“You think whoever this is might get so busy with Progga that they’ll forget about us?” Maris asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” Car’das said, gesturing out the canopy at the small gray spacecraft that had taken up position with its nose pointed at the freighter’s portside flank. It was about the size of a shuttle or heavy fighter, built in a curved, flowing design of a sort he’d never seen before. “They’ve left us a guard.”
“Figures,” Qennto said, glancing once at the alien ship and then turning back to the green and blue flashes. “Fifty says Progga lasts at least fifteen minutes and takes one of his attackers with him.”
Neither of the others took him up on the bet. Car’das watched the fight, wishing he had his sensors back. He’d read a little about space battle tactics in school, but the attackers’
methodology didn’t seem to fit with anything he could remember. He was still trying to figure it out when, with a final salvo of blue light, it was over.
“Six minutes,” Qennto said, his voice grim. “Whoever these guys are, they’re good.”
“You don’t recognize them, either?” Maris asked, looking out at their silent guard.
“I don’t even recognize the design,” he grunted, popping his restraints and standing up. “Let’s go check on the damage, see if we can at least get her ready for company.
Car’das, you stay here and mind the store.”
“Me?” Car’das asked, feeling his stomach tighten. “But what if they—you know—signal us?”
“What do you think?” Qennto grunted as he and Maris headed aft. “You answer them.”
2
The victors took their time poking or prodding or gloating over whatever was left of the Hutt ship. From the number of maneuvering drives Car’das could see winking on and off, he guessed there were just the three ships that had been involved in the battle itself, plus the one still standing watchful guard off their flank.
Connor nets, like ion cannons, were designed to disable and hold rather than destroy, and Qennto and Maris had most of the systems back online by the time their keeper finally made its move. “Qennto, he’s shifting position,” Car’das called into the comm, watching as the gray ship drifted leisurely past the canopy and settled into a new spot with his stern above and in front of the Bargain Hunter‘s bow. “Looks like he’s setting up for us to follow him.”
“On our way,” Qennto called back. “Run the drive up to quarter power.”
The gray ship was starting to pull away when he and Maris returned. “Here we go,” Qennto muttered, dropping into his seat and easing them forward. “Any idea where we’re going?”
“The rest of the group’s still over by the Hutt ship,”
Car’das said, squeezing carefully past Maris as he headed back to his own station. “Maybe he’s taking us there.”
“Yeah, looks like it,” Qennto agreed as he fed more power to the drive. “So far, they’re not shooting. That’s usually a good sign.”
There were indeed three alien vessels hovering around the remains of Progga’s ship when they arrived. Two were duplicates of their fighter-sized escort, while the third was considerably larger. “Not that much bigger than a Republic cruiser, though,” Car’das pointed out. “Pretty small, considering what it just did.”
“Looks like they’re opening a docking bay for us,”
Maris said.
Car’das measured the opening port cover with his eyes.
“Not much room in there.”
“Our bow will fit,” Qennto assured him. “We can use the forward service tube to get out.”
“We’re going to go into their ship?” Maris asked, her voice shaking slightly.
“Unless they want to use the tube to come in here instead,” Qennto told her. “The guys with the guns get to make those decisions.” He lifted a warning finger. “The key is for us to keep control of the situation while they’re doing it.”
He half turned toward Car’das. “That means I do all the talking. Unless they ask you something directly, in which case you give them exactly as much answer as they have question. No more. Got it?”
Car’das swallowed. “Got it.”
Their escort led them to the larger ship’s side, and two minutes later Qennto had the Bargain Hunter‘s bow snugged securely inside the docking collar. A boarding tunnel began extending itself toward the service hatch as Qennto shifted the systems to standby, and by the time the three of them had made it down the ladder the exit sensors indicated the tunnel was in place and pressurized. “Here we go,” Qennto muttered, drawinghimself up to his full height and keying the release. “Remember, let me do the talking.”
Two of the crew were waiting outside the hatch as it slid open: blue-skinned humanoids with glowing red eyes and blue-black hair, dressed in identical black uniforms sporting green shoulder patches. Each of them had a small but nasty-looking handgun belted at his waist. “Hello,” Qennto greeted them as he took a step into the tunnel. “I’m Dubrak Qennto, captain of the Bargain Hunter”
The aliens didn’t answer, but merely moved to either side and gestured down the tunnel. “This way?” Qennto asked, pointing with one hand as he took Maris’s arm with the other.
“Sure.”
He and Maris headed down the tunnel, the ribbed material of the floor bouncing like a swinging bridge with each step. Car’das followed close behind them, studying the aliens out of the corner of his eye as he passed between them. Aside from the unusual skin color and those glowing eyes, they were remarkably human looking. Some offshoot of humanity’s ancient expansion into the galaxy? Or were they their own people, with the resemblance purely coincidental?
Two more aliens were waiting just inside the ship proper, dressed and armed the same way as the first pair except that their shoulder patches were yellow and blue instead of green. They turned in military precision as the three humans arrived and led the way down a smoothly curved corridor made of a pearl-like material with a soft, muted sheen. Car’das ran his fingertips gently along the wall as they walked, trying to decide whether it was metal, ceramic, or some kind of composite.
Five meters down the corridor their guides came to a halt outside an open doorway and planted themselves on either side. “In there, huh?” Qennto asked. “Sure.” He squared his shoulders the way Car’das had often seen him do just before a negotiating session. Then, still holding Maris’s arm, he headed inside. Taking one last look at the corridor walls, Car’das followed.
The room was small and simple, its furnishings consisting of a table and half a dozen chairs. A conference room, Car’das tentatively identified it, or possibly a duty crew meal room. Another of the blue-skinned aliens was seated on the far side of the table, his glowing eyes steady on his visitors. He wore the same black as their escorts, but with a larger burgundy patch on his shoulder and a pair of elaborately tooled silver bars on his collar. An officer? “Hello,” Qennto said cheerfully, coming to a stop at the edge of the table. “I’m Dubrak Qennto, captain of the Bargain Hunter: I don’t suppose you happen to speak Basic?”
The alien didn’t reply, but Car’das thought he saw his eyebrow twitch slightly. “Maybe we should try one of the Outer Rim trade languages,” he offered.
“Thanks for that brilliant suggestion,” Qennto said with a touch of sarcasm. “Greetings to you, noble sir,” he continued, switching to Sy Bisti. “We’re travelers and traders from a far world, who mean no harm to you or your people.”
Again, there was no response. “You could try Taarja,”
Maris said.
“I don’t know Taarja very well,” Qennto said, still in Sy Bisti. “How about you?” he added, turning to look at the two guards who had followed them into the room. “Do any of you understand Sy Bisti? How about Taarja? Meese Caulf?”
“Sy Bisti will do,” the alien behind the table said calmly in that language.
Qennto turned back, blinking in surprise. “Did you just say—?”