Nigel Findley - The Broken Sphere

Berglund had never-quite-considered himself a pirate, preferring the term "privateer." Because of that sophistry, he'd never sailed under the neogi skull ensign favored by many other wildspace pirates. Now he found himself regretful. It would be so much more symbolic to officially strike his colors, so much more dignified. And dignity might be all he'd be able to salvage from this. Everything else was lost, maybe even his life.

Oh, well…. He sighed.

"Run up a white flag, if you please," he ordered quietly.

One of his few surviving crewmen hurried to obey.

*****

The din from inside the battle dolphin's main hull had fallen silent. Either the crew members left aboard were all dead, or they'd given up their resistance as useless. The Cloakmaster hoped the latter.

He focused his enhanced senses on the stricken gig, trailing its cloud of space flotsam. As he watched, a crewman ran an improvised white flag-it looked like half a bedsheet-up to the masthead.

"They're surrendering," he called back to Julia. "Get Beth-Abz back aboard. And see what we can do to get the Boundless moving again."

The beholder was back aboard the squid ship in a matter of a minute or two. Using its disintegrator ray to carve pieces of the battle dolphin's hull away, it freed the squid ship to back away from the drifting hulk.

Teldin kept the Boundless moving dead slow, maneuvering gently toward the wrecked gig, where the white flag still flew. As he came in alongside, he turned to Julia. "What in the Abyss do we do now?" he asked. "I don't know the protocol for this kind of thing."

"I do," she said grimly. "Send a prize crew aboard and bring the captain back here so you can accept his surrender personally."

The Cloakmaster nodded slowly. That'd give him the chance he wanted to question his attacker. "Do it," he instructed.

*****

Teldin was waiting on the foredeck when Julia, Djan-his forearm heavily bandaged-and two others escorted the enemy captain aboard the Boundless a couple of minutes later. He wasn't a particularly prepossessing man, the Cloak-master thought, a finger's span or two shorter than Teldin, but with a similar build. His hair and beard were a couple of shades darker than the Cloakmaster's own. Blood from a scalp wound was drying on his right cheek. Teldin found himself staring into the man's eyes, looking for some flash of hostility, some taint of evil, but there wasn't anything like that to be seen. His opponent looked like any other tired, wounded, defeated man, desperately trying to ding to those, shreds of his dignity that remained.

"I'm Teldin Moore," the Cloakmaster said. "And you are…?"

For a moment, Teldin could see the steel of command in the man's manner. "Captain Henric Berglund," the other answered formally. "I offer you my surrender."

"Accepted."

"What will happen to my crew?"

You weren't thinking about that when you escaped in your gig and left so many of them to their fate, were you? Teldin thought. He suppressed his distaste for the man and said simply, "Their lives are spared."

"Are any still alive in the hull?" Berglund asked.

"Some," Teldin responded. "Those who surrendered."

Berglund accepted that without comment. "Prisoners?" he asked.

The Cloakmaster shook his head. "I've got no space for prisoners, and nowhere to take them. You should be able to repair your gig"-he gestured to the small vessel alongside the squid ship-"and you're free to take it anywhere you want." He paused. " If you answer some questions."

"Like what?"

"Why?" Teldin asked earnestly. "Why attack my ship? You were after me, weren't you?"

The shorter man shrugged. "It was a contract," he answered. "Business."

Teldin pointed to the four cloth-wrapped bodies lined up along the port rail-Allyn, Merrienne, and two others slain by the battle dolphin's catapult shots. "Business!" he spat. "You killed my crew!"

"You killed mine," Berglund shot back.

"It's different."

Berglund remained silent.

It took immense effort, but the Cloakmaster forced himself to calm down at least a little. "All right," he allowed, "business. So who contracted you for this business?"

The pirate's lips twisted in a sarcastic smile as he shook his head.

Teldin ground his teeth. "Then what-exactly-were you contracted to do?" he asked. "Blow us out of space? Take us prisoner? What?"

Berglund still didn't answer.

"Interesting," Julia said. Teldin turned in surprise to look at his second mate. She was examining Berglund curiously. "Interesting that you have such loyalty to the people who hired you. After all, they sent you into battle against overwhelming odds, didn't they?" She nonchalantly indicated Beth-Abz, who was easily visible on the afterdeck.

"Your masters, the ones who hired you… they're the ones who killed your crew, aren't they?" she pressed. "I think you owe them nothing, least of all your loyalty."

The pirate was silent for a moment; Teldin could almost feel the intensity of his thoughts. Then he nodded. "I don't know who hired me," he said quietly. "I didn't recognize him, and I didn't ask. All that mattered was that his money was good."

Teldin took a step forward, intent. "What did he want you to do?"

"Take you prisoner," Berglund said flatly.

"And the others?"

"Put them to the sword, then scuttle your ship."

Business, Teldin thought. He struggled to keep disgust out of his voice. "And what was to happen to me?"

"I was to take you to a planet where I'd hand you over to some people who apparently want you quite badly."

"What planet?"

"Falx," Berglund answered.

"Falx," Djan said.

He, Teldin, and Julia sat in the Cloakmaster's cabin. The half-elfs wounded arm was swathed in bandages, supported by a sling. The ship's healers had done a little for it, but the first mate had insisted that they concentrate their attentions on the several crew members who were more sorely wounded.

"So where-or what-is Falx?"

Teldin glanced over at Julia. From the drawn, pinched look to her face, she knew all too well. "It's a planet of illithids," he told Djan simply. "They've tried once before- maybe more than once-to get the cloak."

Djan's eyes widened slightly. "Mind flayers, too?" he asked. Then he smiled faintly. "You certainly cast your net wide when it comes to finding enemies."

"Apparently," Teldin said dryly.

"So, what now?" the first mate queried.

"On to Nex," the Cloakmaster replied. "There's not much else to do, is there?"

Djan accepted that without comment.

Julia still looked troubled. "How did they know?" she asked. "How did they know we'd be coming? And how did Berglund know as much as he did about us?"

Good question, Teldin thought. It was one he'd been chewing on a lot during the day since they'd left the surviving pirates packed aboard their damaged gig. He shrugged. "Spies on the docks, I'd guess." His lips tightened. "Maybe even spies on board." He paused. "You know, now that I think of it, weren't the 'accidents' with the boom and the catapult a little coincidental? Djan," he said, turning to his first mate, "maybe you should look into that."

The half-elf looked back with a mirthless smile. "The crew's repaired the gaff boom," Djan said, "and they're working on the catapult. I had a chance to examine the damage before they began."

Teldin felt his skin grow cold, as if a chill wind had blown through the cabin. Even though he'd expected it, he didn't have to like having his suspicions confirmed. "Sabotage?" he asked quietly.

Djan didn't even bother replying, and he didn't have to. His expression was answer enough.

Wonderful, the Cloakmaster thought. "You know what that means, then?"