voyage that had been immensely successful. Stven had changed the ship’s beacon code after each stop, something completely illegal and unknown within the rest of the Empire, and it seemed to be helping, but a pattern had emerged: inbound legs to each world had been free of threat, but somehow the Chessori were always on their tail when they left, regardless of how careful they’d been during meetings. Early jumps were dangerous, and he fretted. He couldn’t keep it up forever without risking the ship, but there was no ready alternative.
Stven had made a number of changes to crew assignments over the many months they’d been together. Knowing that a confrontation with the Chessori was inevitable, he’d decided to train the Great Cats to fly the ship. They already had the basics, but he wanted them to use the full capabilities of the net. That meant the rest of the crew was out of the net, but that was okay if it kept them alive.
The skills of the Great Cats grew logarithmically with access to the net. No longer did they operate guns manually. They had the full benefit of targeting data, tracking, and communication with their captain, the Great Cat Borg. Gordi’i and Kali’i, Rappor’s gunners, had the AI throw everything at them that it could, and the cats’ performance now was second to no one within the fleet.
Gortlan, the engineer, trained Tarn in the process of changing the beacon code of Rappor. While they worked on that, Stven and M’Sada improved their own skills of keeping the net alive without an AI. The AI had to be completely shut down when changing the beacon, and the two on the bridge had their hands full managing the ship without its assistance. Krys was brought in to help, and though her mechanical skills were not good, she could alert them to problems as she prowled the ship through the net.
Stven was confident that each position now had at least one backup, and the Great Cats would take over completely if they encountered the Chessori mind weapon.
Rappor landed at the civilian port on Sangia IV, and Stven went by himself to the operations office to log in his arrival.
“I’ll need a complete manifest,” the agent told him.
“You need what?”
“A complete manifest. New procedures,” the creature told him, “and I’ll need to log in your captain’s certificate.”
Stven hesitated, then listed fictitious names for Krys and Tarn. Since at least one Great Cat would have to accompany Krys to any meetings she set up, he simply listed Great Cat instead of a name.
“Their kind are not allowed here anymore,” the creature said as he examined the document. “He will have to remain aboard.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Stven said angrily. A small puff escaped from one nostril, but he did not apologize. “My passenger is a wealthy socialite. Her father will fire me if I let her out without protection.”
“I’ll put you in touch with a protection service. Their fees are substantial, but they’re good.”
“I think I’ll bring the cat instead.”
The creature looked at him closely. “I don’t recommend it, Captain. It won’t make it past the perimeter of the port alive.”
“Who’s going to stop a Great Cat?”
The creature lowered its voice. “I don’t like it either, but that’s the way it is. Look around on your way back to the ship. The port is well-defended.”
“Look, her father is a friend of Admiral Stebbenz. Are you going to buck his authority when she calls him?”
“Stebbenz is dead. His replacement instigated the new rules. Sorry.”
The man’s communicator buzzed. He took the call, then looked askance at Stven. “It appears there’s some irregularity with your certificate. Please proceed through the door over there,” he said, pointing down a long corridor.
“Hmm. I think I’ll wait on my ship. If someone has questions, they can find me there.”
He turned and left, his communicator to his mouth the moment he went through the outer doors. “Trouble, M’Sada. Get ready for an immediate departure, and do not ask the port for permission.”
He hurried across the tarmac, but it was a long way to go. Before he’d gone far, several vehicles with armed police came around the terminal building and headed in his direction. The moment they did, two Great Cats descended the ramp at a dead run toward Stven, weapons belts strapped to their bodies. Stven made a quick decision and unfolded his wings, took several running steps, and lifted a few feet into the air. Dragons were not fast, but they were faster in the air than on foot. He was half way to the ship when the port guards opened fire, and one of his wings was hit. He went down, stumbling as his four massive legs took the shock, then he was up and galloping for all he was worth.
Return fire came from the ramp. To his surprise, it was Gordi’i and Kali’i, each aiming two long-barreled blasters from semi-exposed positions at the top of the ramp. All three vehicles were damaged in the space of a few heartbeats, and the police were forced to continue on foot. With a second look at the Great Cats, though, they turned back and took defensive positions behind their smoking vehicles.
Weapons appeared in the hands of the Great Cats, and they opened fire on the vehicles, forcing the guards to keep their heads down. The primary focus of the guards was the cats, but Stven was hit again just as he reached the ramp, the shot ricocheting from the scales on the top of his head to detonate against the ramp. He went down, out cold.
Moving an unconscious dragon was not an easy thing to do. Gordi’i and Kali’i each raced to his side, but they could not budge him. The cats were returning to the ship, each covering the other as they retreated, when two stingers headed their way from the terminal building. Resembling small tanks, the handheld weapons of the cats would be useless against the stingers.
The top turret on the ship opened up, fired twice, and both stingers exploded. The guns traversed to the damaged cars, and the police hiding behind them gave up the fight, running for the protection of the building. The cats joined Gordi’i and Kali’i and managed to haul Stvens’ body onto the ramp. The moment the ramp closed, the ship lifted.
M’Sada and Tarn were in the net, and they were soon joined by Krys. She took the bottom battery of two guns, while Tarn stayed with the top battery. The moment they were away from the port, M’Sada angled the ship toward space.
“Two Empire fighters just lifted from the military port,” Tarn said, almost casually.
“They’ll have a slight speed advantage,” M’Sada answered, as they left the planet behind.
The two fighters gradually closed the gap. “They’re holding position, and they’re holding fire, but they’re in range,” Tarn said. “Our aft shields are full up. Permission to fire?”
M’Sada, busy with flying the ship, thought hard. The trailing fighters were within range, but they weren’t firing. Why not? His upper hands began a rapid preening of his two long antennae as he considered. A couple of answers came to him immediately: either there were other ships ahead that would do the job, or these two wanted to get farther from the planet before firing.
A chill suddenly ran through his body, and the preening stopped. There definitely were ships ahead of him, but they were a long way out. There was only one reason he could think of that would cause the ships behind him to delay firing. They would be using a weapon they did not want the people on the planet to know about, and there was only one weapon he knew of that fit that description: the Chessori mind weapon.
“Cats to the bridge,” he ordered over the communicator. “Crew, standby to disconnect from the net.”
The moment the cats arrived, M’Sada briefed them, then handed the net over to them. Borg was captain, and Kross and Trist each manned a gun battery. The changeover wasn’t a moment too soon. One moment M’Sada was staring at the screens on the bridge, and the next he was rolling across the floor in agony. So, too, were Tarn and Krys.
Borg was cagey. He left the ship on its original trajectory, making it act as if no one was at the controls. The two fighters approached without even putting up their shields, and Kross and Trist opened fire simultaneously, destroying both ships. The mind weapon stopped, and M’Sada and Tarn slowly came to their senses. Krys did not.
M’Sada staggered back into the net, replacing the cats with himself, Kali’i, and Gordi’i. Tarn took one look at Krys and immediately went to her. She was unconscious, her breathing irregular. “She’s in trouble,” he shouted to M’Sada. “I’m off to sick bay.”
“She comes first, Tarn. We’ll mind the ship.”
