He stood and took Alper Gor’s hand, then took the single step down from the pilot’s station to the main deck. “Come here,” he said gently. Ander rose, and he took both of them in the best hug he could manage. They came without resistance, molding their bodies to his, and he said softly, “It’s never good to see relatives die, even if you didn’t like them very much. I would have avoided that if possible, but there didn’t seem to be a way. You should mourn them. Even if you didn’t like them, they were still family.” Neither responded verbally, but Ander burrowed under his arm, and Alper pressed her face against his right shoulder. They stood that way for a long moment, and Peters felt a drop of warm moisture touch his right ear.
Chapter Forty-One
Peters sat in the control chair, mind in the condition he privately thought of as ‘neutral mode’. The spark ahead was almost big enough to resolve into the bulk of Llapaaloapalla. Ander Korwits and Alper Gor were aft, in one of the two cabins the smallship offered, crying, sleeping, waiting apprehensively, or some combination.
An object crossed his field of view, right to left, at a tremendous rate, leaving a subliminal impression of something dart-shaped. That generated a line of thought, his first in several utle, and he dug out the earbug and inserted it. “Green Three Seven,” he said, the only call sign he’d ever been assigned. “Is anybody on th’ frequency?”
“Green Three Seven, Hornet Two Oh Two.” There was a pause. “Petty Officer Peters, is that you?” The woman sounded as if she were speaking conversationally from a few feet away, which meant the earbug’s batteries were still good. She must have been close by, because the earbugs had very limited range. That agreed with what he knew of fighter pilot training: get on the tail and close. If he could look back he could probably read the numbers on the bird.
“Yes, ma’am, it’s me. Uh, Two Oh Two, Green Three Seven, that’s affirmative, ma’am.”
“Ha,” she said, a short bark of amusement. “Green Three Seven, I take it that you’re aboard the brick I just intercepted.”
“That’s affirmative, Two Oh Two. Request permission to come aboard.”
“Wait one, Green Three Seven.”
“Roger, Two Oh Two, Green Three Seven is standin’ by.”
There was a pause while the pilot—Travers, it was, if the first-line crews were flying CAP; Roper otherwise—checked over the UHF. At length she said, “Permission not granted, Green Three Seven, repeat, permission not granted until you answer a few questions.”
“Understood, Two Oh Two. Ask away.”
“Is there anybody in earshot of you who speaks English?”
“No, ma’am, there ain’t. There ain’t nobody but me and two others aboard, and neither one of them speaks English. They ain’t here with me right now anyway.”
“Then who’s flying that thing, Three Seven?”
“I am, ma’am. Uh, Two Oh Two, Green Three Seven is in control.”
“He says he’s flying it.” The voice was incredulous, and Peters started to respond, then realized that the earbug had made an error. She’d been speaking into the UHF, and the processor hadn’t caught the redirection of her remarks. There was a pause, then, “Green Three Seven, the last information we had was that you were missing from groundside. Commander Bolton wants to know what the—what happened.”
“Well, ma’am, I reckon you could say I got abducted by space pirates,” Peters said wryly. “I just now escaped and want to come home.”
“Are the rest of the space pirates on your tail, Three Seven?” The question wasn’t as sardonic as it might have been if the events of the last couple of months hadn’t happened.
“I reckon it’s possible, ma’am,” Peters conceded. “I done shot one of ‘em down in the process of makin’ my escape, and I reckon the rest ain’t likely to be too happy about it.”
“Understood, Three Seven.” Pause. “They’re scrambling the ready CAP. Help is on the way.”
“Yes, ma’am, and I’m grateful.” He thought for a moment. “Anybody been keepin’ an eye on the ferassi trade ship that’s on orbit a hundred and twenty, maybe a hundred and fifty degrees ahead of us?”
“We’ve been watching, Three Seven. They had some activity a few hours ago, but nothing since.”
“I reckon that ‘activity’ was me, then, Two Oh Two. If they ain’t done nothin’ since, probably there ain’t no reason to send out the birds ‘til they do.”
“Never hurts to be sure, Three Seven.”
“There is that, ma’am.”
“Sure is… That ship appears to be of the same pattern as the one that shot us up, and its weapons bays seem to be open. Care to comment, Three Seven?”
Oops. “Uh, Two Oh Two, that’s affirmative on the ship type.” He scrambled out of the chair and down to the weapons control station. “Sorry about the weapons bays, we was doin’ somethin’ else and just forgot.” He scanned the panel, trying to remember where the switches were, and spotted a set that looked right. “Two Oh Two, if I’ve done the right things the weapons bays ought to be closin’ up right now.”
“That’s affirmative, Three Seven.” The yellow lights below the windshield went out, and Peters climbed back into the control chair. “Check your velocity,” the Hornet pilot said as he was doing so. “Don’t get too close to the ship until we’ve resolved this.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.” He took the control and complied, thinking as he did so, Shit. Navy-ass rigamarole when all I wanted was to get aboard and get some shut-eye.
The Hornet came into view from overhead, matching velocities and taking up station a few hundred meters ahead and a little to port and up. It rotated so that the canopy faced him and the figure inside raised its arm in greeting. Peters returned the gesture, realizing as he completed it that he had done so left-handed, like a Grallt, and the earbug said, “I only see one person on the control deck, Three Seven. Is that you?”
“Two Oh Two, that’s affirmative.” He raised an arm again, being careful to do so right-handed.
“Three Seven, you said there were two other persons aboard. I’d like to see them.”
“Aye, ma’am, but I reckon they’re asleep right now,” he told her. “It’ll take a couple minutes.”
“Understood, Three Seven. Hornet Two Oh Two is standing by.”
Peters sighed, headed aft, and knocked on the cabin door. “May I enter?” he called.
Ander Korwits had been crying; her face was still flushed, and her eyes were wet. “What do you need, John?” she asked. “We had a nap, but we were about to get up anyway.”
“The people from my ship are suspicious,” he said. “They want to see you before we can come aboard. I need for you to come forward to the control cabin and show yourselves.”
“Both of us?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect there to be formalities.”
“That’s all right. Alper’s still asleep; I’ll get her.” She turned back into the cabin, returning in a few moments with Alper Gor, who had also been crying, the effects more prominent on her pale features.
Peters gathered them into another hug. “I hope this won’t take too long,” he said. “We all need sleep. Just come forward and show yourselves.” They took the few steps forward into the control cabin, and he said into the earbug, “Here are my passengers, Two Oh Two.”