the idea of navigating it around the galaxy solo.
Face it, Riss. You're getting lonely.
Fine. So, since this is your goddamned daydream, who in your past would you mind playing bunkie with?
She ran back a year, didn't come up with anybody who fit her standards.
Damn, woman. You've been too long with inadequate loving. Perhaps you ought to�
The blast broke her thoughts, and she was on her feet, headed for the forward control room. Whatever it was, it'd been close enough to rock the ship on its landing skids.
She keyed a screen, swept the area, found where the blast had gone off.
Not far outside the yard, somewhere very damned close to Transkootenay's headquarters here on Sheol.
Riss ran for her cabin, slid into a coverall, lifted her always-ready combat harness from a hook on a bulkhead, had it on, picked up the blaster under her bed, and was headed for the lock, fingers automatically loading the weapon.
She was the first, but Goodnight, Baldur, Grok, and then King showed up shortly.
All of them except King were armed, and they went out the lock and down the ramp toward the scream of sirens and the roar of flames.
One of Transkootenay's buildings had exploded, and fire cascaded upward.
Baldur saw Reg Goodnight, gazing aghast at the flames, grabbed him by the shoulder.
"What happened?"
"Don't know," Goodnight said. "But that's� that was� the mine claim center. Gone. All gone."
He was about to say more, then saw a helmeted policeman, carrying a long tube.
"What is it?" he called.
The cop started to ignore the question, then realized who had asked it.
"Some kind of rocket launcher, sir."
"Let me see it," Baldur said.
"Do what he says," Reg said, as the cop hesitated, then passed it over.
"Recognize this?" Baldur asked the others.
"Sure," Riss said. "Used ones like it myself. Standard-issue Alliance bunker buster. 90mm, shaped charge. Makes a good-size hole in anything.
"If it's got white phosphorus back of the warhead," she went on, "it'll also raise a fire.
"Like this one."
"Was anyone hurt?" Jasmine King asked.
"We can't find the watchman," the policeman said. "Other than that, no."
"A nice, clean little shot," Chas Goodnight murmured.
"Indeed," Baldur said. "Destroying all records of who owns what piece of real estate, and who is permitted to work that claim. It was a good choice of target, guaranteed to make any miner in the system suddenly realize he has nothing in the way of anything to hold him here."
He motioned the others away from Reg Goodnight and the cop.
"And I think we can now posit what our opponents' final goal is: to close down Transkootenay's operation, and drive every miner out of the system, I would assume, so that these unknowns can then move in."
"High-graders one, heroes zero," Grok said. "We should think about evening that count as soon as possible."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SIXTEEN � ^ � It was weekend in Sheol, and the bars were just warming up to a nice, loose rhythm.
No one was quite sober, no one was totally drunk when the eighteen ships dove in-atmosphere, coming straight down on the city.
They flared a few hundred meters above Sheol into four perfect fingers-four formation, with two other ships on high cover, and came over the city just above the rooftops.
Miners and citizens screamed, dove for cover, even a few prayed, all sure their doom was here, that the raiders were now directly attacking what passed for civilization.
Friedrich von Baldur stood outside the Boop-Boop-A-Doop, beaming proudly.
His belt com came to life.
"And how was that?"
Baldur keyed his mike.
"Very fine, Mr. Spada. Very fine, indeed. You've trained your crews well. Now you can bring it on home for a drink."
"Fine for the others," Spada's voice came back. "Ask M'chel for me if this armpit's got anything interesting in the way of teas.
"Come to think, ask her if she wants to go have it with me. She can have alk if she
Face it, Riss. You're getting lonely.
Fine. So, since this is your goddamned daydream, who in your past would you mind playing bunkie with?
She ran back a year, didn't come up with anybody who fit her standards.
Damn, woman. You've been too long with inadequate loving. Perhaps you ought to�
The blast broke her thoughts, and she was on her feet, headed for the forward control room. Whatever it was, it'd been close enough to rock the ship on its landing skids.
She keyed a screen, swept the area, found where the blast had gone off.
Not far outside the yard, somewhere very damned close to Transkootenay's headquarters here on Sheol.
Riss ran for her cabin, slid into a coverall, lifted her always-ready combat harness from a hook on a bulkhead, had it on, picked up the blaster under her bed, and was headed for the lock, fingers automatically loading the weapon.
She was the first, but Goodnight, Baldur, Grok, and then King showed up shortly.
All of them except King were armed, and they went out the lock and down the ramp toward the scream of sirens and the roar of flames.
One of Transkootenay's buildings had exploded, and fire cascaded upward.
Baldur saw Reg Goodnight, gazing aghast at the flames, grabbed him by the shoulder.
"What happened?"
"Don't know," Goodnight said. "But that's� that was� the mine claim center. Gone. All gone."
He was about to say more, then saw a helmeted policeman, carrying a long tube.
"What is it?" he called.
The cop started to ignore the question, then realized who had asked it.
"Some kind of rocket launcher, sir."
"Let me see it," Baldur said.
"Do what he says," Reg said, as the cop hesitated, then passed it over.
"Recognize this?" Baldur asked the others.
"Sure," Riss said. "Used ones like it myself. Standard-issue Alliance bunker buster. 90mm, shaped charge. Makes a good-size hole in anything.
"If it's got white phosphorus back of the warhead," she went on, "it'll also raise a fire.
"Like this one."
"Was anyone hurt?" Jasmine King asked.
"We can't find the watchman," the policeman said. "Other than that, no."
"A nice, clean little shot," Chas Goodnight murmured.
"Indeed," Baldur said. "Destroying all records of who owns what piece of real estate, and who is permitted to work that claim. It was a good choice of target, guaranteed to make any miner in the system suddenly realize he has nothing in the way of anything to hold him here."
He motioned the others away from Reg Goodnight and the cop.
"And I think we can now posit what our opponents' final goal is: to close down Transkootenay's operation, and drive every miner out of the system, I would assume, so that these unknowns can then move in."
"High-graders one, heroes zero," Grok said. "We should think about evening that count as soon as possible."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SIXTEEN � ^ � It was weekend in Sheol, and the bars were just warming up to a nice, loose rhythm.
No one was quite sober, no one was totally drunk when the eighteen ships dove in-atmosphere, coming straight down on the city.
They flared a few hundred meters above Sheol into four perfect fingers-four formation, with two other ships on high cover, and came over the city just above the rooftops.
Miners and citizens screamed, dove for cover, even a few prayed, all sure their doom was here, that the raiders were now directly attacking what passed for civilization.
Friedrich von Baldur stood outside the Boop-Boop-A-Doop, beaming proudly.
His belt com came to life.
"And how was that?"
Baldur keyed his mike.
"Very fine, Mr. Spada. Very fine, indeed. You've trained your crews well. Now you can bring it on home for a drink."
"Fine for the others," Spada's voice came back. "Ask M'chel for me if this armpit's got anything interesting in the way of teas.
"Come to think, ask her if she wants to go have it with me. She can have alk if she
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