B002D48NTG EBOK Read online

"That's still only two, sir."

  "I'm the third."

  "I thought the Captain wasn't supposed to leave the ship in dangerous territory," noted Jack-in-the-Box.

  "He's not," said Cole. "And if you can find anyone else she'll obey when things start getting hairy, I'll be happy to stay on board."

  Jack-in-the-Box had no answer to that, and he fell silent.

  "Pilot, what's our ETA?" asked Cole.

  "If the Boratina Wormhole hasn't moved, we'll enter the Cyrano system in eighty-seven Standard minutes," answered Wxakgini.

  "And if it has?"

  "Then we won't enter the Cyrano system in eighty-seven Standard minutes."

  "Thanks for that enlightening answer," said Cole dryly. "Christine, select a replacement for Mr. Briggs. Briggs, go down to the armory and draw a burner, a screecher, and a suit of body armor."

  "I hate that stuff," complained Briggs.

  "Yeah, well I hate losing officers," responded Cole. "The whole suit doesn't weigh five pounds. I want you wearing it before we get into the shuttle."

  "It makes me sweat."

  "Just keep telling yourself: corpses don't sweat."

  "Yes, sir," said Briggs dejectedly. Then: "Is the Valkyrie going to wear body armor?"

  "The Valkyrie can take care of herself better than anyone I've ever met," said Cole. "She can wear what she wants." Briggs opened his mouth to protest, and Cole held up a hand. "And before you complain, the day you can beat her in a fair fight, or even an unfair one, you can wear what you want. In the meantime, get into the body armor and stop bitching about it."

  "Yes, sir," said Briggs.

  "Well?" demanded Cole when Briggs remained where he was.

  "I was waiting for my replacement."

  "Okay, you get to keep out of the armor for another five minutes," said Cole. "But when he shows up, you go to the armory."

  "Yes, sir."

  When they were ten minutes from the Cyrano system, Cole contacted Val and told her to join him and Briggs at the shuttle as soon as they braked to sublight speeds. No one could tell whether the ship was going faster or slower than light without reference to a computer that was monitoring the speed, but everyone could always tell when the ship crossed the light barrier in either direction. There was an instant of disorientation that couldn't be ignored or mistaken for anything else.

  They left in the Kermit a few minutes later, and soon entered Cyrano's atmosphere-and within seconds they were confronted by half a dozen two-man fighter ships.

  "What should I do, sir?" asked Briggs, who was at the controls.

  "They're just making sure we're not here to blow up something else," said Cole. "You've got your false ID and the false registry for the Teddy R and the shuttle. Just answer all their questions. We're here to do business with Muscatel. If they tell you that his base has been demolished, just say that he was holding some goods for us and we want to land and see what became of them."

  "They had to know he was a pirate," said Briggs.

  "This planet was his headquarters for years," said Val. "That means he paid a lot of people off-and that means they'll be looking for someone to replace that money. For all they know, it could be us."

  Then the radio came to life, and Briggs spent the next few minutes answering precisely those questions Cole had predicted they would ask. Finally the Kermit was cleared to land, and it touched down at a small commercial spaceport about six miles from the remains of Muscatel's warehouse.

  "God!" muttered Briggs as they emerged from the shuttle. "I can smell the fumes from here. What the hell did the Pegasus do-spray the place with toxic chemicals?"

  "Not directly," answered Val. "But Donovan kept a lot of stuff in that warehouse. Doubtless some of it reacted badly to my ship's pulse canons."

  They rented an aircar at the small spaceport, and took it to the hole in the ground that used to be Donovan Muscatel's headquarters.

  "I told you there wouldn't be anything left of it," said Val, looking at the smoldering remains of the building in the bottom of the newly made basin.

  "Would his ships be at the spaceport?" asked Cole. "The ones that aren't off being pirates, I mean."

  She shook her head. "He'd never have trusted the port authorities to keep them safe. If they weren't in orbit-"

  "They weren't."

  -then they'd have been moored to the buildings here."

  "That's too bad."

  "Why do you care?"

  "Because if we could have found an intact ship, we'd probably have been able to find the communication codes to the other ships and would have been able to find out where they were, and if Muscatel was alive or dead."

  "We don't care about him," said Val. "We're after the Hammerhead Shark and my ship."

  "So, in all likelihood, are they," said Cole, "and they may have some knowledge concerning where he is."

  "If we spread enough money around, we'll find him," Val assured him.

  "You're missing the point," said Cole.

  "What point?" she demanded.

  "Oh, we'll find the Pegasus sooner or later, I have no doubt of it," said Cole. He stared at her. "But what if Muscatel's ships find it first?"

  "You've got it backwards," said Val. "I told you: The Shark will be after them."

  "The Teddy R is a Republic warship," said Cole. "Lord knows it's not the newest or the best, but it was created to fight in wars. If the Pegasus isn't a warship, and if it is you've never mentioned the fact, then whatever you think about the Shark, he's not likely to engage two or three ships at once. Even if he's the most vindictive bastard in the galaxy, he's more likely to choose his spots and pick them off one by one."

  "You don't know the first thing about him," protested Val.

  "I don't know the second thing about him," answered Cole. "The first thing is that he's survived in this business long enough to get a reputation. That implies that he's not suicidal." He paused. "Look, either way we're more likely to find him if we know where Muscatel's ships are. Whether they're chasing him or being stalked by him, sooner or later if we keep an eye on them we're going to find the Pegasus."

  "Okay, it makes sense," she admitted grudgingly. "Let's get their registration numbers from the port. No sense asking for flight plans; whether they're the pursuers or the pursued, they're not going to stick to any plans."

  "The spaceport isn't going to turn the names over to you just because you ask," said Cole.

  "I'm not going to ask," she said, placing her gloved hands on the handles of her weapons. "I'm going to demand."

  "There are easier ways."

  "Oh? Like what?"

  "Like I took your advice and removed the stones from the tiara. A couple, placed in the proper hands, will get us what we want just as easily, and we won't be reported to the closest hundred bounty hunters."

  She shrugged. "If your way works, fine. If not, we've still got my way. Let's go."

  "Not so fast," said Cole.

  "Why not?" she asked. "There's nothing to see here."

  "We knew it was a hole in the ground before we left the ship. I came down to find some witnesses."

  "What can they tell you?"

  "If I knew, I wouldn't need to find them, would I?" replied Cole.

  "Fine. Where do we find them?"

  "We check the police and the hospitals," said Cole. "We're here on legitimate business, remember? Well, legitimate business as far as the authorities of Cyrano are concerned, anyway. We had millions of credits of goods stashed here, goods that we'd paid for and were about to pick up. We have every reason to want to know what happened, who was responsible for it, how many of Muscatel's ships were destroyed and how many survived. You've been thinking like a pirate for too long; we don't have anything to hide."

  She stared at him for a long moment. "And the Navy took your ship away?"

  "Two of them," said Cole. "Well, three actually, but I got the Teddy R back."

  "No wonder we're losing the damned war."

  "We'r
e not losing it," he said. "Correction: They're not losing it. They're just not winning it."

  "If they treat all their competent officers the way they treated you, I can understand why."

  "Sir?" said Briggs, who had been wandering around the site. "I can't be sure without further data, but I'd be willing to bet that there was only one ship moored here."

  "How can you tell?" asked Cole, looking into the crater.

  "Not enough radiation for two nuclear piles," said Briggs, holding up a small sensing device. "They're treated to go inert if anything damages them, but even so some trace radiation always escapes."

  "But not enough for two ships?"

  "I don't think so, sir."

  "Well, that's that," said Cole. "I think we can assume that Muscatel's still got three ships." He turned to Val. "I want the truth, now. Can the Pegasus outgun three ships at once? And don't tell me it depends on the ships. You know what kind Muscatel has, and I don't."

  "No, probably not," she admitted.

  "Then it makes more sense that they're pursuing him."

  "In a rational universe that makes sense," she said. "But you don't know the Shark."

  "I know he's lived this long. That implies at least a certain cunning and a strong sense of self-preservation, if not intelligence."

  "Sir," put in Briggs, "it doesn't really matter if they're chasing him or he's chasing them. Sooner or later they're going to meet. Why don't we just sit back and let them destroy each other?"

  "You're talking about my ship!" bellowed Val.

  "That's one reason," said Cole with a wry smile. "Seriously, we do have an agreement. Also, there's plunder to divide-but only if the Pegasus remains in one piece."

  "It was just a thought, sir," said Briggs uncomfortably.

  "And a good one," said Cole. "It would be practical in ninety-nine out of a hundred situations." Pause. "Welcome to the hundredth." He took one last look at the wreckage. "Well, let's get over to the hospital we passed on the way in. If there are any survivors, or if anyone was close enough to be an eyewitness, that's where we're likely to find them."

  They went back to the aircar and skimmed along, some eight inches above the ground, until they came to the hospital. They floated into an underground lot, moored the vehicle, then took an airlift to the registration desk.

  "Good afternoon," said Cole to the portly human receptionist.

  "Good afternoon," she answered. "How may I help you?"

  "I understand you've got some patients who were involved in the tragic attack on Mr. Muscatel's headquarters."

  "Wasn't it terrible?" she said. "I don't believe we've ever experienced anything quite like it. I mean, military attacks are what everyone comes to the Frontier to avoid."

  "Was it a military attack?" asked Cole. "I was told it was a dispute between pirates."

  "What's the difference? It was a ship, and it fired on our planet."

  "I defer to your judgment," said Cole. "Have you any patients who were involved?"

  "Certainly. What names are you looking for?"

  "I don't know," said Cole. "I did business with the company, not with any particular person other than Donovan Muscatel himself. Is he here?"

  "No, I'd know if he was," she said. "I hope he'd not dead. He donated the east wing of the hospital, you know."

  "I hope so too," said Cole. "How many men and women survived the attack?"

  "It was more than men and women," said the receptionist. "There was a Pepon as well."

  "A Pepon?"

  "From Peponi. Well, that's what they call themselves, anyway. I'm sure there's an official name and probably a medical name as well."

  "Who else?"

  "Two men. There's a woman in surgery, but she's not expected to survive." She glanced at a hidden screen. "Yes, we just lost her about three minutes ago."

  "How about any eyewitnesses to the attack?"

  "Are you a businessman or a reporter?" she asked suspiciously.

  "A businessman. May I speak to the survivors?"

  "Let me check." She studied another hidden screen. "All right. They're not tranquilized, and in fact they'll be released before nightfall. They're just here for observation."

  "The Pepon too?"

  She glanced down again. "Yes."

  "Where can I find them?"

  "I'll have an orderly escort you there."

  "I'd like my friends to come along," he said, gesturing to Val and Briggs.

  "Only two visitors are allowed at one time," she replied. "Hospital rules."

  "All right," said Cole. He put an arm around Briggs's shoulders and walked him toward an exit, speaking only when they were too far away for the receptionist to overhear. "It's probably a dead end, but hunt up the jail and see if they've got any survivors or eyewitnesses, then report back here."

  "Why would they be in jail?" asked Briggs.

  "Maybe they were eyewitnesses who were caught looting," answered Cole. "Maybe they were employees with prices on their heads, and their protector is dead or gone. You want a catalogue of all the possible reasons?"

  "No, sir. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Briggs left, and Cole returned to the desk. "We're ready," he announced.

  A robot rolled up to him. "Follow me, please," it grated in a scratchy metallic voice.

  Cole and Val fell into step as it swiveled and rolled to an airlift. They emerged on the fourth floor and followed the mechanical orderly down a corridor until it stopped by an open door. "Humans Nichols and Moyer are in this room. Pepon Bujandi is four rooms farther down. I will post myself by the door to his room."

  Cole and Val entered the room. Two men, neither wearing hospital gowns, were sitting on a pair of floating beds, staring at them curiously.

  "Which one of you is Nichols and which is Moyer?" asked Cole.

  "I'm Jim Nichols," said the smaller of them. "He's Dan Moyer. Who wants to know?"

  "I want to know," said Cole. "You work for Donavan Muscatel, don't you?"

  "We've got nothing to hide," said Moyer. "Yeah, we work for him."

  "How come you're still alive?"

  They exchanged looks. "We were returning from town with some supplies when they hit the warehouse. The force of the pulse explosions knocked us off the road and shook us up a little, but we're getting out of here in another hour or two."

  "Were the two of you alone in the vehicle?"

  "You know we weren't," said Nichols.

  "How many were with you?"

  "Just the Pepon."

  "I'm told a woman from your group just died in surgery."

  "That was Wanda," said Nichols. "Obviously she wasn't in the building when they hit it. I don't know what she was doing. They told us they brought her in pretty banged up. That's all we know about it." "One last question," said Cole. "Is Muscatel alive?"

  "No more answers until you tell us who the hell you are and why you're asking all these questions," said Moyer.

  Suddenly they were looking down the barrels of Val's burner and screecher. "You can tell us or you can die," she said coldly.

  "Put the guns away," said Cole.

  She glared at him and didn't move.

  "These men aren't our enemies, and they're not likely to answer our questions if you kill them."

  "I know you," said Moyer as Val reluctantly holstered her weapons. "At least I've heard of you. Bigger than any man, armed to the teeth, drop-dead gorgeous, red hair-you've got to be her! You've got no name, or a hundred names, no one's sure which, but you're the captain of the Pegasus. You've got a reputation from here to the Rim. What the hell are you doing on a little dirtball like Cyrano?"

  "Waiting for you to answer the question," said Val coldly. "Is Donovan alive?"

  "Yes," replied Moyer. "He's out in the Delphini system somewhere."

  "He's not coming back," said Cole.

  "How do you know?" demanded Nichols.

  "He's got nothing to come back to. That means you're stranded here."

  "We
'll latch on somewhere else," said Moyer.

  "Right," said Nichols. "We've got a score to settle. We lost a lot of friends today."

  "Maybe we can help you settle your score," said Cole.

  They exchanged looks again. "You talk, we'll listen," said Nichols at last.

  "Your warehouse was blown apart by the Pegasus."

  Moyer frowned. "I thought the Pegasus was her ship."

  "It was, until the Hammerhead Shark stole it from me," said Val.

  "The Shark?" repeated Moyer. "I thought he was in the Spiral Arm."

  "Not for the last two years," said Val.

  "He's the one who attacked you today," added Cole, "and there's every chance that he'll be going after Muscatel and the rest of your organization."

  "You said you can help nail the bastard. How?"

  "I've got a ship, and we're running with a skeleton crew. Whether you sign on or not, my ship is going after the Shark-but we can use all the crew we can get. If you do sign on, you'll each receive one percent of whatever we take, but I want you to know up front you'll be on a military ship, and military discipline will be demanded of you. That's my offer. Take it or leave it."

  "There aren't a lot of military ships out here on the Frontier," said Moyer. "Offhand I can only think of one." Suddenly he grinned. "You bet your ass I'll take it!"

  Nichols frowned. "Are you who I think you are?"

  "I have no idea who you think I am," said Cole. "Are you in or out?"

  "In," said Nichols. "What about Bujandi?"

  "I'm going to walk down the hall and make him the same offer."

  "When do we leave?"

  "One of my officers is at the jail right now. As soon as he comes back we're out of here."

  "Once we're on your ship we'll be able to help you contact Donovan," said Moyer.

  "I never doubted it," said Cole.

  A few minutes later Bujandi agreed to join the crew. Then Briggs returned, and the landing party, with three new crew members, took off for the Teddy R.

  While the three new crew members were being processed, Cole went up to the bridge to see if they'd had any luck tracing the Pegasus.

  "Captain on the bridge!" announced a young man, snapping to attention and saluting.

  "Well, I'll be damned," said Cole. "When did you get back?"

  "A few hours ago, sir," said Luthor Chadwick.