Spirit of the mist, let them have those weapons working, Palagren breathed, as they gathered the deeper layers of the Flux around them, building momentum for the sluggish currents ahead.
Legroeder's gaze swept the parting clouds. He spotted the pirate ship, drifting below. The enemy had almost pulled out of its tumble, but as it grew beneath them, Legroeder saw the tattered sparkle of a rigger-net and knew they were still mostly dead in the water. He drew a breath. Keep them on your right, Palagren, and let me face them as we pass.
They hit the slower current like a swimmer hitting a cold layer. He'd tried to prepare for it, but it was jarring... and the moment was now for turning, and they banked hard over, putting the enemy off their lower right bow...
The neutrasers blazed from the H'zzarrelik, dancing like ghostly laser beams on the other ship. The raider's nose and net flared and darkened. There was a sput sput sput in the Narseil net, and three torpedoes twirled out and away from H'zzarrelik, curving wide, then back in toward the enemy's weapons bays.
Legroeder and Palagren pulled away, exposing H'zzarrelik's belly for a moment but also aiming the one remaining sensor for the benefit of their own gunners on the bridge. Legroeder saw a flicker of neutraser fire as they twisted away from the enemy—the pirate ship firing back wildly. And then three blazing flashes, as the flux-torpedoes exploded. He was pretty sure at least one had connected.
Let's move off and take a look, Palagren said. They approached the cloud layer overhead and wheeled around in a circle, peering down at the enemy ship. The raider's net was dark, and there were several black holes in her hull. One neutraser on the side of the pirate ship was firing erratically into empty space.
Should we make another pass?
We don't want to destroy her, Palagren answered.
Better her than us, Legroeder thought silently.
The net crackled with static, and Legroeder nearly jumped out of his skin. A voice was trying to reach them—inaudibly at first, and then becoming clear. This is Fre'geel... can you hear me in the net?
The two riggers cried out at once, then Legroeder shut up and let Palagren report to the commander.
Keep a safe distance, said Fre'geel, while we discuss terms of surrender.
For a moment, the two riggers stared at each other in breathless amazement. Legroeder had never in his life heard of a pirate ship surrendering. So who, he felt himself wanting to ask, was surrendering to whom?
* * *
Mission Commander Fre'geel was leaning over the com unit, shouting to make himself heard over the static. "To whom am I speaking?"
Ker'sell listened for the reply. The voice that answered was human. Ker'sell was no expert, but he thought the voice sounded shaken. "My name is... Deutsch," rasped the voice over the short-range fluxwave.
"And you are—?" demanded Fre'geel.
"...lead rigger..."
Fre'geel snapped to Ker'sell, "Call Legroeder out here at once." As Ker'sell obeyed, Fre'geel continued on the ship-to-ship, "Why is a rigger answering? Let me speak to your captain."
"...captain is dead... most of the bridge crew dead... all of the other riggers," said the distant voice, straining. "I have the con... am prepared to surrender."
As Legroeder climbed out of the rigger-station, Ker'sell pointed to Fre'geel, who motioned the human over. Fre'geel barked into the com, "Say that again. I could not quite hear..."
* * *
At the other end of the bridge, Agamem was working furiously to bring the rest of the weapons and internal security systems back up. There was a flicker on one of the screens. He muttered an oath, and then finally had an image on the internal security monitor: a sweep of the ship's corridors, some of them empty and some with crew members running. Pressing the augment-link to his temple and focusing his thoughts, he set the system scanning for intruders...
The monitor flickered and froze, displaying the portside main corridor, amidships. There was a streak of silver, almost too quick to see; it was the escaped raider commando, suited and heavily augmented, darting into hiding. Agamem focused again: that was a replay, two minutes old. Where were his own soldiers?
"Security," he hissed into the intercom. "Intruder is—" Then he saw four Narseil crew running into view of the monitor, pointing weapons and searching. He keyed the intercom again. "Port Corridor Two—intruder has gone into—" he checked the location data "—the exercise room. Proceed with caution."
The Narseil acknowledged and gathered around the closed door. One of them opened the door, and two of the four darted inside.
Agamem switched to the monitor inside the exercise room. At first, he didn't see the pirate. Then he did. "Rings," he hissed. His men were moving cautiously along the edge of the pool. And there was the enemy—underwater in his armored spacesuit, about two feet below the surface, close to the pool wall where the soldiers couldn't see him. Weapon up, ready to fire up through the water the moment someone peered over the edge.
Agamem keyed the intercom again. He'd wanted to capture the pirate alive, if possible. But his people were too close—and he hadn't forgotten Voco and Captain Ho'Sung lying dead on the bridge. "Get out of the room and seal the bulkhead door," he ordered.
His crew moved quickly, obeying without hesitation. Agamem pressed the augment-link to his temple again, and focused. It took half a second to arm the weapon at the bottom of the pool, and another half second to confirm. Then he shut his eyes, sending the command to the security system.
Whump!
In the monitor, water shot up in a geyser. And with it, a silver-suited figure, twisted and broken.
* * *
A tremor shook the deck. Then stillness.
Legroeder looked up in alarm, and saw that he was not the only one. Fre'geel was already asking for a report. "The antipersonnel weapon in the pool," Agamem answered. "The escaped raider has been subdued. No further casualties on our side."
Fre'geel acknowledged and turned back to Legroeder, with a muted hiss. For the first time, Legroeder realized how much pain the commander must have been enduring; his metallic green neck-sail was practically shredded from the battle on the bridge, and was crusted with clotted purple blood.
Moving and speaking abruptly, Fre'geel said to Legroeder, "What about a rigger in command of the other ship? Can we believe that?"
Legroeder had listened to the ship-to-ship communication. "It might be true," he said. "Those shots could have killed the riggers in the net, certainly—and quite possibly the rest of the bridge crew. If the ranking officers were killed, the lead rigger would take the con, yes. Assuming some miracle had kept him alive."
"And would he be in a position to surrender?"
"He might even want to, if he's a conscript like I was. The problem is—"
"What?" Fre'geel towered over him, green eyes flaring.
"Well—if there are still commandos aboard, they're not going to want to surrender."
Fre'geel hissed, looking at the front monitor for a moment. The pirate's main power appeared to be down. Its sole remaining gunner had ceased firing. But there was no telling what other weapons they had left. Fre'geel turned back. "How many commandos would you expect on a ship that size?"
Legroeder frowned. "Hard to say. They're usually organized in squads of twelve. Two squads, maybe three."
Fre'geel spoke into the ship-to-ship com. "How many crew do you have aboard? And how many commandos?"
There was a short pause, before the rigger on the other ship said, "We started with thirty-four ship's crew, and twenty-four commandos. I don't know... how many are still alive. But all of the commandos went out. I think you... killed them..."
Fre'geel shot Legroeder a questioning look.
"That's plausible," Legroeder said. "Did you get a recording of the attempted boarding? If you knew how many were—" His voice caught, as he thought of the commandos blown off into the Flux. What was it like to die, adrift in the Flux, slowly suffocating if the neutraser didn't kill you? It was said that a
prolonged naked-eye view of the Flux drove men mad.
"Cantha is checking now," Fre'geel said. "But if you look around, you will see that it was not merely an attempted boarding."
Chagrined, Legroeder nodded as he looked around the bridge. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of the bodies, and the shambles. He gazed at Ker'sell's destroyed rigger-station, and the small laser hole that had killed Voco—and he turned away with a shudder.
"Captain Ho'Sung is no longer with us," Fre'geel said. "We have lost others, as well. I don't know if you knew that."
Legroeder shook his head.
Fre'geel gave an almost human nod, then spoke again into the com. "Hear this, raider ship Flechette. Any remaining commandos and all gunners will gather in your main airlock and prepare to exit, without weapons. If any fail to comply, or if any of your crew resist, your ship will be destroyed. Is that understood?"
"Understood," said the voice from the enemy ship. "I do not think there are any of the boarding team left on our ship. But I am checking now."
"Very well." Fre'geel turned to Cantha, who was reviewing the monitor log. "Are you getting a count of boarders?"
"Almost. Yes—Captain, it appears that there were—I count twenty-four suited boarders leaving the raider ship. It is difficult to verify how many were destroyed by our weapons—possibly as many as twenty-two. And we know that two were killed aboard our ship."
Fre'geel turned back to the com. "Flechette? Have you made your determination yet?"
It was another minute before an answer came.
"I am told there are no commandos left aboard. I have instructed all weapons operators to suit themselves and to prepare to exit the ship, unarmed—as soon as I can assure them of safe passage."
"Safe passage?" Fre'geel hissed under his breath. "If they do not resist, they will not be harmed—provided that the rest of your crew cooperates, as well. Otherwise, we will burn them down. That is your safe passage."
A momentary hesitation. "Agreed," rasped the com.
Fre'geel raised a hand for attention on the bridge. He keyed the shipboard intercom. "H'zzarrelik crew, we are about to take possession of the enemy ship. Commando teams, prepare for boarding."
Fre'geel turned to Legroeder, his vertical green eyes glinting in his reptilian face. "Rigger Legroeder, good job so far. Now, get back to the net. You and Palagren will bring both ships out to normal-space."
Chapter 16
Out of the Ashes
For Freem'n Deutsch, the nightmare had come true. He surveyed the remains of the raider Flechette's once-proud bridge. The captain and most of the bridge crew had died instantly when the massive neutron burst had flooded the nose of the ship, with the failure of the net and the forcefield protection. What had Te'Gunderlach been thinking, firing torpedoes at such close range? Stars knew how many men were dead now. And the ship? Most of her weapons were shot out; and her rigger-net was dead, burned out by flux-torpedo and neutraser fire.
It was their own damned arrogance that had killed them—Te'Gunderlach's arrogance, assuming that the Narseil commander was going to roll over for them. Well, this time they had met their match. From the moment that torpedo explosion ripped through their net, nearly killing Flechette's rigger crew, they were crippled; and it was just a question of which damaged ship would recover first. That question had been answered soon enough. The only reason Deutsch himself was alive was that he'd been off the bridge, assisting with an emergency adjustment of the flux-reactor.
Te'Gunderlach and his blood-lust: he was dead now, and there was some justice to that. How ironic that as lead rigger, Deutsch—forced servant of the Republic—was now in command. During the pitch of battle, the augments had kept him burning with an adrenaline fever; but that had faded in the aftermath, leaving him with a cold, weary uncertainty. He'd felt something terribly strange during the battle; for an instant it had felt like a priority command message through his augments. (An order to break off the fight? That seemed unlikely.) Whatever it was, it had been swept away in the heat and chaos of fighting. And then his external-control augments had gone silent, when the central control in the ship's computer was destroyed.
Acting on his own judgment as ranking officer, he had made the determination to surrender. Ironically, it was what he had long ago abandoned hope for—a chance to give himself up and escape from the Kyber Republic. Now that he faced the prospect, he found it frightening.
"Ganton," he said, floating on his levitators toward a young smoke-begrimed ensign awaiting orders. "Go to the muster deck and make sure all of the weapons crew are there. I want you to inspect them, and see to it that they're suited and unarmed."
"But Rigger Deutsch," protested the ensign, "they won't stand still for me inspecting them, will they?"
Deutsch gazed at him grimly. Ganton was a promising young spacer—reasonably intelligent and if anything, excessively loyal. He probably had no idea how despised the Kyber were in the rest of the galaxy; he probably thought the Narseil had attacked them for no reason. He would learn; but there were small lessons to be learned as well as large ones. "Ensign," Deutsch said, "they will stand still for it, because I have given the order, and I am in command." He almost added, Because our captain is dead. But there was no need; the captain's body lay in plain sight. The ensign grimaced, saluted, and hurried away.
Three crewmen arrived on the bridge, and Deutsch waved them over as they looked around in horror. "You three—get this bridge cleaned up. Take the bodies to—" he had to stop and think "—the starboard airlock." As he pointed to the bodies, caught in various expressions of agony, he suppressed a shudder of his own. The stench of death had nearly overcome him earlier, even with his autonomic nervous system augments.
As the crewmen trudged forward to obey, Deutsch closed his eyes and connected to his inner com. "Narseil ship," he muttered low in his throat, "we are gathering crew as ordered. Do you have further instructions?"
The answer came quickly. "Flechette, prepare for normal-space."
Normal-space? Deutsch thought. If he were Te'Gunderlach, he would have seized on that as one last chance to level the playing field. He hoped none of the crew would have ideas of that sort. He wanted this to be a clean surrender. "Understood," he replied.
He turned to the pilot standing watch over the bridge controls. "You have the con. Keep the ship stable, but do nothing more. Cooperate with the Narseil and be polite if they speak to you. I'll be on the muster deck."
Deutsch rotated in mid-air, and glided off the bridge and down the smoky passageway.
* * *
This wouldn't be easy, with only two in the net. Legroeder and Palagren brought H'zzarrelik alongside the pirate ship. Its hull was dotted with craters where the remaining weapons had been carefully eliminated. Close enough? Legroeder asked, feeling as if he could reach out and touch the pirate ship's hull with his hands.
I think so, Palagren answered. Let's extend the net and see.
The glittering spiderweb of the net expanded as they drew more power from the flux-reactor. The net had suffered damage in the explosion of that first torpedo, and they dared not stretch it too far, or too fast. And yet, they needed to encircle the other ship. It would have been impossible if the net had not been overdesigned with this mission in mind.
All right, Legroeder—reach under. See how far your arm can stretch.
The net gave, as Legroeder stretched his "arm" all the way under the raider ship and up the other side. Palagren reached over the top. Their fingers met on the far side of the pirate vessel, and interlocked to complete the grapple. After checking the strength of the net, they began drawing the two ships upward through the shifting, sparkling layers of the Flux. It was a hard labor, with the increased mass and just the two of them in the net. Soon Legroeder was straining, and having difficulty focusing his efforts.
// Let us help... //
Before he could respond, he felt strength flowing to him from within, from his Narseil-installed implants. He was startl
ed for a moment, then realized that they were not providing actual power, but simply helping him to channel the strength flowing into the net from the flux-reactor, like a surge of electricity. The two ships rose, turning like a lily petal on the surface of a pond, as the clouds of the deeper Flux gave way to the expanding circlets of light of shallower layers—and finally the cold dark of interstellar space, dotted with the fires of a million distant suns.
The two scorched ships floated, bound together, a ludicrous emblem of human and Narseil power against the majesty of the universe.
Normal-space, Palagren reported to Commander Fre'geel.
* * *
The muster deck was full of shocked and sullen crewmen when Acting Captain Deutsch arrived. About half were suited for vacuum, and the rest were standing around waiting for orders. Ensign Ganton was just completing his inspection. He handed Deutsch three sidearms removed from crew members. "They all check," the ensign said softly. "Except for... Gunner Lyle. He refuses to give up his weapon."
Deutsch looked down the line of crewmen. Lyle was an older crewman, a veteran of dozens of buccaneering flights, a former commando, now a ship's gunner. He was silversuited, but with his forcefield turned off. He sneered as Deutsch approached. "Gunner Lyle, surrender your weapon," Deutsch said, holding out his hand.
"I don't surrender," Lyle said, glaring down at the rigger. He stood about half a meter taller than Deutsch.
"I see. Do you obey orders?"
Lyle's head jerked a little. "I answer to the captain. And you aren't the goddamned captain."
Deutsch rose on his levitators to gaze straight into the eyes of the pirate. "I am now. Are you planning to dispute my authority?" His voice was beginning to sound ominous, echoing from the twin speakers on his armored chest.
"Captain Gunderlach—"
"Is dead," Deutsch said, letting his voice turn to hardened steel. "As you will be, if you do not obey your new captain."
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