"Steady."
"Fire!" At Fourier's word, all seven disruptors went off in a salvo of blinding light and raw energy—
Truculent's deck bucked violently; clouds of angry radiation cascaded into the wake. In spite of himself, Brim thrilled to the rolling, ear-splitting thunder rumbling through the spaceframe. Instantly, a whole volume of space ahead of the League ships convulsed with brilliant flashes of yellow fire.
"Eyes of Vothoor!" Theada quipped in an undertone, "That ought to slow them down some."
"Don't count on it," Collingswood warned, eyes riveted on her fleeing quarry. "They'll not give up so easily as that. Anak's desperate for supplies—he makes it well worthwhile for the ones, who do get through." Indeed, nearly a full cycle later, the two ships were still speeding toward their destinations.
She frowned, nodded her head. "Reason with them again, Anastasia," she ordered. "Closer, this time."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Fourier answered. "A bit closer, if you please, at the Directors."
"Aye, Lieutenant. Down five hundred. Deflection fifteen minus. Rate sixty-four plus."
Brim's untrained eye could detect little movement of the disruptors as they were relaid, but he knew the next shots would be a great deal closer—if recent target exercises were any indication at all.
"Fire!"
This time, the darkness ahead was shattered by one huge upheaval which appeared as if it must have taken place only irals from the targets themselves. And though it did produce immediate results, they were not quite the ones expected on Truculent's bridge. "Voot's gray ghost," Collingswood grumped under her breath. "Wouldn't you know!" Only one of the ships had slowed down to surrender—the other was still speeding home, leaving its partner as a sacrificial Lau'f'last. A rare show of teamwork for the independent Cloud League's blockade runners.
"Must be something xaxtdamned important in that second one," Gallsworthy observed angrily. "Those zukeeds never help each other."
" That's the truth," Anastasia agreed. "We'd better catch it, all right."
"I want them both," Collingswood said, tossing her head. "Those ships are valuable prizes, and I do not intend either will escape." She turned abruptly, peering into the darkened bridge. "Lieutenant Arnherst!" she called.
"Captain?"
"Lieutenant, round up those hands we designated boarding party A," she said in an excited voice. "Ten with side arms and blast pikes. Have them ready no later than ten cycles from now—before we catch up to the first ship," she ordered. "Because you are going to take it home as a prize while we continue 'discussions' with its friend."
"Me? Home?"
"Yes, Puvis— home," she said, gaze sweeping across the bridge—where it came to rest on the off-duty Brim in his jump seat. "And by Slua's third eye!" she continued, "you are going to do it with our Carescrian prodigy as your pilot. How do you feel about boarding that transport, too, Lieutenant Brim?"
Grinning like an addled tree h'oggoth, Brim clambered out of his recliner and hurried along the aisle to Amherst's console. "I'm on my way to the transfer tube, Captain," he laughed.
"Pity," Collingswood laughed. "You may well miss all the action there, for I do not plan to board her by conventional means—that would absolutely insure the second ship's escape."
Brim watched Amherst match his own frown. "Captain?" the latter asked.
"I shall only slow when I pass that first ship," she said, eyes narrowed in excitement. "Something neither of those rather clever blockade runners expects." She pointed a finger at Brim's chest, "Instead, Lieutenant Brim, you will fly the boarding party—in a launch—alongside the enemy bridge. Where you, Lieutenant Amherst," she continued, "will have the job of boarding her through any kind of a hatch you find there—they've all got something. Then take immediate possession of controls. Ten men should be more than sufficient. And if you work quickly, it will all be done while she's still in the range of our 144s-they should guarantee active cooperation from your hosts. After that, Lieutenant Brim, it will be your job again to take her into any Imperial port you can reach. Don't worry about the launch. We'll pick it up if we get the chance, otherwise she's a small price to pay for either of those beauties. I shall expect you back aboard Truculent soon as you can hitch a ride. Now get moving—both of you!"
Moments later, Brim and Amherst were bustling down a ladder toward the ship's small armory as Maldive's voice broke into the interCOMM, "Boarding party one form in battle suits immediately at launch hatch three. Boarding party one to launch hatch three—immediately!"
Well within the ten cycles allotted by Collingsworth, Brim sat perspiring at the command console of Truculent's number-three launch, a stubby, powerful affair Sophia Pym swore was designed first for ugliness, and only then for performance. Behind him, similarly peering from the armored blue globes of Imperial battle-suit helmets, Amherst and ten men—led by the hulking Barbousse—clambered through the hatch to perch on jump seats in the crowded utility compartment, jostling to position their long blast pikes under the low canopy. Last aboard was Ursis, waving a huge side-action blaster of Lo'Sodeskayan manufacture.
"Hatch is closed and dogged, Wilf," the Bear reported, thumping into place beside Amherst. " Terribly sorry, Lieutenant," he grunted, as he wedged the First Lieutenant against a rack of stringers.
"Collingswood sent me to keep an eye on Brim here," he continued as Amherst dissolved in a fit of coughing.
Brim stifled a delighted grin, nodded assent, and confirmed the hatch seal on an instrument panel before him. Then he started the powerful little antigravity generator aft and immediately spooled it up to maximum output—hating that kind of heavy-handed piloting—with little choice under the present circumstances. When the registered output steadied, he nodded to the image of Theada in an overhead display. "Swing us out, Jubal," he barked through the suit's interCOMM. Moments later, two heavy davits sparkled with emerald light as mooring beams flashed to the launch's optical capstans. Less than a cycle later, the beams thickened, then the davits began to move: first upward, then sideways, hauling the launch from behind the protection of Truculent's bridge wings. It provided Brim's first unobstructed view forward since he left the bridge: the first enemy ship—a typical Cloud League transport made up of globes and cylinders co-located along a single tube—was now pothering along less than a quarter c'lenyt ahead and being overhauled rapidly.
"Stand by to cast off the launch," he yelled over the roar of the generator.
"Standing by," Theada asserted shakily.
Brim carefully judged his distance and rate of closure—launches were not capable of sustained high-speed travel, even at military overload. Aft, the straining antigravity generator already threatened to rip itself from its mountings. He tensed. "Now, Jubal!" he yelled.
Theada made no clean job of it. The forward beam winked out a fraction of a second before the aft, and very nearly dragged their launch end around end before Brim fought her back on course, heart pounding against his chest. Then, miraculously, he was bucketing along beside the craft's globular forward module with an already distant Truculent pulling away all too rapidly for comfort—her big 144s provided a distinct feeling of security in the thin-skinned launch.
"There's the emergency hatch, Lieutenant," Barbousse exclaimed, pointing a fingered glove toward a faint outline just aft the port arm of the ship's cross-shaped Hyperscreens.
"He's got it," Ursis seconded. "Bring us alongside, Wilf. We'll blast it in if they won't open on their own—they xaxtdamned well know why we're here."