Appointment At Bloodstar Part 5

"What's there to misunderstand? I've got a picture right here." He held up a minicamera. "You in his arms with your dress half off. Thought you could cheat on me, didn't you? Well, I'll fix you. When the newsrolls get their hands on that picture, your career will be finished."

Howard had been standing aside during this interplay, eyeing the scene scrupulously. He chose this moment to speak. "I don't think you'll be showing that picture to anyone," he said calmly.

"No woman cheats on me and gets away with it." "Toss it out the airlock," Howard laughed cruelly. "I know what your ploy is, and I won't be b.u.mmed into it.."

"Ploy?" Vonnie said.

"Sure, I know the old badger game. Want me to tell you how the scene was going to go from there? Lyla here would be pleading with you not to ruin her career, and you'd only laugh at her. Then she'd turn to me and beg me to help. Then I'm supposed to offer to buy the picture from you, and when you think you've taken me for enough money you accept. That's one of the oldest scams around-only I ain't falling for it. You picked on the wrong man, comrades. I'm out of your league altogether."

Jules, suddenly angry for real-or appearing so-rushed at the bigger man with murder in his eyes. But it was not the sort of rush that he was capable of; to Vonnie's trained eyes, Jules looked like a slow motion parody of himself. Howard was able to sidestep him easily and deliver a punch to Jules's right side. Jules fell clumsily, then picked himself up and lunged at the other man again. This time he was able to land a hard blow to Howard's chin that sent the Earthman stumbling backward-but again, Vonnie could tell that he had pulled the punch. Jules could have had Howard unconscious from that blow; instead, the bigger man just shook his head to clear it of the muzziness and came back for more.

The two men locked in combat in the middle of the floor, trading hard punches in rapid succession. Vonnie was tempted to go to her boyfriend's aid but remembered his instructions that she play the dumb female at all times. She had a glimmering now of Jules's plan, so she meekly backed into a corner and watched, taking care to see that the situation never got too far out of hand.

Both men had b.l.o.o.d.y lips, and Jules was bleeding from a cut near his eye as well. Each of them appeared to be tiring; the blows were coming less often and the two men were panting heavily. Finally Jules's guard dropped a fraction of a second too long and Howard spotted the opening. He swung a vicious blow into Jules's midsection that doubled the DesPlainian over, and Howard finished him off with a punch that knocked Jules halfway across the room. Jules struggled to get back on his feet, but fell to the ground again, helpless. He lay there, conscious but unmoving.

Howard moved in to finish the job, and Vonnie thought this was a good time to interfere. "Please, don't kill him!" she exclaimed.

Her voice made Howard stop. He looked back at her, then down at Jules's prostrate form and realized the fight was effectively over. "You two picked on the wrong man," he reiterated.

Then a thought crossed his mind. He bent down and lifted Jules up, then tossed him easily across the bed. "Still, you fought pretty well," he went on.

"Not well enough," Jules moaned through lips that were already beginning to swell. "I lost."

"Don't take it so personal, there's not many guys can beat me," Howard boasted. He looked Jules over critically. "Are you a DesPlainian?"

"Yeah. Been away ten years, though. Ran into a little, uh, trouble there."

Howard nodded. "Yeah, I know how that is. Listen, I'm a little shorthanded at the moment and I can use a guy who knows how to work with his fists. I still don't like what you tried to do to me, but I figure I paid you back for that. How'd you like to work for me?" "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing you'll need to grow a conscience for, believe me. All you do is follow orders and get paid pretty well for it."

"What's 'pretty well'?" "Three hundred a week."

Jules closed his eyes for a long moment to consider it. Finally he opened them again and looked up at Howard. "You've got a deal, tovarishch."

Taking a card and stylus out of his pocket, Howard scribbled an address on the back and then flipped it down beside Jules. "Be there tomorrow at 9 A.M. sharp, got that?" He started wearily to the door, then turned and looked at Vonnie. "I'll see you some other time, gossie, when there's fewer interruptions." And he left the room without another word.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Vonnie ran to get a damp washcloth to clean up Jules's face. She daubed at the cuts as tenderly as she could, but even so Jules could not help wincing.

"What's the matter, Julie?" she asked as she worked. "Are you slowing down in your old age?"

"This is no time for impertinence, wench," Jules said weakly. "I-ow, that stings!-you don't know how hard I had to work to make sure that dodo disguised as a baboon would win. He was so slow and left me so many openings, I thought he was trying to lose, too. I think he wins most of his fights by scalding his opponents to death with hot air."

He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned. "But I got what I wanted. I figured that, after the disaster at Duke Hanforth's villa, he'd be in need of some more men. I just had to prove I was crooked enough and a good enough fighter-though not too good. That might have made me seem like a threat. Now that I'm one of his men, we can be in on the inside plans."

"I still would have liked to take him in for questioning," Vonnie said. "There are all sorts of interesting techniques I'd love to use on him."

Jules shook his head. "Not just yet. If he were to be picked up two days before the wedding, his group might panic and scatter. We have to capture them all intact, the whole d.a.m.ned organization, and the best way to do that is to let them think everything's fine until we're all set to move. This way may be slower, but it's more certain.

"I'll phone the Head about this tomorrow before I go over to meet Howard at this address. Right now I'm going to have to rest a bit. Losing a fight takes a lot out of you; I'll have to try not to make a habit of it. Where are you going?"

"To take a shower," Vonnie replied. "Howard had his filthy paws all over me, and I'm going to have to scrub off a whole layer or two of skin before I feel clean again."

CHAPTER 7.

Pirate Attack Yvette cradled Pias's head against her bosom as he told her of the edict the kriss had decreed. She tried to imagine how it would be if her own family turned against her, disowned her, refused even to acknowledge her existence any more. She shuddered. Some things were just too horrible to contemplate. "Can they actually do that to you?"

"If they choose to ignore me, how can anyone stop them from doing it?"

"They'll have a hard time ignoring you after you become duke. You'll have troops at your disposal, with the Emperor to back you up if..."

But Pias was shaking his head. "You don't understand. I've been totally disowned. They no longer recognize me as my father's son. Tas will inherit the t.i.tle now, not me."

"That's blatantly illegal," Yvette cried. "The Stanley Doctrine guarantees the right of succession by the eldest child, whether he's popular with the local n.o.bility or not."

"The Stanley Doctrine is fine in theory, but there are plenty of loopholes in practice. Suppose I'd been convicted of murder, for instance. There's plenty of legal precedent to deny me my claim to the t.i.tle. The kriss is a local equivalent of a court, and thev've just convicted me of what they consider a pretty heinous crime. Even at best, the issue could be in arbitration for years -and what good would that serve?"

"The Emperor could intervene. I know him personally, and he's a good man. I know he'd see the injustice of all this and decree that you were the lawful duke."

Pias stood up and walked around the room in a style that reminded Yvette very much of her brother's own pacing while he was considering a problem. "Khorosho. Let's suppose for a moment that the Emperor puts his arms around my shoulders and says, 'Pias will rule on Newforest.' Suppose even further that I manage to elude all the a.s.sa.s.sins Tas then sends against me-that would be his next step, you know. Maybe I can even have him arrested and killed, so that he's no longer a threat.

"What kind of rule would I have? As long as the Emperor kept sending me troops to back up my decisions, I could keep order. But if he ever withdrew them, I'd have to hire a private army from offworld, because no Newforester would follow me, not even the ones who like me. We're a stubborn people, always have been. So I would rule strictly by force of arms until the day of my death. The people would obey my commands to the minimum degree they could get away with, and not one iota more. I'd have to become a tyrant if I wanted to achieve anything."

He turned to face her, looking directly into her eyes. "Eve, I've always felt that a ruler needs the respect and cooperation of his people, and that if he doesn't have that he should step aside for someone who does. I suppose that makes me an archconservative throwback to the days of the democracies on Earth; Bozhe knows they didn't work. I've struggled to earn the respect and love of my future subjects..."

"And you've got it," Yvette interrupted. "I saw what those people were like today. You're the most popular man on the planet."

"Maybe up until today. But I know those people, Eve. As soon as word of the kriss reaches them they'll fall into line. Thev've always lived their lives that way, and it would take a supernova to budge them. I don't want to force them to be slaves under my rule; I've never been so desperate for power that I'd do anything to keep it. Let my brother have it, if it will make him happy. I have something better for my life-you."

Yvette blushed and looked down at her feet. "If it's any consolation," she said, "I'm second in line to be d.u.c.h.ess of DesPlaines, right behind my brother Robert."

"Eve, I wouldn't care if you were a peasant starving in a hovel. You'll always be the empress of my heart." He sat down again beside her and rested a hand on hers. They embraced and kissed for a long, heart stopping moment, and Yvette felt her love for this gallant and truly n.o.ble man renewed a dozenfold. But, once they broke from their embrace again, the ever practical side of her nature a.s.serted itself.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

Pias stood up and walked to the window. "Well, it's not as though my life is over," he said. "Soon I'll be starting a new career with a new bride. I'm going into exile because of them, so I'm hardly about to throw them away now. You and the Service will be my life; between the two of you, I expect to be too busy to even think of anything else. I'll probably have forgotten all about Newforest after a couple of years."

But as he gazed out the window at the darkness that covered this hemisphere of the planet he once had been prepared to rule, Yvette could feel the deep sense of loss that was threatening to overwhelm him. Standing, she walked over to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

I'll have to spend the rest of my life making up for the loss I've caused him, she knew. I only hope it'll be enough.

Originally, Pias and Yvette had planned to stay on Newforest for six days, and had return reservations on a s.h.i.+p that would take them back to Earth just in time for the Princess's wedding. But this new turn of events left them little reason for staying the additional few days; indeed, an oppressive feeling was building up within them, and the sooner they were off this world the sooner that feeling would go away.

Newforest was an out-of-the-way planet, and was not visited as frequently as most others. Fortunately for Pias and Yvette, however, a chartered pa.s.senger s.h.i.+p carrying a group of n.o.bles to Earth for the festivities had developed a minor malfunction nearby, and had stopped on Newforest to have the damage repaired. Yvette learned from calling the s.p.a.ceport that they would be able to cash in their previous tickets and purchase s.p.a.ce on this vessel.

The Bavol manor house seemed almost deserted as they left. Carrying their own bags down the hallways they met not another living soul; the house's occupants were going far out of their way to avoid any contact with them. Pias wanted very much to stop by his father's room and say goodbye, even though he knew the old man would never acknowledge it; but he knew that it would only deepen the pain for both the duke and himself, and so he forbore doing it.

Outside, a copter was waiting for them, with Yuri to pilot it. The old servant said not a word as he flew them to the s.p.a.ceport but, as the young couple stepped out, Yuri said, "Goodbye, Pias." The two men embraced tearfully and kissed one another; then Yuri got back into the copter and flew away.

Word of the kriss had traveled quickly; everyone at the s.p.a.ceport seemed aware of it. Yvette could see that Pias had been right; whereas yesterday he had been greeted with smiles and enthusiasm, today people turned their heads to avoid seeing him. Yvette had to speak to the ticket clerk; no one would admit that Pias was even there. Pias accepted their behavior stoically, but Yvette could guess just how deeply he was hurt.

Pias stayed in his cabin until the s.h.i.+p, the Querida, lifted off the surface of Newforest. Then, with the easing of the heavy gravity, his own cares seemed to ease as well. He emerged from his cabin full of his old gaiety and charm.

"I'm no longer weighted down by responsibilities as the marquis of Newforest," he explained to a startled and delighted-Yvette. "From now on, I shall be the same carefree, gallant gambler you first met, with a rose in my hatband and a cape around my shoulders. I'll keep the name Pias Bavol, though-I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll let them take that away from me, too."

They quickly introduced themselves to the rest of the pa.s.sengers on the cruise. Virtually all the others were n.o.bles from the farthest reaches of Sector Twenty-Two, traveling to Earth for the express purpose of seeing the Princess marry her consort. None of them had ever been to Earth before, and the prospect so excited them that they paid little heed to the social distance that ordinarily would have existed between themselves and these two commoners, as they supposed Pias and Yvette to be. All that mattered was that they were going to Earth to see the imperial wedding at Bloodstar Hall.

Pias soon had charmed everyone on board-especially the ladies-with his gallant behavior and entertaining tales. True to the persona he was portraying, he organized an impromptu casino to help while away the time on the long flight back to Earth. In every way, he made himself into the ideal s.h.i.+pboard companion.

The Querida made three more scheduled stops for pa.s.sengers, which lengthened the journey considerably. The s.h.i.+p was nine days out from Newforest when, quite abruptly, alarms began sounding throughout the vessel. Pias was in the gravity-controlled lounge, dealing a hand of five-in-the-hole, when the confusion began. Other people jumped up from the table, sudden panic on their faces. "What is it?" shrieked one countess. "Have we hit something?"

"Relax, comrades," Pias said, pus.h.i.+ng his hat back slightly on his head. "We're in subs.p.a.ce, which is as empty as a drunkard's bottle. There's nothing for us to hit, except maybe another s.h.i.+p, and the odds against that are astronomical. Maybe the captain's just scheduled some sort of drill for us. We have a saying on Newforest: 'The wise man worries not about the Devil's shadow.' At least wait until we know more about what's happening before you start to panic."

It was only a few moments later, though, that everyone had real cause for worry. Captain Bacardi's voice suddenly blared over the loudspeaker system, announcing, "All pa.s.sengers must return to their quarters immediately and lock themselves in until further notice. Our s.h.i.+p has been approached by a vessel that refuses to identify itself. Until further determination has been made, we must a.s.sume that it is a pirate vessel and take appropriate actions. We will be leaving subs.p.a.ce in five minutes. I repeat, all pa.s.sengers are to lock themselves in their quarters immediately until further notice. Captain out."

Even Pias's glacial calm could not stop fear from spreading through the other pa.s.sengers now. With a mood of hysteria building, the people flocked to the narrow corridors in a desperate attempt to get to their rooms. n.o.bles who were raised on courtly manners and courtesy were pus.h.i.+ng and shoving one another out of the way in their efforts to attain refuge.

Pias managed to locate Yvette in the crush and pulled her aside out of the main stampede. "What do you think we should do?" he asked.

"I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll sit in my cabin twiddling my thumbs during a pirate attack," Yvette said with a tone of even determination. "This is a small pa.s.senger s.h.i.+p, without much of a crew. The captain will need every fighter he can get."

"He ordered all pa.s.sengers into their cabins, including us. He'll think we're disobeying orders, and we can't very well go up to him and say, 'We're SOTE agents, let us help.' "

"So we'll hide until the fighting starts," Yvette said. "He's not going to stop in the middle of a battle to reprimand us; and once the battle's over, it won't really matter one way or the other."

The two agents took advantage of the confusion to seek out a hiding place. They finally decided on a storage bin where food had been kept, now virtually empty since most of its contents had already been eaten during the flight. The crew was in the process of securing the s.h.i.+p from outside attack and proceeding to their_ battle stations, and they did not notice the pair hiding in the bin. Pias and Yvette settled in to wait for the drop out of subs.p.a.ce, knowing that no action would occur before then.

"Why do you think the pirates would attack this s.h.i.+p?" Pias asked as they waited.

"I don't know. That's puzzling me, too," Yvette replied. Most pirates contented themselves with preying on cargo s.h.i.+ps; if the cargo was valuable enough, they could sell it for a sizeable profit on the black market. The risk in such cases was minimal; freighters traditionally carried small crews because there was little for them to do while the s.h.i.+p was traveling through subs.p.a.ce. A few of the more daring pirates went after bigger game, the larger luxury s.p.a.celiners. The theory was that anyone who could afford to travel on those cruise s.h.i.+ps was wealthy; either they would be carrying jewels and other valuables with them, or else they could be held for ransom. For this reason, the liners were usually well armed, and equipped with strong security forces, making an attack upon them a much more dangerous undertaking.

But the Querida fit into neither category. It was a comparatively small chartered s.h.i.+p, with no cargo at all and with only thirty-two pa.s.sengers. While it was true that all the people were important n.o.bles on their own planets, the haul would hardly seem to be worth the pirates' while from an economic point of view. Also, the Querida was not running according to a formalized schedule, which should have made it much more difficult for pirates to locate.

Yvette pushed these questions to the back of her mind; she and Pias should deal with the pirates first, and only wonder why afterward.

Standard operating procedure for any vessel under pirate attack was to drop out of subs.p.a.ce immediately and put through a call for help. The subetheric communicator, or subcom, would not work while the s.h.i.+p itself was in subs.p.a.ce; the vessel had to drop back into the regular universe to send out its message and hope that the Imperial Navy would hear and respond in time. There was also the chance that the pirate s.h.i.+p, moving at far greater than light speeds in subs.p.a.ce, would overshoot the now slower-moving target and lose track of it before it could backtrack and pick up the quarry. Finding a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, even a large liner, in the total void of interstellar s.p.a.ce made the old needles and haystacks problem seem trivial by comparison.

Of course, the pirates also knew that dropping out of subs.p.a.ce was standard procedure. When the Querida returned to normal s.p.a.ce with a stomach-churning blump, the other vessel was right beside it, all set to close and board.

Things began to happen ranidiv. The instant they left subs.p.a.ce, the engineer of the Querida was on the subcom trying to get through to the nearest naval base. His counterpart on the pirate s.h.i.+p, meanwhile, was activating a special subs.p.a.ce jammer that broke up the normal harmony in the local region of subs.p.a.ce, preventing the message from beaming through. Simultaneously, pirate gunners fired heavy-duty blasters at the stern of their target. The gunners were well practiced at their task and exceedingly accurate; it took but a single shot to blow out the Querida's engines, leaving the small chartered s.h.i.+p drifting helplessly in s.p.a.ce.

With its prey effectively powerless, the pirate s.h.i.+p moved in for the kill. Short bursts from its stabilizing jets pushed it relentlessly toward the Querida and, when it was close enough, its hatch opened and a small army of figures clad in battle armor propelled themselves over to the hull of the captured s.h.i.+p. With them, they brought a large boxlike contraption called a boarding hatch.

With the efficiency of experts they fitted this boarding hatch over the Querida's normal airlock, then sealed it in place, airtight. That done, they all climbed inside and closed the rear door behind them. They could now force open the airlock of the pa.s.senger s.h.i.+p without worrying about damage to the inside; the air would not all rush out in one tomadolike blast, killing people and destroying property.

The leader of the attack squad wielded his hulltorch with authority. In less than five minutes he had cut an opening through the Querida's thick outer plating and was scrambling through with his men at his heels. The crew of the smaller s.h.i.+p had been gathered around the airlock, prepared to welcome the marauders as they deserved, but their lighter-weight blasters were totally inadequate to penetrate the tough battle armor the pirates wore.

The pirates themselves were content to use stunners on their enemies, rendering the Querida's crew senseless for a long enough period to take control of the s.h.i.+p. Then, thinking that most of their organized opposition was disposed of, they ventured deeper into the s.h.i.+p.

When the motors had been destroyed, it also had killed the ultragrav that had been intended for the pa.s.sengers' comfort. Pias and Yvette, along with the rest of the people aboard the Querida, suddenly felt as though the floor had been yanked out from under them. They were in freefall now, but Yvette and Pias knew that sensation well enough to be able to function without handicap.

They emerged from their hiding place and moved toward the airlock, knowing that was where the action would be. As they swam toward it, they could hear the sounds of the short battle and knew that the crew had been defeated. The Querida's defense would have to be up to them.

Their first step would be to obtain some effective weapons. Both were carrying ministunners, but those would be useless against the battle armor of the pirates. They needed heavy-duty hand blasters-and the only place to get any at the moment- was from the pirates themselves.

Hiding once again-this time in the galley-they waited until the procession of pirates pa.s.sed them en route to the s.h.i.+p's control room. When the invaders had gone, the two SOTE agents slipped out of their hiding place and swam silently after them. The last pirate in line was lagging a little behind the rest; Yvette pointed him out as their quarry, and Pias nodded his agreement. As the pirates rounded one comer, Yvette gave the signal to attack.

The two agents launched themselves simultaneously at their intended victim. Pias grabbed the man around the waist, twisting him around and unexpectedly off balance. Meanwhile, Yvette grabbed for the blaster in the pirate's belt holster. Pulling it out hilt first,. she slammed the hard surface into the weakest point on the man's armor-his faceplate. The clear plastic shattered, but did not fly to pieces. The man tried to raise his arms to protect his eyes, but Pias had a grip on his arms now and would not let them go. Yvette made another strike with her impromptu hammer, and this time the plastic broke apart, cutting the man's face to ribbons. Yvette followed up by sending her fist through the opening in the suit. Her punch connected solidly with the pirate's nose, knocking his head back against the hard interior surface of his helmet. His body instant- ly went limp as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Unfortunately, all the suits of s.p.a.ce armor had been com-linked by radio. At the first sensation of Pias. .h.i.tting his suit, the hapless pirate had yelled out a startled exclamation. It was nothing coherent, but it served to notify his fellows that all was not well behind them. Curious, they turned to see what was happening.

By this time, Yvette had the blaster turned around in her hand and ready to fire. A deadly bolt of energy leaped from the barrel of her gun toward the armored figures at the end of the corridor. Her aim was true; the beam hit one man squarely in the chest, burning through the heavy metal of his armor and searing the skin underneath. Through the hole in his suit, she could hear his scream of agony echoing down the hallway.

Pias, meanwhile, was unarmed, but not helpless. Using as a missile the now-limp body of the pirate they'd attacked, he hurled it the length of the corridor, scattering the pirates at the other end. Then, fearlessly, both he and Yvette leaped forward to press their attack. Had they been working under even some slight gravity conditions, they might have had a chance. The battle armor was heavy, slowing down the pirates' reactions; Pias and Yvette, both from heavy-grav worlds and unenc.u.mbered, could move like lightning in comparison. But in order to make the most efficient use of their speed, they needed some constant surface to work against, a continual direction to move toward. That was lacking in freefall. The agents had only one gun between them, while all their opponents were armed and armored: The buzzing of stun-guns filled the air as the pirates tried to counter this unexpected attack. Despite their quickness, Pias and Yvette could not dodge all the beams at once and, within seconds, they were floating unconscious in the middle of the corridor.

It was several hours later when they finally regained consciousness. Things were fuzzy for another ten minutes as the effects of the stun wore off slowly; sounds seemed to increase and decrease like sirens, while objects would snap into visual focus for a second and then frustratingly retreat into oblivion once more.

They were still in s.p.a.ce; they could tell that instantly from the lack of gravity. Their bodies were drifting in an open, lighted room. Looking around, they could see other people floating about them; as things came more and more into focus, they could tell that the room was the Querida's lounge and the other people were their fellow pa.s.sengers and the crew of the s.h.i.+p. A pair of pirates guarded the door, stun-guns at the ready. Their quick, darting eyes indicated they were keeping vigilant; there would be no way to get the drop on them with a surprise rush.

Pias's head hurt. He had never been stunned before, and, although it was preferable to stopping a blaster beam, he could not favorably recommend the experience. It may be a nonlethal way to stop people, he thought, but it's still far from kind.

When the others saw them stirring they carne over and asked if everything was all smooth. Yvette a.s.sured them that, aside from the aftereffects of the stun, they were in good shape, but a little confused about what was happening. One earl filled them in.

After the abortive battle, the pirates had herded everyone into this lounge area so they could all be kept under surveillance in one place. Then the s.h.i.+p had been rigged up in tandem with the pirate vessel so that the larger s.h.i.+p could tow the Querida to its base. So far, the pirates had made no attempt to hurt anyone, for which the pa.s.sengers were most grateful. They knew, however, that such a state of affairs could not continue forever.

They must be doing this for the ransom, then, Yvette thought-and yet, some part of her mind was telling her that was not the case at all. But no other explanation for this behavior occurred to her, so she dropped the speculation and did her best to maintain order among the captives.

Pias found his hat floating in the air some distance away; the pirates had been considerate enough to toss it in here after him. Retrieving it, he checked the holster hidden behind the rose on the brim; the ministunner he kept for emergencies was still there. Feeling a little better, he donned the hat once more and, like Yvette, bided his time until the situation altered.

Four hours later their trip ended. Everyone was herded out of the lounge, down the corridors, and out the airlock through a pressurized tube. There were faint sensations of gravity, just slightly more than none at all; Yvette surmised that the pirates' headquarters was on some asteroid, a piece of junk floating in the empty s.p.a.ces between the stars. Interstellar debris like that made ideal locations for secret bases, because they were almost impossible to find unless one knew the coordinates in advance.

The captives were marched down a ramp and into a small room where they were crowded together. A man of oriental ancestry in a Nvell-tailored, heavily braided uniform sat at a table before them, with three men standing at attention behind him. He would ask each person for his ident.i.ty, and check it against a printed list he had: then each pa.s.senger would be taken out of the room through a side entrance.

The line moved quicklv, and after only three minutes it was the SOTS agents' turn. They stepped forward together as the pirate chief motioned to them. "Your names?" he asked abruptly.

"Pigs Bavol, and this is my fiancee, Yvette Dupres." The man searched his list through twice for those names and couldn't find them. "You're lying," he said at last. "There are no- such people listed on the original manifest."

"We weren't scheduled to be on board." Yvette said. "We got on at Newforest, when the s.h.i.+p made an unscheduled stop for repairs."

The man stared at them for several seconds as he chewed on the end of his stylus. "That would make sense," he mused, mostly to himself. "It would also explain why the s.h.i.+p was so late getting here."

Yvette's mind was racing as she a.s.similated all the data coming in. These pirates had had advance warning of everyone who was supposed to be on the s.h.i.+p and of its exact flight plan. While pirates usually tried to learn some details of a flight before deciding whether to attack it, knowledge of this depth presupposed an intelligence network far broader than that possessed by the average s.p.a.ce buccaneer. Yvette scanned her in- quisitor a little more closely.