auctioned by the police. Most places advertise for co-pilots, to work without pay for four years with the guarantee of a ship at the end of it — if they're still alive.
But ships are expensive, even if they're from the scrap heap.
Alex was impressed and startled by the audacity of the theft that was being proposed. In response to Rafe's plan, the fugitive, who had been hiding out in the dead craft for nearly a year, had managed to accumulate the fuel, food and power to make the brief hyperspace jump to the interstellar junk yard. All that had been missing was the right co-pilot, someone who could actually do the trading without arousing suspicion.
They hauled the mummified body of Henry Bell to the small tour-ship and set the craft adrift.
'Whatever happens now,' Elyssia said as they took positions at the bridge consoles, 'You're going to get an 'offender' status tag. But Rafe thinks if you respect the body they'll just post it at Tionisla itself. Destroy the body and they'll probably notify most worlds in the vicinity, and we can't afford that. Here goes…'
On the screen, the small tour-ship drifted away, and the crowded monuments of the cemetery swung past in a dizzying array of bright and shadowy surfaces. Alex studied the scanners and monitors carefully. They had only tiny energy supply to fore and aft screens. A blast or two of laser power.
No missiles, of course. The craft was still locked on to the Dodo space station, whose position was shown by the darting bright point in the tri-axial grid map.
Slowly the Cobra turned, and began to move gently, silently towards the edge of the spiral grave-field.
The scanner scanned, and Alex watched it hard, alert and apprehensive for the tell-tale wink of its moving green light. The duller-colours of the tombs and stationary craft crowded the scanning screen, moving slowly past.
'There's something I ought to tell you about uncontrolled WitchSpace jumps…' Elyssia said, and Alex felt a moment's irritation.
'I already know. Thanks. Besides, wherever we're going we're only going a tenth of an LY. And that's reasonably safe.'
Elyssia sniggered. 'What god or goddess do you believe in?'
'Randomius Factoria…' Alex muttered.
'Me too…'
They looked at each other.
Alex laughed and said, 'Repeat after me: Lady of Fate, we adore you…'
'Get us to Rafe's, we implore you…'
The monuments and monoliths drifted by. The star field widened ahead of them. 'Nearly there,' Elyssia breathed. 'Get ready for the jump…'
Alex watched the scanner.
And two bright points of light appeared, moving rapidly towards them.
'Company!' he said, and Elyssia swore loudly.
'We've not got much laser power,' Alex said.
'Use our laser, and any chance of trading goes. Those are police. They may not be Vipers, but they're police nevertheless. Damn!'
Ahead of them the starfield was almost clear. The two security craft veered apart, to close in from the sides. Elyssia began to count down, finger resting on the simple trigger that would dispatch them Faraway. 'Ten seconds…'
The Cobra vibrated and whined, unused to activity after many years in stasis.
'They're closing — fire coming in!'
'Five seconds.'
The Cobra screeched as a laser shot glanced off its hull. The shield energy, low as it was, vanished! The attacking craft overshot. It's colleague fired and missed, manoeuvring with difficulty around a large, henge monument that slowly revolved at the edge of the cemetery.
'Three…'
'Lining up… fire coming in!'
The two craft were together again. Their laser fire played in the void around the Cobra.
'Two…'
There was a strike, a scream of pain, the vessel almost rocked out of control. And then-Star tunnel!
Elyssia flopped back in her chair. Alex cheered. When he looked at the woman he saw that she was drenched with sweat. When he reached a hand towards her, his fingers were shaking uncontrollably.
Chapter four
'You've got a ship,' said Rafe, 'You've got money. You've got a co-pilot who's a better shot than you, but not for long I hope. Now it's up to you, young Alex. And one thing more. If Jason were here he'd have this to say.
In time of trouble, forget common sense, forget the force. Do what you goddam feel like. If it don't work, one thing's for sure. You ain't going to be around to regret it.'
Seated at the astrogation console of the Cobra, Alex watched Rafe's home on the forward screen. It was a much modified, and quite bizarre-looking, Anaconda cruiser, its cargo bay dented, its fuel-scoop ripped open, its hull lights blinking not so much with meaning as with disrepair.
Rafe had not invited him aboard. At 0.1 Iight years from Tionisla he was safe from detection, and here he stayed in the cold and silence of interstellar space, collecting ships, fuel, food and weapons. Three Mambas — small fighters — were tethered to the service bay on the Anaconda's hull, robots crawling all over them as they patched- up the shot up vessels. Unlike humans, robots could work without arc-lights.
When the graveyard ship had arrived at Rafe Zetter's private system, Rafe's holoFac had appeared in the cabin.
'It takes a lot of effort and a lot of wile to get supplies for the sort of mission you're about to go on. I'll fuel your ship enough to get you to Isinor. But from then on you're on your own. You're going to need missiles, operational lasers, an energy bomb, a fuel scoop… a whole bunch of other things.'
'An iron ass,' Alex muttered with a smile.
'That's right. And I don't want to hear from you again until you've scalped that Cobra that killed Jason.'
'Why are you doing this for me?'
'I'm doing it for Jason,' Rafe said. 'And for others besides. And listen Alex. Don't you go worrying about Raxxla. Not yet. That comes in time…'
'But why did he say it?'
'To let me know he trusted you. Your father reckoned you have it in you to become one of the Elite. That's good enough for me.'
Alex's head span. What was this old man saying now? Not just that Jason Ryder had been an йlite combateer, but that he'd seen the same potential in his son?
In SimCombat Alex had often built up a success and survival score that had awarded him the simulator's highest accolade: a victory roll over the mock-up of the old Earth city of London. But he had never thought that in real life he would ever achieve a combat status higher than 'dangerous'.
To be йlite…
A dizzying prospect. And a nerve-racking one, with all that it implied of not just fighting off free-booters, but of spending time as a bounty hunter, deliberately hyperspacing into dangerous planetary systems and waiting for pirates to come to you; looking for trouble, in other words, boosting your combat status to the maximum by advertising yourself to killers, and outgunning them.
'One thing's for sure,' Rafe went on drily. 'Unless you get there, unless you become йlite, you'll never get to Raxxla. And you'll never know exactly what your father was searching for.'
'I don't understand.'
'Were you aware of his involvement in The Dark Wheel?'
Shock after shock! The Dark Wheel was a semi-legendary space unit, star-riders who made it their business to seek the truth behind the plethora of myths and romantic stories that filtered back from all corners of the
