Vision of the future

didn't recognize. Taking advantage of the lull, he backed up until he reached the edge of the square. So far the swoopers hadn't shown any inclination to draw the weapons they were undoubtedly carrying, but that could change at any time. Watching them closely, he dropped his hand to his blaster—

'I don't think so,' a gruff voice said in his ear.

Carefully, Karrde turned his head, the caution dictated by the hard muzzle suddenly pressed against the small of his back. Three hard-faced men in Security Legion uniforms were standing there, the last of them in the process of closing the concealed doorway that had opened up in the building behind him. 'You're just in time, Legionnaire,' Karrde said to the leader. This was probably futile, but he had to try. 'My friend's in danger out there.'

'Yeah?' the other said, pulling Karrde's blaster from its holster. 'Looked to me like she was the one who started it. Anyway, trying to bluster your way in to see Bombaasa is a crime all by itself around here.'

'Even if Bombaasa decides he's glad we dropped in to visit?' Karrde countered. 'You'd be in serious trouble.'

'Nah,' the Legionnaire said, sticking the appropriated blaster into his belt and coming around to Karrde's side. 'That's why we got these,' he added, hefting his weapon as he stepped a prudent meter away from his prisoner. It was, Karrde saw now, not a blaster but an old Merr-Sonn tangle gun. 'If Bombaasa decides he wants to see you, hey, we just cut you loose. If he doesn't'—he grinned evilly—'then you're already wrapped for burial. Real convenient.' He gestured with the tangle gun. 'Now shut up. I want to watch this.' Throat tight with frustration, Karrde turned back to the square. The Wild Karrde's crew wouldn't be able to get here fast enough to help, even if he could get to his comlink to alert them. He could only hope that Shada was as good as she claimed.

And at that moment, their private consultation finished, the swoopers attacked. They didn't all charge at once, as Karrde had rather expected them to. Suspecting perhaps that Shada would try to maneuver them into head-on collisions if they did that, two of them instead began tracing out a loose encircling ring around her while the third drove hard and straight directly in. Shada stood her ground, but just before the maneuvering vanes reached her chest she dropped back flat onto her back. The thug whooped with glee as his swoop shot past over her, a triumphal shout that turned into a squawk of surprise as Shada tucked her legs to her chest and kicked hard straight up, catching the swoop just forward of the directional thrust nozzles and bucking the swooper right out of the saddle.

It only took a second for him to get himself reseated and regain control. But in the enclosed area of the square that was a half second too long, and with a horrendous crash both swoop and thug slammed full-bore into one of the buildings.

The Legionnaire beside Karrde whistled softly. 'That's two,' he commented. 'She's good.' Karrde didn't reply. Shada was back on her feet now, and the two remaining swoops had pulled their circle a little farther back as if afraid to let her get too close. If they decided that she wasn't worth the risk of another wreck and pulled their blasters...

And then he noticed one of the swoopers glaring at the trio of Legionnaires; and with that single look he realized that the use of blasters was now completely out of the question. With this many witnesses watching, pride alone dictated that they deal with her without weapons. The two swoops were still circling. 'Come on, Barksy,' the head Legionnaire called. 'Not afraid, are you?'

'Scrub it, murk,' one of the swoopers snapped back.

'That's Lieutenant Murk to you, scum,' the Legionnaire murmured under his breath. Abruptly, Barksy swung his swoop out of the circle and charged inward. The same basic technique his predecessor had tried, and Karrde found himself holding his breath as Shada again fell back onto the sand ahead of its advance. Surely the swooper couldn't be so stupid as to try the same trick again.

He wasn't. Even as Shada hit the ground he pulled back hard on his handlebar controls, the swoop's nose rearing up as the vehicle slid a couple of meters farther before pulling to a hard stop. With a triumphal shout, he swiveled a hundred eighty degrees and brought the swoop's nose down hard on the spot where Shada had landed.

But Shada was no longer there. Instead of simply hitting the sand and staying there as she had the last time, she had instead thrown her body into a convulsive, wavelike movement as she hit the ground, her arching back and legs bouncing her off the sand and up into an impossible-looking hand-and-foot grip on the underside of the swoop. Somehow she managed to hold on through the spin and nose-slam; and as the swooper leaned over, open- mouthed, for a closer look at the empty ground where his victim should have been, she unhooked one of her feet from its perch and landed a solid kick against the side of his head.

Beside Karrde, the lieutenant clucked his tongue. 'I don't believe it,' he muttered, clearly as stunned as Barksy had been before Shada's kick cleaned all confusion from his mind. 'Who is this bahshi, anyway?'

'One of the best in the business,' Karrde assured him, pitching his voice in the sort of low, confidential tone that just naturally seemed to go along with the half step he took toward the man. Another step the same size, he estimated, and he would be close enough. 'Actually, that was nothing,' he added, lowering his voice still more and simultaneously taking that extra half step. 'Wait till you see what she does to this one.'

He threw a careful glance to his side. The lieutenant was hooked, all right, staring in glassy-eyed fascination at the drama in the square, waiting to see what magic the mysterious woman would pull next from her sleeve.

The last swooper seemed to make up his mind. Pulling out of his circle at the far end of the square, he leaned low over his handlebar controllers and charged. Shada feinted left and then dodged right, the end of the jutting thrust nozzles missing her hip by bare centimeters. The swooper spun the vehicle hard around, clearly hoping to catch her from the side with the long nose of the swoop. But he had misjudged his speed, and the swinging maneuvering vanes scythed past her with plenty of room to spare. It took him a few more meters to kill his spin and momentum,