Gran breathed a sigh of relief. “It sounds better to me than turning the lasers on them, sir. I’m not sure I could do it.”
Kas shook his head. “Me, either. All right, we bring them aboard. Once they’re aboard we’ll try to remember people in cold sleep that might fit their identification.” He tossed Rom a key. “Rom, get a hand weapon out of the weapons locker. They may not be exactly willing to climb into those cabinets.”
As they approached the tramp it was obvious that she was in serious trouble. As expected, her drive coils had been rendered unusable by the Glory’s missile. The near-miss on her sensor array had even more serious consequences. It appeared that all of the tramp’s sensors and antennas had indeed been destroyed, but more important, a deep gash in the hull was leaking a white cloud of air and water vapor.
As Rom maneuvered Starhopper alongside the tramp, he asked, “Should I grapple her airlock-to-airlock?”
Kas shook his head. “If all their sensors are out, I wouldn’t put it past them to short their fusactor and blow their own ship, if they thought they could take that Glory with them. No,” he continued, “stand off a bit. Edro, you’re our comm expert. D’you think you can work out a way to talk to them?”
Edro flushed, but he nodded. He ducked through the bridge hatch and headed for the airlock to suit up.
They watched as the little man jumped expertly across the ten-meter gap between the ships, and landed gracefully a meter from the ruined antenna array. He knelt and fumbled at his suit for a moment, then devoted several minutes’ attention to the stub of one of the ruined antennas.
“Uhhh, Captain,” finally came from Kas’ com in Edro’s self-conscious mutter, “I’ve got comm with them. Think you’d better talk to ‘em.”
Kas grinned, “All right, Edro,” he replied, “Connect me now. Hello, is anyone there? This is Captain Kas Preslin of the Free Trader Starhopper. The pirate is gone.”
The voice that answered him was clearly the one he’d heard arguing with the Glory, though it was muffled. Apparently she was suited. “Well, you sure don’t sound like a Glory! Good thing you called; we had a dead man switch connected to our fusactor.”
He chuckled. “That’s why we called first. I hate just dropping in on people- there can so many unpleasant surprises!”
“Well,” she replied, “now that the conventions are dealt with, who visits who?”
Kas chuckled again. “Why not come on over here, and we’ll discuss our options.”
“Options? Oh, well…” Kas could practically hear her shrug.
Rom nudged Starhopper within two meters of the ship, whose scarred antirad bore the name Lady Jane. Within moments, two suited figures jumped across the gap. Kas and Rom were waiting as the inner lock door cycled.
The suits, one tall, one medium, stepped through the lock. Both people reached up and released their helmet catches. The tall one was a thin, bald, middle-aged man. It was his companion, however that grabbed Kas’ attention.
She was obviously the woman who’d been talking to the Glory; but in person she was much more striking. Even the short spacer’s cut couldn’t conceal the fullness of her auburn hair. It framed her rather angular face perfectly. Actually, he mused, it wasn’t that she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her short, pug nose and freckles made her look like a juvenile tomboy, in fact. But those full lips and sparkling blue eyes somehow riveted his attention. The grin she flashed him was all tomboy, as well. “Captain Preslin?” she inquired, “I’m Jane Grey, owner and skipper of the Lady Jane.” She hesitated as if expecting a comment, then continued, “This is Lar Tennig, my Engineer, First Mate, and Comm Officer.”
The tall man slipped off his suit’s gauntlet and proffered a hand. “What,” Kas asked with a smile, “Not Purser?” A grin spread over the bald man’s skull-like face. “Nossir,” he replied in a pleasant baritone, “Nobody but the Lady here handles the money end!”
They chatted inconsequentially as the two unsuited, then Kas invited them to his cabin. Rom followed.
Unsuited, Jane Grey was some 150 centimeters tall, and massed about 50 kilos. That 50 kilos, Kas thought, was distributed in a disturbingly attractive fashion. He was trying to figure out why he found this woman so damned attractive, and he wasn’t having much luck. Her body was well-curved, without evident tendency toward fat, but it wasn’t spectacularly so. Her breasts, though full, weren’t unusually large, nor did she flaunt them. So, why was he responding so strongly to her?
“Well,” she said once they were all seated in Kas’ cabin, “Now that we’re all comfy, would you mind telling us who the devil you are, where you came from, and what happened to that damned Glory?”
Kas licked his lips. This was going to really strain his cover story. “Well, as I mentioned, we’re Starhopper, out of Prime, chartered to ferry colonists to a planet called Turow’s World. That’s a new colony being established by Farterra.”
He shrugged. “As for that other ship, all I know is that our sensors detected two flashes, and when we closed to investigate, we detected two ships close aboard. We hailed, but suddenly one of the ships boosted out max.” He shook his head. “He must have thought we were someone else. When we got closer, we could see the damage to your ship, and decided to check for survivors.” He frowned. “You say that pirate was a Glory?”
Her eyes were narrowed. “Uh huh. Look, Captain. I know you’ve saved our lives, and we’re grateful. But that Glory left us deaf, dumb and blind, not stupid. Please don’t pee on my boots and try to tell me it’s raining. Rank tabs or not, that Glory was at least a Swordtan in their Lord’s Host. Now, the Glories are a lot of things, but they’re not cowards, and they’re not stupid enough to confuse a DIN-Class with a battle cruiser!” She shook her head. “No, somehow you managed to run off or destroy that bastard. I don’t know how and I don’t really care. I’m just glad you did.”
She sat forward, resting her elbows on Kas's desk. “While you were talking I was thinking. You’re the ship that bastard was really after, aren’t you? What are you, some kind of spy or something? And what’s this crap about a battle cruiser?”
Kas took a deep breath. “Whew! That’s some imagination you’ve got there! Would you like me to show you the three hundred fifty cold sleep cabinets in our hold?”
She shook her head impatiently. “Please, Captain! Look, we’re wasting time. If you’re spooks, you can’t tell us anything but your cover story, even if that story becomes absurd. By the way, whoever put together your cover story was working from out-of-date information. Farterra isn’t colonizing anything. For the past three years they’ve been having money problems, and for the last eighteen months they’ve been in an economic depression. Last I heard, there were food riots on Newhome.”
She shot him a piercing glance. “On the other hand, spooks would have either finished us off or left us to rot. That means you’re not professional agents. Military, maybe? You shouldn’t have rescued us, should you? And now, you’re having a hell of a time deciding what to do with us.”
Kas shifted uncomfortably. In less than five minutes, this woman had completely exposed their identity and indicated that she suspected that their mission concerned a battle cruiser! She was right; he was beginning to regret rescuing them. Rom, in the corner of the room, apparently shared his concern. The needler he’d taken from the weapons locker was in his hand. Kas tried to remind himself of what was at stake — war or peace throughout known space. He tried to harden himself to signal Rom to open fire.
But he had to explore all the options first. They were no threat in cold sleep, and by the time they were revived the mission would be over. Unfortunately, her easy penetration of Starhopper ’s identity indicated that there might be other problems.
He took another deep breath, let it out in a huge sigh. “All right. You’re too close for comfort. We’re not spooks. We’re Imperial Fleet. We’re on an undercover mission. We can’t afford to have that mission compromised. We had, of course, discussed destroying your ship or leaving you here. But we were able to come up with an alternative. We really do have three hundred fifty cold sleep cabinets in the hold. We’re going to revive two of the occupants that can use your identities, and put you into cold sleep to replace them. You won’t be harmed, and you’ll be revived and released as soon as we complete the mission.”