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The Grace leapt from passage and Free watched closely while Clear scanned the new system at speed. Her display was empty of danger-tags and he relaxed.

  “An ordinary binary system, sah. Seven planets, a dozen comets and our pirate limping for cover in a stellar cloud. He’s trying to make another point by edge-creeping around the system. I can follow his trail in, but I’ve lost his exact position. There’s too much interference.”

  “Not a problem.” Free smiled briefly, trying hard not to show too many teeth. Kres officers weren’t supposed to enjoy battle, not even victory. He glanced at his Tactical Senior. “Drop a mine in case he tries to flee back, TS. Use ten percent of ship’s power for it. Yes, Gull, I know we won't regain that in time for this fight, but I want to block all retreat.”

  “Of course, sah” his Senior growled, hovering behind tactical. “I remember the Arck’s order to kill all pirates. Mine deployed.”

  “Good. Set a course for far point, NS, and make it quick. Take us straight through system and into range of far passage. I want to beat our pirate there, understood?”

  “Yessah.” The officer turned to her display and traced their course with a finger, while mentally pulling full power to the engines.

  The Grace leapt forward and the twin suns grew rapidly larger, but Free felt sudden fear. Not his own, but one of the crew’s. His fronds lifted and instantly found the source. Clear. He dropped his chair closer in time to see her shiver. “DS?”

  She dropped her gaze and tapped her mouth nervously, but then looked up decisively. “Sah, something’s wrong.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel something’s wrong.”

  Free was annoyed, but turned to the Nav Senior without hesitation. “Slow to point six. They still won’t outrun us. DS, I suggest you study your display until you can place your unease. You’ve noted something and I want to know exactly what.”

  “Yessah,” Clear stared at her projected data while Free started at her. She seemed calm enough and only slight creases in her forehead hinted at any concern. She suddenly leaned forward in a wave of blonde hair. “It’s the orbits! Leader, the orbits are wrong for a binary system. They’re all misplaced, even the stars. Something else is affecting this system and it’s big. Super big. Whatever it is, it should show up. We should be able to see it and it should be right ahead of us.”

  Free was hit by a surge of alarm. “Gods, it’s camouflaged. The pirate dropped a camouflage field.”

  “But we could see him clear enough,” Gull protested, and Free shook his finger.

  “No,” Clear explained before he could. “He didn't try to stay hid himself. He had to run and knew we’d track him. He left a field generator to hide something else.”

  “What?” Free demanded urgently.

  Clear swung back to her console and her braided hair floated around her, but before she could act her data stream vanished. It briefly projected new figures and then defaulted back to the old set as they neared the limits of the deception field. The ship sped on to push past the camouflage, and she gasped when she finally saw what was really there.

  “Singularity plus!” Clear husked.

  “Drak,” the Nav Senior swore in panic and even Gull paled. He swung to look at Free, but there was no time to do more than exchange horror.

  The Leader dropped his chair and spun to face navigation, but before he could speak the Communication Senior cried out.

  “In-talk, sah, with kres priority codes.”

  Free looked up and finally failed to hide his shock when a projected message appeared in front of him. The crew forgot their horror too, amid a buzz of speculation, as an eerily familiar face filled the nest. The pirate hailing them was not only kres, but a kres who looked disturbingly like their Leader. He offered a sardonic smile and a mocking bow, while Gull spat a curse of recognition.

  “Reputation precedes me,” the pirate observed, and grinned insolently at the fleet senior.

  Gull started to retort, but Free raised a hand to silence him. The renegade kres bowed again, but this time the action seemed sincere.

  “Thank you. We’ve no time to trade insults. That’s a magnitude ten black hole and yes, you’re running straight in.”

  Free’s breath escaped as an angry hiss, but the pirate simply laughed.

  “No need for panic, Leader. You’re a thousand megs from the final-horizon. Even if things get bumpy from the tidal forces, you won’t disappear for all-times. At least not for a few seconds more.”

  A console flared red and warning lights appeared in displays around the nest. The ship kicked hard while its carbon hull groaned. “Relax,” the projected kres advised. “It's a rotating singularity and your ship will survive if you flow with that movement. Even if you're damaged, the fleet will certain-sure find you. You’re lit up like a Migration Parade.”

  The ship shuddered and its navigation console displayed reference points that abruptly wheeled across the nest.

  “You’re in the ergosphere,” Wing pointed out, “being pushed away from us. The lateral forces are impossible to resist, so just blast with them and you’ll burn free before the final-horizon traps you. I’m projecting a course and I suggest you act on it… now.” He grinned even more widely to hide the faintest tilt of his head, a brief gesture of respect that only one member of the Grace’s crew expected. Free gave a brusque nod in return, but, even before his cousin’s projection disappeared, he turned his attention to navigation instead.

  “Do it!” he ordered tersely. “Quick-as!”

  His NS diverted Wing’s course from analysis and ran it without further hesitation. Her display wheeled above her once more when the ship heeled over and joined its power to the irresistible thrust of a rotating black hole. The fullerene hull vibrated and Clear shook with it.

  “It’s all well,” Free said quietly. “The course is secured and plotted. This black hole is going to spit us out. Nothing gives a case of galactic indigestion like the Grace. You’ll be able to tell your children you blasted in and out of black holes and rode the dark tide.”

  Free smiled confidently, although his eyes flicked sideways to check the stress of the tidal forces and their effect on his ship. It screeched in protest, but he relaxed and his smile became genuine. Their course was so tight it would have been useless with any delay, but it was enough to fling the Grace free. He glanced up at Clear again and she gave him a warm smile, although her eyes were huge in a pale face.

  “Nice job,” Free mouthed, and the glitter returned to her cheeks. He looked away with a frown and paused to gather his thoughts. “I’ll be at rest. Collect our mine and take us back through passage. We’ll move on for a trap reset.” He raised a hand to peremptorily stop a comment from his Nav Senior. “I can see the hull damage. Limp back to passage and keep us intact.”

  Free pushed from his seat with such force that he hurtled straight across the nest. He had a glimpse of startled faces gaping at him from every angle before he shot through his door field. He entered his quarters at speed and gravity reclaimed him roughly. He landed with jarring force.

  “Drak. What a drakking day.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes while he searched for calm. The imitation sunlight that now fell on his face from a fake window did nothing to improve his mood. He was still far from relaxed when the door whistled softly. “Come,” he ordered and it was Gull who entered. Free nodded, but a smile was beyond him. “Yes?”

  “Sah,” the Senior began, and then hesitated. “This is awkward-as.”

  “Say it, or not, but find your mind.”

  “Yessah. I’m surprised you won't chase the bustwing who tried to feed us to a singularity. This ship can still match his. Why are we letting him go? It's not like you to quit.”

  “Maybe not,” Free answered softly, “but that’s my decision.”

  “Of course, sah. Whatever you say, that’s what happens. I was just concerned that it was uncharacteristic. I thought you might be… distracted.”
r />   “Distracted by what?”

  “By DS Pinion. With regard, sah.”

  Free took a choking breath, but managed to turn away without swearing. The temptation to throw his Senior from the room was incredibly strong and he had to struggle to resist it. Instead, he started to change, stripping off his tunic with precise, controlled motions. However, Gull ignored his leader’s tension and strolled to a couch beneath the illusory window to settle comfortably into it.

  “That’s absurd,” Free finally protested, bunching his tunic in his fists without realising he was crumpling the garment instead of storing it. “She’s one of my officers and I treat all my subordinates professionally.”

  “Ye, you do,” Gull agreed, “but I think that’s the problem. You’re trying to ignore Pinion and treat her as a casual attraction, but she's clearly much more.”

  Free turned away without answering and belatedly threw his creased tunic into compression.

  “I thought so,” Gull continued smugly, as if he thought Free had admitted something. 'You’re distracted-as. In my opinion, you’re well past the final-horizon of attraction to young Clearwing.’” He bared his teeth in a harsh grin, but his Leader was now methodically storing his boots and refused to look around.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Free said to the wall. “More-on-more, it’s impossible. I’ve made other commitments.” He turned to face his Senior and his mind was adamant. “Leave this, Gull.’

  His officer winced at the mental snap, but squared his shoulders and returned to his first concern. “All right, sah, but what of the other? Would you like to reconsider chasing that pirate?”

  “Pirate?” asked Free, and dragged his mind back to Wing. “Oh, the pirate. I said no. Let him go.”

  “Sah,” Gull began, but then hesitated, as if again unsure how to proceed. “He’s no longer one of us. He gave that away years past.”

  The Leader grimaced and some of the sadness he’d been hiding from returned. “I mean it, Gull. Although he's a pirate now and I hate how he lives, he had reason for his acts. And he’s still my cousin. As far as I’m concerned, that’s for all-times.”

  Gull’s hand slashed once in denial before reaching out to his leader in desperate appeal. “I beg you to reconsider. If you catch Nightwing, you can barter him for favor again. For all of us. Please, Lord, I beg you. It’s vital that you leave behind such childish loyalties. He brought you disHonor you never deserved and now brings you yet more danger-”

  “Stop.”

  Gull’s tirade seemed to stick in his throat and he blanched at the fury in his Leader’s voice. He tried again to answer, but faltered when Free raised a warning palm.

  “Stop mid-thrust, because I won’t hear more. I helped Wing of my own volition and I will never regret it. Never, Gull. Do you frond that? I could be stuck guano deep as a no-resources Rim leader for the rest of my career and still have no regret. I don’t give a tip if it’s treason, but on this ship my cousin is not an outcast and not disHonored. If you wish to disagree, I can release you to serve another leader. One more in favor with the Arck.”

  Free paused, but his fronds pummelled his Senior with a fierce demand to accept his terms. Gull stood still for some time, before bowing deep and slow. “Understood, sah. I’ve no wish to ship with any lord other than you and I regret my earlier words… it’s just…”

  “Yes?” Free prompted although his hands curled into fists.

  “It’s just… I never knew Nightwing, but I do know you. Know you very well, Free, and I care what happens to you. Your fate matters. To all of us, sah. It matters much.”

  “Oh.” Freefall felt his familiar tension ease and the hair hidden against his neck stirred. He was moved by his Senior’s loyalty and admitted, at least to himself, that he was overly sensitive to any criticism of his cousin or their past. “I’m sorry, Gull. You plucked a feather with that. Wing and I were raised together, you know. He’s my truest family and closest friend. Please remember such.”

  “Of course, sah.” Gull lifted his fist to his heart in salute and stepped quietly to the door. He hesitated there, as if tempted to say more, but Free spoke before he could.

  “Get Clear to send out a damping field soon-as.”

  Gull turned completely, with a frown. “Damping field, sah?”

  “Ye. Then get the DS to check our hull for an embedded tracer.”

  “A tracer, sah?” the older kres protested. “That seems extreme. Why suspect such?”

  Free grimaced in response and absently rubbed a scarred cheek. “That passage point kept triggering behind us because exotic matter was being fed back to it. Yes, I know there could be other causes, but it’s confirmed. We were warned by a certain kres. One you believe lacks Honor. Wing said we’re lit up and I trust him. I want it damped and stopped before we make passage.”

  Gull sighed and offered a grim salute. “A tracer signal does explain the passage activation. We’ll find it, sah and pluck it super quick.”

  “Good. Keep me in-loop, Gull.” Free flicked a weary finger in dismissal and turned away before his most competent officer launched himself through the field.

  The Leader listened for his departure and then tapped at his com to replace the false scene beyond his window. He seemed to look into space instead and the view suited his mood. The ship’s progress was painfully slow and his window showed a jagged sliver of stripped fullerene trailing past. He sighed and then groaned when his door whistled again.

  “Come,” he rasped and the door field wavered.

  A dark cane pushed through it, to tap its way into the room ahead of carefully placed feet. Grace shuffled into the gravity of Free’s quarters and he stepped forward to offer his arm. She leaned on him heavily while she hobbled to the couch and twisted awkwardly to settle on its edge. Free decompressed cushions behind her back and she clucked angrily at the prolonged assistance.

  “Nuff, nuff,” she complained, and pointed at the rug in front of her. “Sit.”

  “I’m well enough standing,” he said tersely, and her cane struck the floor by his foot.

  “Sit, boy. I’m here to make apology and my old neck can’t cope with craning at you.”

  “You wish to say sorry?” he asked in surprise, and she grunted assent.

  “Ye and I’ve no wish to do such staring at your groin.”

  “Indeed,” Free agreed hastily, and crouched before her without further argument.

  “Sparrow’s palace contact has sent news,” she said gruffly without further preamble. “News that Sharpeye has hidden with great care, but still I should have sensed it. I’ve failed you, Free. Truly, I might have failed every sentient.” She paused awkwardly and a few thin strands of hair stirred against her neck. “Arkyss Glow is with child. The Arck has an heir.”

  “You’re sure?” Free protested, and her brief shame vanished.

  “Are you daft, boy? Do you think I offer such dire news all unsure? As I say, so it is. The Arck has an unborn son, Arkyn Hawkeye FarFlight. The chick was declared his heir as soon as we went com-dark.”

  “Sharpeye no longer needs me,” Free stated with bleak realisation. “The Safe Successioners no longer need me.”

  Grace harrumphed in agreement. “Not enough to protect you, Free. Not when others of The Thousand plot your fall. I thought this news might bring you cheer.”

  Free blinked in surprise. “Cheer, when I can offer my crew no safe escape?”

  “Cheer indeed. Our barter power may be gone, but such leaves you free to follow your fronds. A true heart-match is now clear before you.”

  Free was silent, absorbing the implications of Grace’s suggestion, but then his lips thinned and his shoulders slumped. “No, there’ll be no such. This is no time for me to breed. I'll not place an innocent wife, or children, in harm's way. Plus, I still hold hope that Goldown will use her influence for us, at least enough to free my crew, if I hold true to our trade.”

  “Foolish, chick. No marriage will be offered now and I fe
ar Goldown’s power will free none of us. I feel the might of the throne is flexing and the previous attack on us was no matter of chance.”

  “That’s true enough,” Freefall informed her crisply, his composure restored by the conversation’s shift to shipboard matters. “We were lit bright as a supernova. Parts of our hull must have been honeycombed out, then filled with exotic matter and a pulser. A signal was screaming through passage space. That’s how we were found and it still offers trouble. We’ve only just damped the trace and we’re as slow as stalactite growth. An easy find.”

  “Anyone with the tracer frequency will search here?” Grace asked, and the quaver in her voice was more pronounced than Free had ever heard it.

  “Ye,” he answered more gently, “but thanks to Wing’s warning, we’ve a chance. Never despair.”

  Free was instantly fixed by a glacial stare. “I am not despaired, boy, I am vexed. By stupidity, both the Arck’s and mine. I knew that spacing with you offered Sharpeye a tempting double target, but I’d thought he’d not be fool enough to aim at it.” She stopped for an angry cluck and then flipped a hand in dismissal of their present plight. “He will regret this. Get us home, Free. Now.”

  “I’ll best try,” he answered grimly. Free rose to his feet, but, before he could help Grace up, a priority whistle shrieked from his console. He whirled toward the projected threat and his jaw set hard against fear. Stay here, his mind ordered even as he launched himself through the door.

  The nest was lit by the glare of a dozen scans and a main visual more chilling than the tiny replica above Free’s bedroom console. He gave it a glance, but kept moving, firing his com to rocket across the massive sphere. He flew past his crew without braking and slammed into the arm of his chair. The impact took most of his momentum, so that he could simply flip over the seat’s padded edge to take his place. The hologram surrounding him now claimed his entire attention.

  “Four ships,” Free observed breathlessly. “Formation three then one,” he added, but looked to Clear for confirmation of the visual data.

  “Ye, sah,” she answered tersely. “Three to the front will englobe us in ten point two minutes. One trailing those will close three minutes after. No, that’s changing. The last is the most fast. It’s gaining and will have us in weapons’ globe in ten point eight minutes. It also has more power than us, sah.”

  Free studied her constantly refreshing data for several silent seconds before settling back in his chair. “The last is the most-threat,” he murmured to Gull, now hovering at his shoulder. “But the near three are travelling too close grouped, so we take what ignorance offers and destroy them first. TS,” he continued more loudly, and the Tactical Senior’s face and fronds swivelled toward him. “Send power to detonate the mine we left behind on system entry. Will it damage all three ships?”

  The TS ran a rapid simulation and nodded a finger. “Ye, sah. They’re all at engine-max and close grouped. Shields are low-power and little defense. They’ll be intensive-hurt or worse.”

  “Good,” Free commented with a reassuring smile. “Then we’re left with one to one. Bend our course past that mine and on to passage-point. Let’s play at chase.” He relaxed into his chair and around him his crew moved smoothly to their work. The only concern he could sense came from the main data console. He raised an eyebrow at Clear and her eyes moved from side to side in negation. Their hull had already been damaged too badly to hold under the rigors of evasive flight and they were hopelessly outclassed by their fourth attacker.

  I’m sorry, Free thought and, to his amazement, Clear smiled. It was a simple smile, resigned, but content, and he actually grinned back. He realized that they were all facing death, but this time he refused to flinch.

  31

  Mutiny