SIPAc.u.m's pingg sounded in the same instant and as swiftly changed the focus of attention in the tense cabin. As one, Hieri and Jesti swung to the scanner. Hieri made hasty adjustments, stared.

"Theba's b.u.t.ts! The 'Vocker ship's gone on its way, and directly behind us is a CongCorp relay station-and there's a ship coming in fast, heading directly for us!" He banged open inship comm. "Musla! Stand by DS! Unidentified s.p.a.cer closing fast." His fingers were also racing over the keys. Come on, SIPAc.u.m, d.a.m.n it-give me an ID on that s.p.a.cer before we find out it's TGW the hard way!"

10.

I find that the best virtue I have has in it some tincture of vice.

-Michel de Montaigne Jesti was in no mood to give Hieronymus Jee credit for much of anything. On the other hand, there was no questioning the Outreacher's competence as ship's master. Computrician Yahna had gone to work, too. Jesti could only stand and feel out of place. About as helpful as warheads on a buck grat, he grumped mentally.

Then, somehow, SIPAc.u.m identified the oncoming craft. A repair ship, heading for the comm-relay station floating so huge and yet tiny against the vastness of s.p.a.ce. The station had trouble, then.

"What the vug's a comm-relay station?" Jesti heard his voice say, and wished he hadn't.

Surprisingly, Hieri answered. Without turning from the con: "A fixed pseudo-satellite that handles all message traffic to and from CongCorp headquarters, that's all. In-dis-pensable! They even have equipment to tap in on CC's mainbanks. That's why the thing's set up like an unmanned fort in s.p.a.ce. So-it has problems, and here comes the repair ship. All we have to do is get out of the way."

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Before he was aware that he'd had the thought, Jesti said, "Wait."

Hieri swung around this time, staring. "Wha-at?"

Aware of new tension, Yahna wished she had taken Petri's stopper . . .

"I said wait." Behind his grin, Jesti's mind was racing. "You told me you were a pi-rut, Captain! What's on a repair ship? Probably some just shockingly valuable equipment . . . either mighty usable on Sheer or mighty salable, surely!"

Hieri kept on staring, blinking. "Eilan, I've plain misjudged you. Your brains aren't really purple. Or if they are-well, I think I'll see if I can work out a celldye job to make mine the same color." He swung back to the con. "You know what else? This is going to be so easy it'll be almost embarra.s.sing. Musla! Open DS! Stand by to bracket that ship. We're taking it, mind, not trying to blow it away!"

"Hoo-hahhh!" Musla's voice came back, and mere moments later one, then two bolts lanced out at the repair ship.

Hieri hunched forward. "Welcome, repair ship! We who are about to blast you, salute you!"

After a moment the voice came back, worse than startled: "Blast us! What kind of-what are you t-what d'you want?"

"Now that is a most sensible att.i.tude, repair ship. What we want is...o...b..ard your ship. We're between you and the station and we're monitoring. You try sending them a message and we'll send you to atoms!"

After a moment's silence, the voice came back from the other ship, tiredly, resignedly. It gave the invitation: "All right, pirates . . . Red Rover.''

"Coming over," Hieri said, "Stand by to receive a link."

Jesti hadn't heard anything familiar in minutes. He learned as the operation moved forward (with Musla disgruntled that he wasn't going to get to blow anyone away). "Red Rover" meant "We're coming over," as in boarding the other ship. "A link" as Hieri used it this time was the119.

S-tunnel that linked one ship's airlock to the other. It enabled the pirates to walk across. Or swim; the spinner or torque-inducer that simulated gravity on both s.p.a.cers had to be cut off while they linked.

Jesti threw up and got to stay behind.

Yahna did not, and furthermore knew more about electronics equipment than anyone on Slicer. Ready or not, like it or not, she got to Red Rover. She did give Jesti a look that was different from the others' stares-she glanced at him as if he was a genius. He a.s.sumed that he'd misinterpreted Yahna's look.

And that was how he began his active career as a s.p.a.ce pirate: sitting oncon, his throat hurting from the acid of his vomit, hanging on against floating (and told that if he threw up in freefall he'd clean it up-once G-for-gravity was restored and it stopped floating around), while all the action took place without him. Having already cleaned up Petri's body and blood, he was not anxious for further cleaning details.

Hieri was right, too. It was all so easy that it was almost embarra.s.sing. Almost. No one looked embarra.s.sed, however, except Jestikhan Churt.

It was weird to see all that equipment coming over from the smallish repair craft-floating. The electronic thing Yahna pushed easily along and into Slicer must have weighed a half-ton. She guided it to her own quarters, rather than the hold. And here came Musla, with more, and a grinning Hieri, with more-and a prime element off the other ship's comm. It could race on to the relay pseudo-satellite and babble its news of being pirated, but it certainly wouldn't be saying anything until it arrived!

"Settle the cargo!" Hieri ordered. "We've got to get the flyin' vug out of here!"

They were far, far away by the time their victim reached the CongCorp comm-relay station, and a grateful Jesti was again enjoying the feeling of weight. It not only enabled a man to walk, it stopped his innards from floating.

Two hours later Petronius Jee had been "buried" in s.p.a.ce and Jesti was in Yahna's cabin, where she was telling him what a genius he was.

120.

"You were right, Jesti. A relay station is built around a message center, and it's linked to CongCorp Central. Where, for instance, there just must be information concerning kiracat ores and the planet Eilong."

She moved to a mirror and smoothed her crown of very yellow hair, suddenly pretending to be oblivious to his presence. With her b.u.t.t poked back that way. Sure.

Jesti said, "Could be." And gazed at her outpoked bottom atop legs long as his and a lot better looking.

"Could indeed. Why, that data might even prove pertinent to a fugitive Eilan who keeps wondering why anyone would conspire to steal some of his blood and s.e.m.e.n-and then plant false evidence so he looked guilty of a particularly nasty murder."

Jesti's palms were wet with sweat, just like that. His pretense of understanding, of calm inquiry, redshifted at speed. "You mean you think CongCorp's behind it?" His voice came out raw despite his efforts to the contrary. He had also lost all interest in backside and legs.

"You know I don't. It lacks C-Corp's characteristic bludgeoning style, for one thing. The approach of whoever worked out this plot is a great deal more subtle."

Jesti said, "Uh," and was pretty proud to get that out.

"But there's still a tie to CongCorp, somewhere. There has to be." Yahna turned to face him, spread her hands. "After all, why did you have to flee your own planet? From what you've said, it's because you pushed for cybernetic mining. You know CongCorp would've heard about that. They've got ears everywhere. So ... they'd naturally poke around, trying to find out what's going on. Keeping tabs on Eilong-and their 'friends' and 'enemies' there. And everything they learned would go into the central data banks we're going to tap."

Jesti felt his heart jump as he watched her move to the electronic thing she'd brought over from the robbed ship- and ensconced here in her own quarters...o...b..ard Slicer. She was smiling, too.

"You chose well when you brought me along, Jesti. Psychists are trained in working with computerized statistics.

121.

That's why Hieri was able to throw me into his compu-trician's slot. I can use those same techniques to tap CongCorp's banks-and their own equipment." She patted her acquisition. Her smile became a grin. "Good G.o.d-I stole it! I am a pirate!"

"Best-looking one along the s.p.a.ce ways too," he said, and wished he hadn't. He saw the flash of her eyes, the stiffening. Oh lord. Now she's all ready to challenge and dare and fight again! ' 'Maybe I better stay off that subject and say you're the most competent pirate along the s.p.a.ce ways, Golden One. Tell me about that machine."

She shrugged elaborately, wearing a silly "so what" look. "This? Only a certified genuine CongCorp all-circuits deepscan computercomm link. If we're lucky, Jesti, it may help us find out who your so-handsome friend is-the one who took it upon himself to lay Pearl's murder on your doorstep ... a CongCorp employee, maybe?" Abruptly her mood seemed to change and she flipped her fingers. "We may not be so lucky. If that's the case-I don't know what we'll do. Jasbir's too big for us to get anywhere just asking questions!"

Jesti wanted to shout "Go to it!" rather than stand there swapping gazes with her. He forced himself to say, "Well, Yahna-psychist-computrician-pirate . . . let's try and find out."

With an elaborate gesture, she swung to the all-those-words-she-called-it thing, and depressed two keys, then a third, shook her head, hit a fourth and another. Lights flashed on and the portable console said chung and began purring.

"Hmm . . . let's try innove."

"Sure. Just what I was about to say. What's innove?"

She didn't laugh. "CongCorp for 'innovational.' That means any twist the company thinks they can steal a stell with. I'd say your case falls into that category." More key-depressing, headshakes, re-starts.

Jesti stood in sweating silence, hearing only the electronic hum-of whirring disks? The reader screen didn't even light up. Yahna tried another tack. Jesti stared. His palms dripped and his legs had gone clammy inside his 122.

pants. Yahna tried again, tick-tick-cli-tick. And the screen came alive, dutifully going indigo and flashing a string of words in eye-eez green: PROJECT EILONG . . . PROJECT EILONG . . . PROJECT EILONG . . . CONTACT MADE NONIDENT. FREELANCE OPERATOR CRYPTONYM HAJJI KALAJJI. MEET SET FOR JASBIR AREA TIME/PLACE/DESIGNATION TO COME.

"The pilgrim of Kalajji," she whispered. "Jesti, it's a start. All you have to do is take the discs and drive and screen, here, and feed it into SIPAc.u.m." She glanced up. "It isn't as if we can keep this thing, you know."

He was staring at the onscreen message. "You stole it," he muttered, but it was an automatic response, made without thought. His thoughts were very much elsewhere. This was a win; a skirmish won. The real war lay ahead. Tracking him. Finding this "Hajji Kalajji." Was he also a hyper-handsome, double-dyed, card-carrying, certified villain who went about strangling mere innocent slips of husts and laying the blame on fugitive Eilans . . . after stealing samples of sperm and blood?

It seemed a distinct possibility. A strong one. One to be pursued, just as soon as Sheer reached Jasbirstation and one Jestikhan Churt could get himself down onplanet. Jesti grinned. He could hardly wait for them to lock in on Jasbir's...o...b..ting s.p.a.cedock wheel.

That was when the next nasty scene started, with Hieri storming in to storm that their use of this dam' device might well enable CongCorp to put a trace on them. Knocking Yahna roughly aside, he shut down the com-putercomm terminal.

And turned, and froze, staring.

"Ah, Jesti . . . you cleaning that thing?"

Jesti looked down at the stopper in his hand. "No, Captain. See, you want to get to Jasbir to sell a few little things. That's wonderful-I need to get there to ask a few questions about my frame-up back on Croz. That fancy putercom-thing just gave me a lead.''

123.

"And maybe it's traceable, Eilan! Maybe CongCorp can get a fix on us, backtracking that machine."

"If that's the case, Captain, I'm truly sorry. But-"

"They can't," Yahna said quietly. "That's not the way it works. There's no 'beam' to trace."

"Shut the vug up, Goldie!"

"Captain-sah, that's why this stopper just sort of jumped into my hand. Somehow I seem to've made myself responsible for all of you, by breaking you out of prison. Now I've made myself responsible for her-I'm the one who kidnapped her, after all. You wouldn't knock Musla out of the way as you did her, and you wouldn't Twil, and you sure wouldn't knock me out of the way."

Hieri stared. "I might," he said, from a mouth that barely moved.

Jesti restored the stopper to the belt he had slipped on in place of Petri's gift; wearing the sash hardly seemed bright, since it had been Hieri's dead brother's, and he was dead. The Eilan shook his head.

"No, Captain, you wouldn't."

After a long, long while of staring, Hieronymus Jee half-turned. "When we go down onto Jasbir to sell some merchandise, that goes with us."

Jesti flipped his fingers, a gesture he was learning. "Sure, Cap'm."

With a curt nod, Hieri left the cabin. Jesti and Yahna looked at each other. Another skirmish won. Another war to come.

11.

The weak in courage is strong in cunning.

-William Blake A s.p.a.ceport cargo hauler brought the two drums of bulk borq (unprocessed) to the place Gelor had chosen as his base on Jasbir. It lay far out on Marmot's outskirts in the parklike area adjoining the new Bionarium, the interplanetary zoo. Originally it had been palace-in-exile of Ghanj's old Prince Palkivala, last Ghanji ruler of the Q'riim dynasty. After his death, his horde of wrangling offspring had lost it to a rental syndic. Gelor had leased it from the syndic.

He liked the place despite the fact that it had seen better days. Its high walls rendered it secure from prying eyes. An unparalleled security system guarded it from intrusions. Nor did it hurt that within those walls the grounds surpa.s.sed those of DeyMeox's luxurious Samanna estate.

Interior palace walls and part.i.tions were thick and soundproof. A feature that particularly pleased Gelor was a result of the old prince's long and vengeful memory: a dunge-on!-three small cells deep beneath the palace proper. Each was equipped with its own locking system. Though hardly up to present standards, they looked st.u.r.dy enough to keep his captives safe.

Gelor liked that. It meant he could sleep without 124.

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apprehension. Eagerly, he flipped the lids off the borq drums.

Both captives were alive and well. Gelor considered it intelligent to re-clothe each limp, thoroughly confused woman. Only then did he give each a shot of stim. Soon he was leading them to their cells. He opened a door and turned to DeyMeox.

"Your quarters, Crober."

Though she surveyed the chamber with marked distaste, she entered without voicing protest. Gelor unlocked the second cell and gestured Shemsi inside. Unlike DeyMeox, the andrist showed no particular irritation.

"It's hardly luxury, Shemsi," he said coolly. "Still, I think you'll find it comfortable enough."

She shot him a sidewise glance from lowered, laven-dered lids. "Agreed/Hardly set up for pa.s.sion, though, is it?"

That took Gelor aback. "I didn't plan it with pa.s.sion in mind," he advised stiffly. (That bothered him, too. He recognized a tendency in him: taken aback, his face stiffened while his voice tightened.) "What's planned and how things shape up later can be two different things," Shemsi said, and leaned against the doorframe. Almost thoughtfully, she took her captor's hand and pressed it to her breast. "You do agree?"

Angrily, he jerked the hand free. "No. You're here to work not . . ." He groped, searching for a euphemism while he felt heat and knew he was reddening at the ridiculousness of having to grope for dodge-words at such a time.

She completed the sentence for him: "Indulge ourselves?"

He glared. "I hardly see why you should introduce the subject."

"You are a man . . . aren't you?" Shemsi smirked. "Hardly a bad-looking one at that. Good-looking or not, though, you'll never get her."

"What?"

"You heard me." Shemsi's lavender-dyed lips twisted in a small smile of mockery. "You're not her type, handsome. And really-vice versa."

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He went even tighter. "I don't know what you're talking about."