"Maybe they'll get to ride some of it," LaRone said. "I doubt it," Grave said. "The crates are full of farming gear-I recognize the Johder company logo. Low-tech, and as heavy as a moff's private vault. They won't risk straining their animals by making them haul pa.s.sengers, too."

LaRone grimaced, his mind flashing back to the dirt-poor farmers back on Copperline. "This is the sort of life I joined the fleet to escape," he murmured.

"You want to offer them a lift?" Grave suggested. "We could put their cargo into one of the Suwantek's holds and the animals and carts in the other."

"And have ISB come knocking on their doors someday?" LaRone countered.

"No. They've got enough trouble already."

Grave exhaled loudly. "I suppose."

From somewhere behind LaRone came a soft whooshing sound. Frowning, he turned- And dropped reflexively into a crouch beside the landspeeder as a pair of swoops shot past half a meter over his head. "Grave!" he snapped as half a dozen more followed hard on the exhaust vents of the first two, all of them heading straight toward the farmers and their wagons.

LaRone yanked out his blaster, his eyes and mind automatically a.s.sessing the situation. The two lead swoops had split formation now and were making tight circles above and around the two wagons as they waited for their comrades to catch up. The riders were little more than a blur, but from their garish outfits and the highly illegal underslung blaster cannons spitting a warning circle into the dust around the wagons it was obvious they were some sort of gang. The other speeder trucks on the road were scattering like smoke in the wind, leaving the farmers to stand alone.

"They're coming from that freighter," Grave called. LaRone turned and saw a pair of open-topped speeder trucks loaded with rough-looking humans and aliens sliding down the ramp of one of the two Barloz freighters parked near the Suwantek.

Which meant this wasn't just some group of delinquents here for the twisted fun of terrorizing helpless locals. They were bandits or raiders, intending to steal the farmer's new equipment.

LaRone felt a snarl catch in his throat. Pulling out his comlink, he flicked it on. "Quiller?"

"We're here," Quiller's voice was tight and professional. "You want a pickup?"

"I want firepower," LaRone retorted. "We're taking them down."

There was just the briefest pause. "You sure you want to do that?"

"We're sure," Grave cut in. "LaRone and I will handle the swoops-you see what you can do about that freighter."

"Acknowledged," Quiller said. "Stand by."

LaRone slipped the comlink back onto his belt and braced his gun hand along the side of the landspeeder. At the raiders' distance, this was going to be a tricky shot, especially with them running an encirclement pattern around their prey while they waited for their speeder trucks to arrive. Even more especially with the unfamiliar sport pistol he'd brought from the Suwantek's collection.

But he would just have to make do with what he had. Lining up the muzzle on the nearest swoop rider, he squinted along the barrel.

"Heads up!" a faint voice called from his belted comlink. He frowned, looking up- To see Bright.w.a.ter in full scout trooper armor flash past on his speeder bike, his own underslung blaster cannon spurting death at the distant swoops.

LaRone barely had time to goggle at the sight when a , second rapidly moving object caught the edge of his vision. He twisted his head that direction to see Marcross roaring toward them in the Suwantek's other landspeeder. "Here!" the other called, lobbing a pair of large, dark objects toward him. LaRone dropped his blaster and stood upright, his eyes tracking, his arms outstretched.

A second later the familiar bulk of Grave's BlasTech T-28 sniper rifle dropped neatly into his right hand, while his own BlasTech E-11 landed in his left. "Grave!" he called.

Grave glanced over, quick-holstering his own pistol as LaRone tossed him the T-28. He spun back around, lifted it to his shoulder, and began adding his own deadly sniper attack to the rapid fire spitting from Bright.w.a.ter's speeder bike.

The raiders never had a chance. The last thing they! could have expected this far from the hub's private security was serious resistance, and the very last thing they could have expected was resistance from Imperial storm-troopers. Bright.w.a.ter spiraled around the raiders, running deft rings around the more amateur swoopers, keeping them herded together as Grave picked them off one by one. The backup troops in the speeder trucks fared no better, with Marcross in his landspeeder blocking any escape as he and LaRone rained blasterfire on them.

The speeder trucks were on the ground, their occupants out of the fight for good, and Bright.w.a.ter and Grave had just tagged the last swoop when there was a violent explosion from the direction of the raiders'

freighter.

LaRone turned to look. The Barloz's entire engine section had disappeared, blown into a cloud of blazing smoke, taking the freighter's lone gunwell with it. The Suwantek's starboard laser was already shifting aim as Quiller st.i.tched a line of fire across the Barloz's boarding ramp, discouraging any raiders still inside from joining the party.

LaRone pulled out his comlink. "Quiller, shift the lasers to auto and get the engines started," he ordered. "Everyone else, pull back to the ship."

"Wait a minute," Grave objected, lifting the muzzle of his T-28 into rest position. "We don't have all our supplies yet."

"We'll get them somewhere else," LaRone said. "Right now, we need to get out of here before someone from Consolidated arrives and starts asking awkward questions."

Grave made a face but obediently loaded his rifle into the landspeeder's cargo bay and hopped up into the driver's seat. LaRone paused long enough to make sure Bright.w.a.ter and Marcross were also on their way back, then got in beside him.

Five minutes later they were once again in the air, heading for s.p.a.ce.

"We're clear," Quiller announced, giving his displays a final look. "No sign of pursuit."

"Well, I can't say that it wasn't fun," Bright.w.a.ter commented. "But we really ought to try to avoid that sort of thing in the future."

"I agree," Grave said. "What in the worlds possessed you two to come charging out that way?"

"Oh, I don't know," Marcross said with a hint of sarcasm. "We thought maybe you could use a little help."

"No, no, the help was much appreciated," Grave a.s.sured him. "Especially the part where you brought me a blaster I could actually shoot with. I was referring to the fact that you came charging out in full armor."

"That was my idea," Bright.w.a.ter said. "I thought there was a chance we might need to throw a little bl.u.s.ter around, and there's nothing like a stormtrooper presence to persuade nosy locals and corporate hirelings to backoff."

"Plus, once the blaster bolts started flying, it seemed like a good idea to have the extra protection," Marcross added. "Not that we had time to change anyway." "Yes, but-"

"It's all right, Grave," LaRone said. "We got away with it, and we helped some farmers out of a jam. That's the important thing."

"Besides, there isn't one person in a billion outside the corps who can tell one stormtrooper from another in their armor," Quiller reminded him.

"They'll never know who we were. So what's the new plan?" "Same as the old one," LaRone said. We head somewhere else and finish collecting fuel and supplies. Pull up a map and let's see what our choices are."

"Just a second," Marcross said, lifting a finger. "Before we go any farther, I'd like to know how exactly we ended up with LaRone making all the decisions."

"You have a problem with it?" Grave asked, an edge of challenge in his tone.

"In principle, yes," Marcross said calmly. "As far as I know, we're all the same rank here."

Bright.w.a.ter snorted. "I think the standard Table of Organization's a little irrelevant at the moment," he said. "We're not exactly an official fighting unit anymore."

"I thought we did okay back there," Grave said.

"I said we weren't an official unit," Bright.w.a.ter said. "What's wrong with us just discussing our plans and coming to a consensus?"

"Nothing, a.s.suming we can come to one," Marcross said. "Unfortunately, that isn't always possible."

"Translation: you're still pushing for us to go hide on Shelkonwa?" Grave asked.

"I still think it's our best bet," Marcross said.

"Regardless, he's right about us needing to have a clearly defined chain of command," LaRone said. "Discussion and agreement are fine, but in crisis or combat you need one man giving orders and everyone else obeying them."

"So again, what's wrong with LaRone taking point?" Grave asked.

"For one thing, he's the one who got us into this mess," Bright.w.a.ter muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grave growled.

"Just what it said," Bright.w.a.ter said. "If he hadn't killed Drelfin, we'd still be aboard the Reprisal"

"Doing what?" Grave shot back, "Slaughtering more civilians like we did on Teardrop?"

"Maybe they were all Rebels," Bright.w.a.ter insisted. "We don't know.

Anyway, I think I just heard someone say that someone had to give orders and someone else had to follow them."

"When those orders are for the legitimate protection of the Empire and its citizens," Grave said. "Do you want to go back?" LaRone asked. The argument broke off "What do you mean?" Grave asked, frowning.

"It's not a trick question," LaRone told him. "If you want to go back, Bright.w.a.ter-if any of you want to- you're welcome to do so. Just drop me off somewhere and go."

"You'd be dead in a week," Grave said flatly. "They'd drag your location out of our minds and nail you to the wall."

"Maybe that would be enough to calm them down," LaRone said. "As Bright.w.a.ter pointed out, I'm the one who killed Dreffin. Maybe they'll let you go back to the unit."

"Of course, as Grave pointed out, Palpatine's Empire may not be worth serving anymore," Quiller said quietly. "I was under the impression we'd already been wondering about that when all the rest of this went down."

"Well, I'm not going back," Grave said emphatically. "Bright.w.a.ter?"

The other made a face. "No," he said reluctantly. "Even if we could . . .

never mind. We can't, and we won't."

"Which brings us back to the question of command," Marcross said. "And for the record," he added, looking at Bright.w.a.ter, "let me remind everyone that it was Drelfin who precipitated this, not LaRone."

"Maybe we should start from the other direction," Quiller suggested.

"Does anyone here particularly want to be in charge?"

"Personally, I see no reason not to let LaRone hang on to the job,"

Marcross said. "At least, for now."

"I thought you were the one who didn't want him giving the orders,"

Quiller said, frowning.

"I said I disagreed in principle," Marcross reminded him. "I don't necessarily disagree in practice."

"I've seen LaRone in plenty of combat situations," Grave said. "He's got my vote."

"I sure don't want the job," Quiller said, half turning to face Bright.w.a.ter. "That just leaves you, Bright.w.a.ter."

The scout trooper grimaced, but nodded. "No, it makes sense," he said. "I presume this isn't a lifetime appointment?"

"Not at all," LaRone a.s.sured him. "Furthermore, if and when anyone has any objections or suggestions about anything we're proposing or doing, you're to let me know immediately. It's us against the universe now, and the last thing we can afford is private doubts or resentments."

"Then that's settled," Marcross said, climbing out of the copilot's seat.

"I'm going to go check the landspeeders, see if either of them picked up any damage. You four go ahead and pick us a target planet-anywhere is fine with me."

Marcross was stretched out flat on his back beneath one of the landspeeders when LaRone caught up with him. "How's it look?"

"It's got a few dings," Marcross said, squirming back and forth on his shoulders as he wiggled his way out from under the vehicle. "But they all seem to be superficial. Incidentally, if you've got that shopping list handy, you could add a mechanic's crawler to it."

"Got it," LaRone said, offering his hand. Marcross reached up and took it, and LaRone hauled him back to his feet. ."I'm surprised ISB didn't include one in the ship's equipment."

"If they did, it's nowhere obvious," Marcross said, reaching awkwardly around to brush off his back where he'd been lying on the deck. "Besides, everybody knows the easiest way to find a missing item is to buy a replacement. Quiller find us a commerce center?" LaRone nodded. "We're going to try Ranklinge," he said.

"It's about two days' flight away." Isn't there an Incom Corporation starfighter plant there?" Marcross asked, frowning. "Turns out I-7 Howlrunners, as I recall."

"Good memory," LaRone complimented him. "Yes, it's on the outskirts of Ranklinge City. Quiller thought a medium-high-profile place like that would put the planet lower on ISB's list of places we might go."

"Provided we don't land right next to all those I-7s," Marcross said.

"And provided we don't plan on making it our permanent home." He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "We aren't planning to make it our permanent home, are we?"

"No, that discussion's still for the future." LaRone hesitated. "I wanted to ask you a question."

"After raising the whole leadership issue in the first place, why did I suddenly support you for the job?"

LaRone pursed his lips. "Basically."

Marcross shrugged and crossed to one of the tool-and-equipment racks along the cargo bay's rear wall. "The short answer is that you seem to have some abilities in that direction." He glanced over his shoulder as It pulled out a tube of sealant. "I gather you don't see that?"

LaRone shook his head. "Not really."

"True leaders often don't," Marcross told him. He checked the label on the tube, put it back, and selected a different one. "But I was watching you during our little discussion up there. You stood quietly by and let everyone voice their opinions, even blow off a little steam. But then you stepped in and calmed everything down before it could degenerate into a full-fledged argument."

LaRone thought back. Was that really what he'd done? It certainly hadn't been nearly as deliberate as Marcross seemed to think. "What about you?"

he countered. "You could have done it as well as I could."

Marcross shook his head as he returned to the land-speeder. "I've had some experience watching leaders in action," he said. "But knowing the theory doesn't mean I can actually do it. Besides, even if I could, I don't think the others would really support me." He smiled wryly. "I get the feeling they find me stiff and a little overbearing."

"They just don't know you as well as I do," LaRone said.

"Which is another part of leadership: knowing and understanding the men of your command,'' Marcross said. "And trusting them." His lips tightened. "Besides, you're the one who refused to fire on unresisting civilians. That gives you the high moral ground, one of the most important a.s.sets a leader can have."

LaRone swallowed, the scene of that horror flashing again across his mind. "The rest of you would have done the same."