by Mike Resnick
Cole glared at him.
"Is that understood?" repeated Windsail ominously.
"It's understood," said Cole.
"Good. I'll see you in a few minutes."
Windsail broke the connection.
"Get me Odom!" said Cole urgently.
The engineer's image appeared a few seconds later.
"Mr. Odom, I want you to kill all the power to one of the airlifts on my signal."
"You mean you want to kill the gravity?" asked Odom.
"The gravity, the oxygen, everything."
"No problem. Which airlift?"
"Whichever one the pirates take to get from the hatch to the bridge."
"The fall could kill them before the lack of air does," offered Odom.
"Well, that's the chance you take when you decide to become a pirate." He paused briefly. "It occurs to me that we may need someone to go with them, so they don't smell a trap. That means Slick, since that Gorib of his can keep him going without air for a few hours. Can we rig something he can grab hold of while everything else is plunging down? Once they hit bottom you can turn the gravity back on, as long as it's still airless."
"I can't rig anything they won't be able to spot," said Odom.
"I'm willing to risk it, sir," said Slick, his image appearing across the bridge from Odom's. "If I'm ready, if I'm prepared, I can probably land atop them and break the fall."
"I can't take the chance, Slick," answered Cole. "I need you for later. You're the one crewman who can't be incapacitated."
"Sir," said Sokolov, his image appearing beside Slick's. "I've been down here working with Slick, so I've heard what's been said. I'd like to take a shot at it."
"Are you feeling especially suicidal today, Mr. Sokolov?" asked Cole. "The reason I thought of Slick is that he can live without air for a few hours. Unless you've been holding out on us, you can't."
"No, sir," answered Sokolov. "But I can act so damned eager to misdirect them that I'll bet I can get them to order me off the airlift."
"What you're betting is your life," said Cole. "Are you sure you want to do that? We can arrange a pretty hot reception for them on the bridge if we have to, but I've only got about a minute and a half to prepare it."
"Let me try it, sir. They're going to have their weapons drawn when they reach the bridge. You'd be risking too many casualties."
"Even if you survive the fall, there won't be any air," said Cole. "We may not get you out of there in time."
"This is war, sir," said Sokolov. "It's not the one I signed up for, but the principle is the same. They're the enemy, and I'm ready to do whatever has to be done to win."
"Okay, I'm out of time," said Cole decisively. "Meet them at the airlock and let's hope you're as obnoxious an actor as you think you are."
The Achilles reached the Theodore Roosevelt half a minute later. An extension reached out from its hatch, bonded to the Theodore Roosevelt over its hatch, and the two ships were locked together, spinning slowly. Even Cole had to admit that it was a hell of a nice job of maneuvering.
A moment later Montegue Windsail, looking every bit like a refugee from a bad holo entertainment, boarded the Theodore Roosevelt, followed by seven men, all humans.
"Greetings, Captain Windsail," said Cole, his holograph appearing at the end of the short corridor. "The man who is stationed at the hatch to guide you is Vladimir Sokolov. He will take you to the airlift that leads directly to the bridge."
"Why is he armed?" demanded Windsail. "We have an agreement. No harm will come to your crew if you honor your end of it."
"Pirates killed my brother and my wife," growled Sokolov. "I don't trust any of you bastards."
"Perhaps they were killed because they would not relinquish their weapons," suggested Windsail. "I think it might be best if you relinquished yours."
"Not a chance," said Sokolov. "My orders are to take you to the airlift. Let's go." He indicated the direction.
"After you," said Windsail.
"I don't turn my back on pirates," said Sokolov. "Just get on the airlift, and keep your hands where I can see them."
"That's the airlift?" asked Windsail, indicating the shaft.
"That's right."
"Then I think we can dispense with your services."
"My orders are to go with you," said Sokolov coldly. "Captain Baker said to take you up to the bridge, and that's what I'm doing."
Don't overplay it, thought Cole. He's already told you to stay out of the airlift. Let it drop.
But Sokolov had read his audience correctly. "I'm in charge now," said Windsail. "And I say you're staying behind. I don't need an armed enemy standing behind me on the bridge."
"Fuck you!" said Sokolov heatedly. "I don't take orders from pirates!"
"Vladimir," interjected Cole, "do what Captain Windsail says."
"But sir-"
"You heard me," said Cole.
"Yes, sir," muttered Sokolov, glaring hatefully at the pirates.
"Thank you, Captain," said Windsail, as he led his crew of seven onto the airlift. It rose half a level; then Cole said "Now!" and the eight pirates plummeted down four levels. Their cries became inaudible gurgles as the air vanished from the shaft.
"Not the brightest bears in the woods," said Cole. "Christine, share Domak's sensors and see if one of you can spot how many men are still on the Achilles and where they're located. Slick!" he said, raising his voice. "Time to get to work."
Forrice's image floated in front of Cole.
"Are we ready to board the Achilles now?" asked the Molarian.
"Soon," answered Cole. "We're just finding out where all the bad guys are. By now their sensors will have shown them that their captain and his team are dead."
"Then we'd better move fast," said Forrice. "They may decide to cut and run."
"It won't do them any good," said Cole. "The two ships are bonded together."
"Sir?" said Christine.
"Yes?"
"There are six of them on board. They seem to have gathered in the control room."
"You mean the bridge?"
"Pleasure yachts don't have bridges. I guess a control room's as close as they can get."
"You heard it, Four Eyes. They're in the control room. Christine, put a floor plan of the Achilles on every private and public screen on the ship. Four Eyes, Luthor, Jack-in-the-Box, the rest of you-study it so you know where everything is when you get there."
"It's too small for them to hide in," said Forrice. "Either they surrender or we kill them."
"Let's give them a chance to think about it," said Cole. "Christine, patch me through to the Achilles, audio and video, all frequencies."
"You're on," said Christine a moment later.
"Crew members of the Achilles, this is Wilson Cole, the Captain of the Theodore Roosevelt, the vessel that Captain Windsail thought was a distressed cargo ship. You six are the only remaining crew of the Achilles still alive. We will soon be sending a boarding party onto your ship." He paused. "You have three choices: you can pledge your allegiance to us and join us as members in good standing of the Theodore Roosevelt, a former Republic warship which is now"-he searched for the right words-"an independent contractor. You can surrender and choose not to join us, in which case your weapons will be confiscated and you will be set down on the nearest colony planet with an oxygen atmosphere and acceptable gravity. Or you can refuse to join us or surrender, in which case you will suffer the consequences. I'm going to give you five minutes to make up your minds. This channel will remain open."
The bridge became silent. Then, some three minutes into the countdown, Slick's image appeared.
"I'm done, sir."
"Are you back aboard the ship?" asked Cole.
"Yes, sir," answered the Tolobite. "I'm on my way to the Gunnery Section."
"Blow them right now."
A brief pause. "Done, sir."
"Crew of the Achilles," said Cole, "if it will help you to reach a decision, I can no
w inform you that your laser cannons have been disabled."
Two more minutes passed, and the Achilles offered no response. Cole made a slashing motion across his neck, and Christine killed the connection.
"Now?" asked Forrice.
"Something's wrong," said Cole. "They've got six men and nothing more than hand weapons against a military ship that for all they know is carrying a full crew. Let's let 'em sweat for another few minutes."
"What do you think is going on, sir?" asked Christine.
"I don't know," answered Cole. "We're not at war. They can't be willing to blow up their ship in a fit of patriotism or pique. Whatever loot they're sitting on, it's not worth dying for. I'm missing something, and I'm not sending my people over there until I figure out what it is."
"Sir?" said Christine, staring at her sensors and frowning. "Something very strange is happening."
"What?" demanded Cole, suddenly alert.
"Now there are only three men on the bridge. The rest seem to be heading down toward the belly of the ship."
"Shit!" exclaimed Cole. "Now I know! Four Eyes, get your party over to the Achilles on the double! I don't think you'll meet much resistance in the control room, but that's not your destination. Get down to the shuttle level as fast as you can! That's where you'll find them!"
"We're on our way," said the Molarian, spinning his tripodal body through the hatch like some alien dervish.
"That's what I was missing," said Cole to Christine. "I had Slick not only blow the cannons, but also all but one shuttlecraft. I figured we'd stick any survivors on it and set it to land on a colony worldbut they've already figured out what I should never have forgotten: that they've got an operative shuttle. My guess is that they're loading their loot onto it right now. They might leave one or two misdirected idiots behind to make a lot of noise and try to slow us down."
"But they know we'll be able to destroy them at more than a lightyear's distance," said Christine. "It doesn't make any sense."
"It makes a lot of sense," answered Cole. "They're counting on the fact that we're not going to destroy the shuttle when it's got their treasure aboard it, and they're hoping they can get to a friendly planet before we can catch them."
"Are there any friendly planets out here?" she asked.
"I told them who we are, remember? You total up the rewards the Republic is offering for me, for Sharon, for Four Eyes, and for the Teddy R, and just about every damned planet on the Frontier will give aid and comfort to anyone who can lure us there."
"That right," she admitted. "I'd forgotten."
"Sir," said Domak, staring at a screen, "at least one of our party is down. Just from the positioning, it looks like there's a pitched battle in the control room. One of the non-humans, I can't tell from the readings if it's Forrice or Jaxtaboxl, has reached the shuttle bay.... Now a human has joined him."
"It's my fault!" said Cole, furious with himself. "We've got shuttles to spare. I should never have told Slick to leave that one alone!"
"The battle in the control room seems to have ended. Two Achilles crewmen and two of ours are dead or disabled."
"And we still haven't got a doctor on this fucking ship!" grated Cole. "It's a damned good thing I'm not still in the Navy or they'd be taking another command away from me!"
"Well, I'll be damned!" blurted Christine, still glued to her monitors. "Good for you, Forrice!"
"What happened?" said Cole.
"One of them, Forrice or Jaxtaboxl, blew the mechanism that opens the shuttle bay. Now it can't leave the ship!"
"That should do it," said Cole, relieved. "There's no escape. They'll surrender, and then we can try to save the ones who aren't already dead."
Suddenly Forrice's image appeared above Christine's bank of computers. There was the purple fluid that passed for his blood running down his arm, and his neck had been singed by a burner. He was crouched down behind the disabled shuttlecraft, pulse gun in hand.
"Are you there?" he asked urgently. "Is this getting through to you? I've got to speak to Cole!"
"I'm here," said Cole. "What is it, Four Eyes? It looks like the shooting's over."
"Yes and no," said the Molarian, grimacing in pain as he shifted his position.
"Explain."
"We have what I would call a situation," said Forrice.
"I'm on my way," said Cole, walking toward the airlift.
"I thought the Captain and the First Officer never left the ship at the same time in enemy territory," grated Forrice.
"We're in neutral territory," answered Cole. "And as long as the Achilles is bonded to us, I consider it an extension of the Teddy R."
"That's my Wilson," said Forrice.
"I'll see you in about a minute."
"Wilson, one more thing," said the Molarian.
"What?"
"Don't rush blindly in."
Cole approached the yacht's control room cautiously, burner in hand, but it wasn't necessary. Two of the pirate ship's crew lay dead on the floor. So did one of the Theodore Roosevelt's three Bedalians. Luthor Chadwick was propped up against a bulkhead, blood running out of his ears, his eyes barely able to focus.
"I've got to go to the shuttle bay," said Cole. "We'll get help for you as soon as we can."
"I can't hear you, sir," rasped Chadwick.
"I said I've got to go to the shuttle bay!" said Cole, raising his voice.
Luthor pointed to his ears. "I took a heavy blast from a screecher, sir," he said. "I can see your lips move, but I can't hear anything. I think the rest of our team is down in the shuttle bay."
Cole nodded, and headed off toward the bay. There were no sounds of combat as he neared it, but as he approached Forrice he saw a sudden flash of motion and dropped to the ground as an energy pulse burned itself into a bulkhead where his head had been.
"What the hell's going on?" he asked, crawling toward Forrice over the fallen bodies of two of his crewmen.
"You're not going to believe it, sir," said Pampas, who was crouched behind a disabled shuttlecraft.
"Let's have it," said Cole. "These guys have no means of escape, they're outnumbered, we've killed most of their crew including their captain, and we've offered them positions on the Teddy R or safe passage to a colony planet. Why are they still fighting?"
"The man the late Captain Windsail left in charge of the ship told them we were slave traders," said Forrice. "It was actually pretty effective propaganda to stiffen their resolve. They think if we capture them we're going to sell them."
"Bullshit!" said Cole.
"Pampas told you you wouldn't believe it," said Forrice with the Molarian equivalent of a smile.
"Is there any slavery on the Inner Frontier?" asked Cole. "Why would they believe him? I thought the last of it had been wiped out centuries ago."
"Probably there is, sir," said Pampas. "There is no actual law to speak of on the Frontier, just some planetary governments and some bounty hunters. I'd be surprised if at least half a dozen worlds aren't trafficking in slaves."
"And the Teddy R is big enough to carry a cargo of slaves," noted Forrice.
"This is ridiculous," said Cole. "It's time to end it."
"They're pretty well protected, sir," said Pampas.
"I didn't say I was going to shoot them," answered Cole. "I said I was going to end it." He paused for a moment, lost in thought, then looked at the Molarian. "Four Eyes, what was your mother's name?"
Forrice looked at Cole as if he had gone mad.
"Come on," said Cole. "I haven't got all day."
"Well, roughly translated, it would be-"
"No translation. Tell me the Molarian name."
"Chorinszloblen."
"Fine." He raised his voice. "Crewmen of the Achilles, this is Wilson Cole, Captain of the Theodore Roosevelt. Can you hear me?"
"I'm not coming out!" yelled a voice.
"I'm"? thought Cole. So there's only one of you left. Aloud he said, "I want you to listen carefully, because I'm
only going to say this once. We are not a slave ship. We do not traffic in sentient beings. My original offer still stands. If you surrender, you can join my crew as an equal member and today's action will not be held against you, or I can set you down on a colony planet. In either case, you will not be harmed. But I'm all through waiting, and I won't spend any more lives. I have with me a cannister of chorinszloblen, a powerful nerve gas. My crew members all have protection against it. It won't kill you, but it will incapacitate you, and it will almost certainly burn out most of your neural circuits. You can surrender now or you can become a vegetable; it's your choice. You've fought a brave fight, but it's over. You're all out of time."
Cole stopped speaking. After thirty seconds a pulse gun and a burner were tossed out into the open. Then, very slowly, a young man arose, hands behind his head, and walked across the bay.
"I'm your prisoner," he said.
"He's just a kid!" said Pampas, staring at him.
"Even kids can kill," said Cole. "Four Eyes, make sure he's unarmed. Bull, keep an eye on him."
Forrice quickly examined the prisoner. "He's clean," announced the Molarian.
"Okay. Bull, check out his companions."
"They're all dead," said the young man bitterly.
"That makes you the sole surviving member of the Achilles," said Cole. He turned to Pampas. "Bull, Luthor Chadwick is in a bad way up in the control room. I want you and Jack-in-the-Box to bring him back to the Teddy R and see if anyone can stop the bleeding. And dope him up until we can get him to a doctor."
"Colonel Blacksmith has confiscated all the drugs, sir," said Pampas.
"She'll release some for this. Just let her take a look at him."
"Right, sir," said Pampas as he and Jaxtaboxl went off to the control room.
Cole turned his attention back to the prisoner. "What's your name, son?"
"I don't have to tell you," said the young man defiantly.
"No, you don't," agreed Cole. "But it means until we set you off on a planet you're going to have to answer to `Son' or `Hey you."'
