"Thornton, Esposito, you're with me. The rest of you, get these people out of here. Try to avert panic, but keep them moving." Singling out one bulky sergeant, he added, "Wagner, you're with the ambassador."
And then, without another word, the captain was gone. His officers began working with the crowd, clearing the room, trying to keep people moving in a somewhat orderly fashion. As Dina Martel came up alongside them, Hawkes turned from her, asking the sergeant, "So, Mr. Wagner, what do you suggest?"
"If the scum runners are on schedule, I'd say they're already on the ship. Any second now they're gonna breach one door or another."
"Ambassador," said Martel urgently, "shouldn't we be headed below like everyone else?"
"Plenty of time for that," answered Hawkes, suddenly turning on his heel and walking toward the bar. Wagner and Martel followed. Grabbing up an overturned bottle of brandy from the counter, the ambassador said, "Sounds to me like going out into the hall right now is just asking for trouble."
"I'm just a sergeant, sir," answered Wagner. "But I'd say if these nut grinders are actually after you . . ." Hawkes's left eyebrow went up. The sergeant noticed, adding, "News travels fast, sir."
"And rumors faster," agreed the ambassador. "And I'm not one to argue." Lifting the bottle, Hawkes inspected the label, asking, "So what are we going to be facing here?"
"Hard to tell, sir. When they board, they like to move fast. Get your target, get out. You know the drill. Nobody likes to fire off rounds in space; no matter how deep inside a ship you are, you can never tell what you might damage. Boarders come in with pikes, swords, shock sticks . . . maybe a few low-caliber weapons. . . ." The large marine turned his own electronic staff over in his hands. "For the most part it's usually a hand-to-hand operation."
"But what makes you think the ambassador is their target?" asked Martel. "If they wanted to kill him, why not just destroy the ship?"
"Can't trust a deep blast. Single target can always escape in a lifeboat. Awfully hard to track down in deep space. Contract kill needs confirmation." Martel turned away, taken aback somewhat by the marine's cold logic.
Ignoring their conversation, Hawkes asked, "You ever been in one of these fights before?" Without waiting for an answer, Hawkes reached out and righted an overturned glass. Then he caught it and another nearby tumbler in two fingers and dragged them both across the bar. As he filled the first one, Wagner admitted, "No, sir." The ambassador handed him a glass, saying, "Well, me neither." Picking up the other, he clinked it against the marine's, saying, "Here's to our second one, eh?" Wagner smiled, saying, "Aye, sir."
Both men threw back their drinks as a scream pierced the air of the dining room. It came from the hallway, and was followed by a chorus of other shouts. The first had been a death cry, the others merely the panic of the witnesses. Setting his glass on the bar, Hawkes said, "I'd offer to buy you another, Sergeant, but I think the bar is closing."
The marine casually flipped his glass over his shoulder. Hefting his staff, he narrowed his eyes, testing its weight in his hands, and said, "Sir, it's just possible I might have a bottle in my own quarters."
The sound of more screams came to the two men. There was no doubt that people were dying. Martel looked from Hawkes to Wagner. The ambassador's hand dropped to his sword as he said, ' 'Well, then, Mr. Wagner . . . you lead the way. We'll be happy to follow."
Two men in light armor came through the door into the dining room. Both held bloody-edged weapons. As they moved in fast, the marine started to cross the room. Holding his staff in a tight across-the-body defense, he hunkered down into a concealing crouch. Without turning, he said, "I'll pick up this check, sir. You watch my back."
Wagner and the first two pirates clashed. The big marine came out of his crouch less than a yard away from the closest target. Swinging his right foot back, he moved sideways, allowing the pirate to run past him. Then, quickly bringing his staff up behind the man, he made contact at the base of the pirate's skull. The blow loosed a devastating electrical charge into the man's body. The pirate screamed. Spittle flew from his mouth and the air went heavy with the smell of burning ozone as the pirate dropped his weapon and fell to the ground.
The second invader shifted direction to cross in front of Wagner. The marine maintained his stance and snapped his left hand out, driving the other end of his staff into the approaching pirate's face. The invader was lifted off his feet. His face plate, along with his nose and the left side of his skull, shattered. The sergeant had to twist and then jerk his weapon to free it from the man's head.
"Ambassador!"
Hawkes reacted to Martel's shout. Three more pirates had entered the dining room from somewhere behind the bar, and a half dozen more poured in through the front door. Seeing that Wagner was going to have his hands full with his own half dozen, Hawkes left his aide near the bar, and moved forward to block the trio attacking from the rear. He drew the British Pattern sword and held the blade before his face, sizing up his adversaries.
"There's the target," said the middle man, pointing at the ambassador. Hawkes pursed his lips, thinking, Well, that settles that.
The first one to reach him swung for the ambassador's midsection with the blade of his halberd. Hawkes blocked it with the flat of his sword, then, before his opponent could react, ran his hand swiftly along the pole and cut into the man's fingers,
