Crown of Slaves

obvious. Not for the first time, Gideon was faced with the problem that the new converts had certain ingrained attitudes which made their conversion an uncertain proposition. Even Gideon, at times, found it hard not to think of them as 'Scrags,' though he himself had been the one to forbid the term in the ranks of the Select.

'We gave our oath in the name of the Lord,' he said curtly, almost snapping out the words. 'Such an oath cannot be violated.'

If the Scrag-Gideon shook off the term; the 'Select from the War Against Unholiness'-was in the least bit abashed by the admonishment, he gave no sign of it. With all the casual arrogance of his genetically enhanced breed, he simply grinned at Gideon and made a slight shrug. The gesture was aimed at his fellow converts, obviously enough. As if to say: it's kind of silly, if you ask me, but we'll not argue the point.

Gideon decided to let the matter slide. For all that they frequently annoyed him with their slack attitude toward doctrine, the new converts were simply too valuable to risk alienating them with overly harsh and frequent instruction. Once again, he resigned himself to patience.

'We will obey the order to stay away from Zilwicki,' he repeated. 'That oath is binding upon us. But-but!-like all binding oaths, it is also specific. Since we are not heathens, we will accept that the limit applies to all Zilwickis. Even including his bastard daughter.' He bestowed a glare on all the occupants of the crowded room, being careful not to single out the new converts. 'Is that understood?'

One of his men-an old Faithful, this one, not a new convert-got a pained look on his face. Understanding the meaning of that expression, Gideon smiled coldly.

'Given that we did not specifically mention her by name, I think we can allow ourselves some latitude here if the tactical needs of the moment require it. She may not be harmed-not seriously, at least-'

One of the new converts had a sly smile on his face. Understanding the meaning of that also, Gideon scowled at him. 'That includes possession, Zyngram!'

The Scrag-it was so hard to avoid the term, especially in one's private thoughts- responded with that same casual shrug. This time, Gideon decided the issue needed to be pressed. He was willing to be patient about doctrine, but not slack.

'Do not trifle with me,' he growled. 'We do not recognize the heathen notion of 'rape,' to be sure. But since the heathens do, and we gave this oath to a heathen, we will respect that boundary. Not because we respect the heathen, but because we do not cavil with God. Do you understand?'

He waited until the new convert nodded. 'Good. The girl may therefore neither be seriously harmed nor possessed. Beyond that, however, I see no reason we are obliged to stay away from her entirely as we must Anton Zilwicki. If she happens to be present when the time comes, I'm sure it will not be difficult to simply thrust her aside. If she suffers a few bruises in the process, so be it.'

He picked up the remote control for the HV. 'For the moment, concentrate on what is important.' The images from the recording sprang back into life. Gideon's glaring eyes focused on one of the figures.

'My sister,' he hissed, 'conceived in female deceit, born and raised in whore-worshiping apostasy. The moment Zilwicki is not around…'

Chapter 10

'Galaxy Caravan, we're not going to tell you again,' the harsh voice said over the com. 'Cut your drive and open your hatches, or we'll blow your ass out of space!'

'Are there actually people this stupid in the galaxy?' Lieutenant Betty Gohr demanded under her breath as she watched her display.

'It would appear so,' someone replied, and she looked up quickly. Apparently, she hadn't spoken quite as softly as she'd thought she had, and Commander Joel Blumenthal, Gauntlet's tactical officer, gave her a crooked smile.

'I'm sorry, Sir,' she said. 'It just… I don't know, offends my sense of professionalism, I suppose, to see even a pirate do something this stupid. I like to think that it takes at least a modicum of intelligence to be able to figure out what buttons to push on the bridge.'

'He does seem just a tad less than brilliant,' Blumenthal acknowledged. 'On the other hand, we are doing our best to encourage him to screw up by the numbers.'

'I know,' Gohr said. 'But still, Sir…'

Her voice trailed off, but Blumenthal understood exactly what she meant.

HMS Gauntlet wasn'teven coming close to setting a passage record for the voyage from Manticore to Erewhon. Exactly whose idea it had been to assign the cruiser to ride herd on the unofficial convoy was something the captain hadn't discussed with any of his officers. For all Blumenthal knew, Oversteegen might have arranged it himself. After all the casualties they'd taken in Tiberian, not to mention the routine transfers which always afflicted a ship's company when she was put into yard hands for major repairs or a refit, they needed all the exercise and drill time they could get. So it would have made sense for the captain to arrange-or at least to cheerfully accept orders-for Gauntlet to make this long, slow, circuitous trip, trundling along with half a dozen lumbering freighters. It had certainly given them plenty of time to train!

And he might just have seen the merchies as bait in a trap, Blumenthal thought privately. Especially if he still has as many questions as I do about what happened the last time we were out this way.

If that was what the captain had been thinking, it seemed to have worked… sort of. At least they appeared to have caught a pirate of sorts, although judging from the emissions signature Blumenthal's tracking section was picking up, whoever this was certainly wasn't whoever sent out heavy cruisers to do his dirty work.

'We're getting a better read on them, Sir,' he said, turning his chair to face the command chair at the center of Gauntlet's bridge. 'Judging from the impeller signature, CIC makes her tonnage around eighty to ninety-five thousand tons. Her active emissions seem to fit fairly well with something that size, too. From what we're picking up, her sensor fit is pretty close to completely obsolete, though.'

'How close?' Captain Oversteegen asked.

'It's almost certainly inferior to prewar Peep hardware,' Blumenthal replied.

'In that case, Sir,' Commander Watson put in, 'calling it 'obsolete' is entirely too kind.'

'I'm inclined t' agree.' Oversteegen studied his own repeater plot for a handful of seconds, then shrugged. 'If his sensors are that bad, then I suppose we really shouldn't blame him for fallin' for our little ruse. On the other hand, even the worst sensors in space are goin' t' see through our EW if he gets much closer.'

'Sir,' the com officer said, 'whoever it is is hailing us again. Basically the same demand as before. Should I keep stringing him along?'

'Still no identification from his end?' Oversteegen's tone seemed almost disinterested, but his eyes never left the red icon on his plot.

'No, Sir.'

'Well, that certainly seems t' establish that he's not anyone with official standin', doesn't it?' the captain murmured.

Which it did, Lieutenant Gohr conceded. Of course, the fact that Gauntlet-Galaxy Caravan, as far as the other ship knew-had so far refused to obey its orders ought to have suggested to anyone with the brains of a rutabaga that she wasn't exactly what she seemed to be, either. The pirate vessel had been within its missile range of Gauntlet for well over twenty minutes, during which time Oversteegen had steadfastly declined to cooperate. Instead, he'd continued to 'run' deeper into the Shadwell System's gravity well, drawing the other ship steadily farther and farther away from the G5 system's twenty-light-minute hyper limit. Any genuine merchant skipper would have been trying to break back out across the hyper limit, since her only possible hope of outrunning the smaller, handier vessel would have been to escape back into hyper. But the legitimate merchantmen under Oversteegen's escort had crossed the hyper limit a half hour after Gauntlet, and the warship's apparently suicidal course was designed to suck the pirate after her, instead of them, while Lieutenant Cheney, her