With turrets manned, the scout's control cabin lapsed into silence except for the all-dominating rumble of the antigravity units in their outriggers. Brim drummed his fingers on the console and shrugged. At least they'd had no trouble with the little scout. Like a lot of League equipment, she wasn't particularly pretty or even sophisticated. But she was fast and reliable with a superb pair of antigravs. He nodded ironically to himself. She was c'lenyts ahead of any scout the Admiralty had conjured up for the Imperial Fleet.
Ursis looked over sympathetically and smiled. "Could be worse, friend Wilf Ansor," he said. "At least the scout's giving no trouble."
Brim grinned, pointing his thumb at his chest. "That's the same thing I've been thinking," he said.
"And..." Abruptly, the Carescrian brought himself up short. "Sweet thraggling Universe, Nik," he said.
"That's it. What we need is a malfunction to get us in there."
Theada rolled his eyes. "Oh, wonderful," he quipped.
"Whose side are you on, Wilf?"
Ursis chuckled. "Perhaps he has not yet defected at all," the Bear said as he turned to Brim. "You are solving the problem by looking at it from another angle, I assume, Wilf Ansor."
"That's right, Nik," Brim asserted. "So far, we've planned everything around this tub working flawlessly—and I'll bet the Leaguers have set up their trap expecting pretty much the same from whatever kind of starship comes along to pick up the spy. But I'll bet nobody's looking for something that doesn't work very well."
"Universe—of course," Theada exclaimed. "Any pickup craft would abort its mission if it had trouble.
Sure...."
"But how about the malfunction?" Ursis asked with a grin. "How are you going to do that?"
Brim held up a finger, grinned, then turned to Barbousse. "Think you can work that equipment for launching the space mines?" he asked.
The big rating rubbed his chin and frowned, studying a section of the control panel before him.
"'Nadzur' is the word for 'mine' in Vertrucht, isn't it, Lieutenant Brim?" he asked.
"Sure is," Brim said.
Barbousse nodded. "And I know 'imbal' means 'load.' I heard Lieutenant Theada say that once." He passed his hand over part of the controls, turning a whole sector to flashing green. He nodded to himself a few times more, then looked up. "Yes, sir," he said, "I can work it. Says we've got ten on board."
Brim grinned. "That's it, then," he said. "Here's my plan. In the next couple of cycles, you're going to kick one of those out into our wake and immediately detonate it. From any distance at all, it'll look like we've had one great grandsire of a malfunction."
Theada grimaced. "A space mine," he whispered with awe in his voice.
"The worse it looks, the better," Brim said. "Because right after that, we're going to broadcast on the intergalactic emergency channel that our steering's gone."
"Oh, I get it," Theada exclaimed. "Out of control."
"Right," Brim said with mock melodrama. "Heading for a crash landing on Typro." He laughed. "Bet you didn't expect anything like a crash landing, now, did you?"
"NO," Theada agreed. "I suppose I didn't expect anything like that. But the longer I work with you, Wilf, well, it gets easier all the time."
"All weapons systems are energized and I've got a star mine in the first hoop," Barbousse reported, glancing at the warty globe suspended in the forwardmost repulsion ring. Twelve identical rings formed a flux tunnel extending over the stern and into the little starship's wake. At a gentle chiming, he nodded to the COMM cabinet. "Incoming BURST message, Lieutenant," he announced.
Brim turned to his own BURST display. "MISSION ABORT," it read. "TOO RISKY FOR YOU. MUCH OBILGED ANYWAY."
"I expected as much," he said, biting his lip. He narrowed his eyes and turned to Barbousse. "Send,
'No options. On our way. Where do we meet?'"
All eyes were on the COMM now. The display flashed. "DAMN FOOLS," it read, "AND THANK
VOOT! CABLE ROUTE 981, ZONE 54G, OPEN LORRY W/YELLOW CANISTERS. NUMBER
8 ON CAB ROOF. GOOD LUCK."
Brim checked his charts of Typro and nodded. "All right," he said. "Everybody set?"
"Let's do it," Ursis said. "Our spy is clearly ready to go, too."
Brim turned in his console to face Barbousse. "Let the mine go," he said tensely. "And blow it up as soon as it's safe!"
"Free..." Barbousse said as the deadly star mine sped aft through the repulsion rings and disappeared in the darkness.
"Detonating." Immediately, a terrific flash pulsed the Hyperscreens. This was followed by a glowing, burgeoning, mountain-sized cloud that rapidly enveloped them in a paroxysm of flame and concussion.
Eyes slitted against the glare, Brim wrestled desperately with the controls as the little ship tumbled in the fiery blast, generators surging wildly. "Get ready on the KA'PPA, Barbousse," he shouted over the blazing confusion outside. "Standard code sent in the clear!"
When the worst was passed, Brim turned the controls over to Theada and fought his way back to the COMM cabinet. "BEWARE," he KA'PPAed in Vertrucht. "NAVAGATIONAL MENACE. BLOWN STEERING ENGINES. KEEP AWAY. SHIP OUT OF CONTROL. BEWARE." Then he regained his Helmsman's console and began to maneuver the little starship in awkward-looking, wobbling loops—each carefully calculated to bring them a little nearer to Typro. Momentarily, the authenticator began to chime with almost constant challenges. "That's got somebody's interest," Brim grunted with satisfaction as he skidded into a wild turn to port nadir, the starframe creaking with strain. "They'll want to use short-range COMM in a moment, Barbousse. Switch it up here to my station—but no video!" As a tiny area on his center console glowed green, he swerved again sharply to port. "Beware," he broadcast in Vertrucht. "Internal explosion...Steering failure...Ship out of control...Beware...."
Suddenly, a blank COMM globe sprang to life. "E607, do you receive us?" a voice asked in Vertrucht.
"Audio only," Brim said after a few moments. "Video must have gone in the explosion. Beware! I am out of control!" He pulled through a tight loop to get a better look outside.
"So we observe," the voice said. "You are generally heading toward an area that is temporarily forbidden."
Brim swerved sharply, spotted the ship high to port then sent the scout into a series of flat, wavelike spirals that made the deck shudder between their feet. "What in the name of Triannic do you expect me to do about that, fool?" he exclaimed. "You must have seen the explosion back there. If I could steer, I'd be nowhere near you or your xaxtdamned forbidden area!"
"Well, you will have to do something," the voice said—then stopped in midsentence as Brim abruptly turned and headed for him on a collision course.
"Look out!" the Carescrian yelled at the top of his lungs. With his new heading, he was upon them in mere ticks—past in a fraction of another, both ships swerving desperately to avoid disaster. Then the Leaguers were lost again in the star-scatter as Brim called up full power and thrashed corkscrewing once again toward Typro. "Beware!" he yelled into the short-range COMM. "Keep away!"
"Universe, yes, do keep away," the other ship broadcast to the others. "They almost collided with us!"
The authentication key chimed again. Moments later, a woman's voice inquired sternly, "What is your intended heading, E607?"
"Presently vectoring toward possible emergency landing on Typro ahead," Brim answered, sensing a far stronger personality here. "There's not much I can do about it."