Stephen Berry - The Battle for Terra Two

The shuttle landed middeck, between the corsairs and the burning commando boats. As crewmen rushed by to take prisoners, the ramp lowered. D'Trelna and McShane stepped onto the deck, rifles in hand.

"N'Trol," said K'Raoda, hurrying toward D'Trelna, Z'Sha by his side, "move the atmosphere curtain in past those shuttles."

Barely perceptible, the shimmering air curtain advanced slowly past the inferno of burning spacecraft, stopping a few meters forward of the shuttles. Behind it, the flames winked out.

Where eleven silver ships had sat gleaming, eleven charred durasteel frames lay broken and buckled on the scarred decking.

Z'Sha looked at the air curtain. Shocked, he turned to K'Raoda. "Why didn't you do that to the corsairs, Commander? You could have spaced them all when they were marching along the deck. We'd have been spared all this." His hand swept the carnage.

"My uncle K'Zor served in the A'Rem Action," said K'Raoda as they walked toward newly landed shuttle. "He was aide to a planetary guard general. This general went to parley with F'Sal and his rebels, suspecting a trap. It was. The rebels wiped his guard, held him and my uncle prisoner for the rest of the war. Even F'Sal was surprised. 'Why'd you come, knowing it was a trap?' he asked. 'Why didn't you lure us with a hologram, then strafe us?' "

Z'Sha smiled faintly."I looked into that clever thug's dope-widened eyes and I said, 'Because then there'd be no difference between you and us.'

"The older one gets, Commander, the greater the risk of being dosed with one's own words. A good man in a tight spot, K'Zor. How is he?"

D'Trelna and McShane stood watching as the crewmen foamed down the two burning commando boats, knocking down the fires. They turned as K'Raoda and Z'Sha arrived.

"Somehow, Commodore, I'm not surprised to see you," said Z'Sha. "You seem quite recovered."

"Thank you. I am."

He turned to K'Raoda. "Casualties?"

"One hundred and eight as of now, sir."

"You look like hell."

"Thank you, sir."

"Send a force to the bridge. They were trying to put an assault force in there through the forward section-four lift access. We wiped most of them, but…"

"We thought they might try for the bridge, sir." K'Raoda rubbed his throat. "That contingency's covered."

"No sign of K'Tran," said a voice over K'Raoda's communicator.

The commander looked at the line of prisoners being marched past. Stepping over the corsair bodies littering the deck, he stopped a large, bearded prisoner with commander's pips on his collar.

"Where's K'Tran?"

The corsair made an autoerotic suggestion.

"He's heading for the bridge, isn't he?"

Recognition flicked across the corsair's face, replaced by impassivity. It was enough. Waving prisoner and escort on, K'Raoda turned back to D'Trelna. "There's probably a very surprised corsair commander on our bridge right now."

"You can kill Captain K'Tran, Commander," said Ambassador Z'Sha, handing his pistol, butt first, to K'Raoda, "but I don't think you can really surprise him."

K'Tran and his last seven corsairs stepped from the lift. Leaving four men in the corridor, he led the others through the ragged hole in the bridge doors.

The bridge was empty, except for A'Tir, who sat at the engineering station. Seeing who it was, she lowered her pistol and turned back to the complink. "You didn't take the ship," she said, watching a readout.

"The ship took us," he said with a faint smile. Waving his men out, he sank into the adjacent comm officer's chair, pistol in his lap. "You found the bridge abandoned, of course."

"Of course." Frowning, she typed in a long series of numbers.

"They've switched control to Engineering, tied up the complink with all sorts of authenticators."

"Right."

"You're now trying to break through to computer and restore control to the bridge," he said. "Knowing you won't make it, that they're on their way."

"One must try."

Blaster fire sounded from outside. "Coming from both access corridors and the lift!" said a hurried voice over K'Tran's communicator. "Too many of them."

"Give it up, J'Lar," said K'Tran, standing. "We've had it."

The firing stopped.

"Weapons through the door, now, or we'll gas you!" K'Raoda's voice came from the corridor.

"A good run, friend." K'Tran smiled as A'Tir rose from the console. "But no paradise world for us, now."

"It was a good run," she said, returning his smile. "Friend."

Together, they walked to the door and pitched their weapons into the corridor.

"Your ships are taken," said D'Trelna. "Of the three hundred and eighty-four raiders who followed you here, all but sixty-two are dead." He sat behind his desk, looking up at K'Tran and A'Tir, duraplast security bond around their ankles and wrists.

"Commodore…" began K'Tran.

D'Trelna's fist slamed the desk. "Silence! You are slime! You betrayed humanity to serve the S'Cotar. You still serve the S'Cotar. And you serve something else." Reaching down, he picked up the brainpod, slamming it onto the desk. It rolled over the edge, stopping at K'Tran's gleaming black boots.

"A mindslaver," said D'Trelna. "There's a great bloody mindslaver out there-where?-one of the lost Imperial quadrants? And it's hired you to keep it supplied. Correct?"

"We don't betray confidences, Fats," said A'Tir.

"You're aware of the Fleet Regulations regarding corsairs?" said the commodore coldly.

"Quite liberal," said K'Tran. "The condemned have a choice of death by blaster, poison, disintegration, spacing or hanging."

"We'll be giving you and your lot a fair trial next watch. You'll be found guilty, condemned to death and executed immediately after the trial. You might want to consider your death preference."

He reached for the door button, then paused. "Do you remember me, K'Tran, from before the war?"

The corsair nodded. "You were a smuggler-blue seven sector. I was senior patrol officer, commanding four frigates. You wouldn't pay protection, so I came after you. Almost got you-twice."

"Three times. You were good-one of the best, in fact. Why'd you turn?"

K'Tran shrugged-an unnatural action with his hands shackled behind him. "When the S'Cotar wiped Second Fleet, we were cut off from any known jump path home. We raided loyally for a long time-shot up S'Cotar supply convoys, hit their occupation garrisons. Captain T'Ral was killed. We fought on. Finally we annoyed them enough to bring a whole sector fleet down on us. It was a very clever trap, well-baited. All they had to do was open fire and we were history. Instead, they had a talk with us-with me.

Guan-Sharick himself. He pointed out that humanity was doomed. I could save myself and my command, he said, if I served the S'Cotar. After they won the war, we'd be given our own star system, plus whatever booty we'd taken."

"Ridiculous. They'd have killed you the instant they were through with you."

"Easy for you to say, D'Trelna. The choice was either to die nobly, uselessly, or to go on living for a while. I'm a pragmatist. I chose life."

"Life," said D'Trelna thoughtfully. "And your crews- what did they chose?"

"Second Fleet were prewar conscripts-the street scum of a dozen worlds. Good soldiers, properly led and disciplined, but no fanatics. None of us were fanatics."

"So you made a stand for life and against fanaticism, by raping and pillaging in the service of genocidal biofabs. Is that your defense?"

They said nothing.

"Then, after the S'Cotar were defeated, you kept on raiding."

"We were hunted men," said K'Tran. "Though doing quite well, raiding commerce and outworlds. We have bases on the edge of civilization-places where money buys respectful silence."

"And the mindslaver?"

"We never met," said K'Tran. "The S'Cotar provided us with the brainpods and an advance against collections."