thought. They were trying to keep the lid on,
but it was obvious all these men being transferred from Phoenix to Defiant weren't reinforcements. The Warlord must be in
serious trouble.
Maigrey's
foot-tapping grew louder. Tucking her helmet beneath her arm, she
lightly touched the MP on the arm. "We should hurry, before my
prisoner loses himself in the crowd. "
"Yes, my
lady. I'm attempting to get the information now. Begging the
captain's pardon," the MP continued, talking to Williams in an
undertone, "but if Lord Sagan did send the woman, then
shouldn't we do what we can to assist—"
"And what
if he didn't?" Williams returned, perplexed and frustrated. "We
may well be assisting her to waltz right out of here."
"Yes, sir."
The MP offered the captain a modicum of silent sympathy. Williams
might be damned if he did what the woman wanted, could very well be
damned if he didn't.
Distant voices
sounded in the background, competing for the captain's attention.
"Carry on, Sergeant," be said finally in a harassed tone.
"Arrest this prisoner, then take both him and the lady to
the brig. If she protests, tell her that it's for her own safety."
"Yes, sir."
The MP turned back to Maigrey. "The last shuttle has docked on
Able deck, my lady. Down this corridor and to our left."
Maigrey smiled
at him, a peculiar, crooked smile. He had the distinct and uncanny
impression that she'd heard every word. He hesitated, feeling
suddenly extremely uncomfortable, wondering if he shouldn't contact
the captain again. But what would he say? No, he would do what he'd
been ordered to do. That was always safe.
Gesturing to his
men, who fell in behind him, the MP and the woman proceeded down the
passage. They rounded a corner, ran into a large group of
white-coated men, medicbots bearing litters, and other personnel from
the hospital shuttle. Another group from Phoenix emerged into
the corridor at the same time from a different direction, creating an
immediate logjam of bodies and 'bots.
"That's
him!" Maigrey pointed.
"Seize
him!"
The MPs
floundered through the crowd, pushing and shoving. Grabbing hold of
the major, they clapped him in fuse-irons. Those who had been
standing near the wretched man disappeared immediately, having no
desire to be held guilty by association. The major protested loudly
and volubly, too loudly. The MP had been around a long time. He'd
seen the major's expression when the man first felt the fuse-iron
close over his wrist. He wasn't surprised or shocked, as an innocent
man would have been. The major's face had darkened, brows contracted
in swift and sullen anger. The MPs hauled him to the lady and their
own officer. Seeing them, the major rearranged his features, looking
and sounding highly offended.
"By the
gods, Sergeant, I'll have your stripes for dinner! What's the meaning
of this?" His face was blotchy; his eyes protruded from beneath
a thick forehead.
"The
officer is acting on my orders, Major." Maigrey spoke quietly.
She'd been standing quietly. The major hadn't even noticed her.
The major
blustered and blew, then his gaze went to the woman's torn and
bloodied uniform, then to the features. The MP, watching closely, saw
the bluster fizzle out, saw the blood drain from the major's cheeks,
his jaw working.
"I—I
don't know what's going on—"
"Surprised
to see me alive? Or perhaps you think I'm a ghost? You must have a
lot of ghosts haunting you, Major."
The man
recovered his senses, said what he should have said in the first
place, except now it merely made matters worse. "You're
arresting the wrong person, officer. This woman was a prisoner aboard
our ship. I tried to capture her, but she got away from me and flew
off in a wrecked Scimitar before I could stop her!"
The MP was
elbowed from behind. Whipping around, he glared over his shoulder.
"Sorry,
sir!" stammered a red-faced marine, who'd been shoved into the
MP. A steady stream of men and equipment continued to surge through
the narrow
but it was obvious all these men being transferred from Phoenix to Defiant weren't reinforcements. The Warlord must be in
serious trouble.
Maigrey's
foot-tapping grew louder. Tucking her helmet beneath her arm, she
lightly touched the MP on the arm. "We should hurry, before my
prisoner loses himself in the crowd. "
"Yes, my
lady. I'm attempting to get the information now. Begging the
captain's pardon," the MP continued, talking to Williams in an
undertone, "but if Lord Sagan did send the woman, then
shouldn't we do what we can to assist—"
"And what
if he didn't?" Williams returned, perplexed and frustrated. "We
may well be assisting her to waltz right out of here."
"Yes, sir."
The MP offered the captain a modicum of silent sympathy. Williams
might be damned if he did what the woman wanted, could very well be
damned if he didn't.
Distant voices
sounded in the background, competing for the captain's attention.
"Carry on, Sergeant," be said finally in a harassed tone.
"Arrest this prisoner, then take both him and the lady to
the brig. If she protests, tell her that it's for her own safety."
"Yes, sir."
The MP turned back to Maigrey. "The last shuttle has docked on
Able deck, my lady. Down this corridor and to our left."
Maigrey smiled
at him, a peculiar, crooked smile. He had the distinct and uncanny
impression that she'd heard every word. He hesitated, feeling
suddenly extremely uncomfortable, wondering if he shouldn't contact
the captain again. But what would he say? No, he would do what he'd
been ordered to do. That was always safe.
Gesturing to his
men, who fell in behind him, the MP and the woman proceeded down the
passage. They rounded a corner, ran into a large group of
white-coated men, medicbots bearing litters, and other personnel from
the hospital shuttle. Another group from Phoenix emerged into
the corridor at the same time from a different direction, creating an
immediate logjam of bodies and 'bots.
"That's
him!" Maigrey pointed.
"Seize
him!"
The MPs
floundered through the crowd, pushing and shoving. Grabbing hold of
the major, they clapped him in fuse-irons. Those who had been
standing near the wretched man disappeared immediately, having no
desire to be held guilty by association. The major protested loudly
and volubly, too loudly. The MP had been around a long time. He'd
seen the major's expression when the man first felt the fuse-iron
close over his wrist. He wasn't surprised or shocked, as an innocent
man would have been. The major's face had darkened, brows contracted
in swift and sullen anger. The MPs hauled him to the lady and their
own officer. Seeing them, the major rearranged his features, looking
and sounding highly offended.
"By the
gods, Sergeant, I'll have your stripes for dinner! What's the meaning
of this?" His face was blotchy; his eyes protruded from beneath
a thick forehead.
"The
officer is acting on my orders, Major." Maigrey spoke quietly.
She'd been standing quietly. The major hadn't even noticed her.
The major
blustered and blew, then his gaze went to the woman's torn and
bloodied uniform, then to the features. The MP, watching closely, saw
the bluster fizzle out, saw the blood drain from the major's cheeks,
his jaw working.
"I—I
don't know what's going on—"
"Surprised
to see me alive? Or perhaps you think I'm a ghost? You must have a
lot of ghosts haunting you, Major."
The man
recovered his senses, said what he should have said in the first
place, except now it merely made matters worse. "You're
arresting the wrong person, officer. This woman was a prisoner aboard
our ship. I tried to capture her, but she got away from me and flew
off in a wrecked Scimitar before I could stop her!"
The MP was
elbowed from behind. Whipping around, he glared over his shoulder.
"Sorry,
sir!" stammered a red-faced marine, who'd been shoved into the
MP. A steady stream of men and equipment continued to surge through
the narrow
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