The Voyage of the Star Wolf (38 page)

“It's heading straight for us,” said Tor. “ETA: fifteen minutes. Jeezis—I've never seen anything move like that.”

The holotable display showed the locus of the
LS-1187
and the
Burke
as a tiny bright speck. On the opposite side of the display, a larger, brighter pinpoint was arrowing directly toward it.

Hodel enlarged that section of the display. “Oh, God—I know that signature. It's the
Dragon Lord
.”

“The
Burke
is an important prize,” Korie noted as he stepped up onto the Ops deck from the forward keel access. He crossed to Tor and looked over her shoulder at her board. “Any signals?”

“Not yet.”

“They won't,” said Brik, coming up after him. “It'd be a waste of time. They'll ask for surrender. You'll refuse. So, why bother? No, they'll go immediately to the
next
step. Attack.”

Hodel shook his head sadly and murmured to himself, “Oh, Mama . . .”

“We can't fight them,” said Korie. “We can't win.” He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. When he opened them again, his expression was dark. “Tor, send this signal.” He turned resolutely toward the main viewer. “Morthan battle-cruiser. If you approach this vessel, we will self-destruct. You will not have our stardrive! Repeat: We will self-destruct!”

Tor was looking at him oddly.

“Send that,” he repeated.

“They won't believe it,” said Brik.

“And they'll home in on the signal,” said Tor.

“Or they won't,” said Korie.
“Send it.”

Tor shook her head. “There are orders that only a captain can give—specifically self-destruct!”

Korie looked at her. “What's your point?”

“The captain isn't dead.”

“The captain is
pickled
!” Korie shouted at her in frustration. “How brain-dead do you want him to be?”

“That's exactly my point! His brain is still active! He has to give the order.”

“You
might
be right,” Korie said with visible annoyance. “But now is not the time to have this argument. Mr. Jones, send that signal.”

Jonesy gulped. He looked to Tor apologetically, then back to Korie. “Yes, sir.”

Tor muttered something under her breath. She stepped back to her console and hit the button, sending the signal. The panel beeped its confirmation.
Signal sent.
“Anything else, sir?”

Korie shook his head.

Tor stepped back to him and lowered her voice. Very quietly and very angrily, she said, “Don't you ever go under my head again!”

Korie stared her down. He was just as angry, maybe angrier.
“The argument about who is in command does not belong on this Bridge.”

“You're right—” said a deep voice, a sound that rasped and rumbled like the roar of a panther.

They turned to look, all horrified—as the Morthan assassin stepped calmly onto the Bridge of the starship. He was grinning like a gargoyle and he was dragging Dr. Williger by her hair.

“The argument is irrelevant,” said Cinnabar, “—because
I
am in command now.” He hurled the doctor into the middle of the floor. She was still alive, but just barely. “I can't stand rudeness,” he explained.

Korie was horrified. He took a step forward, but Tor grabbed his arm and held him back. Beside them, Brik was standing perfectly still. Jonesy was white. Hodel had fainted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Korie—” HARLIE said abruptly. “I'm picking up some anomalies on the Bridge. I believe, yes—” And then the klaxon went off. “Intruder alert! Intruder alert!”

Cinnabar laughed. It was a chuckling rumble that bubbled up from the depths of Hell. It was deep and vicious and terrifying. “Thank you, HARLIE . . .”he said.

A security man fell into the Bridge from the opposite door, drawing his gun. Cinnabar moved like fire, grabbing him, cracking his back, and hurling him back out into the corridor. Something unseen crashed horribly. Someone else was screaming. “Thank you,” said Cinnabar, “but we won't be needing your services anymore.” He turned back to Korie and the others. He stepped to the center of the Bridge. He laid one huge hand on the back of the captain's chair, but he did not sit down.

“In answer to your first question,
it was easy.
I came in through the missile tubes. You never scanned your own ship. Very arrogant. In answer to your second question, the reason you can't self-destruct is that I've disabled that part of the network. Now then . . . send
this
signal to the
Dragon Lord
.” Cinnabar faced the main viewer. “This is Esker Cinnabar. I have taken control of both vessels. The
Burke
is ready for
pickup. The stardrive is undamaged. All is well.
Send that
.” He smiled wickedly. “Mr. Jones? I gave you an order.”

Jonesy looked uncertain. He looked to Korie for guidance. Reluctantly, Korie nodded. Jonesy turned to his board and sent the signal. Then he looked back to the Bridge again.

Cinnabar was pleased. He smiled. He stepped to the other side of the captain's chair, leaning on it possessively. Korie glared.
That chair is mine. I've earned it! How dare he—
? But the Morthan only draped one arm across the back of the empty chair. He wasn't going to sit down.

Korie glanced to Brik. Brik remained impassive.

“You should have destroyed the fluctuators—” Cinnabar explained, “—and the
Burke
when you had the chance. Too bad. This is going to be very embarrassing for you. One more humiliation in a long string of humiliations.” His smile widened horribly. “Now, a Morthan would commit honorable suicide rather than be humiliated—but you humans seem to thrive on humiliation. So I promise to humiliate you exquisitely.” His chuckle was the sound of a dinosaur dying. “The
ultimate
humiliation . . . I may not even kill you. You're not worthy of a Morthan death. I wonder what your admiral will think when we send you home
again
! This time, the defeat will be even more profound.” Cinnabar sighed dramatically. Then, abruptly, he was crisp and military again. “Evacuate the
Burke
,” he ordered. “Disengage and move off. Do it now.”

Korie said bitterly, “Don't you want the third fluctuator, the one we removed?”

Cinnabar laughed. “Cute. Very cute. The one that you booby-trapped? Don't be silly. The two that remain in place will be sufficient for our needs.”

Korie sagged. He looked like a man who has just run out of options. Tor put her hand on his shoulder.

“It didn't work,” she said.

Korie looked up. His eyes were hollow. “Will you promise to spare my crew? No more killing?”

“I promise nothing
! You don't have a choice. But . . . I will let your people live as long as it is to . . . our mutual advantage.”

Korie turned to Jonesy, Hodel, and Tor. “Do as he says.”

Hodel shook his head. He stood up and stepped away from his console. So did Jonesy. Tor followed them.

Korie looked from one to the other. Their expressions were resolute. Angered at their disobedience, Korie stepped past Hodel and started punching up the commands on the console himself. The evacuation
signal sounded throughout the
Burke
and echoed in the corridors of the
LS-1187
.

The forward viewer flashed to show the interior of the
Burke
. The security squads were waving everyone out. The medical crews were removing the last of the bodies. The Black Hole Gang shrugged and walked away from the two high-cycle fluctuators in the engine room. Nakahari grabbed his portable terminal, yanked it free, and ran for the corridor. The security squad followed.

The screen showed them passing through the shuttle bay and into the
LS-1187
. The airlock doors slid shut behind them.

“HARLIE, are we clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Korie.”

“Stand by for separation,” Korie released the mating ring, then the docking tube, and finally the docking harness.

There was a soft
thump
and the two starships floated gently apart.

The
Burke
floated farther and farther away from the
LS-1187
.

“Two kilometers . . .” Hodel said grimly. He sank back down into his chair and began marking vectors and intercepts.

“Keep your hands away from the targeting controls,” Cinnabar rasped. Hodel lifted his hands high off the board. “I'm a good boy,” he said, but his tone of voice wasn't happy.

On the holodisplay, the
Dragon Lord
's hyperstate ripple almost closed with the pinpoint representing the
LS-1187
, then unfolded and dissolved. The display expanded to show the locus of real space now.

They watched in silence as the huge warship began to close on the two Alliance vessels.

“I'll put her on viewer,” said Tor. She stepped over to her own board and punched up a new angle on the main screen: a distant bright speck. She punched again for magnification, but the
Dragon Lord
was still too distant. HARLIE superimposed an extrapolated image beside the actual point of light.

Tor studied the screens on her console. “Nice piece of piloting. She trimmed her fields exquisitely.” It was hard for her to keep the envy out of her voice. That kind of precision was only possible with the expenditure of large amounts of power, something the
LS-1187
didn't have. Tor added, “She's slowing to match course with the
Burke
. Deceleration—holy god!—fifteen thousand gees!” She shook her head unbelievingly. “That's not
possible
.”

“Thank you,” said Cinnabar.

Korie's expression was impassive. “ETA?”

“Give her five minutes, ten at most,” Tor said. She tapped at her board. The extrapolated image expanded.

Hodel swiveled to the holographic display and expanded that view as well. To one side, he put up a size comparison of the three vessels. “She's big enough to swallow the
Burke
whole,” he said. There was bitterness in his voice.

Korie remembered the city-sized ship he had seen. It had been a wall of missile tubes and shield projectors, disruptors and antennae. And when it had swiveled around before him, he had stared into its mouth. The dragon could hold this ship in its teeth. But—

“Don't be fooled,” said Korie tightly. “They have to build it that big. They don't have the stardrive technology we do.” He almost believed it.

“We do now,” Cinnabar laughed. It was the sound of sandpaper on flesh. He stood behind the captain's chair and wrapped his huge hands around the seat back. His claws cut deeply into the cushion. He rattled the chair gleefully in its mountings, almost ripping it loose from its frame. He leaned his head back, stretching his corded neck; he howled and roared and steam-whistled his triumph.

Tor put her hands over her ears and flinched. Jonesy pulled her back away from the center of the Ops deck. Korie and Brik held their positions angrily.

Cinnabar ordered Hodel to move the
LS-1187
off from the
Burke
then, and the next few moments were occupied with the maneuver. “I want you out of cannon range, out of torpedo range—far enough away that you can't do any mischief. And from this point on, there will be no transmissions of any kind unless I authorize them. God, I love this job!”