Star Risk - 04 The Dog From Hell (30 page)

The Alliance forces that Tomkins had been so proud of had turned out to be nothing but some third-ranked reservists, who had been quickly withdrawn by their home system when the casualty rate of that disastrous battle was reported.

And so Star Risk had won.

More than won, Yarb'ro thought.

After the battle had subsided, without a clear victory on either side, they had the temerity to orbit over the capital, whatever the hell it was, and threaten the Alsaoud government with bombardment if a ransom was not paid.

It was paid, and then the government had hastily resigned, in favor of whoever those goddamned immigrants were who'd started this nonsense.

Yarb'ro sighed.

With Tomkins dead and his satraps in disfavor, Cerberus had turned back to Yarb'ro to take charge again and bring about some kind of order, and try to reestablish their rather injured reputation with the Alliance.

That, Yarb'ro knew, wasn't quite the task others in Cerberus thought it would be.

Time would pass, memories would fade, and others would make bigger errors.

Of course, Cerberus was out of the Alsaoud worlds for all time.

And equally of course, there were those who wanted Star Risk to be hunted down and obliterated.

Yarb'ro smiled wryly.

Maybe they should be.

But they had baraka.

And, at least for the time being, they were to be feared and shunned.

The Galaxy was a very large place, with room for everyone.

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FIFTY-NINE � ^ M'chel Riss sat against a tree and listened to the sounds of her island being rebuilt.

It was a beautiful day.

She had credits in the bank. A new bank. Although Alliance Credit had whined their apologies, that wasn't good enough.

Maybe not as many credits as she would like, but enough to reconstruct her home so that it was even better than before.

Next, she would have to start looking for work.

Not, she thought smugly, as a solo act, but once again as a member of Star Risk, Ltd.

The others were scattered, intent on their various forms of rest and recovery.

Except for Freddy, who was bustling about supervising the finishing, custom touches on the completed building they'd bought on Trimalchio.

Work.

Yes.

In a while.

There would be the perfect assignment, somewhere out there, she knew. M'chel Riss felt very lucky.