Karthakh nodded, spines rustling excitedly. 'It is too uneven a match to be a glorious death for us. So we must avoid dying.'

'Bigger guns,' Borrk opined phlegmatically. 'We need bigger guns. Dragon made of hard metal; Ogron guns not hurt Dragon.'

'The hull is built of siligtone,' Karthakh agreed, 'but they have their weaknesses.' If he could just remember what they were.... He had served on a Dragon in his youth, as a gunnery officer. If they had a transmat aboard the Speculator, Speculator, he could transmit a bomb through their shields, since he knew the frequencies. he could transmit a bomb through their shields, since he knew the frequencies.

He wondered if a transmitted signal could do the job as well. Communications transmissions were all electromagnetic signals, so if he could send a stream of energy directly to the quantum lance's program input unit... It should overload, or at least scramble the targeting coordinates that the gunner attempted to feed into it.

The Thazrafeh's Thazrafeh's Flight Director pointed a daw at the Flight Director pointed a daw at the Speculator. Speculator. 'Fire at will.' 'Fire at will.'

The gunnery officer tapped out a series of quick and practised commands into the targeting console. 'Quantum lance at full power. Target locked -' The console started to vibrate, and the gunnery officer looked at it in surprise.

'Power level now one hundred and fifteen per cent,' he said slowly.

'That is impossible.' The Flight Director dropped into the crew pit to look over his shoulder. 'How can it exceed maximum?'

'Some kind of overload,' the gunnery officer deduced. He started trying to shut down the weapons power. 'I cannot cut the power.'

'Cut all main power,' the Flight Director barked hurriedly.

'Increase the electronic countermea-'

The quantum lance's burning flickered momentarily, then burned more strongly as an explosion burst from just amidships. The Dragon started to list, and the quantum lance shattered. Instantly, green fire enveloped the entire ship, and the segmented hull ripped itself apart.

Borrk looked at Karthakh in awe. Somehow he had destroyed a Veltrochni Dragon without firing a shot. In Borrk's eyes, this was nothing short of sorcery, the greatest sorcery. Truly, Karthakh must have in him the spirit of the canyon gods, who made the ground shake and could topple mountains.

Karthakh watched in silence as the Dragon flew apart, his spines flat. 'It was not an honourable kill,' he muttered to himself. 'They will not rest easily.' Borrk couldn't see what the problem was, but simply tried to look expressionless.

This wasn't especially difficult.

Karthakh felt sadness for the first time since his cubs had died in that lightning fire all those years ago. There was no similarity, and yet... They were Veltrochni innocents who had died for a betrayal. If he and Sha'ol had stood by their deal with Mandell instead of allowing the Ogrons some responsibility, this would never have happened. Of course, then the Ogrons would have killed them.

'Get out of my sight.' he finally told Borrk. 'Prepare cells for the new prisoners.'

Chapter Sixteen.

Sabalom Glitz was in the grip of utter terror. It the sort of fear that small boys get when sent to the headmaster's office for peeking up girls' skirts. At least, that's what Glitz associated it with. It wasn't the fear of death, since if his captors had wanted him dead, they would have killed him already.

No, this was the fear of wondering what it was that the most fearsome duo in the galaxy wanted with him. In Glitz's worldview, if someone hostile didn't kill you, it must be because they had something even worse planned - unless, of course, they were merely constrained by some kind of moral code, like the Doctor. And Glitz was uncomfortably familiar with the exploits of Sha'ol and Karthakh. Second only to the mercifully deceased Ernie McCartney, they were the two most feared bounty hunters ever to be cursed by the inmates of prison asteroids.

Mentioning their names to a fellow entrepreneur produced much the same effect as asking someone with an endless migraine if he'd seen the results of his neuroscan yet. In some dark corner of his mind, Glitz recalled his old dad telling him how Sha'ol and Karthakh would get him if he didn't do what he was told.

Suddenly the door opened again, and Glitz grinned with relief as the Doctor came into sight, along with Chance, Monty, Chat, Liang and Dibber. They were all shoved into the dorm room which was serving as his cell. Dibber grinned back at him. 'Nice to see you, Mr Glitz.'

'You too, lad,' Glitz agreed with feeling. 'But if only you'd brought a key with you.'

Chat hugged him. 'Never mind all that. I'm just glad you're still alive.'

'Whatever for?' he demanded, pretending ignorance. It was nice, though. He could get used to this, if he lived long enough.

To his surprise she paused, and looked more serious.

'Because there are very few friends from the old days left, and I don't want to lose any more.'

The Doctor cleared his throat theatrically. 'Speaking of losing friends... You seem to have misplaced Frobisher.'

'Not exactly, Doc,' Glitz couldn't help letting some sourness intrude into his voice. 'I haven't lost him, I just don't know where he is.' He hoped that would explain everything.

'There's a difference?'

'He escaped ages ago, and,' he went on pointedly, 'scarpered on his own instead of freeing me!'

'We're on a ship, Glitz. There's not much choice of places to escape to.'

'Anyway,' Glitz said with a nod. 'What about you? Didn't you steal the wotsit?'

'We did,' Jack crowed. 'Went like a dream.'

'Where is it, then?'

Everyone fell silent. The Doctor made a face. 'I'm not entirely certain...'

In fact, the Core was resting on a chart table in the Speculator's Speculator's navigation room. Sha'ol was quite grateful for the Ogrons' instinct to grab anything shiny and expensive-looking. He and Karthakh were consulting their gunship's star charts, which they had uplinked to. the navigation room. Sha'ol was quite grateful for the Ogrons' instinct to grab anything shiny and expensive-looking. He and Karthakh were consulting their gunship's star charts, which they had uplinked to. the Speculator's Speculator's navigation room, since the colony ship's own charts were over a thousand years out of date. navigation room, since the colony ship's own charts were over a thousand years out of date.

The door rumbled open, and Gorrak lumbered in, looking ineffably pleased with himself in a simian fashion. 'Prisoners locked up,' he reported.

'Excellent,' Sha'ol said crisply. 'You put them in with the others?'

Gorrak nodded. 'They in cell with other one.'

The two bounty hunters exchanged a look. Karthakh straightened from consulting the charts. 'One? There were two prisoners, surely?'

The Ogron's brows knitted, trying to count that high. 'One human.'

'And the avian?' Sha'ol prompted. 'The bird?'

Gorrak hesitated while the stone cogs that Karthakh suspected passed for the Ogron brain turned over. 'Just one human.'

'Then the avian has escaped!' Sha'ol snapped.

'Maybe not,' Gorrak said slowly. 'Maybe eaten,' he suggested with sudden cheer.

'Eaten?' Karthakh echoed with distaste.

'Food scarce on ship. First bird we see for weeks. Maybe guard get hungry...'

'Ask your clan,' Sha'ol instructed sharply. 'Find out if anyone did eat the creature. Meanwhile, search the ship anyway; the creature is sentient and intelligent, as well as a friend of the Doctor's.'

The Dragon Zatbakb Zatbakb remained shrouded as she took up orbit around Elchur. If something in the vicinity had silenced one of the newer Mage-Dragons, it could certainly do unpleasant things to an older generation of ship like this one. remained shrouded as she took up orbit around Elchur. If something in the vicinity had silenced one of the newer Mage-Dragons, it could certainly do unpleasant things to an older generation of ship like this one.

Brokhal paced the dusty street of the abandoned town with uncharacteristic nervousness. There were several craters from cannon blasts, and the bodies of Hyskanth and his bodyguards. Brokhal, however, was more concerned with the three dead Ogrons that her Hunters had found. 'Were there any residual engine traces in orbit?'

'Many,' her son replied. 'This planet is often used as a trading place for smugglers.'

'Weapons signatures?'

'Only one. Quantum lance.' He flexed his claws in frustration. 'It may have been some kind of internal accident aboard Thazrakh.' Thazrakh.'

'No,' she murmured slowly. 'Not with Ogron mercenaries involved. They must be working for someone else.

Presumably they tried to make it look like the thieves and Hyskanth betrayed each other, but they botched it.'

'Who?'

'It must be that schemer Mandell. Clearly he never intended to hand over the cylinder.'

'Then we should prepare to bombard Vandor Prime. Their non-cooperation has gone on long enough.'

'Perhaps...' Why had Mandell made this private deal? Why did the President still deny it even to her in private conversations... Unless he himself did not know about it.

'Mandell,' she growled, 'not the President, or the government...'

'Mother?'

She snarled at the heavens. 'We have been played for fools.

The Vandorian government was telling the truth when they said they had no knowledge of our property. Niccolo Mandell had kept it secret even from his own superiors!'

She rose, and pointed a claw at the communications director. 'Monitor all transmissions in and out of Vandor Prime. I want to know where Mandell has gone.'

Frobisher had never been among Ogrons before, and sincerely hoped he never would again. The whole ship stank of rancid food and waste, and the noise they made was barely tolerable. He had originally planned to free Glitz once he had slid himself out under the door, but soon saw how unwise that was. If both prisoners vanished, the Ogrons would turn the ship upside-down looking for them. At least this way, Glitz complained enough to keep the Ogrons busy, and his absence hadn't been noticed yet.

Unfortunately he hadn't found out who had hired Sha'ol and Karthakh yet either, and it wasn't as if he could simply walk up and ask them. Instead he followed them around as discreetly as possible. All Ogrons looked alike to most other races, and Frobisher doubted that either bounty hunter could tell one from another.

Karthakh passed by at that moment. 'You,' he instructed, 'come with me.'

'Yes, Boss,' Frobisher replied in as mindless a voice as he could manage, and fell into step with the Veltrochni.

Karthakh led him to the communications centre, where Sha'ol joined them. 'Guard this door,' Karthakh ordered.

They went inside, and Frobisher had a clear shot at both Sha'ol and Karthakh, with a plasma rifle in his hands... But that wasn't his way. He was a detective, a gumshoe, not a killer. Besides, if he shot them, he'd never know who hired them, or what was going on.

Sha'ol did something with a band on his wrist, as did Karthakh. The metallic bands glowed. 'If you are troubling me, I hope it is with good news,' a cold humanoid voice said.

'It is,' Sha'ol assured him. 'We have the Doctor aboard our ship.'

'Ah... At last! You cannot imagine what a relief it will be to be finally rid of his insufferable conscience.'