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system, which now indicated the position of every crewman by his body heat.
 On our way, the pirate said.
Pellagrio indicated a bulky figure on one of the screens on his console.
 That s probably the captain, sir, he said.
Raeder nodded as he watched the pirate crew huddle together for a moment and
then move off the bridge. Most went to a large area near the bridge and
crowded in. But a few snuck off towards the bay where the Speeds were. He
watched the Speed crews enter the lock in parties of four. When they d cycled
through the welcoming party awaiting them gestured, then backs were slapped
and the pilots proceeded to the galley. Finally everyone was there but the six
pirates waiting by the lock.
No doubt armed to the teeth, Peter thought. It was equally certain that they
intended to take hostages. Raeder sighed.
And I guess we re supposed to walk into their open arms like we re just some
bunch of zoinkers.
 Close the hatch in that corridor, he said to Pellagrio.  Then patch me
through their com.
The pirates crouched in the corridor, weapons cradled in their arms, their
eyes keen. Even keener, now that they d all swallowed the  come-downer pills
he d ordered; those left a vicious headache, and it was payback time.
Captain Crusher knew that he was dealing with Welters despite the lack of
identifying marks on their Speeds.
Yeah, they re freelancers, sure. Freelancers who just happen to have uniform
high-performance Speeds and operate according to the Standard Manual of
Tactics, two-Speed teams, the whole nine meters.
He giggled slightly, a residue of the Exctazine.
The cold fact was that these zoinkers were good fighters, but they were soft
in spite of all their tough talk. If these were real pirates there d be a lot
more Speeds floating in pieces outside the ship . . . and the ship would be
atoms and gas itself, unless there was something worth stealing aboard.
So, take a few prisoners, bruise  em a bit and they ll be eating out of my
hand
. He was more than a little curious as to why there happened to be a crowd of
Welter Speeds waiting here for him.
A faint vibration in the deck beneath his feet told him that the Welter Speeds
were landing. His lips peeled back in a predatory smile. This was gonna be
fun.
The hatch at the other end of the corridor shut, and the waiting pirates
froze.
 Who did that? Crusher demanded over his com unit.  Everybody s supposed to
be in the galley. This ain t no time to get funny, anybody runnin around out
there, get back where you belong.
There was a pause, then,  We are all in the galley, Cap n. Another pause.
 All excep you guys.
 Then who shut the hatch down here? Crusher asked.
 I guess that was me, Raeder said.
 Who said that? the pirate snapped.
 You just surrendered to me less than forty minutes ago, spleeb! Who do you
think it is, the tooth fairy? More important, what are you doing down there
when I told you to go to the galley?
Crusher laughed weakly. He licked his lips and looked nervously at his
henchmen.
 Hey, he said ingratiatingly,  it s my ship. You know how it is, we just had
to try. Y know?
Raeder waited for a minute, then he asked,  I ve got an even more important
question for you: what are you going to do when I order my people to blow that
lock right out of there? Oh, and no, the space doors aren t closed. Just in
case you were wondering.
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 You wouldn t, Crusher said. His voice was contemptuous and defiant, but his
eyes were uncertain.
 Is that a challenge? the commander asked politely.  Shall I order it done so
that you and your crew know for certain just how hard I can be? Just say the
word, big guy, and we re there.
 You wouldn t, Crusher repeated.
 Oh? And why is that? Do we need you for something? Well, to be fair, you are
the guy that helped us win this battle by blowing away some of your own
people. So I guess we owe you something for that.
 That was an accident, the pirate snarled.
 Oh, Raeder said, sounding mildly surprised.  Well there goes that thought.
Wisnewski, take out that lock with your laser.
 Aye, sir.
Almost instantly a spot of red appeared at the top of the lock; metal rumbled
as it expanded locally with the heat.
As one man the pirates raced for the hatch at the end of the corridor. They
smashed together in a cursing, clawing knot of desperate men. The hatch
remained locked and there was a hiss of escaping atmosphere from the direction
of the airlock where the red spot had progressed to a short, molten line.
 We surrender! Crusher bellowed.  Let us out! We surrender!
 Ah, but you already surrendered, the commander reminded him.  But you
changed your mind.
 You can t do this! the pirate insisted.  You can t!
 I ll bet that s just what the original owners of this vessel said when you
took it from them, Raeder said grimly.
There was a pause, then Crusher said in a shaking voice,  I bought this
vessel, I have papers. Stop it! he screamed as the laser cut a corner and the
metal buckled, leaving a large gap.  We ll do what you want, we ll do whatever
you want!
 Cease firing, Wisniewski.
 Aye, sir.
The only sound was atmosphere rushing from the corridor. The pirates,
wild-eyed, stared at the cooling line of molten metal, while their chests grew
tight from the thinning atmosphere.
The hatch opened at their backs. One man fell through and the others stepped
on him in their scramble to get out.
 Go to your galley and stay there, Raeder commanded.
 All right
, Raeder said, looking around the bridge of the ex-merchanter.
It looked like a standard high-boost mixed freight-and-passenger model; from a
provincial dockyard, not Earth or the inner systems. The sort of craft that
knitted the Commonwealth together, and occasionally took a flyer outside
settled space. The modifications were extensive, though; a central thronelike
crash-couch surrounded with repeater consoles and screens, some of them very
good and all nonstandard; and the Tac and Weapons bays jammed in among the
usual Nav and Life-Support. He walked over and touched a screen.
Decision-trees and power cascades sprang into light, and he raised a brow.
 Well, well, well, somebody made a lot of money that an honest shipyard
shouldn t, he muttered.  You getting all this?
The tech nodded.  Full specs and a complete download, sir. Intelligence ought
to be able to trace a lot of it, even without any smoking guns.
 Speaking of which.
He keyed a relay, and got a view from the helmet of a member of the working
party. The outer hull of the pirate vessel stretched away, smooth foamed-metal
plating covered with ablative armor and studded with the marks of sensor
arrays, launch rails and beam-weapon lenses.
 How s it going?
 We ll have the lot physically disabled in about an hour, sir, the cheerful
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reply came.
 Good. He turned back to the tech.  I want everything not essential to life
support physically disabled. He didn t entirely trust software lockouts;
there was always the chance of some evil hacker genius . . . Mostly something
for the holos, but you never knew.  Then let s weld the hatchway shut.
He ducked through it, looking at the assembly of personal weapons laid out by
an impressed pair of Marines.
Not surprised, just impressed.
Peggy looked as if she was tempted to pick up a few of them.
 Found their armory, I see, he said.
 Hell, sir, she said.  This is just what we found on  em and in the crew
quarters. She wrinkled her nose.  Only clean stuff there it was like a frat
house gone bad.
There were vibration knives and thread-edge metal ones, knuckle-dusters and
little rings that threw a pulse of ultracompressed air to make a punch hit [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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