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Clearwing opened her mouth to scream, but the Honor screamed first. Metal shrieked as her ship rammed into the huge Harvester vessel. She had scarcely registered their speed when they hit. She quivered and tried to brace herself for death.

  The universe shattered around her into shards of gold, purple and bronze. The Honor shuddered and squealed again, but it was the Harvester ship that broke. Clearwing belatedly realized that Freefall had transferred all of their power to a ramming field as they struck. She checked the figures on the exchange and was impressed. The transition was flawless and perfectly timed to maximise the speed at which they hit. Another tremor ran through the nest and she trembled with it. She longed to look up at her leader and be reassured by his calm competence, but no one in the nest could move. Automatic restraint fields gripped them firmly as the Honor ripped through the vitals of the Harvester vessel.

  Clearwing’s scanners continued to gather data and she found it impossible to look away from the visual feed. It showed a medley of twisted parts - pieces of the enemy ship flying past. She flinched when a bulkhead cartwheeled by and still their momentum drove them on.

  Something duller and less garish than the Harvester interior filled her visual. Drops of blood flew into Clearwing’s face and that spray seemed to hang in the air around her long after their screeching passage had left it behind.

  The realisation that people were dying around her was enough to bring her to the brink of tears. She blinked furiously when her data streams blurred. She was rescued by a gentle touch on her shoulder. The restraints had eased and she looked up at the understanding face of Senior Gull. He nodded to an external projection. It showed broken spars and a motionless bulkhead before them. The only movement came from drifting clouds of debris.

  We’ve stopped, his mind stated calmly. The leader will need information on the remaining ships. He wants you to gather it. Data lock on both, with full tracking and weapons-defense analysis. He knows you won’t lose them.

  Sah, isn’t that the Data Senior’s job, Clearwing projected in response, and Gull looked grim.

  Yes, it is, and he’ll be given full chance to do it, but the leader wants your sure eye on this fight too.

  Clearwing flicked a finger in understanding. FarFlight had sent Gull with his private orders to avoid humiliating her superior. She looked across at Data Senior BackBeak, who was watching the Leader anxiously. FarFlight raised a finger in his direction and he slumped with obvious relief. He straightened immediately and spared Clearwing a triumphant glance before turning to his console. She tried to remain unperturbed by his malice as she powered up her own data locks.

  “Very good, Sub,” Gull murmured, and then wafted away with a touch of his boot to Clearwing’s chair.

  However, the young officer scarcely noticed. Her mind was already busy firing orders at the computer. Her mental commands created new images in the air before her, but the Data Senior was too distracted to notice.

  “One ship’s behind us, sah,” he informed the leader grimly. “It’s in wait mode outside the breach we made and now blocks our retreat.”

  Freefall acknowledged the information with a casual lift of his finger. He seemed utterly relaxed, but Clearwing wondered whether the faint crease in his forehead was a sign of alarm. It was impossible to know, because the leader kept his mind and emotions as carefully blocked as ever. “Where’s the other ship, DS?”

  The Data Senior looked back to his projections and stiffened. His dark brown hair stirred and writhed around the ship’s crest braided through it. “I’m not sure. It was there a moment past, beside the other Harvester vessel. It’s disappeared. Sah. They must be hidden again. In their camouflage field.”

  Freefall looked sharply down at his officer. “Are you certain-sure? Isn’t that a faint engine trail in your data?”

  “That’s simply an engine residual. It’s too weak to be fresh. I must lodge a formal protest against you, Ship Leader. I can’t do my job with your constant interference. I ask you to refrain from trying to interpret my data.”

  The silence in the nest was absolute. Freefall’s response was calm, but his words were clipped and something in his tone made Clearwing shiver. “I will refrain from interpreting data, DS, when I’m dead. Can you tell me anything about where that second ship could be?”

  The two males glared at each other and Gull rose slowly to float behind the Data Senior. That officer’s back was tight with anger and he gripped his console until his knuckles showed gold.

  “They’re in camouflage,” he choked. “It’s all that’s possible. That’s why they’re gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Noplace. Just gone.”

  Freefall held the other’s gaze for a final second, but now his voice was as calm as his face. “I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough. You’re dismissed, DS. Go home and tell your family they can buy you rank, but not ability.”

  The Data Senior’s expression was outraged, but the Leader ignored him. Instead, he spun his chair and dropped to face Clearwing. “Where are they, Clear?”

  The Data Sub had to rip her gaze away from her disgraced superior, who was plucked from his seat by Senior Gull. She gulped and her eyes met Freefall’s. She swallowed again and struggled to remember what she was doing.

  “Your tracers, Sub,” the Leader prompted and she jerked in response. Hair whirled around her, along with her holograms.

  “Yessah. I’ve got them. The missing ship did leave that engine trail, sah. It’s faint for two reasons. They used low power and there’s interference from the hull surrounding us. They slipped my lock 72 seconds past, when the remains of the ship we rammed masked them. They’ve not reappeared and any trail from an active engine vanished. I think they’re holding still and hiding on the far side of this wreck. I’d say they have us bracketed, one ship behind and the other ahead.”

  Freefall raised a finger in instant agreement. “I thought such. It’s also perfect-as. They think they have us trapped, because we only have two options. They’re waiting for us to run back through the breach, or to blast our way free and come out far-side. So let’s surprise them. Tactical, engage all lock clamps and tractor fields. I want us totally attached to this hulk. Be prepared to release at my signal. NS, plot this course.”

  He flicked a string of co-ordinates toward the Navigation Senior’s console. She integrated them smoothly into her display and her mind diverted all free power to the engine.

  “Ready, sah.”

  Freefall raised a finger in acknowledgment, but his attention was fixed on his own data projection. Clearwing brought up his feed and saw that the Honor was well embedded in the remnants of the Harvester vessel. There were fitful life signs from pockets in the ruptured enemy hull that made her flinch, but the Leader ignored them. He highlighted the remaining two ships instead. One was clearly visible and stationed beyond the rent made when the Honor had rammed its companion. It floated ominously against darkness, but occasional flashes from the disintegrating craft around them lit its hull in an inappropriately cheery display.

  Clear grimaced at its positioning. Its leader was clearly wary and had placed his ship close enough to cover their exit, but far enough away not to be easily hit in return. The Harvester had a clear advantage, with the ability to maneuver in open space.

  Her attention shifted to the faint engine trail that had been left by the other vessel. It vanished as it passed to the far side of the wreck around them, but its likely destination was obvious. It must have been stationed to attack if the Honor tried to blast through the hull on that side. The Harvester’s path had been tight and close to the ruptured ship as it tried to hide from her scan, but she was sure it was still there and using the wreck for cover.

  Above her Freefall sat back comfortably then stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankles. His hand rose toward the high-braided collar of his purple uniform, as if to tug at it, but he managed a relaxed smile instead and looked up at navigation.

  “Execute,” he or
dered, and the NS instantly obeyed.

  There was no sense of physical movement within the shielded nest, but projections wheeled around the crew as the Honor drove forward. It leapt from rest to full propulsion and pulled the Harvester hulk with it. Clear would have been crouched on the edge of her seat, if her safety field hadn’t forced her into it instead. She lay there pressed flat and watched acceleration data.

  The Honor was deceptively powerful and had no difficulty pulling the pirate wreck to full speed. The linked vessels leaped forward together, but then the hidden kres ship pivoted. All drive shifted to one side and the dirty gold diamond spun, to throw one half of its ruined foe ahead, while the other turned into line behind it.

  “Release clamps,” Freefall ordered, and Clear blinked when the Honor dropped its hold on the straining hulk around it. What was the Leader thinking? The pirate ship would sail right on and eventually spin into them.

  However, when the fields were released the forward half of the enemy wreck was hurled into its hidden comrade. The flash of an explosion filled the nest and the kres ship shook. Clearwing was stretched flat on her seat again, while the world around her turned to red and the scream of tortured carbon mimicked the unheard cries of the dying. The Harvester ship that they had first rammed finally ruptured completely. One half spun away, while the other continued to disintegrate, along with the ship it had hit. Open space appeared before the Honor and Freefall ordered them forward. They soared away from the ruin around them and accelerated in a sweeping arc to come up behind their final target.

  

  The remaining Harvesters watched the displays in their nest with helpless horror. The target they were waiting for had reappeared in a way they had never anticipated. Their young Leader struggled with the shock of having their own ships used against them and abruptly being alone in what should have been another easy victory.

  “Evasive,” Lamidia screamed, and her NS shook off his horror to react barely in time.

  The intact half of their rammed mother ship spun through space toward them. Its considerable momentum powered its tumbling rush and Lamidia’s ship darted sideways before it. A glancing blow jarred one fluted wing, but the smaller craft staggered clear. Damage logos flashed in the air before the fuming leader and she cursed. “Where the Luck is that inbred kres?”

  “Coming round behind, Leader. They’ve got data lock.”

  “Full power evasive. Tuck us behind the remains of the Kill.”

  Her officer’s mind and fingers flew as he complied. The Reaper lurched forward vibrating and groaning from structural damage. The ship veered toward the tangled mass that was all that remained of its companions, but that shelter approached at erratic speed and Lamidia cursed again. She could scarcely believe their latest battle had been so quickly lost and her heart chilled at the truth in that thought. This battle was lost and even the chance of escape was slim.

  “Low odds are better than none,” she muttered, “and sometimes they pay best of all.”

  The nest abruptly brightened with the projected image of an energy pulse and the Reaper was slammed sideways. Lamidia felt her ship lift and split around her. The already damaged strut that used to curve to follow the hull disintegrated. Its loss caused a ship-long rupture and containment fields struggled to seal the breach. Lamidia sorted through the images floating before her, hands and mind flying as she absorbed data. She realized that the strike was not a direct hit and that the energy bolt had struck the remains of their defense screen. She traced its vector from the kres ship and it was clear that the miss was deliberate. The fleet vessel had aimed to one side in an effort to stun them with concussion from the blast. The kres captain clearly wanted prisoners as part of his victory. She snarled and felt wetness above her lip. She reached up to wipe her bloody nose and a streak of purple smeared her hand.

  “Curse all kres,” she choked. “Luck leave them forever.” She looked up at the sound of a com chime.

  The image of Freefall floated in the air before her. His expression was serious, even sympathetic, and she cursed again at the hypocrisy of the Royal Fleet.

  “A truly good fight, Leader,” he said grimly, and she sneered in response. “Your luck is lost today. We’re not here to be harvested. Kres will never be fodder for your arenas and auction pits. We demand the return of every slave and gladiator kidnapped from our territory.”

  Lamidia’s eyes widened and she pasted a look of bewilderment over her sneer. “What, me, Leader? Kidnap mighty kres? I deny your accusations and suggest you talk to the Lucks. I certain-sure shall. I demand instant communication with my embassy and-”

  “You are under arrest for violation of kres territory, attempted theft, unprovoked hostility and suspected complicity in the snatching of seventeen kres vessels,” Freefall interrupted coldly. “Make ready to be taken.”

  Lamidia tried a smile, forcing her lips upwards in an effort to look inviting, but saw instant disgust in her enemy’s eyes. She snarled in response and felt her bloodied lip curled back from her teeth. “Agreed, you win, kres. This time, cheat it. But I swear on my Luck that you’ll regret it. I’ll drakking make you sorry. Make you pay at any odds and make it deeply hurt. Do you hear, kres? Do you?”

  

  Freefall shook his head wearily and made a curt gesture to cut the communication. His image of the dishevelled mermaridian Leader vanished. He watched his display intently until the Reaper was in tow and his strike teams had boarded it safely. The strike senior relayed an image of Lamidia being dragged to the hold, biting and cursing. Freefall sighed and finally relaxed. A faint murmur of relief and congratulations sounded around the nest.

  “Well done, sah,” Clearwing said fervently, and he managed a smile for his newest officer before projecting his voice through the ship.

  “It's never a solo effort. You all did super. I need to be able to trust my crew and I do. Completely. There’ll be a docking bonus from me on set down. Don’t spend it all in bars.” He waited for the murmur of amusement to subside. “I also need to thank our newest officer. I’m certain-sure you’ll congratulate our new sub-plus, Clearwing Pinion. Her gain in rank is deeply deserved.”

  He looked down at Clearwing with a grin and she gaped back, while her hair stirred in embarrassment at the very public and unexpected promotion. Freefall laughed and the rest of the crew reached out with friendly minds or voices to express their pleasure. However, the general delight was marred by a touch of anger. Freefall managed to keep smiling, although he could feel his forehead crease. His mind traced the thread of malice into the link. He moved casually, as though stretching, and called up an ID. There were two crewmen floating there, just out of sight, Sub BackBeak and his older cousin, ex-Data Senior BackBeak.

  No surprise there, he mused, but not good either. Why does the aristocracy think it owns the fleet and can simply buy rank for its useless offspring? He sighed and stretched as his chair returned to its default position. Because it does and it can. Drak, where did I glide off course with those two?

  Freefall stretched again and almost groaned as fatigue hit him. Clearwing caught his eye with a shy smile, but he had no smiles left to return. “Good work, folks,” he stated. “You’re all on-rest. Shift crew has the nest.”

  Freefall rose slowly and had to concentrate to push himself across the open space and into his quarters. He exchanged a few words while drifting across the nest, but didn’t pause as he usually would. Instead he pulsed straight to his quarters and stepped through his door without looking back.

  6

  Hopes and Dreams