reaches them."
"You send a control beacon at the same time?"
"Well, of course," Van Gar said indignantly. "What do you think I am, a rank amateur?"
He saw the man on top of the stack of rubber tires.
"Fuck! Drew!"
He shoved her to the ground and opened fire on the man as blasts rained down all around them. The man flew back through the air, screaming all the way to the floor.
"You OK, Drew?" Van Gar asked, looking around carefully for any other attacker.
"Yeah," she groaned. She stood up and went back to work on the controls. "Keep an eye out. There should be one more."
"Hey! You little fucker! We know yer in here! Ya might as well come on out an make it easy on yerself," Van screamed.
Behind him he could hear the sound of the exterior doors closing, and Drew picking up her weapon. To the lone pirate, that sound must have been like hearing his own death screams. This guy had nothing to lose.
"I'll check this way," Drew said.
They split up. Ten minutes later, they met at the cargo bay doors.
"I counted seven bodies."
"Me, too," Van said, sounding disappointed. "We must have hit the last one with random fire."
"Too easy?" Drew asked.
"Yeah. I hate it when they finish before I do."
"I hate this." Facto hissed through clenched teeth.
He looked around the bridge and wished that he had any idea what any of the flashing lights or sirens were indicative of. He kept walking around, looking at various screens and trying to get any meaning out of the jumbled letters and symbols that looked back at him. Wishing that any of the data was in a familiar language, instead of code.
"We have no way of knowing what's going on. I should have gone with them. I should have."
"That's not going to change things one way or the other, Facto. Try to relax."
"Relax. This woman is a lunatic!" The words had barely cleared his lips when the doors opened and Drewcila Qwah strode onto the bridge.
"Now, now, Fatso." She knew that wasn't his name, but it wasn't much more stupid sounding. "Is that any way to talk to the people who just saved the Royal piece ah ass?"
She flopped into the control chair and leaned her weapon against the console beside her. Van Gar was not far behind her. He rushed in and sat in the navigator's chair directly across from Drewcila, and their fingers busily flew over their respective keyboards.
"Our coordinates have been re-established, and we are prepared to continue our course," Van Gar reported.
Drewcila just nodded, her fingers caressing the keyboard as if it were a lover she knew well. Finally she smiled.
"The beacon has been activated, and we now have full control of the Purple Cat."
"A purple cat?" Taralin asked.
"The pirate ship," Van Gar answered. Then he turned to Drew. "With the gas on board we don't have to worry about anyone stealing it."
"Stealing it? But it's . . . Isn't . . . Doesn't the Space Patrol have to make a report? Isn't that ship evidence?" Facto said.
"Hello! Hello!" Drew screamed. "Are we living in the same universe? According to Article twenty-six of the Salvagers' Code . . ." she cleared her throat and intoned: "'If you find it, it's yours.' And Article number Six of the Space Patrol Code states:" she cleared her throat again and quoted: "'Any derelict ship containing a Salvager's beacon shall be considered the property of said Salvager under Article Twenty-six of the Salvager's Code.'"
"So what just happened?" Facto demanded. "How were they able to board us in the first place?"
"A rat chewed through a circuit wire and fouled up our detection system. But how they board—now that is really quite ingenious. What they do is match your ship's speed exactly, then they shoot out this tendril and it grabs onto your ship like a huge suction cup, and . . ."
"I'm sure they can wait for the book, Van Gar," Drewcila said shaking her head.
"You send a control beacon at the same time?"
"Well, of course," Van Gar said indignantly. "What do you think I am, a rank amateur?"
He saw the man on top of the stack of rubber tires.
"Fuck! Drew!"
He shoved her to the ground and opened fire on the man as blasts rained down all around them. The man flew back through the air, screaming all the way to the floor.
"You OK, Drew?" Van Gar asked, looking around carefully for any other attacker.
"Yeah," she groaned. She stood up and went back to work on the controls. "Keep an eye out. There should be one more."
"Hey! You little fucker! We know yer in here! Ya might as well come on out an make it easy on yerself," Van screamed.
Behind him he could hear the sound of the exterior doors closing, and Drew picking up her weapon. To the lone pirate, that sound must have been like hearing his own death screams. This guy had nothing to lose.
"I'll check this way," Drew said.
They split up. Ten minutes later, they met at the cargo bay doors.
"I counted seven bodies."
"Me, too," Van said, sounding disappointed. "We must have hit the last one with random fire."
"Too easy?" Drew asked.
"Yeah. I hate it when they finish before I do."
"I hate this." Facto hissed through clenched teeth.
He looked around the bridge and wished that he had any idea what any of the flashing lights or sirens were indicative of. He kept walking around, looking at various screens and trying to get any meaning out of the jumbled letters and symbols that looked back at him. Wishing that any of the data was in a familiar language, instead of code.
"We have no way of knowing what's going on. I should have gone with them. I should have."
"That's not going to change things one way or the other, Facto. Try to relax."
"Relax. This woman is a lunatic!" The words had barely cleared his lips when the doors opened and Drewcila Qwah strode onto the bridge.
"Now, now, Fatso." She knew that wasn't his name, but it wasn't much more stupid sounding. "Is that any way to talk to the people who just saved the Royal piece ah ass?"
She flopped into the control chair and leaned her weapon against the console beside her. Van Gar was not far behind her. He rushed in and sat in the navigator's chair directly across from Drewcila, and their fingers busily flew over their respective keyboards.
"Our coordinates have been re-established, and we are prepared to continue our course," Van Gar reported.
Drewcila just nodded, her fingers caressing the keyboard as if it were a lover she knew well. Finally she smiled.
"The beacon has been activated, and we now have full control of the Purple Cat."
"A purple cat?" Taralin asked.
"The pirate ship," Van Gar answered. Then he turned to Drew. "With the gas on board we don't have to worry about anyone stealing it."
"Stealing it? But it's . . . Isn't . . . Doesn't the Space Patrol have to make a report? Isn't that ship evidence?" Facto said.
"Hello! Hello!" Drew screamed. "Are we living in the same universe? According to Article twenty-six of the Salvagers' Code . . ." she cleared her throat and intoned: "'If you find it, it's yours.' And Article number Six of the Space Patrol Code states:" she cleared her throat again and quoted: "'Any derelict ship containing a Salvager's beacon shall be considered the property of said Salvager under Article Twenty-six of the Salvager's Code.'"
"So what just happened?" Facto demanded. "How were they able to board us in the first place?"
"A rat chewed through a circuit wire and fouled up our detection system. But how they board—now that is really quite ingenious. What they do is match your ship's speed exactly, then they shoot out this tendril and it grabs onto your ship like a huge suction cup, and . . ."
"I'm sure they can wait for the book, Van Gar," Drewcila said shaking her head.
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