Vision of the future

'Listening for trouble is part of my job,' she said tartly. 'What is this 'not quite' drill of yours?'

'We're coming up on the Episol system and the world Dayark,' Karrde explained. 'There's a fair chance we'll run into some trouble when we come out of hyperspace.' Shada looked out the viewport. 'That rogue pirate gang Bombaasa told us about?'

'Possibly,' Karrde said. 'Word of our voyage has undoubtedly preceded us.'

'Not to mention word of your identity,' Shada said.

Karrde's lip twitched. 'Regardless, after that ship we spotted hanging around our Jangelle course change point, I thought it best if we hit the Episol system prepared.'

'Sounds reasonable,' Shada said. 'Except for the part about you not thinking I needed to be informed.'

'I didn't think there would be anything you could do,' Karrde said mildly. 'Unless they board us—which I guarantee they will not do—there won't be any hand-to-hand combat.'

'Hand-to-hand is hardly my sole area of expertise,' Shada said stiffly. 'Or didn't I mention I'm fully qualified to handle those turbolasers of yours?'

The whole bridge had taken on an air of watchful silence. 'You hadn't mentioned that, no,' Karrde said. 'But at this point it's largely irrelevant. The turbolaser bays are by necessity somewhat exposed, and if there's trouble I'd rather have you here where it's—well—'

'Where it's safe?' Shada finished for him. 'Why, because it might not be pirates waiting for us out there?'

Dankin turned half around from the helm to look at Karrde. He opened his mouth as if to speak, thought better of it, and turned back around again.

'It's not Car'das,' Karrde said, his voice carefully controlled. 'Not here. If he was going to hit us at a distance, he'd have done so already. That means he's decided to wait until we reach Exocron.'

'It's always nice to have something to look forward to,' Shada growled. 'In that case, let me take one of the turbolasers. I'm at least as good as Balig—probably better than Chal.'

'We could put Chal at the spotting station,' Dankin murmured. Karrde's lip twitched, but he nodded. 'All right, we'll see what you can do. Dankin, tell Chal to come back and take over spotting. H'sishi, how are we for timing?'

[We are four minutes one-half from arrival,] the Togorian at the sensor station said, her yellow eyes studying Shada with unblinking intensity.

'You'd best get up there,' Karrde said to Shada, nodding toward the bridge door. 'It's turbolaser two.'

'I know,' Shada said. 'I'll check in when I'm ready.' Three minutes later she was strapped into the control console facing the big transparisteel bubble, running a prefire checklist and fighting back twenty years' worth of ghosts of other such battles, first with the Mistryl and then with Mazzic's smugglers. With most of those battles she'd been lucky enough to be on the winning side. With the others...

'Shada, this is Chal,' the young man's voice came through her comm headset. 'You ready?'

'Almost,' Shada said, watching as the last of the self-check lights went green. 'Yes, ready.'

'Okay.' If Chal was annoyed at having been summarily kicked out of his post, it didn't show in his voice. 'Stay sharp; we're counting down now. Starting at ten... mark.' She listened with half an ear to the countdown, her hands resting on the controls, her eyes already starting the combat scan pattern her Mistryl instructors had taught her so long ago. The count reached zero, the mottled sky flared to starlines and shrank to stars—

And with a terrific jolt a laser bolt slammed hard into the Wild Karrde's side.

[Seven targets waiting,] H'sishi snarled, the tone of her voice giving Shada the mental picture of all that gray-white fur standing on end. [Small attack vessels— Corsair-class.]

'Confirmed on number and class,' Chal added. 'Bearings—' The targeting recitation was drowned out in the hissing roar of her turbolaser as Shada swung the weapon around and fired. One of the Corsairs, trying to sneak in under the freighter's docking bay, caught the burst squarely on its left flank and flashed into dust. His wingman, dodging most of the debris, scrambled wildly for distance but succeeded only in flying straight into a burst from Griv's turbolaser. What remained of the craft continued outward on an inertial trajectory, blazing like a flying funeral pyre.

'Two down!' Chal crowed. 'Make that three.'