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with them eight Standard years before. He was twenty years older than she. She
was attracted by his maturity, by his long, lean looks, daredevil attitude,
and hard-driving determination. He liked her clear-sighted organizational
bent, and he complimented her on her figure, saying he liked a curvy armful.
They'd broken off the physical side of their relationship when they found they
couldn't work together and be lovers.
He
thought she was compulsive.
She hated his collections of little knicknacks and his untidy way of thinking.
He'd said she was too bossy.
She'd known his recklessness would get them all killed. At almost any cost
Mirina wanted" to stay in space, but serving under a hot dog who thought he
was Jean Lafitte or Xak Milliane Ya was just out of her price range. Bisman
was too casual about killing. Mirina wasn't a complete innocent. She had been
involved with, or rather felt responsible for, the death of one so dear to her
she'd never recovered from it. Mirina never wanted to feel like that again,
but she was exposed to the possibility over and over every time their ship
went reiving. So, at risk of having Bisman mutiny and strand her and Zonzalo
somewhere out of frustration, she kept on his back about safety and minimum
use of force.
"You are just like my teacher, Thunderstorm," Sunset said, in his resonant
voice, glancing up as his four hands performed his tasks. "He tells and tells,
but I make my mistakes all the same."
Zonzalo laughed. He'd become friends with the Thelerie, partly because they
were the youngest beings on board and partly because he thought Sunsets
innocent pronouncements hilarious.
"She is just exactly like a thunderstorm in space, isn't she?" Zonzalo said.
"Uh-oh, the clouds are moving toward me." Mirina advanced upon him and glared
down. Zonzalo pretended to cower, his shoulders hunched. Mirina swatted him
lightly across the back.
"Act like adults," she snapped. "In case you weren't listening, some of our
spacers are going down there. Their safety depends on you, too. Pay attention
to your boards."
The two young males exchanged humorous glances, then concentrated on their
screens.
"Approach final. Attacking speed," Glashton said, not looking up from his
console.
"Grapples away!"
On the main tank, the background of stars shimmered as the forcefields locked
onto
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JODY LYNN NYE - [The Ship Who Sang Series - 06] The Ship Errant five points
surrounding the space station. The engines filled the ship with the scream of
abused metal as the reiver dumped velocity, using the grapple anchors to halt
forward momentum. On external camera, Mirina watched as the flexible white
tube shot outward from the side of her ship to cover the airlock of the repair
port and sucked closed. Bulbous-headed shadows inside it Bisman's raiders in
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armor
bounded downward. There was an actinic Sash, from which everyone in the
cockpit automatically shielded his or her eyes, then Glashton switched video
and audio input to a suit-mounted cam on the uniform of one of the raiders.
The crew plunged ahead into the darkness of the landing bay. Narrow beams of
light slashed through the black tunnel, picking out steel-riveted walls, signs
and directions etched in enamel next to huge louvered doors and at
intersections. Two raiders found a communications circuit box and blasted it
with slugs and energy weapons. That should have cut off external
communications, but it also caused the inhabitants of the station to take
notice. Sirens wailed in the distance. Blurred figures, bleached white by the
raiders' searchlights, cannoned into view, weapons leveled. Bisman's people
were ready. Mirina watched arms being raised, saw the spark of muzzle-flash.
The defenders fell, arms splayed. A few of the raiders ran forward to collect
their guns.
Bisman's voice barked hoarsely. "They'll only be out for about twenty minutes.
Find the control room. Find the lights! Move it!"
Mirina held her breath as the camera eye followed the bobbing forms deeper
into the repair facility. Someone found the control for the lights. The white
blurs coalesced into armored backs and armloads of equipment. The siren's
discordance chewed away at her nerves until she was tapping her foot with
impatience, mentally urging Bisman to hurry and get out of there.
The louvered doors flapped up one by one, revealing empty bays. Suddenly, a
door rolled up, and the hoped-for containers were right in front of the video
pickup. The inventory numbers for ion-drive engine parts were printed on the
side and top of each case. Zonzalo and Glashton cheered. Mirina pointed at the
corral of heavy-loaders in the foreground of the screen, and snapped an order
into the headset mike. Bisman had seen them, too. His hand appeared in the
lens, making an "OK" symbol.
"All right, children, start loading 'em up!" The triumph in Bisman's voice
came through the plasteel bubble helmet. Mirina felt smug, too. Even if they
only sold half
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JODY LYNN NYE - [The Ship Who Sang Series - 06] The Ship Errant and kept the
rest for running repairs and trade with the Thelerie, those engine parts
should bring in enough to keep her fleet in space for another six months, at
least.
"Hold it! Drop your weapons!" A commanding voice boomed out of the walls. The
raiders looked around. His arms held up from the elbows, Mirinas video-carrier
turned slowly to face a squad of guards in dark blue uniforms. At their head
was a tall, thin woman with silver hair. Her tunic was trimmed with more
silver, including rows of medal flashes. From the confident manner with which
she held her long-barreled slugthrower, Mirina guessed that some of the medals
were for marksmanship. Some of
Bisman's crew began to comply, bending over to set their guns on the ground.
The raiders were outnumbered at least two to one. Mirina bit her lip. She
dreaded what would surely follow.
"Slowly& " the woman said, in a calm voice. "Slowly. Good. Now, hands above
your heads."
"Now!" Bisman shouted. As one, the raiders dropped flat on the floor. The
screen went blank. "Fire!" Mirina could tell by the sounds, they were spraying
the defenders with energy bolts. Shouts, then screams erupted, followed by the
noise of scuffling.
Individual cries rose above the noise.
"What's happening?" Zonzalo asked. He had joined his sister to hang over the
viewscreen. Mirina felt her blood drain away toward her feet. She swayed a
little.
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"It's all going wrong," she said, and turned to Glashton. "Shake 'em up. Give
Bisman and the others a chance to get out."
The pilot nodded sharply, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He clawed at a
series of controls, activating their secret weapon, the Slime Ball. The ship
shuddered under their feet as it lit thrusters and pulled against the
grapples. Always steering outward, so the return motion wouldn't yank the
asteroid into their hull, Glashton zigzagged from one thruster to another.
The effect as seen on the screen was frightening. The raider wearing the
camera was now lying on his back. The ceiling shook, and the giant plates
seemed to rub against one another. Mirina wondered if they would crack apart
and fall.
The crates of parts were vibrating, too, with every thrust of the ship. Inside
their padding, the components were undoubtedly safe from impact damage even if
they fell over, but if one landed on a human, there was nothing left to do but
hold the funeral.
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JODY LYNN NYE - [The Ship Who Sang Series - 06] The Ship Errant
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