Opening his eyes, Hawkes could see more pirates swarming in the door toward Wagner. The bulky sergeant had gotten a table between himself and the latest wave of attackers. With his staff still crackling at full power, he swung back and forth in wide arcs, keeping his three current adversaries in check. Yet as he caught sight of the two coming up behind, he shouted out, "Lady—can the ambassador be moved?''
"Yes," Martel shouted back.
"Then move him out of here," called the marine. Two pirates blasted at him simultaneously but he caught the energy from their weapons in the containment field of his own, and slung it back at them. The move killed one of them instantly, and gave the other second thoughts about firing again.
"Do it while you've got the chance."
Still weak, Hawkes protested.
"We can't leave. Can't leave Wagner behind. Mustn't . . ."
Martel shoved forward until the ambassador's arm lay over her shoulder, and pushed Hawkes back toward the bar. Forcing his steps, she told him, "Forget it. If we don't get moving like he said, we'll be as dead as he is."
"But he's not dead," Hawkes answered vainly.
"He's close enough."
As the pair got behind the bar, they heard the marine's weapon discharge again. Screams came from the invaders' ranks. With that one shot Wagner had taken out a third of the pirates in the room. Unfortunately he had had to deplete half his weapon's energy to do it.
"Go! Go on, gooooo!!" he screamed.
Martel could hear the marine's voice urging them into further retreat as she got the ambassador to the back door leading to the galley. Pushing him through to the other side, she worked feverishly to get the doors blocked. The desperate aide had managed to get only two of the eight batten locks in place when she heard another massive discharge from Wagner's staff. The sound was muffled by the closed doors. So was the marine's dying scream that followed.
"Shit."
Throwing herself to the floor, Martel got to the other doors, slamming their base locks into place. Then she stood quickly, slapping the remaining two lock bolts upward into their ceiling plugs even as the first of the pirates slammed against the other side of the doors. Martel jumped back, startled, even as Hawkes moved forward to get her.
"Come on," he growled.
His voice was thin, tired, but he was able to move and think again. It was all he needed. As quickly as he could, the ambassador slid his sword back into its scabbard. Then, still carrying the dead pirate's energy staff, he pulled his aide through the kitchen. Pointing to anything holding liquids throughout the galley, he yelled, "Break all the magnetic connections. Spill everything you can."
Martel watched as Hawkes shut down all the safety magnets he could, deliberately emptying all the cooking pots, storage bins, and sinks within his reach onto the floor. His aide helped him as best she could, not knowing what else to do. Behind them, an ugly noise tore at the doors.
"Sir," she cried, "they're going to be through any minute."
"Then let's get finished, shall we?"
His dress uniform covered in a dozen layers of slop, the ambassador splashed through the messy ruin he had made of the floor. Martel saw him heading for the drop hatch and hurried to follow him. As she joined him at the crew emergency exit, she found him working with a dinner knife on the controls of the pirate staff.
"Drop through," he ordered. "I'll be right behind you."
"But, sir . . ."
Hawkes pried open a panel in the weapon, immediately digging into the wiring below.
"Don't argue with me, woman. Jump!"
The aide's eyes darted across the littered room, now a dripping mess. She could see that the doors at the far end were going to give any second. She could see also that the ambassador was bracing for his own jump. Before he could order her a second time, she stepped into the escape slide.
At the same moment, two of the doors at the other end of the kitchen burst open. Shouts and curses flooded the room. Hawkes probed farther into the staff's circuitry. He could hear the invaders' heavy, armored boots splashing through the galley. Then, suddenly, he heard a hissing click inside the staff.
A split second later, the weapon went into overload, burning the ambassador's hands. Hawkes hurled the staff as far as he could, stepping into the drop exit. The sparking weapon hit the floor, sinking into wet slop just as the ambassador's foot left the floor.
Electricity shot across the deck, through the spilled soup and drinks and dishwater, up into the metal tables, and of course, into the pirates as well. Hawkes dropped down below eye level just as the room began to fill with smoke and the smell of burning flesh.
* * *
"MR. AMBASSADOR," SHOUTED THE CAPTAIN OVER THE overwhelming noise filling the area, "I really don't think you should be down here!"
"With all due respect, sir," answered Hawkes, "if we don't get that ship out there, it's not going to matter much where I am. I won?t be alive to appreciate it."
"Your opinion is noted, sir," answered the captain. "You two can join the rubble line. That's our top priority."
The ambassador and his aide moved over to join the ranks of crew and passengers working to clear the debris clogging the main fighter debarking tunnel. The massive bay area was a noisily echoing nightmare—one filled with blowing steam, flashing lights, and the smell of escaping hydraulic fluid. As Hawkes and Martel joined the work force, they saw Jarolic in the same lineup, but no one else from dinner.
The ambassador and his aide had found their way to the fighter bays without too much trouble. Hawkes's first assumption had been that if the pirates had indeed come aboard looking for him, his best bet was to go where they
