The Ship Errant

Chapter Twenty

He awoke looking up at the ceiling. The shifting of a soft weight on his shoulder made him look down. In her sleep, Mirina cuddled her head just a little cosier against his chest. He tightened the arm around her, fitting his wrist warmly into her opulently curved torso. One of her hands opened on his chest, the fingertips playing delicately on his skin. He remembered the touch of those small but strong hands along his back, and smiled. Two lonely people had found an oasis of peace together for a moment. He was content, and hoped she felt the same.

"Keff? I know you're awake." Carialle's voice came softly through his aural implant.

"Just barely," he said sublingually. "Whasup?" He glanced down at Mirina.

"I've checked her sleep pattern. She's in deep delta. Good morning. The rain stopped just before dawn. I've got a ship on extreme long-range sensors. I've sent a hail out on standard frequency. The cavalry's on its way!"

"Hurrah," Keff said quietly, wishing he could cheer. "About time."

"The Cridi want to get out and around for a while. They're rather bored with being cooped up, and I can't run the water-refresher if you're supposed to be alone."

"Mmm," he said. "Tell them I'll go take a real shower, and they can bathe as long as they like."

He edged himself out of the bunk carefully, lifting Mirina's head from his shoulder onto the pillow. He left the coverlet tucked around her where his arm had been. She let out a small sigh.

"Probably hasn't felt this safe in ages," Keff said quietly to Carialle. He walked silently toward his bathroom. Carialle must condone his sympathy for Mirina. She was perfectly capable of making the humidity or temperature controls in his private quarters go squiffy out of pettiness, but the air was warm on his naked skin, and even the floor had been heated to a comfortable 18 degrees C.

Keff passed up the sonic cleaner for the shower fixture. He fitted the standards into the depressions in the deck, snapped the extendable envelope out into a rectangular booth two meters high and a meter square, and twisted the water spigots on to full. Jets of water shot out of the metal disk at the top, hammering at the booth floor and sides. An answering rush of water across the corridor told him the Cridi had heard his cue. As soon as the water warmed up to a comfortable temperature, he climbed into the booth and sealed it around him. He stood under the shower for a good twenty-five minutes, until his fingers turned into pale prunes.

"Are they finished, Cari?" Keff asked, as loudly as he dared. His voice sounded curiously dead in the heavy plastic tent.

"They are," Carialle chuckled. "Narrow Leg said they wouldn't have had to do this in stages if you hadn't put their swimming pool in the storeroom."

With a thankful sigh, Keff spun the controls off. He shouldered into his toweling robe and walked back into the sleeping room, rubbing his hair dry with a clean cloth. Mirina stirred and opened her eyes at the small sound. Her eyes crinkled as she grinned at him, embarrassed. She sat up, clasping the coverlet to her body.

"Sorry. Have I slept too long?" she asked.

"Not at all," Keff said. "I've just finished. The bath is yours."

She stretched out her arms, throwing her head back with abandon. "Mmm! I haven't had a refreshing sleep like this in ages. Thank you. And, thank you for last evening." The wickedly coy look, through the eyelashes, returned just for a moment. "I was supposed to come and win concessions from you, but I think I gave up as much as I got."

"My pleasure," Keff said, with a twinkle.

"Thank you. I ought to watch my liquor consumption," Mirina said, seriously. "I shouldn't have talked so much."

"Not at all," Keff said. "I understand. Truly, I do." Mirina gave him a skeptical, almost pitying look. He wished again he could tell her the truth, but Carialle was right. He must not blow their cover too soon, even for a fellow brawn in need.

He extended a hand to help Mirina off the bunk, but she smiled a polite refusal, and dropped lightly onto the soles of her feet. She did accept his spare robe, and trailed off into the steamy, tiled bathroom with an easy, spacer's stride. Keff dressed, listening to her hum happily in the shower.

Once they emerged into the main cabin, there were no signs of the Cridi at all, except that the indicator on the food synthesizer was a little lower than it had been the night before. Mirina didn't notice the discrepancy, but then, she'd had the lion's share of brandy and wine. Keff programmed her a nice breakfast, and poured himself a health shake with extra calcium and vitamin E to help chase away the dregs of a headache that loomed behind his eyes. For all her shamed protest, Mirina looked as if she was rather less worse for the wear than he was.

"Mmm, what's that?" Mirina asked, putting down her coffee cup. She pointed at a light blinking on Carialle's imaginary console.

"Communications," Carialle said in his ear.

"Communications," Keff echoed, springing up. "The Lady!" He went to one of the real control boards, and punched a button. That one normally activated the lights in the cargo bay, but Mirina wouldn't know that. One of the screens blanked, then filled with the image of Carialle's Lady Fair. Keff blinked. She wore an up-to-date coiffure, and tunic set of gauzy blue fabric with flowing sleeves, plus plenty of sparkling jewelry. She looked expensive, impatient, and very efficient.

"Keff? Is that you?" Carialle's voice asked impatiently.

"Yes, ma'am," Keff said, speaking with his mouth close to the audio pickup just for effect.

"My ship is in range of this planet, ETA two hours. I want a full report. What's this meeting supposed to be about?" Her eyes flicked past Keff to Mirina. "Who is that woman?"

"She's, uh, she's a representative of the other group," Keff said. "The Melange. Mirina Don, er, Carialle."

"Madam," Mirina said.

"Greetings." The eyes returned to Keff. "I'll expect a full briefing in an hour. The meeting will commence when I make orbit. Do you understand?"

"I do, ma'am," Keff said, humbly. The screen blanked. He turned to Mirina. She looked pleased.

"I'll go tell Bisman," she said.

Carialle had her suit-clad image smile at Bisman and his cronies as they stalked into the central cabin. The half-dozen human raiders shed oily, yellow-brown mud from their boots everywhere. She cast her eyes upward in disgust, and enjoyed the scowl on the leader's face as he slung himself into one of the crash couches.

"Upscale meets bargain basement," she said to Keff over the aural link. "You'll have to tidy that after the meeting's over," she added out loud.

"Yes, ma'am," Keff said, standing obsequiously beside the holographic chair in which her image seated itself. Carialle had set almost all her projective cameras over the end of the room where her painting apparatus usually stood. The rack, and all of her personal paintings, were stowed hastily in the small storeroom behind Keff's cabin. It left her image plenty of room to roam.

"I am Carialle," she said, with a nod of her head. "Greetings, gentlemen, and madam." Carialle nodded to Mirina, clad in a similar shipsuit to the one she'd had on the night before. The ex-brawn seated herself beside her brother at the dining table clear across the cabin. The younger Don was a dark-haired, lanky young man who didn't seem to know what to do with his long arms and legs. Bisman wore a knee-length coat over an open-necked shirt and trousers tucked into his muddy boots. The garments were clean but worn, adding to the impression Mirina had given them of an organization too big for its budget. The only non-human was the young Thelerie, Sunset. "You are all welcome."

"Say, wait a minute," Bisman said, turning his head to the right. He'd made himself comfortable, but something caught his eye. He propelled himself forward to wave a hand through Carialle's midsection. "She's a hologram!" he exclaimed, turning on Keff. "I thought we were meeting with the real thing!"

"You're hearing my real voice," Carialle said, with a trace of haughty annoyance. "And seeing my face. I'm not about to make myself vulnerable to strangers. I'm sure you understand."

"Not being vulnerable, yeah," Bisman said, sitting down again, but not so far back in the couch. He held up one hand and showed them a small commlink on his wrist. "I don't like tricks, either. I want you to know I'm in radio contact with my ship. If something happens, or if my communications are cut off, my people have orders to attack. We are well armed."

Carialle also read the energy trace of a sidearm concealed under the flap of the coat the man wore. She accorded him another gracious nod. "I understand," she said. "We won't shield transmissions. Sounds like they have the third Core," she told Keff privately. "We'll have to get it away from them."

"Yes, ma'am," Keff said, with a respectful bow.

"Why are you here?" Bisman asked Thunderstorm, who sat on his haunches between the airlock and the corridor to the sleeping cabins.

"I represent Thelerie," the Space Sayas said, very nervously. "As I have for many years."

"This was going to be a discussion between our two organizations, wasn't it?" Bisman asked Carialle.

"Of course, but this being makes a valid point," Carialle said, with a polite gesture toward Thunderstorm. "We are occupying his world, after all."

"Okay," Bisman said, crossing his heels on the console. "He can stay."

"Thank you," Carialle said, politely. She made a point of lifting the corner of her lip delicately at his dirty boots, and he grinned. "Shall we begin?"

Keff bowed again. "Shall I serve refreshments?"

"Go ahead. Thank you. Gentles?" Carialle manifested a glass in her image's hand. The visitors declined beverages, and Keff resumed his stand beside his "employer."

"We're here to talk," Bisman said, impatiently. He tilted his head toward Keff. "Your drone here landed on a world we have an exclusive arrangement with."

"Isn't it up to the inhabitants as to whom they do business with?" Carialle asked, with a lift of her eyebrows. "Thunderstorm, what do you say?"

"I…" the Thelerie trembled violently and clattered his clawtips together. "I do not say anything just now."

Bisman's blood pressure rose slightly, as did the temperature in his face. He had a bad temper, but he controlled it. His associates were watching their leader closely. Their muscle tension was high: in Mirina's case, almost dangerously so. The former brawn was under a lot of stress.

"The Melange has made a lot of progress with them," Bisman said, with emphasis. "We don't like someone just walking in and benefiting from all our work."

"But when there's profit in it…?" Carialle asked.

"Yeah, but we intend to keep it just the way it's been," Bisman said. His blood pressure drew down to normal again. He was on his own ground here, Carialle thought.

"The resources on this planet are very attractive, n'est ce pas? For example, fuel of very high quality."

"Ours. Our refinery, our investment," Bisman said, flatly.

Carialle spread her hands prettily. "But can't we make a bargain?" she asked. "We might like to buy some of this fine fuel. And these people, the Thelerie, are good customers."

"Not a chance," Bisman said. "There's not enough production to supply all of us. The Thelerie need it to run their lamps and heating units. I've got more than sixty ships. How many have you got?"

"Enough," Carialle said. "You'll forgive me not giving out too much information until I know who I'm dealing with."

"We've been around a long time," the older man said, narrowing his eyes at her. He jabbed a finger toward Keff. "I have never heard of you people until we landed and found him here. You come out of nowhere, into established territory, and you act like you've had a mandate from the Invisible Hosts."

Carialle smiled austerely. "Perhaps it does seem as if we've been keeping undercover a little too much."

"Nonexistent, is what I call it." Bisman's voice rose threateningly. Carialle picked up signs of distress from Thunderstorm, who watched the man with wide eyes. He was terrified of Bisman, and Carialle couldn't blame him. He was dangerous.

"And yet, here we are," Carialle said. Her sensors picked up the expected ship orbiting and entering atmosphere. The engine vibration matched patrol ships she'd encountered at many space stations. She listened for an official hail, hoping it was the CW military ship at last. It was curious that there hadn't been any advance instructions for her. She strained her external cameras upward and outward, searching for a glimpse of the descending craft. "Now that we've found one another, we should make arrangements for cooperation where our paths cross."

"Keff!" she said, urgently, while her blandfaced hologram continued a meaningless conversation with the pirate leader. "It's Ship Three! They're coming in for a landing. Here!"

"What? Impossible!" Keff muttered to himself, although he was badly shaken. "No, it isn't. The Thelerie are natural navigators. They've Centered their way home."

"But with what? We destroyed their propulsion system."

"We never found the DSC-902's," Keff said glumly. He smiled innocently at Mirina, who was staring at him with open curiosity.

Carialle tried to get the others' attention focused back on herself. "Mr. Bisman, the Circuit is prepared to sell you whatever components and parts you might like, at a good price, but we do believe in coexistence."

"Just a minute," Bisman said, holding up a hand as his pocket unit signalled. He listened to the small speaker. "What?"

Carialle picked up the transmission herself. She listened helplessly to every word the pirate leader heard. She relayed the broadcast so Keff could hear it, too. His eyes widened, and flicked toward her hiding place.

"They saw them on long-range but now they're sure. Autumn says that Keff's ship is the one who attacked them in Slime space," a woman's voice repeated. "Says the human onboard was under Slime control."

"What? Slime? What about the other ship?"

"No one challenged her on the way in. There's nobody in orbit around Thelerie!"

"What? Well, then where's the transmission in here coming from?" Bisman demanded.

"The ship…" Carialle could wait to hear no more. She blocked the signal from the pirate.

Bisman jumped for Keff, and backed him up against the nearest bulkhead with a forearm underneath his throat.

"Who is she?" Bisman demanded. "Where is she?"

"There's no one else here," Keff said, innocently, pushing the man's arm down enough to gasp in a breath. His windpipe felt half-crushed. "Just me. The Lady's out in space somewhere."

"That's a lie," the pirate leader said, driving home his statement with another bruising push. "One of my ships says there's nobody out there. She's onboard this vessel. Bring her out!"

"You're wrong, friend…" Keff began, but he got no more out. The pirate shoved him up against the enameled panel and bore down in earnest. "Hey!" he whispered, battering the man on the back. He saw black spots dance in his vision. Bisman meant to kill him. Dropping all pretense of amiable obsequity, Keff dug both thumbs into pressure points behind the man's ears, and swept a foot back and across Bisman's ankles, sending the older man stumbling. Keff danced out from the wall on the balls of his feet, not turning his back on Bisman. In the close quarters, though, he was at a disadvantage. The pirate, though an older man, had a long reach, and undoubtedly a long, dishonorable history of dirty fighting. He landed a kidney punch before Keff could get by him. Keff staggered, and aimed a slam of his own for the man's gut. Bisman took about half of it, but he slid sideways in the direction of the airlock. Keff closed the distance, and had to dodge back from a dirty kick. He couldn't let Bisman go, not now.

"They'll have backups in a minute," Carialle said. "The rest of the crew is coming. They're armed, and something on that ship is building up energy." Keff nodded but didn't reply. He was concentrating on disabling Bisman without killing him. Mirina and her brother stood beside the table, staring.

"He's CW?" Zonzalo asked, gaping.

"You lied!" Mirina shouted at Keff. She started toward the airlock, but the combatants blocked her way.

"Luring us in here, pretending to be stupid traders," Bisman panted. He evaded a roundhouse kick Keff aimed at him, grabbed Keff's leg, and propelled him backward over the stack of crates toward the image of the third console. Keff fell helplessly among the boxes. The other humans gasped as he disappeared from view into the holographic illusion. Bisman, with a snarl, dove in after him.

"Cari, I can't see!" Keff cried, as a punch came out of nowhere and knocked his head painfully against the deck.

The time for subterfuge was over. Keff's life could be in danger. At once, Carialle dropped the illusion, revealing wall, pillar, and the two men grappling on the floor. The effect on Mirina Don was electric. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open.

"Aldon!" she shrieked at the top of her voice. "She's a brainship!"

"Central Worlds!" Bisman growled. With a sudden burst of strength, he yanked a hand free, chopped the smaller man in the throat, and scrambled to his feet. He spun and grabbed Thunderstorm, who had been trying to creep unobtrusively toward the airlock.

"You damned traitor," the pirate snarled. "You were in on this." He yanked the Thelerie back on his haunches and drew his sidearm, shoving it under Thunderstorm's throat.

"Help them," Carialle said to Tall Eyebrow and the listening Cridi, activating the door of the spare cabin. "Now!"

Like a barrage of soap-bubbles, the Cridi poured out of the spare room, and surrounded the pirates.

"Slime!" Zonzalo gasped, flattening himself against the wall as Gap Tooth and Small Spot confronted him. Sunset, the young Thelerie clutched Mirina around the waist, and hid behind her, his golden eyes all pupil, while Big Voice, Wide Foot, and Big Eyes edged them backward.

"Stand back," Bisman said, looking up steadily at the floating globes. "I want out of here, now! I want my people out, too. One by one. If we don't, this damned traitor dies. Now!"

"We freeze him!" Small Spot cried, flinging himself forward to save his friend.

"No!" Carialle saw the tiny movement of Bisman's finger closing just as Small Spot's whammy took effect. She sensed the power buildup, an inexorable burst only temporarily halted.

"Small motor control reaction," she said, over all her speakers. The hologram of the Lady vanished, making the human pirates jump. "He's pulled the trigger. If we don't let him go, the gun will fire anyhow in a moment. If we don't try to contain the blast using Core power, it will explode right here in the cabin. If we do, both Bisman and Thunderstorm will die. Sooner or later I will run out of fuel, then the Core won't be able to contain the blast to just the two of them."

"Can he hear us?" Keff asked.

"Yes," said Narrow Leg, hovering in front of the pirate leader's face, watching his pupils.

"Bisman, we'll let you go," Keff said, edging into Bisman's view with his hands out from his sides. "I'm unarmed, and the Cridi will do what I say. Just let Thunderstorm go. You and your people are free." He jerked his head toward the airlock. Carialle slid open both doors, and lowered the ramp. Zonzalo and the other crew dashed out of the door without hesitation. "You're free to go. No one will stop you. TE, ready to pull his hand back?"

"I am ready," the Frog Prince said, his face grim.

"Okay," Keff said to Small Spot. "Let him go!"

The burst of power released five milliseconds after Tall Eyebrow jerked the human's hand back and away from Thunderstorm's neck. Carialle winced as the bolt burned through her ceiling plates and into a fiberoptic conduit. She set a small part of her consciousness to rerouting the functions the severed fibers controlled. She'd have time to repair the ducting later. The Thelerie stood, dazed, the fact that he was alive and unharmed not yet registering in his mind. Like lightning, Bisman ran a few steps, turned, put a bolt straight into Thunderstorm's chest. Sunset fell beside the body of his mentor, crying out shrilly at the black, burned streak in the center of the golden fur. Bisman loosed a few more shots into the cabin, scattering the Cridi, and filling the room with smoke as lights, screens, and upholstery burst and caught fire. Keff dove underneath the crash couch, pulling Mirina down with him.

Carialle dropped her airlock door, intending to trap the pirate inside. Bisman saw the lights activate, and scowled, but he didn't stop running. He raised the energy weapon again, and shot the controls, freezing the doors. She struggled to find another servo that could pull down the door, but the mechanism reacted too slowly. He was able to roll underneath the door. He ran out and down the ramp and out across the field with deliberate, long, heavy steps that ate up the distance. Their rhythm suddenly matched with something Carialle would never, never forget.

"Keff!" she cried. "It's him. It's his footsteps!"

Keff scrambled out from his hiding place. "Whose?"

"Bisman!" Carialle said, opening all screens to show the pirate leader running across to his own ship. "He was the one, the one who walked on me."

"You're sure?" Keff demanded.

"I couldn't forget it as long as I live. Keff, stop him!" Carialle said desperately. "We have to get him back here. He's the one. He can clear my record, Keff. He can't get away."

Keff dashed for the airlock. He waited impatiently until Carialle had raised it high enough for him to scramble underneath, then dashed down the ramp after Bisman. "Do something about Thunderstorm, for pity's sake," he shouted.

Carialle tried to pull herself together. For once in her life she wished she could go about on two feet, or four, or wings! That man must not get away from her. He held the answers she had been seeking for twenty years. It meant the vindication of her sanity.

But her life was not in danger, and Thunderstorm's was. She pulled herself together and located the nearest transmission tower. With a broad-band sweep, she broke into the thousands and thousands of "phone calls" going on across Thelerie.

"Attention," she said, through the shell of the IT program, wishing that it was up to fluent medical Thelerie. "There is an emergency medical situation on the Melange's plain. Will any healer in the area please come at once?" Hubbub erupted on the open lines as thousands of Thelerie broke into speech all at once, wanting to know more. She repeated her message, shut down the transmission and returned her attention to the inside of her cabin.

"And thus is mass communication born," she said, ironically.

"His heart beats," Big Voice said. He sat on the Thelerie's left, his globe in two pieces behind him. "I know not what else to do, but I can keep that doing."

"I am making him breathe," Small Spot said, clasping one of the Thelerie's claw hands in his own. "Come, friend. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Am I doing too fast?"

"I don't think so," Carialle said. "He's in pain. I wish I could tell you what nerves to deaden, or what drugs to use, but I don't dare interfere. We might cause permanent damage."

"Don't touch him," Sunset cried, trying to scatter the amphibioids away from his mentor's body. He ran at them, flailing his wings. The Cridi gently pushed him back, mildly using Core power. The wound was serious, but it didn't go all the way through the Thelerie's body, for which Carialle was grateful.

It didn't take long for her message to have an effect. On her screen, Carialle saw a very large Thelerie with a pouch around its neck sail over the plain. Carialle flashed her running lights to attract the griffin's attention. The creature changed direction on a wingtip and landed on the ramp. It galloped on all fours up into the ship.

"I was called," it said. "I heal! How to help?" It saw Thunderstorm and hurried toward him, with concerned horn calls. It spilled herbs, vials, and tools out of its pouch onto the deck, and went to work.

Another Thelerie, and another, appeared behind the first. "I, too! I, too! I am called. I will help!"

"Help is here," Big Voice said, leaning close to Thunderstorm's face. "I told you we did not want your life."

Thunderstorm fluttered his eyelids and wingtips feebly, acknowledging the irony of his old enemies working to save him from the wounds of his allies.

Keff ran, keeping his knees up with an effort. His feet grew more caked with mud at every step. The previous night's rain had made the field a mire. Tall Eyebrow had sailed ahead in his globe, then realized Keff wasn't keeping up with him. He and Big Eyes swept back and pulled him out of the mud with a mighty pop! Keff checked to make sure he hadn't left his boots behind, then turned all his attention forward.

The red ship fired slugs and energy beams at the approaching human and his companions. With a single sweep of his fingers, Narrow Leg created a barrier of Core power between them. The missiles ricocheted all over the landscape. A gout of mud kicked up with a bang! almost right in Keff's face. Hot steam hissed where the energy bolts sizzled into the mud. Keff hoped fervently that Big Voice and the others were protecting Carialle from attack.

Ahead of them, Bisman reached the ramp, and hurtled up it in a few long strides. The heavy metal door began to slide downward.

"They close the hatch!" Narrow Leg signed, meters ahead of Keff. "What to do?"

"Hold it open! Hold the ship," Keff shouted in Cridi at the top of his lungs. The ammoniated air made him hoarse. "Don't let them launch. Carialle needs them alive, awake!"

"We understand," Gap Tooth and Wide Foot signed. They stretched out their skinny arms as best they could in the confines of the plastic bubbles. The rising ramp halted in mid-arc, and jerked hard a few times. The airlock hatch, manipulated by Long Hand, reversed direction and began to inch upward.

"Good," Keff said, urging his small force forward. "Cari, we have them!"

"Get him," Carialle said, speaking so rapidly he had to listen closely to understand. "You have to bring him to me. He's my proof for Maxwell-Corey. That bastard must listen. This is the man. He will talk. He must talk. It wasn't aliens; it was a human being, one who should have known better. He knew a brain pillar when he saw one! He must have known!"

"Almost there, Cari," Keff said, willing her to hang on. Only a few hundred meters to go to the red ship. He heard the screech of tortured servos fighting against the pull of Core power. The ramp had opened almost all the way. He heard shouting from inside the ship, saw men and women in shipsuits fighting to lower the airlock doors by hand.

Suddenly, he and the Cridi were all swept straight through the air into the side of the pirate ship. Keff slammed face first into the hull and slid, dazed, down to the ground. The travel globes split apart, leaving the Cridi dry, gasping, and shocked in the hot, ammonia-laden air. There was no doubt about it: the pirates had the third Core in their ship, and they knew how to use it.

More Thelerie healers, landing on the plain in answer to Carialle's call, swooped in and helped pick the small aliens out of the mud. Two hovering griffins lifted Keff free of the ship's side, and set him on his feet.

"It burns, it burns!" Gap Tooth shrieked, batting at her skin with her hands. "The air is hot!"

The Thelerie, though they understood the small beings were distressed, couldn't understand the language. They fluttered around uncertainly. The Cridi had to help themselves. Tall Eyebrow, with Big Eyes swept up in his arms, cried out to the others. "Pick up globes, purify air!"

Narrow Leg, recovering his wits in a flash, started clapping travel globes together around his crew with waves of his fingerstalls. In a moment, all the Cridi were rallying.

"Are you all right?" Keff wheezed. His ribs were sore and bruised, and one of his eyes felt as if it was swelling shut.

"We have no water," Narrow Leg signed swiftly, "but it is only for a short time."

"Right," Keff said, turning around. "Let's get them." Just as he spoke, the pirate ship lit engines. The distraction had been long enough. Bisman managed to launch. The ship rose swiftly, diminishing to a fiery dot in the sky. "Oh, no!"

More Thelerie winged their way over the plain. Keff recognized Noonday and her guardians. He waved at them, and pointed at the other ship that had landed.

"More pirates!" Keff had time to shout, as he turned toward Carialle. This time Tall Eyebrow lifted Keff off his feet even before he gave the signal. The wind rushed into his face as they flew back to the ship.

"Ready to lift as soon as you're on board," Carialle said in his aural pickup.

"That one has the last Core," Narrow Leg shouted, his high voice audible even over the sound of Carialle's rockets igniting.

"I know! We'll stop him," Keff said. "Have you got enough fuel for a pursuit, Cari?" he asked.

"Just enough," Carialle said grimly. "If we don't have to use much more Core power ourselves."

The Cridi and Keff swooped in through the door. The Cridi froze their globes to the walls and Keff grabbed the nearest permanent fixture as the airlock slammed shut and Carialle applied full thrust. He was shoved almost all the way to the floor by sheer force, and the roar of the engines threatened to shake his grip.

"Care, care!" Big Voice shrieked. He and half a dozen healers threw their arms across Thunderstorm's body. Their stentorian voices rose in protest, and the patient moaned. Healing impedimenta went flying in every direction, clattering into the bulkheads.

"Sorry," Carialle said over general audio, not taking the time to manifest her frog image on the wall. "It's going to be a rough ride. Cridi, brace everyone and everything that's rolling around loose!"

"We hear!" the shrill voices responded. The external viewscreens swiftly turned from golden to blue to black as Carialle burst out of atmosphere.

As soon as he could move again after the initial push, Keff handed himself toward the crash couch and flung himself into its depths. He started to strap in, when a small human hand reached up and clutched the side of the chair. Keff sat up, and yanked Mirina Don onto his lap. It was a tight fit, but there was just room for both of them. He pulled the straps over her hip and locked them down. She and Keff were pressed almost face to face.

"Oh, please," she said, her soft brown eyes filled with tears. She appealed to Carialle's pillar. "My brother is on that ship. Aldon will kill him. Zon is my only family. Aldon was going to let us leave after we landed here."

"If you can speak to him, do it," Carialle said, concentrating on following the pirate's path precisely. Not one extra centimeter must come between them. "I don't want him dead. I want to talk to him."

"If I help, will you let us go?" Mirina asked. She looked at Carialle's pillar, and back to Keff, who shook his head sadly. "They'll put me in prison. I couldn't stand it."

"I can't," Keff said, helplessly. The desperate look on her face tore at his heart.

"All we can do is try to save lives," Carialle said crisply. "Talk to him. What's the frequency?"

"Reasonable?" Bisman's fierce grimace filled the whole screen. "Reasonable to land and let a CW flunky pick through my brain? They bought you last night, didn't they? You and that sawed-off muscleman."

Mirina had no time for pride. She could see Zonzalo behind Aldon. The boy looked absolutely terrified. She had to do whatever it took to get him to land without harming her brother. He could call her whatever names he wanted to. She clasped her hands.

"Please, Aldon. Carialle swears she means you no harm. You have some information she wants. Maybe she'll trade you a favor for it."

"No promises," Carialle cut in. "All I want is a talk. What happens after that is up to the CenCom."

"This is what I say to your CenCom," Bisman sneered. He nodded his head to one side, and Mirina saw Glashton's hands move toward the controls for the Slime Ball. A tremendous jerk rocked the brainship. Mirina was flung backwards. She would have fallen if Keff and the Cridi hadn't caught her. She grabbed the edge of the console and leaned in closer.

"We can't take many of those," Carialle said, grimly. "The Thelerie might have fuel we can use, but no repair facilities."

"Please, Aldon," Mirina begged. "Listen to me. Let Zon go. He's never done you any harm. I'm the one you want. Bring him back, and you can do whatever you want to me."

"Go to hell, Mirina. You're a traitor." Bisman turned away from the screen, but at least he didn't cut off contact.

"We need the Cridi," Keff said, over the top of Mirina's head.

"I will help," one of the little green frogs said, floating away from the Thelerie working on Thunderstorm. "That one is in no danger now."

Mirina was itching to know how the Slime had learned to speak Standard, or why they were so friendly to humans, and she'd give ten years of her life to know how it was flying in midair like that. When Keff gave the order to hang on tight, she dropped back into the crash couch and held onto him. The amphibioid hung like a spider in the air beside the screentank. On it, the image of the reiver ship grew larger and larger.

"All right, Big Voice," Carialle's voice said, softly. "Reach out for the pirate. Gently, but so he knows he's been grappled. Now, hold it, but not hard, like an egg or a piece of fruit. Now I wish your landing personnel were here. They know exactly how to do it. Go on. Good."

"So. I see," Big Voice said, gesturing slightly with one surprisingly large hand. The long fingers were coated in a kind of twinkling golden metal. It was a kind of activator. There was a Slime Ball here on this ship. There had been the whole time, and she never knew it!

In the tank, the reiver juddered and hesitated. Mirina was nearly kicked out of the chair by another pull from the Slime Ball aboard the red ship. So this is what it felt like when they used the tractor device on other people: terrifying, inexplicable, intangible, and inexorable. She thrust herself in next to Keff among the padding.

"They must turn back and land at once," another one of the amphibioids ordered, from its place on the wall. "Their Core is overheating! It may explode."

"Mirina," Sunset bleated, from his place on the floor. "Stop the ship jostling! My mentor is injured. This hurts him! How could Bisman do this?"

"He's a bad man, youngster," Mirina said, craning her head over the edge of the chair. Her heart sank at the terrified Thelerie's face. "I should never have let you or any of your people come aboard with him. Heaven knows I shouldn't have done so myself."

"Stop him," Sunset begged Keff.

"I am stopping him," Big Voice said. "Less noise! Must concentrate."

"Bring it back," Narrow Leg interrupted. "That old Core has reached its end. Can't you hear the frequency?" He followed this with a series of shrill whistles that Keff and Carialle inexplicably seemed to understand.

"Oh, no," Keff said, his face set.

"The Slime will kill them all," Sunset said, trembling.

"No." Thunderstorm stirred and raised a feeble wing-finger to the youth's hand. "They are our friends, too," he whispered. "It is not true they are evil. The humans misled you. I am sorry you learned a lie."

"All I know is broken and lost today," Sunset said, his noble head drooping. Thunderstorm wrapped a wing around him. Mirina felt heartsick.

"I've always cared what happened to you," she said to Sunset.

"That is true," Thunderstorm assured the youngster. Sunset nodded.

"She is my friend. Zonzalo, too."

"Yes," Mirina said, shortly. "He is." Zonzalo must survive. As if she could will him back to safety, she stared at the screen. Bisman's face was shining with sweat. His fingers clutched the navigation controls as Glashton fought to control the Slime Ball. The look on his face told her what the Slime had warned about was happening. Zonzalo had huddled himself into a knot of arms and legs and shock webbing. She was relieved to see that the reivers were too busy trying to manage the ship to think of using him as a negotiating tool. Big Voice tightened his fingers slightly, and the crew on the other ship jerked heavily backward.

"Bisman, land or you'll explode," Keff said urgently. "The Cridi say that you don't have much time before the device you're carrying goes critical! We don't want anyone to die. Turn back at once. Hurry!"

Glashton, visible over Aldon's shoulder, nodded a white-eyed yes to him. Mirina breathed a silent thanksgiving as he backed the engines down.