it “Right on the edge.”

“Some kinda ruckus earlier,” added Wyatt, one hand hiding his mouth.

Kristoff pulled his hat brim lower and tried not to fidget. He hadn’t uncovered the information he want- ed. “Anything about Finney?”

“Only some talk about rebels and an escaped prisoner.”

Thus the ruckus. “Yeah, I heard. Prisoner get away?”

“Not sure. Rebels lost a few men.” Mercedes scuffed a paving stone with the toe of her boot, turned her back to the rest of the crew. “Co- lonials lost a few, too, I’ll bet, but they’ll never admit it.”

Strolling past, a soldier glanced at the haphazard group. His nar- row gaze snagged on Sahir then Ezra then Kristoff, who lifted his chin, smiled, and waved. The soldier looked at him a second or two lon- ger, curled his lip, then continued around the plaza.

“Trust you, cap,” grumbled Cor- rigan, “to be first in line to be shot.” “Just my way of avoiding the aw- ful anticipation.” Sunlight hit the fountain at a steep angle, turn- ing the water red. Yeah, maybe he was getting slaphappy. “Once more around the market, then meet me at sundown near Tarquin’s place. We need to find out if that prisoner

was Finney, and if she escaped.” But the townfolk didn’t know any- thing beyond the skirmish between the troops and the rebels—or, if they did know more, they kept it close. The crew met in the gathering shadows on the edge of the oasis, where trees and unkempt shrub- bery formed a shield between the last row of houses and the desert. A long arm of green sward stretched to surround an opulent villa, its pale walls burnished by the sun clinging to the horizon.

“So,” Ezra capped his canteen, “we have a plan?”

Sahir laughed, “Plan? What plan?” and Mercedes said, “With this bunch, a plan is only Posterior Locus-Aided Navigation.”

Kristoff hunkered behind a scraw- ny-looking scrub of a bush, pulled a spyglass from his pack, and studied the building.

“Ez has a point, cap.” Wyatt crouched beside him and lightly tapped the back of his shoulder, where a thick pad of gauze still marked the exit wound. “Thought maybe Marty and his boys and the Katy Joy put an end to seat-of-the- pants operations.”

“How long you been on my crew?” Kristoff swept the glass the length of the wall, but didn’t see any guards. “We do our best work when

we don’t have a clue.” #

“Problem?”

A man who could have been any- where from a rough thirty-five to a young fifty stood in the doorway, flanked by half a dozen men carry- ing an assortment of large weapons. Leo bowed his head slightly, and stepped aside.

“Yeah,” said Finney, too angry to be intimidated, “I need to contact my crew and get outta here.”

The man smiled a little—a very little—then said to Leo, “Give me the room.”

“Yes, sir.”

The medic left, and the stranger stepped in, closing the door. He looked at Finney. “How’s the leg?”

Hurts like hellfire. “It’ll do.” “Mine won’t.” He crossed the room, favoring his left leg, then eased himself down to the metal stool. “Daniel.”

“Finney.” Shifting on her crutches, she leaned against the counter. “Leo said you saved me.”

“He did the saving. I just removed you from the line of fire.” Daniel gripped his leg and winced. “Couple of hefty guns you snagged off those guards.”

“They were handy.”

He smiled, and deep lines fanned from the corners of his eyes. “You

don’t look much like the admiral— thank God—but you sure act like him.”

What was it with these rebels and her grandfather?

I’m such a fine fellow, Gracie, who can resist?

She gasped, and almost said aloud, You’re back!

Daniel frowned, but Finney cov- ered the aural hallucination with a cough that earned a sharp jab from her ribs. “I don’t want be un- grateful,” as soon as she caught her breath, “but I need to tell my crew I’m safe. Knowing them, they’re do- ing something insane right now.”

#

From a gate in the wall appeared a young woman in a white tunic and wide trousers that rippled as she walked. Her long hair blew back from her face, revealing a strange collar around her neck. As Kristoff followed her progress, she turned her head and looked straight down the spyglass.

He jerked his head, and slammed the cylinder to its shortest length.

“Captain Kristoff?” she called. “The governor bids you welcome.”

by L. S. King

by L. S. King

“D

Slap blinked at Tristan and gestured around him in the passage- way. “I’m just gonna get the bots to clean up the mess I made, then take a shower.”

“Not yet.”

“Uh, Tristan, in case you hadn’t noticed—”

“He stinks.” Addie wrinkled her nose. “So does this whole corridor.”

“I don’t care. I know Reggie. He has booby traps in place in case this ship is taken over. Until Carter and I can determine it’s safe, touch noth- ing.”

“Can we sit down?” Addie sniped, crossing her arms. “Lean against the wall?”

Slap put his arm in front of her, a physical barrier to hopefully stop the sparring before it started. Addie drew back, making a gagging sound.

“Not even a shower?” he asked. “Be patient. It might be the dif- ference between being able to shower and having your smelly at- oms scattered all over this sector.” Tristan turned fore, and said over his shoulder, “I mean it: don’t touch anything.”

#

Face to face on the bridge, Tristan

in the pilot’s chair, and Carter at Ops, the engineer’s icy-blue eyes re- mained fixed on Tristan as the latter explained both Reggie’s and Dray’s methods.

The lines in the older man’s face deepened in a smile. “They both sound paranoid.”

“It’s why they’re both still alive. Why I’m alive for that matter. Dray teaches well.” Tristan ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how many booby traps might be installed to circumvent hostiles. Something as simple as making coffee might trip something if a code hasn’t been entered as an ‘all’s safe’ after an in- cident such as a pirate attack. And for all we know, if the code isn’t entered within a certain amount of time, the ship will self-destruct or completely shut down in any event. An attempt to overwrite the system would probably trigger something unpleasant as well.”

“Sticky problem.” Carter’s eyes were sparkling. “I have the answer, however.”

Tristan didn’t trust that maniacal gleam. “Oh?”

Carter shoved a hand into a pock- et of the worn jacket he was rarely without. He rummaged for a bit

A.I.”

Tristan leaned forward, teeth grit- ted. “Did you hear me? Any attempt to tamper or overwrite the comput- er—”

“She’s a Black Ops type—created to circumvent systems, takeover. She will win any fight, deactivate, and seize control in minutes, then install her own OS.” Carter twirled it in his fingers. “Only a few yotta- bytes in size. Compact, neat, and... one of the reasons the Confedera- tion wants me back.”

“’One of the reasons’? What else of theirs do you have hidden in that jacket?”

Carter grinned. “Captain, do I ask you what you store in your vest?”

Tristan pursed his lips, glaring. “Get to it.” He watched Carter with a feeling of dread. Such a genius as his was a prize to be coveted. The Confeds wouldn’t stop until Carter was either back under their control or dead. Tristan wondered how long the engineer had until his luck ran out.

Carter hummed to himself as he worked at the Ops station, but stopped as the lights blinked out and they began floating. “Uh oh...”

Tristan gripped the arms of the chair, blind until he adjusted to the dim, blue glow of the emergency bulkhead lighting. “What is it?”

computer was messed with they would shut down.”

“What systems?”

“Looks to be main reactor and life support. Aaaand...all propulsion.”

“So despite your miracle A.I., we’re dead in the water?”

Carter snorted. “If I can’t get the reactor and life support back up we’ll pretty much be dead.” A pause. “Don’t worry, I think I know how to get past these failsafes.” A diagnostic display appeared over Ops, glowing in the dark. “Oh, I take that back. The A.I. detected the fail- safes and shut down the affected systems. I just need to remove the booby trapped hardware so the A.I. will allow those systems to power up.”

“How long will that take?” “Well, with only the reserve pow- er, which is being shunted to the main computer so the A.I. can tell me what’s booby trapped and how, the doors aren’t working. I’m going to have to use crawl spaces to get to engineering.”

“Then the actual work itself. So this is likely going to be some wait.”

“Sorry, Captain, but yes. Now we just need to find the magnetic lock release mechanism. There must be one on the bridge somewhere.”

“Most people would just call it a ‘key.’”

“But it’s not just a key. It’s a com-

bination micro power supply and—” “Carter, just look for it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Tristan began searching around the captain’s chair. Reggie would want the key accessible but hid- den. A small compartment, perhaps easily reached when sitting in the chair...? Tristan eased himself into the chair, and felt down the sides, inside and out. His fingers touched a groove on the right side, and be- low it, a small niche. He pressed his thumb and a small panel opened.

“Found it.”

He gave the key to Carter, who floated near the floor just in front of the chair. Tristan joined him and helped heft the plating out of the way so Carter could drift into the crawl space.

“Try to hurry. Between Slap spew- ing in zero-G and whatever that hellcat might try, who knows what might await us.”

Carter laughed, his voice echoing. #

Darkness overtook Slap and Ad- die, and as they began to float, Ad- die cussed. Slap merely gulped. His stomach was sore and his throat already raw, he didn’t need this. He really didn’t.

Addie’s cussing turned to wails of

fright. “We’re going to die! We’re all going to diiiieeeee!”

Slap grabbed her arms and shook her. “Hush, gal! We ain’t gonna die. Not now, anyway. If we were, we’d a done it already. The ship’s just powered down so Carter and get rid of something they found, that’s all.”

“You sure?”

No, he wasn’t, but letting her know that would lead to more cry- ing and screaming. “Sure, I’m sure.” The wildcat subsided with sniffles for a moment then gagged. “Ugh! Ew! Oh, this is nasty! Your puke is floating around me!”

“Then go somewhere else to wait. But don’t touch anything.”

“I know, I know!” He could see her outline as she tried awkwardly to swim aft.

“Not a thing.”

“Old auntie,” she spat, continu- ing down the corridor.

Slap grinned. #

Tristan belatedly followed Carter to engineering after realizing he had no other way to be updated other than being on site. He finally found Carter in the port wing bay floating sideways under a console for the main gravity generator.

“How is it going so far?”

“Not bad. The air handler is al-

ready done. After I get life support taken care of, I’ll do the reactor. That’s going to be the hardest one to remove.”

“If you can use an extra hand, I do know how to handle a spanner.”

“I know. Thank you, Sir. I’ll let you know.”

Tristan drifted away, stifling a sigh. He knew how to wait, but to stand by while someone else worked and not be able to contribute, that was hard. He floated around engineer- ing, familiarizing himself with the set up.

Before long, Carter swam into main engineering. Tristan helped remove the panel so the engineer could wiggle under the port be- neath the reactor.

Tristan resisted the temptation to ask “how long?” He flexed his right ankle, stretching his calf muscle. He should have seen a doctor right after they left Eridani, but it hadn’t seemed important then. The pain was bearable, and he could hide the limp most of the time, but the lim- ited movement irritated him.

He began methodically stretch- ing as he would before a work out. He should warm up first, but wasn’t sure if swimming around engineer- ing would do much good. A slow limbering up would be fine. He eventually worked up to some zero-

G acrobatics. Not his usual fare, but he could kill time by seeing how many front tucks he could throw from port to starboard bulkheads.

He glanced at Carter’s legs stick- ing out from under the reactor and bit back any questions about prog- ress. Just then, the engineer called out, “Captain? Would you be able to lend a hand?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He pushed off the bulkhead, aiming for Carter. “How much longer on the reactor?”

“With your help, not long, I hope. After that is propulsion, shields, weapons—”

“What about Slap’s shower?” Tristan countered wiggling into the space next to Carter.

The older man shook his head. “All systems must remain offline un- til I can get a look at them. I mean all! No shower.”

“Remind me to avoid him for the time being.”

Carter snorted and returned to work.

#

Addie floated toward Slap—but not too close. He smiled to himself as he continued biting his nails; that was one way to keep her at a dis- tance.