen amid the brilliance of the explosions, it still showed up as a return on the sensor display.

"They just entered that tunnel," Morgana called out. "Sensors show it as a straight shaft several kilometers long." She paused, frowning at her display for a few moments. "According to my scans it runs dead straight to within fifty meters of the surface and stops. But there are no structures or branching passages leading anywhere. It's a dead end."

There was no way they were going to trap themselves like that. Angela had something up her sleeve.

"They didn't take a long range shuttle in there just to let themselves get cornered," I said. "Everybody stay on your toes."

On the main screen the tunnel entrance came into view. Sasha kept her hands on the attitude controls, making minute adjustments to our course as we sped toward the opening. A quick look at my board showed that we were flying true, on a course that would take us directly down the center of the tunnel.

The entrance grew rapidly ahead of us. Sasha activated the ship's spotlights, shining them into the opening and illuminating the way into its depths for a hundred meters. Then we were speeding into the mouth of the tunnel and—

A loud bang reverberated through the ship. Everyone was thrown sideways as the ship lurched around us and the rear end slewed to starboard. Sasha fought with the controls. The aft end struck the tunnel wall a glancing blow before she could wrestle the ship back into the center of the passage.

"What the hell...? Damage report!" I called.

Chris checked his board quickly. "I don't see any structural damage," he said a moment later. "All systems seem to be running normally."

I surged to my feet and stepped up to the helm. "What happened?" I asked, trying to keep my temper in check. After all, I was the one who had put her in the pilot seat.

"I don't know, Captain," she said, sounding flustered. "It felt like—"

"It's not her fault, Jason," Morgana said. "We forgot about the mooring claw. It must have struck the side of the tunnel and gotten torn lose. Thankfully the hydrolics had been cut or it might have taken some of the hull plating with it. At worst we've got a few new dings in our hide."

I looked down at Sasha, feeling guilty that I had almost blamed her for what happened.

"And you kept us from crashing into the tunnel wall," I said. "Excellent work, Ms. Goodkin. Thank you."

Being the good pilot she had shown herself to be, Sasha kept her attention focused on the controls as we sped through the tunnel, but I could see her neck color slightly.

"Now let's run that ship down," I said. "How far ahead are they?"

"About two kilometers," Sasha said, glancing at her board. "But they're almost at the end of the tunnel. If they don't pull up soon they're going to—"

At that moment a brilliant flash lit the main screen. It was so bright that the camera filters dimmed the image.

"An antimatter charge was detonated at the end of the tunnel," Morgana reported.

My stomach clenched. Were they trying to seal the tunnel behind them? It was too narrow in here to turn our ship around. At the speed we were moving it would take time to bring us to a full stop using just the breaking thrusters, time we might not have. I was about to order Sasha to begin emergency breaking when I saw that the way ahead was reading clear on the navigational sensor display. Then I realized what they had done. This tunnel was a bolt hole after all. They had just blown an exit through the outer layers of the asteroid.

I looked up at the main screen. The rough hewn tunnel walls flashed past in the circle of light projected by the ship's spotlights. Beyond that was the dark, distant reach of the tunnel. And in the center of that darkness a darker circle grew. I checked the navigational sensor display and saw that the other ship no longer appeared on the screen.

I looked back at Morgana. "Where's that other ship?"

"They just left the tunnel," she said. "I'm picking up an increase in their engine output. They're powering up to make a run for it."

We were less than two thousand meters from the tunnel exit and closing rapidly. Once we were outside the asteroid they couldn't hope to outrun us.

"They're not home free yet," I said.

The words were just out of my mouth when the deck dropped out from under me. It was as if god had grabbed the _Prometheus_ in one hand and was shaking us like a toy. I could feel the ship being battered from all sides as we slammed against the tunnel walls. I grabbed onto the helm console and fought to keep from being thrown across the cabin. The main screen flared with a brilliant light that washed out everything else before it blanked completely. Several consoles shorted out around me. For an instant I thought that a second charge had been detonated to seal the opening we were speeding toward, but something about the way the light had lit up the tunnel made me realize that this flash was coming from behind us.

Then, as an especially violent tremor passed through the ship, I lost my grip.
Chapter Twenty One

"Try it now," Ian's voice said from the intercom. I replaced the access panel on my command board and stood up. This time it powered on with no problem when I tapped the power stud.

"That did it, Ian. Thanks," I said. I switched off the intercom and sat down gingerly to begin running a diagnostic on the console. I tried to put as little weight as possible on my right hip as I sat. My entire right side from my shoulder down to my ankle was one massive bruise. It could have been much worse if I hadn't managed to catch hold of a brace bar. But my injuries were nothing compared to what many of our passengers had suffered. Unlike the crew who had been at their duty stations and were able to grab onto something as we rode out the shockwave, the refugees had been tossed around like rag dolls. Many had suffered broken bones and lacerations, several had received concussions and one had been killed when he struck his head on a support stanchion and snapped his neck. Doc's medical team had been very busy for the past hour.

The destruction of the asteroid had taken quite a toll on the ship as well. Several systems had been knocked out and an unstable core had forced Ian to take the main drive off-line. He was confident that he could get the engines up and running again but it would take time. In spite of all the damage we had suffered in the explosion, by some miracle the hull had not ruptured. Ian credited this to the reinforced inner hull we'd added to the ship during its refit. For those of us who had been on the bridge however, we knew that a large part of the credit had to be given to our new pilot as well. Sasha's deft handling of the helm had saved us from colliding with the largest fragments of the exploding asteroid which would have destroyed the ship.

Of the shuttle we had been tracking there was no sign. Our long range sensors were among the systems that had been knocked out and within the limited area we could scan we could find no trace of that ship. I doubted that we would have found any wreckage even if our long range sensors had been working. Something was telling me that they had made good their escape.

"Captain," Tom's voice called, drawing me back to the present. "I'm receiving a broad band call from the flagship of the battle group. They're looking for us."

I wasn't surprised that they couldn't find us. With our shields down and half of the ship's systems off-line they would not be able to tell us apart from the drifting rubble, if they could pick us up at all. My first impulse was to contact the carrier and have them bring us aboard for repairs. We could definitely use their help. Although Ian and his engineering team had been working nonstop since the explosion, there was still a lot that needed fixing. It would also be a good opportunity to give Ian a break. Doc had only been able to partially reknit his broken ribs before Ian decided that he needed to get back to his post. When the shockwave hit, Ian had been immersed in a tank of nanosolution as the microscopic bots repaired his injury. But as soon as the buffeting from the explosion was over the big man had simply climbed out of the regen tank and walked out. Doc had called me on the bridge to report that Ian had released himself from the infirmary against his instructions and wanted me to order him back to finish his treatment. Until we got help however, I knew we needed our engineer coordinating the repair operations. As long as he was able to manage his discomfort I wasn't going to order him away from his work. But with the battle group ready to come to our aid, that was unnecessary now.

I was about have Tom contact the battle group when a new thought crossed my mind. If Angela and the giant had indeed escaped, they were going to take information about us back to whoever they were working for, and he would know that we had been able to take back control of our ship. Learning that we had been able to get around the sub-routine hidden inside Praetorian might make him do something rash. He had invested too much effort into distributing his corrupted programming to every corner of the inhabited galaxy to just sit idly by. I went cold inside as I thought about all of the damage he could do if he felt his back were against the wall. Virtually everything in our modern world relied on computers—from the defensive platforms orbiting capital planets to individual hovercars. And all of it was protected by anti-virus software.

I was also worried that Gilead's national security might have been compromised. The databases of our military and intelligence agencies were supposed to be secure against outside influences. They were stand alone systems that were isolated from the net, and therefore shouldn't be able to be tapped into from outside. Yet I could not be sure that some other way to access these systems hadn't been devised. I'd seen how easily Angela had been able to take control of our ship's systems using a simple palm pad. No database was safe when its own firewall was corrupted. If he could access supposedly secure information within our systems, he could also input data. It would be a simple matter for him to issue orders to redeploy ships and personnel, leaving us wide open for an enemy attack. That was undoubtedly how he had been able to acquire so much of our military equipment. I shuddered to think what kind of havoc he could cause if he set his mind to it.

On the heels of these thoughts something else occurred to me. If the public ever learned about Praetorian there would be widespread panic. A run on the banks was a virtual certainty when people realized that their life savings were not secure. Once the banks failed all commerce would come to a standstill. Looting and hoarding would run rampant. Local police forces would be overwhelmed as panicked mobs swarmed the stores, taking everything they could buy or steal until the shelves were empty. There would be massive protests as the people took to the streets and demanded that their governments do something. The authorities would try to contain the situation, eventually turning to military intervention to pacify the situation, but I had seen what martial law could do to a nation. If the true nature of Praetorian were ever made public it would have as devastating an effect throughout the galaxy as the interstellar war Sebastian had planned to start.

On the other hand, if the mysterious mastermind behind Praetorian thought we had been killed in the explosion his secret would remain safe. He would feel secure that his plans had not been compromised and for a while at least we could forestall any terrorist acts he might be planning. And just as importantly we would have the latitude to continue acting behind the scenes. Hopefully we would be able to find a way to get to this madman and stop him before he could do any more harm.

But playing dead carried its own problems. Because no database could be trusted, we could not afford for there to be even the most obscure reference in any file anywhere to our ship being recovered. The only way to ensure this was to remain out of touch with everyone. We would be completely on our own with no outside assistance. The most immediate problem we had to deal with was repairing the _Prometheus_. Although Ian and his teams were doing their best, the facilities aboard ship were limited. For now, they were making whatever emergency repairs they could, but most of these were temporary patch jobs that would not hold for long. What we really needed was to get to a spacedock.

Another problem was the nearly five hundred refugees we had taken aboard. Their presence was already beginning to tax our life support. The air, water and waste recycling systems were designed to handle a maximum crew of one hundred and eighty, and we were carrying more than three times that many. We also didn't have enough supplies to feed everyone for long. Lucky had done a quick inventory of the remaining food stores and estimated they would last a week at full rations, a little longer if we cut back to emergency portions.

And then there was Bobby to consider. Doc had been operating on him since the explosion and the prognosis was not good. While Doc Jacobs was a competent physician he was not a trauma surgeon. Doc himself had told me Bobby would stand a much better chance if we could transport him to the carrier where an experienced surgical staff and fully equipped trauma unit were part of the ship's normal complement. Right now, Doc gave him only a forty percent chance of surviving.

All of this raced through my mind as I sat staring at my command board trying to come to a decision.

"Excuse me, Sir," Tom said several moments later. "The flag ship is transmitting again. They're using the call sign, Epsilon One. What do I tell them?"

Epsilon One was the code signal Morgan and I had agreed on. It confirmed that the ships searching for us had indeed been sent by him.

I looked at Tom for several moments as I weighed my options. Either decision carried consequences, but in the end I knew there was only one real choice. I sat back in my seat and drew in a deep, steadying breath.

"No response," I said. "Keep listening for any other transmissions but maintain communications silence. Mark, engage the stealth system. We're going to play dead." _Please forgive me,_ I said silently to the image of Bobby that popped into my mind.

"Aye, Sir." Tom said crisply and turned back to his board. His military training allowed for no other reaction.

I managed to catch Morgana's eye and she nodded to me then went back to working on her console. But the rest of my bridge crew were not academy graduates. Chris and Mark were staring at me in wide eyed disbelief, Mark with his mouth actually hanging open. Even Sasha had turned around to look back at me.

"But, Jason," Mark said, "those are our people out there. They could help us. We're in pretty bad shape. And, well," he glanced around at the others briefly, "we all heard what Doc Jacobs said about Bobby. If he's going to have any chance we need to get him over there as soon as possible."

"I know," I said. It was hard to meet his eyes. Instead, I looked at the main display which showed asteroids slowly drifting by in the distance. I was suddenly struck by the desolation of this place. All around us was nothing but death and destruction. We were in a graveyard. And to the rest of the galaxy we would have to remain dead, at least for the time being. Our death would ensure the safety of billions.

"The situation is serious," I said after a moment, speaking loud enough for everyone on the bridge to hear. "But there's more than just us to consider. I didn't come to this decision lightly. I can't explain everything to you right now, but I think, no, I _know_ that it's vitally important for us not to let anyone know that we survived." I looked around the room slowly, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "There's just one question you need to ask yourself: Do you trust me?"

My eyes settled on Mark last. He held my gaze for a while, then reached for his console.

"Engaging stealth system," he said.

* * *

Perched atop the tallest building in the city, the view from the penthouse office was impressive. The floor to ceiling windows that occupied the wall behind the room's desk afforded a commanding view of the sprawling metropolis that was the seat of government for the most powerful nation in the galaxy. From a height of more than three hundred stories the man who owned the office stood with his hands clasped lightly behind his back as he looked out across the lesser buildings stretching between the heart of the business district and the distant capital grounds. Weather control had decided that it was to be a clear day in the capital so there were no clouds obscuring his view. Hovercars crawled through the streets far below as the common people went about their insignificant lives. The beetle shapes of their vehicles formed orderly patterns amid the towering canyons of glass and steel while lines of air going vehicles obediently followed the pre arranged flight paths designated by traffic control regulations. Like an immense hive of insects, the daily flow of life continued beneath his feet.

As he stared through the window, the man felt like Zeus looking down on the world from the heights of Olympus. The parallel amused him and he smiled to himself. Without turning around he spoke to the woman seated on the far side of his desk.

"And you are sure that the _Prometheus_ was destroyed in the explosion?" he asked in a deceptively mild voice.

The woman who was known to the crew of the _Prometheus_ as Angela spoke up without hesitation. "Yes, father. We waited for more than eighteen hours while the battle group looked for them. They conducted an extensive search through the asteroid field for any sign of the ship without success. We also tapped into their flagship's database and found nothing to indicate that they had received any transmissions warning them about Praetorian. I am quite certain the ship was destroyed."

"Very well then," the man said. "We can continue with our plans as before."

"I am sorry about having to kill the Duke," she added, "but he was on the verge of revealing information about you to their spies."

The man made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "A minor inconvenience at worst. Do not concern yourself about it, you did what was necessary. Like the asteroid base, the Duke was always considered to be expendable." He turned around and fixed her briefly with a look. The man who faced her was of shorter than average stature, with a slight build, mousy brown hair, and unremarkable features. He was the kind of man who was easily overlooked in a crowd. The only thing about him that stood out at all was the fine quality of his clothing, although in truth there were many wealthy people in Haven.

"Besides," he continued, "it is time to move into the next phase of the plan." He looked at the room's other occupant. Seated next to Angela was the man who had been introduced to Captain Pell and his security officer as Mr. Smith.

"How is everything progressing?" the man asked.

Mr. Smith inclined his head. "All of the preliminary work is finished. We are ready to conduct field tests."

Angela cocked her head at him. "You've been busy, little brother." It was a joke that had existed between them since they were children. Although she was the older sibling, her genetic coding had determined that she would be petite, disguising her physical prowess. He, on the other hand, looked every bit as physically capable as his genetically engineered body was. But beyond this, it was his mind that made him truly important to their father. He possessed an eidetic memory and the ability to simultaneously think about several things at the same time, making him a living computer.

The man allowed himself to smile slightly, letting his children know that he was pleased with their performance.

"Then it is time for you to learn the details of the final phase of the plan," he said as he lowered himself into his seat. Although he trusted his children more than anyone else alive, he would not share even with them any more of his plans than was necessary for them to know. He had not become the wealthiest man in the galaxy by being careless with information. This was also the reason why he insisted on meeting with them face to face. He understood how vulnerable the communication network was and would never discuss anything of critical importance over the comm-net. The only people who knew about his plans were the three of them.

As he settled into his chair the man pressed a control on the edge of his desk, activating the security field that would make his office impervious to electronic detection. It would be several hours before they emerged from the office, at which time they would put the final phase into action.
Chapter Twenty Two

The observation gallery was so quiet that I could hear the faint clicking of relays engaging when I activated the environmental control system. It was cold here and my breath misted the air in front of my face. The station had been shut down for the past several weeks but its systems responded immediately, powering up quickly as I brought the main generator back on-line.

Once I had reset the environmental system I glanced into the distance to my right. The observation gallery was a tunnel more than a hundred and fifty meters from end to end, its furthest reaches lost in shadow. The wall I was facing was covered with large viewing ports, allowing anyone here an unobstructed view into the spacedock's construction bay. Suspended in the center of the bay was the _Prometheus_ , its battered hull testifying to the numerous abuses it had been subjected to since the last time it was here. This was the first time since we had survived the destruction of the pirate base that I'd had the chance to have a good look at the ship. Given its reinforced inner hull, I knew that the damage I was seeing had little to do with its structural integrity, but it still looked like a flying wreck.

When we first set out on our mission, the ship's outward appearance had been mere camouflage. Now, most of the scarring, dents and patches reflected actual damage it had suffered in our pursuit of the pirates. But beyond the superficial damage to the ship's hull there was something far more serious we needed to attend to before we would be able to put back out to space. The drive system had failed, and this time there would be no quick fix. The revolutionary ion-pulse engines which had once propelled our ship at velocities beyond anything else in space were now useless. Fortunately for us, Ian's obsessive nature had made him keep a close eye on the new technology after it was installed. If it hadn't been for our engineer's obsessive watchfulness, the problem would have gone unnoticed until it was too late.

Ian had discovered that over time the injector mounts were mysteriously beginning to fail, allowing the antimatter injectors to drift out of alignment. He couldn't explain the reason for the failure yet, but until the problem could be corrected we didn't dare use the engines for fear of causing an uncontrolled matter-antimatter reaction that would destroy the ship and anything else around us for radius of a thousand kilometers. As it was we had barely made it back here before the engine trouble reached the point where the drive system could no longer be safely used. By carefully nursing the engines during our return trip, we had managed the journey in a series of short hops which allowed Ian to readjust the injectors whenever they drifted out of alignment. After our last hop however, the mounts had failed completely, leaving us to make the final leg of the journey using thrusters only.

It had taken the last of our reaction fuel, but we had managed to make it back to the remote spacedock without blowing ourselves up. With the ship securely moored in the dock's construction bay we could finally begin work on the list of repairs that we had not been able to accomplish out in space. Even with the materials and equipment available to us at the station however, it was going to take weeks to complete all of the repairs we needed. And even then we would not be able leave unless Ian could find a way to resolve the problem of the engine injectors. For the foreseeable future this repair station was going to be home.

The sounds of footsteps in the docking sleeve caused me to look in that direction. Ian was leading a group of technicians off the ship to begin preparations for his repair work. The big man paused to study the control panel where I had made adjustments to the environmental systems.

"Looks good," he rumbled in his deep voice. His large fingers began to type nimbly at the panel as he did a quick check of the dock's inventory. After a moment he grunted to himself and closed the window he had been studying.

"We've got everything we need to get all our systems back up," he announced. He turned toward me and studied my face. "You look like hell," he said. "You should get some rest."

Although I had gotten very little sleep on our return trip, Ian had gotten less. Surviving on little more than caffeine and adrenaline for the past week, Ian had kept a close watch over the engines during every moment of our trip. And all of this while he was still nursing a couple of half-healed ribs. I knew it would be useless to point this out to him so I simply smiled up at him and clapped him on the arm.

"Go take care of our ship," I told him. "I'll be fine."

Gesturing to his team, Ian led his people toward a nearby service lift that would take them down to the storage compartments on the level below this one. I could tell by the energetic pace of his stride that he was looking forward to delving into the storage compartments like a child being given free access to a toy store.

Behind them Chris and Mark were leading the first of the refugees from the ship. Each of the refugees carried a small bundle of personal effects and a makeshift bedroll put together from whatever meager supplies we had been able to scrounge up aboard the ship. During the past week they had been forced to bunk down on any open space we could find for them. For most of them that had meant little more than a blanket and a bare patch of decking in one of the ship's passageways, yet there had been no complaints. We had freed them from the cruelty of their pirate masters and had even been able to remove their obedience collars, for which every one of the former slaves was extremely grateful.

In spite of the conditions they had been forced to endure during our trip here, I noticed that most of them actually appeared to be in better shape than when they had first been brought aboard. Apparently a week of rest and decent food had gone a long way toward helping them to recover. From the snatches of conversation I overheard I could also tell that they were looking forward to being reunited with their families and loved ones back home. Unfortunately, those reunions would have to be put on hold for the foreseeable future. I could not allow anyone to bring back word that we had survived the destruction of the pirate asteroid base. Until we could root out the mastermind behind the pirates this was as close as any of them would be able to come to home.

Of course, none of them knew this yet. All they knew was that we had stopped here to make repairs to the ship. They were not aware that the repair dock was in fact on the outskirts of the Argo system. It would only have built up their hopes to know that we were poised on the very doorstep of Gilead's capital only to be told that they would not be allowed to return home. I felt like a real bastard for what I was doing but I had to consider the big picture. I simply could not risk plunging the nation into a devastating interstellar war. Intellectually I knew I had no other choice but I still felt like something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe.

Movement through the viewport drew my attention. On the far side of the _Prometheus_ a long range shuttle was detaching itself from the dock. It backed slowly away from the docking connector and began to reorient itself for the outward journey. That would be Morganna. She was the only one who would be leaving the station while we were here. We were down to the last of our supplies and needed to replenish our stores quickly or we would be left with nothing to eat in another day. There was also another, confidential mission I had asked her to undertake for me. Because we could not risk using any form of broadcast communication, everything would have to be done face to face and she was the only one I could trust to handle this particular errand.

"You look like you just lost your best friend," a voice said beside me. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn't heard anyone come up beside me. Glancing over I saw Lucky giving me a probing look.

"Just trying to plan our next move," I said, turning back to the window.

Lucky watched through the viewport with me as the shuttle fired up its main engine and accelerated away from the dock.

"I hope she brings back fresh eggs," he commented. "I really hate that powdered stuff we've been eating the last few days. No matter what you do to it, it always tastes like rubberized snot."

I stifled a laugh. Lucky could always bring me out of a funk.

"What? You can't tell me you didn't notice," he said.

This time I couldn't help but chuckle as a smile spread across my face. I reached up and squeezed his shoulder.

"Thanks," I said. For the next few moments we stood silently watching Morganna's shuttle as it dwindled to a speck and finally disappeared.

"So," I said after the shuttle was gone from sight, "did you come looking for me just to enjoy the view?"

"Actually..." The hitch in his voice made me turn toward him. "Doc wanted me to tell you that he thinks Bobby's out of the woods. His vital signs have stabilized and his EEG is normal. He's going to make it."

I let out a long breath. That was one weight off my shoulders. But I could tell that there was more he hadn't said.

"What about the issue with his spine?" I asked.

Doc's examination had revealed that along with the damage to his internal organs, the blaster bolt had cracked one of Bobby's lumbar vertebrae. Had we been able to immobilize him immediately it would have been a simple matter for Doc to reknit the bone with no complications. As it was, all of the movement and knocking around he'd been subjected to had caused a bone fragment to splinter off from the damaged vertebrae. The shard had sawed back and forth against the delicate tissues in his spine until his spinal cord had been severed. In spite of all our advances in medical science, the unique nature of the central nervous system made its tissues extremely difficult to repair. By the time Doc had been able to address his spinal injury the frayed ends of the cord had been untended for so long that he doubted that they would respond to treatment.

"There hasn't been any sign of cell regeneration along his spine," Lucky said heavily. "It doesn't look like he's going to get the use of his legs back."

I closed my eyes as I absorbed the news. This was going to be a heavy blow to Bobby when he woke up. He had always been so full of energy. I recalled the first time we met, when he had surprised everyone by being able to climb to the overhead in the main cargo bay like a monkey. He seemed perfectly at ease as he swung from hand hold to hand hold three levels above our heads, moving across the ceiling with amazing agility. As a member of the crew he could always be found hoverboarding through the passageways whenever he wasn't on duty. His antics sometimes resulted in near misses, but in spite of a number of close calls he'd never collided with anyone else. And whenever we made planetfall he was among the first to seek out whatever activities each world had to offer. He had lived for physical action. I couldn't imagine him spending the rest of his days sitting on the sidelines. But he was alive, and that was something.

A small commotion from the far side of the gallery made us turn around. One of the refugees had stumbled and dropped the bundle he was carrying. A round of good natured laughter broke out as people nearby pitched in to help him gather up his things.

"Come on," I said to Lucky. "Let's help our guests get settled in."

We waded into the growing crowd and started to help people find a patch of floor that they could call their own. By this time the environmental system had begun to circulate heated air into the gallery. The chill was already gone from the space and my breath no longer made little vapor clouds. In another few minutes it should actually be quite balmy. Although the floor of the observation gallery wasn't much of an improvement over the ship's passageways, the refugees would have more room to stretch out. It was not the most ideal arrangement but we needed to get everyone off the ship so Ian's repair teams could get to work. The crew would continue to bunk in their cabins while the repairs were made, not that there would be a lot of time for rest. All of us were going to be kept quite busy over the next weeks as we worked to get the ship back into shape. Then all we needed to do was track down this mysterious puppet master who had been manipulating the pirates and find a way to stop him before he could trigger an interstellar war.

Considering that I had no idea who he was, where he was, or what his ultimate objective was, not to mention that we had lost just about every lead we had developed, finding him was going to be quite a challenge. But not all of our leads had ended with the destruction of the pirate base. The one critical thing we had discovered was the subroutine hidden within the Praetorian software. That would be our starting point. Mark and Barney had already downloaded a copy of the program into a stand-alone system in Barney's lab. They had spent much of the trip here trying to access the Trojan horse programming. Unfortunately, the software designers had built in a powerful failsafe to prevent tampering. Every time they tried to look at the coding, the program would lock them out and erase itself, forcing them to download a new copy from the isolated core and start all over again. Barney and Mark were both confident that they could break through the security safeguards eventually but it would be a while before they made any real progress.

In the mean time the repairs to the ship were more than enough to keep everyone else busy. As for myself, I was determined to have a plan of action ready by the time the ship was fully operational again. We were going to find this madman and we were going to stop him. We were going to put an end to the threat he posed to the peace and stability of the galaxy.

All I needed to do now was figure out how we were going to do it.

# # #
Jon Gerrard's

third book in the Starcrown Chronicles:

Dreadnaught

Jason and his crew race to uncover the identity

of the mastermind behind the pirate menace

before a devastating interstellar war is touched off.

But what no one knows

is that this faceless enemy has constructed a weapon

of such unparalleled destructive force

that nothing can stand against it.

Read on for a preview of Chapter One

of Dreadnaught.
"Preliminary examination of the exterior housing reveals no obvious damage or evidence of tampering."

Bao Cheng spoke clearly into his spacesuit's audio pick-up. He wanted to be sure that he made a complete and accurate record of his findings. Not only were his words being recorded by his suit, but his transmissions were being monitored by the flagship of the peacekeeping fleet patrolling this section of the border. Out of all of the technicians in the People's Space Defense Forces, he had been selected to lead the investigation into the recent failure of several deep space detection buoys that comprised the Great Net. For more than a century the network of sensor stations had guarded the sovereignty of the People's Republic of Na. In all that time there had never been any failures in any of the buoys—if you believed the official reports.

Of course Bao had been in the service of the state long enough to know that buoys did go off-line from time to time. It didn't happen often, but it was a fact of life that from time to time electronic systems failed. This was invariably due to the usual causes—meteoroid collisions, spikes in EM radiation, or just plain age.

Of course this was something that could never be admitted to publicly. As far as the rest of the universe was concerned the Great Net was an impenetrable barrier comprised of hundreds of thousands of sensor buoys completely englobing the People's Republic. By sending out regular electronic pulses the buoys kept watch for any ships approaching the sovereign space of the People's Republic, both stealthed and unstealthed. And it was Bao's duty to ensure that those buoys remained in operation. Officially, whenever a buoy went off-line, the reason given was that it had been shut down remotely for routine maintenance. A repair crew would be sent to the site and the unit brought back up as soon as possible. Over the years the repair crews had become proficient at resolving most of the usual causes of buoy failure. But this time was different.

Nine sensor buoys had gone off-line over a period of several hours, all in the same area, and all without any warning that the systems were in trouble. Considering that less than twenty buoys on average went off-line in a twelve month period, the failure of this number of stations all at once was highly unusual. A repair crew had been dispatched to the first buoy that failed but the technicians had been unable to determine the cause of the failure. To be more precise, they knew what had caused the failure, but not why it had happened. When the crew inspected the buoy they found that its systems had been shorted out by a massive power overload, its circuit boards fused into useless lumps of silica. The damage was extensive though not irreparable. The trouble was they had no idea what could have caused such an overload.

Then, as more and more buoys went down, the Ministry of National Defense placed the entire nation on a state of heightened alert. Patrols along the borders were doubled, with extra forces diverted to the region where the buoys had gone dark. The concern of course was that this was a prelude to invasion. Having a single buoy go dark was a relatively minor concern since there was so much overlap in the system. But the loss of nine buoys in the same area created a gap in their defenses that could allow an entire enemy fleet to slip though. That was when Bao and his team had been called in.

The Chairman himself would be receiving a copy of his report. By that time of course he needed to have resolved the issue. If he could not find the reason for the mysterious failures and correct it he would surely be called before the People's Internal Security Committee for questioning. Few ever returned from such sessions.

"Li, hand me a number four socket wrench," Bao said.

He was about to remove the access panel to the buoy they had just grabbed with their ship's manipulator arm. It would be the fourth buoy they had examined. Like the others it showed no visible damage externally and if the pattern held he would find its circuits burned and fused. He had already stuffed his pouch with the replacement boards he would need and he should be able to have the buoy up and running again in short order. But first he needed to remove the access panel.

"Li, I need that wrench," Bao said, irritation evident in his voice.

His assistant, Li Song, was usually quick to follow instructions. The number four wrench was the standard size used to open the buoy panels. They had used it for every other job and she should have had it ready in anticipation of his needing it. When it wasn't pressed into his hand after several moments he looked around for his assistant. He finally saw her floating several meters out from the buoy at the end of her tether.

"Li, what are you doing? We have a job to finish here."

In response Li raised her arm and pointed. Bao turned around to look in the direction she was pointing.

At first he saw nothing. Then he realized that most of the stars had disappeared from the space above them. A large section of the sky was mysteriously blank. He remembered that the Waterfall nebula had been visible when they first arrived at theses coordinates. Its broad swath of color had been a prominent feature of the nearby space. Now there was nothing but blackness above.

Then he saw it.

The stars and nebula had not disappeared, something was out there, hanging above them, something dark and ominous. Bao craned his neck and looked around. It was difficult to judge its size without a point of reference but some gut instinct told him it was huge.

At that instant a series of lights blinked to life across the surface of the object. Running lights. It was a ship, but a vessel unlike anything he had ever seen before. Then, as he swept this gaze across its hull, his engineer's eye began to recognize details of its construction. It took his mind a moment to accept what his eyes were telling him. The ship was farther away than he had first thought. Yet for it to occupy that much space it had to be larger than any ship he had ever seen. He did a quick mental calculation and realized that it was even larger than the carrier flagship of the peacekeeping fleet that had escorted them here. Much larger.

Bao scrutinized the ship as it continued to hang overhead. It was definitely not a ship of the People's Republic. It lacked the brutish starkness that was typical of his nation's constructions. It also had no identifying markings, nothing to indicate what nation it did belong to, but there was definitely something familiar about its lines.

He found himself transfixed as he gazed at the intruder, fascinated by the mystery it presented. Something about it was disturbing, leaving him with a sense of foreboding. Then he recognized numerous gunports along all sides of the craft—rail guns, blasters, lasers, particle cannons—as well as projector cones for powerful battle shielding. Whatever else it was this ship was a predator.

A moment later his suit radio burst to life. Panicked transmissions were being broadcast by the ships of the peacekeeping fleet as the intruder suddenly appeared on their sensor screens. That could only mean that the ship was outfitted with a stealth system and had just now dropped its screen.

Something bad was about to happen.

He turned his attention back to the buoy and began releasing the manual locks on the manipulator arm's clamp so that they could disengage their ship from it.

"Li, I think we should get back to the ship and move away from here," he radioed to his assistant. There was no answer.

As soon as he finished with the manual locks he turned around to look for her. She was no longer floating at the end of her tether where he had last seen her. Instead, he looked toward their ship and saw that the cabin lights were on. Through the cockpit viewport he could see Li at the controls, her hands darting from control board to control board as she frantically readied the ship to get under way. She was going to leave him behind.

He was just reaching to unclip his tether line when the ship's engines flared to life.

"Li! Wait! I'm coming in!" He radioed to her. She either didn't hear him or was not listening. Before he could fire his suit thrusters and start back to the ship it was backing away and starting to spin around. In her haste Li had forgotten all about the manipulator arm and it barely missed swatting Bao in his head as she raced to put as much distance as possible between herself and the intruder.

As Li fired up the ship's main engine and started pulling away, Bao cursed himself for not thinking to hang on to the manipulator arm. He knew that his suit thrusters were not powerful enough catch up with the shuttle so he didn't attempt to go after her. When and if anyone thought to come looking for him, the first place they would look would be here with the buoy.

As much as he was angry with Li, he also understood her actions. She wasn't abandoning him as much as she was simply fleeing in a blind terror. They had worked together for several years and he had come to know her as well as he knew anyone. She had suffered a lot during her life and ever since he had known her she had been extremely skittish. She was a brilliant scientist and one of the most talented programmers he knew. She could design sophisticated computer systems on a scrap of paper and debug a thousand lines of code in less than an hour, but she jumped at sudden noises and could not sleep without a light on.

He was just thinking about what he was going to say to Li the next time he saw her when a series of brilliant flashes lit the space around him. The intruder had fired on the fleeing shuttle. It was a short burst of high intensity blaster fire, delivered dead on target. The ship erupted in a blinding fireball.

Before he had the time to fully digest the fact of Li's death, the space around him was suddenly filled with gunfire. The peacekeeping fleet was closing with the intruder and it looked to Bao as if every ship in the fleet had opened fire on it. Particle beams and blaster fire stabbed across the intervening space and slammed into the intruder's shields.

Pulling himself into the questionable protection offered by the sensor buoy, Bao watched as some of the most powerful ships in the People's space forces unleashed their full fury against the intruder. As the fleet drew closer missiles were unleashed as well, their fiery tails streaking across the sky.

For a time the intruder was obscured by the pyrotechnic display of its energy shields as they repelled the assault by the peacekeeper fleet. Like a cocoon of light the glowing energy barrier pulsed around the intruder forming a protective bubble. All during the assault the intruder remained motionless, appearing almost haughty as it hung suspended before the full onslaught of the fleet bearing down on it. But that would soon change.

Shielding his eyes from the worst of the brilliant display, Bao watched as the missiles closed with the ship. While the intruder's battle shields were powerful, he knew they could not stop the spread of missiles that were homing in on it. In moments those missiles would begin to exact revenge against the cowards who had taken the life of a frightened little woman who had never harmed a soul in her entire life.

Just as he was thinking this, the first of the missiles exploded. One after another the rest of the missiles reached the intruder and erupted into searing fireballs. There were so many that he quickly lost count and was forced to opaque his helmet visor to protect his eyes as he clung to the buoy and rode out the shockwaves.

The bombardment seemed to go on for a long time, but eventually the explosions stopped. Bao waited for several seconds to be sure that the last of the missiles had found their mark, then cleared his visor and peered around the buoy.

The intruder was still positioned above him just where it had been, appearing completely unscathed. The engineer in Bao was impressed by what he saw. Even a ship the size of the intruder should have sustained some damage from such a concentrated barrage. Shields could not stop matter, only energy. Yet somehow this ship had withstood the combined firepower of an entire peacekeeping fleet without any damage. It didn't seem possible but Bao had seen the proof with his own eyes.

From the corner of his eye, Bao saw the first of the peacekeeping fleet pull into position facing the intruder. It was a battleship, the _Emperor's Hand_ if he was correct. He had actually been aboard that particular ship for the journey out here. Their shuttle had been transported aboard the _Hand_ while he and Li had been given racks with the general crew. Normally they would have spent the entire trip aboard their cramped shuttle, but the Defense Ministry wanted them on site as quickly as possible and they had docked their ship in the shuttle bay and rode in unaccustomed comfort out to the site. He remembered thinking how big the ship was while they had been aboard it for the outward journey. Now, as it faced the far larger intruder, the battleship looked like a toy in comparison.

Immediately behind the _Hand_ the other ships of the fleet pulled into formation, spreading themselves out in a line facing the larger ship, while the carrier took up position above them with a clear line of fire on the enemy ship.

The frequencies had been cleared and Bao heard the commanding admiral of the fleet order the captain of the intruder to surrender. It was a gutsy move considering that the fleet had launched everything they had against the intruder with no effect.

For a long time the fleet held their position, waiting for a response from the intruder as the admiral repeated his demands. More than a minute passed before there was a response, but it was not in the form of a message on one of the comm frequencies.

Instead, the intruder opened fire. The first attack was against the _Hand_. A single blaster cannon opened fire. For a time the _Hand's_ shields withstood the assault, the brilliant patches of blaster energy flaring against the invisible barrier. But under the overwhelming power of that cannon, the _Hand's_ shields soon failed. Once the shields were gone the powerful blasts began hammering into the ship itself, blowing gaping holes in its hull. In seconds the _Hand_ was reduced to a battered hulk.

As soon as the intruder opened fire the other ships of the fleet returned fire. Like before, the intruder remained motionless as it withstood the assault, but this time the ship struck back as well. One by one each of the attacking ships was targeted by the intruder. Bao watched as it opened fire with first one weapon and then another as it systematically took out the ships arrayed against it. One ship would be pounded with blaster fire until it was destroyed, the next would be bombarded with projectiles from a rail gun, another would have its shields overloaded by a powerful laser.

To Bao it looked as if the intruder were using the opportunity to test the effectiveness of its weapon systems. As he watched the one sided battle it seemed more and more likely to him that this was exactly what the intruder was doing. Eventually, there were only two ships left of the original peacekeeping fleet—the carrier flagship and a heavy battle cruiser. While the carrier and the battle cruiser continued to fire on the intruder, the other ship ceased fire.

Bao was confused by this sudden turn of events. As far as he could tell, the fleet had had no more effect on the intruder this time than it had during the first engagement. He wondered if something could have gone wrong aboard the other ship, perhaps the strain of battle had overloaded some of its control systems. Then something completely unexpected happened.

The battle cruiser suddenly stopped firing. To Bao the ship seemed to shudder briefly, almost as if it had been struck by some invisible force. Its engines flared briefly and the ship began to tumble out of control. A moment later its engines exploded, sending the ship tumbling off into space, powerless and completely out of control.

Now only the carrier remained.

The flagship of the peacekeeping fleet continued to fire on the intruder with everything in its arsenal. It had launched all its fighter squadrons early on in the battle and the small ships buzzed around the intruder like a swarm of angry honeybees attacking a bear, with as much effect. For the time being the intruder completely ignored them.

Then the intruder opened fire on the carrier. It was a single blast from a particle beam cannon. The beam was so powerful that even though he had not been looking directly at the beam Bao was momentarily blinded. The powerful beam punched right through the carrier's battle shields as if they weren't there and bored a hole completely through the ship. Secondary explosions erupted from within the ship spewing flames briefly through the rent in its hull before the lack of oxygen suffocated the fires.

Half of the carrier's cannons stopped firing after the ship took that hit. For a time the intruder held its fire while the carrier regrouped and turned to align its remaining guns at a better angle on its opponent. But nothing the carrier fired at the intruder could penetrate its shields. Even missiles had no effect on the enemy raider.

Then the intruder opened fire again with its particle beam cannon. This time the beam completely severed the command sail from the main body of the ship with a single shot. All return fire ceased then. Its engines failed as well and the mighty carrier began to drift. A short time later the intruder unleashed one final blast which bored into the engineering section of the ship. The carrier exploded in a brilliant fireball, showering glittering debris in all directions.

The battle was over.

Now that the carrier had been destroyed, the intruder finally turned its attention to the nuisance of the fighters buzzing around it. Previously unnoticed anti-aircraft batteries which studded the intruder's exterior came to life and opened fire on the fighters. The deadly hail of slugs tore though one ship after another, making short work of them. A few of the fighters broke and ran, but each one was tracked and cut down by blaster cannons. In minutes there was nothing remaining of the fleet.

Bao didn't hesitate. He knew that he had no chance of surviving out here on his own. It would be hours if not days before more forces could be mobilized and sent to investigate the scene here. His suit was not equipped with a recycler for extended EVA. It was a basic suit intended for short excursions. He would run out of air long before any help could arrive.

There was only one place he could go.

Once he was sure that the shooting had stopped, he popped out from behind the buoy and used his thrusters to accelerate toward the intruder. After it had destroyed the last of the fighters it continued to remain in position. Bao didn't know if the crew was running internal system checks or scanning the area to admire their handiwork, but as long as the ship was there he had a chance.

He fired his suit thrusters at maximum and accelerated toward the looming ship. If he could just reach it before it moved off he might have a chance.
