"Sharon," said Cole, "did Val give you any contact codes for the Pegasus when you first debriefed her?"

"A handful of them," replied Sharon Blacksmith's image. "Why?"

"Start using them. Let me know if anything you send gets a response."

"You don't really think it will, do you?"

He shook his head. "Not much sense cloaking your ship, however the hell they did it, if you're going to answer your subspace radio. Still, it's a first step."

"What if they do respond?" asked Sharon.

"Talk to them."

"About what?"

"Sports. Sex. The weather. I don't much care. Just keep them talking."

"So the Muscatel ships can pinpoint them?"

"Right. Now go do it."

"It's not going to work," said Christine as Sharon's image vanished.

"Probably not. But like I said, it's our obvious first step. Mr. Briggs, I want you to plot the courses of the three Muscatel ships and see exactly where they converge—and when."

"Yes, sir," said Briggs, going to work with his computers.

"Val," said Cole, "I need some input."

"What is it?" asked the Valkyrie as her image popped into existence on the bridge.

"You didn't tell me that the Pegasus had a cloaking device," he said.

"I told it to Security. You never asked."

"Is it any good? Most of them aren't worth the powder to blow 'em to hell."

"I never use it," she said. "It's an enormous drain on the power. The Shark would be crazy to use it for more than five or six hours unless he knew he could refresh his nuclear pile tomorrow." She paused. "I assume from your question that he's activated it?"

"Yes."

"Then it's obvious he smells a trap."

"Maybe he's just playing it safe. After all, he's a pirate and he's very near the Republic—and they love the notion of hot pursuit."

She took her head adamantly. "Not a chance. The Republic wants us a lot more than it wants him, and no one's bothering us, are they? If he's using the cloak, it's not the Republic he's afraid of."

"Okay, next question. We can't spot him. How are Muscatel's men able to track him?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe from neutrino activity or some emissions."

He frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why could they find it if we can't? Either it's camouflaged or it isn't."

"Different technologies specialize in different things," she answered. "You know that. Donovan Muscatel bought his ships from the Vapines of Romanitra II. They're humanoid, but they have different senses than we do. What's standard for their sensors might be impossible for the Teddy R's."

"Thanks for nothing," he muttered.

"I know how to cloak a ship," she said defensively. "I've never had to track one that was cloaked."

"Sorry to interrupt," said Sharon, her image appearing right next to Val's, "but the Pegasus, if it's there, doesn't respond to any of the codes Val gave me."

"Well, of course it wouldn't, not if they're trying to stay undetected," said Val. "You need my Captain's code."

"What the hell is a Captain's code?" asked Sharon. "I never heard of it."

"Every Starship Captain has one," said Cole. "Or at least every Captain should. Let's say that the enemy boards the ship and takes it over The ship is approaching the fleet, or just your fellow pirates as the case may be. You've got to be able to override the enemy's commands or they'll kill your friends and allies. Every captain knows how."

"It's not in my records," said Sharon. "Come to think of it, neither is yours."

"It's the one code that's never written down or locked in a databank, for obvious reasons," said Cole. "If the enemy, or a turncoat, car find it, it's no damned use." He turned to Val. "What will the Pegasus do if you transmit your code?"

"Nothing," said Val.

"Nothing?" he persisted.

"You're just talking about sending the code, not giving it any orders?" she said.

"Right."

"Then I stand by my answer," she concluded. "Nothing."

"How will you know the message got through?"

"The ship will acknowledge receipt of the code."

"By subspace radio?"

"By whatever means the message was transmitted," said Val.

"So if you radio it from the Teddy R, it'll send its acknowledgment back to the Teddy R?"

Her eyes widened in comprehension. "Yes."

"Give that code to Sharon."

"Not Christine?" asked Val. "She's at the main transmitting station."

"No, she's going to be too busy tracking the three Muscatel ships."

"But you want to send it right now?" asked Val.

"Hell, no. We're about to hightail it out of the system. We'll send it in about four more minutes."

"I don't understand," said Val angrily. "Are you going to help me take my ship back or not?"

"Not when we've got three other ships that are going to do it for us," said Cole. "Sharon, when you get the code, send it on a tightbeam to Moyer. I don't want it reaching the Pegasus, wherever it is, and triggering a response to us."

"Got it," replied Sharon.

"Then tell him to make contact with the Muscatel ships—we already know which code will work—identify himself, feed them the code on a tightbeam, and have their ships get the Pegasus to respond to their signal."

"Tightbeam or not, if it passes near the Pegasus, she'll respond," said Val.

"Then have him break the code in half, and transmit the second half first, kill the connection, and then send the first half in another message to a different Muscatel ship. That way whether the Pegasus reads the message or not, the two halves aren't going to jell in the right order." Cole walked over and glanced at the various monitors in front of Christine. "All right, let's get going. The Muscatel ships will enter the system in less than two minutes. I want that code on the planet in one, and I want us safely away before the shooting starts."

Val's and Sharon's images vanished us the former gave the codes to the latter.

"Pilot," said Cole, "get us the hell out of here."

"Where to?"

"Take us out three light-years, then stop and hold that position."

Wxakgini grunted an assent and set the ship in motion.

"Christine, keep monitoring the three ships. If this works, they're going to start shooting in the next couple of minutes. I want to be able to call them off before they totally destroy the Pegasus."

"That's cutting it awfully close, sir," said Christine. "One properly aimed shot could destroy it."

"Not likely," said Cole. "Val installed all kinds of defense mechanisms. One-on-one it could probably win a battle with any of Muscatel's ships, but I think three of them ought to at least cripple it." He turned to Briggs. "Mr. Briggs, the instant the first shot is fired, I want you to open a channel to Moyer, Nichols, and the Pepon. Make sure they keep in constant touch with their three ships, and that they call them off once the Pegasus is disabled. I don't want our Third Officer going after Muscatel for destroying her ship."

Next he contacted Forrice, who was in his cabin.

"Sorry to wake you up," said Cole, "but I need you."

"I wasn't sleeping," answered the Molarian. "You'd have to be a corpse not to know what was going on here."

"I haven't made any of the transmissions private," acknowledged Cole. "The crew has a right to know what's happening."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I need someone I can trust down in the Gunnery Section. And take Bull Pampas with you. He's still the best weapons mechanic we've got."

"You sure you don't want me on the bridge?"

"The bridge is going to have too damned many people on it," answered Cole. "I'm transferring control of the weapons down to Gunnery."

The Molarian nodded an acknowledgment. "What are your orders? Are we shooting the Pegasus or the three other pirate ships?"

"Neither," said Cole. "They're going to be too busy fighting each other to pay any attention to us."

"Then who are we expecting?"

"Hopefully no one," answered Cole. "But we're going to send some easily traced transmissions down to Riverwind. If the police or the military picks them up and traces them to us, it could be a problem."

"I don't think any police ships can stand up against us," offered Forrice.

"I don't think so either," said Cole. "But they're just cops doing their job. They're not the enemy unless they fire on us. While I'm in command, you'll fire on my orders only. If anything happens to me, use your judgment—and do what you can to avoid a conflict with the police."

"And if a military ship traces our messages back to us?" asked the Molarian.

"Blow it to hell and gone," said Cole. "Don't even wait for my orders. The second you identify it, fire. You can bet your ass they'll do the same to us as soon as they figure out who we are."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah," said Cole. "Don't miss."

The Molarian hooted his distinctive laughter.

"Now contact Pampas and meet him down there."

"I'm on my way," said Forrice, breaking the connection.

"Pilot, what's our position?" demanded Cole.

"Two and a half light-years out from Riverwind, sir," said Wxakgini.

"Sharon, does Moyer have the code?"

"Yes."

"Christine, has he sent it?"

"I can't pick up a transmission, sir, but one of the three Muscatel ships just made a minor course adjustment." She leaned forward, staring at her monitors. "They got it, sir! A second ship just changed course. Only a few degrees, but that's enough."

"Sir," said Briggs, "one of the Muscatel ships is transmitting a code every ten seconds—and a ship we can't spot is responding automatically."

Cole grinned. "The poor sonofabitch is probably searching high and low, trying to find a way to disable the response."

"I'd guess that the Pegasus is about halfway between the twelfth planet—the outer one—and Riverwind," said Christine, still studying her monitors.

"He's not going any closer to Riverwind," said Cole. "He's either going to make a break for deep space or he's going to turn and fight."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because everyone can read that response. Any police or military vessels in the area are going to want to know why he's cloaked, and he's already got his hands full with the three pirate ships. He doesn't want to have to protect his flanks and back too, especially since a Navy ship can outgun him."

"There it goes!" said Christine.

"What's happening?"

"He's fired a pulse cannon at the closest Muscatel ship."

"Did he hit it?"

"It's beyond his range," said Christine. "It's just barely entered the system."

"Okay, that's it," said Cole. "He's heading out."

"No, sir, he's firing."

"Christine, if you know it's beyond his range, don't you think he knows it?"

"Sir?" she said, puzzled.

"He's just trying to make them slow down and approach him a little more cautiously," said Cole. "That buys him a little maneuvering room. If they spread out and try to surround him, he'll only have one retreat route open. This way he's got half the galaxy—at least for another thirty seconds or so."

"There he goes," confirmed Christine.

"I thought we couldn't spot him."

"We can't—but the three pirate ships just increased their speeds."

"Deeper into the Frontier, of course?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right," said Cole. "Now we can sit back and enjoy the show."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"He's got to deactivate the cloak. It consumes too much power. If he's going to go at multiples of light speed, maneuver against three pursuers, and bring his guns into play, he can't keep the cloak on."

"Maybe he's just running, sir," suggested Briggs.

"Sooner or later he's got to face them," said Cole. "It might as well be sooner." He paused. "This isn't an act of piracy on Muscatel's part. It's a punishment party, and they're not going to call it off after what he did on Cyrano."

"Besides," added Val, her image popping into existence once again, "he's the Hammerhead Shark. He doesn't run."

"He's running right now," said Briggs.

She shook her head. "He's just choosing the battlefield. Believe me, I know that bastard."

"Can he take the three Muscatel ships?" asked Briggs.

"I could," said Val.

"What the hell kind of firepower do you have on the Pegasus?"

"Firepower's just half of it," said Val. She tapped her temple with a forefinger. "The rest of it's up here. If I could take them, he can take them."

"Let's hope they at least soften him up a bit for us."

"Well," said Val without much conviction, "you can hope."

Donovan Muscatel's three ships slowed down when they were a light-year out of the system and began adjusting their positions.

"What's going on?" asked Briggs.

"The Pegasus has either slowed down or stopped, and they're trying to encircle it," said Val, who had just come up to the bridge.

"It can't be done," said Briggs.

"They're doing it."

He shook his head adamantly. "That's one of the basic rules we learned at the Academy. You can't englobe an enemy with less than six ships, and twelve is optimum."

"They're not englobing him," said Val. "They're just making him work a little harder to get everyone in his sights, and giving one of them a head start if he makes a break for it." Her face reflected her contempt. "Fools. As if the Shark would run from the likes of them."

"So where is he?" asked Cole. "He can't fire while he's hidden. He'll shred the cloak and probably burn out half his systems."

"He's just watching and waiting," said Val. "If he's stopped dead in space, they can't track him through any neutrino activity."

"What's to stop them from firing where they think he is?" asked Christine.

"Those aren't the biggest ships around," answered Val. "He'd love to make them use up their ammunition."

"Besides," added Cole, "all he'd have to do is jettison some junk, and if he stays still, sooner or later they'll assume they hit him. Eventually they'll approach closer to make sure, and then he'll blow them away." He paused and shrugged. "At least, that's what I'd do."

For ten minutes there was no further movement, no radio signals, nothing. Then one of Muscatel's ships began moving again, approaching the spot where the three ships would intersect if they were all approaching at the same speed.

"He's too anxious," said Cole. "He's going to get himself blown to bits. He can't outgun the Pegasus, and he's sure as hell not trying to outthink it."

"He's got his screens and shields activated," said Christine, studying her monitors.

"They won't do much good if he gets a lot closer," said Cole. "A pulse cannon will tear right through them at eighty thousand miles."

"And it'll cripple him at two hundred thousand," added Val. "There's not a pirate ship on the Inner Frontier with better weapons. Well, except this one."

A second ship moved forward.

"He's going to kill them all," said Cole. He turned to Val. "I trust you told Sharon the full range of each of your weapons?"

"Yes."

"You'd better be right," said Cole. "I have a feeling we're going to have to face the Pegasus before too long." He sent his image down to the Gunnery Section. "How's it going? Everything ready?"

"Everything's primed," answered Forrice. "Bull and I have it all under control."

"Good. Get Morales down there to help."

"We don't need any help."

"Until one of you gets shot or one of the cannons goes haywire."

"But he's just a kid, Wilson."

"This is how kids grow up."

"You're the boss," said Forrice. "At least, until I take over the ship."

"You can have it."

"That's right," said the Molarian. "Wait until we're facing not one enemy but four of them, and then give it to me."

"Can I go back to the battle, or do you want to bitch some more?" asked Cole.

"Go. I'll summon the kid."

Cole broke the connection. "I see the third ship is moving. We ought to be able to pinpoint the Pegasus right now. Why aren't they firing at it?"

"Beats me," said Val.

Suddenly Cole frowned. "You don't suppose that asshole wants to take his revenge personally, do you? Make the Shark suffer physically rather than just blow him out of space?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," said Val.

"He's going to get all three ships killed for his trouble," said Cole. "The closer he gets, the better chance the Pegasus has of penetrating his defenses."

"Who knows what he lost on Cyrano?" said Briggs. "Maybe a wife or lover, maybe a kid who was going to take over the business, maybe some treasure he'd spent his whole life trying to get. He might not care about the risk."

"Well, he'd better start caring," said Cole. He turned to Christine. "How close are they getting to the spot?"

"The spot, sir?"

"The point they're converging on."

"The closest ship is about fifty thousand miles, the farthest is just over ninety, sir."

"If sound carried in space, I'd tell you to cover your ears," said Cole. "It won't be long now."

And suddenly, as the words left his mouth, the closest of the three Muscatel ships opened fire. Soon all three were firing pulse and laser cannons—and then the Pegasus became visible. It was clearly undamaged. It fired one cannon, and a huge ball of raw energy engulfed the closer ship. There was no explosion, no flare of light, nothing. One instant the ship was there, firing its weapons, and the next it was gone.

"That's some cannon you've got there," commented Cole.

"You've seen bigger, I'm sure," answered Val.

"On dreadnaughts," he acknowledged. "Never on a refurbished cargo ship."

"It cost me three years' loot to arm that ship the way I wanted it," she said proudly.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," said Cole. "It's going to make our job that much harder."

The second ship was hit and vanished.

"Captain, I'm getting a transmission from the third ship," said Christine. "I'll put it on audio."

"How about visual, too?"

She shook her head. "They're not sending any visual signal."

"To the Captain of the Pegasus," said a voice. "This is Jonathan Stark, in command of the Silver Demon. You have killed our commander, Donovan Muscatel, who was in command of the second ship you destroyed. He was the one with the grudge against you; we were just following orders. We wish to terminate hostilities."

And then came the Shark's voice—incredibly deep, incredibly threatening. "You cannot end the battle that easily. Approach us under a signal of truce, allow us to board you, turn over all your weapons, let us take whatever we find of value, and we will let you live."

There was a long silence.

"We agree to your terms," said Stark.

"Good," boomed the Shark. "Then approach."

"They're fools," said Val.

"They can't outgun him," said Cole.

"They should turn around and get the hell out of here while they still can," she said. "I know the Shark. He doesn't honor truces."

"Maybe we can warn them," said Cole. "Christine, you're the expert. Is there some way we can send them a signal that the Pegasus can't intercept or read?"

"I'll see."

It became a moot point a minute later. When the Silver Demon got within sixty thousand miles of the Pegasus, the Shark blew it apart.

"Well, so much for that," said Cole. "It looks like it's up to us."

"We shouldn't have any trouble taking it, sir," said Briggs.

"We won't have any trouble destroying it," said Cole. "The trick is to disable it and then disarm the crew, so that Val can repossess it."

"That'll be a little harder," agreed Briggs.

It's starting to look like it'll be fucking impossible, thought Cole. Just how much am I willing to endanger my own ship to help Val get hers back?

"Sir!" said Christine excitedly. "I've got a message from the Shark!"

"For us?" asked Cole, surprised. "I'd have sworn he didn't even know we were here."

"No, sir. For David Copperfield."

And suddenly Cole got his first look at the Hammerhead Shark. His first impression was that the Shark was big. His second was that he was huge. The Shark's eyes extended far out from his head on bony stalks, just like the long-extinct hammerhead shark of Earth's oceans. His face seemed to be in a perpetual snarl as he glared into the camera. His chest and arms were massive and scale-covered, his belt held half a dozen hand weapons that seemed totally unnecessary, and his legs reminded Cole of smooth tree trunks. He did not wear a T-pack, the translating device that enabled most aliens to speak and understand Terran. Like many on the Inner Frontier, where T-packs were both rare and expensive, he'd learned the language himself, and spoke it in a frighteningly deep voice with very little trace of a sibilant accent.

"You betrayed me!" he bellowed, extending a clawed forefinger toward the hidden holo camera. "You tried to set me up!"

They could hear a near-hysterical David Copperfield denying it, but he'd forgotten to add his holograph to his message—and then Cole remembered: it wasn't Copperfield who'd turned off the camera. He had three crewmen stationed there. If the Shark landed, they were going to be outnumbered and outgunned; their only advantage would be the element of surprise.

"I'm coming to get you!" continued the Shark. "You like the writings of the humans that you imitate, you sorry piece of filth? Very well. I shall turn you into covers for the books you worship, piece by piece. That is my solemn pledge to you!"

The transmission ended.

"Pleasant guy, isn't he?" said Cole dryly.

"I told you what he was like," replied Val.

"Well, David did this at our instigation. We can't let him suffer for it. Four Eyes, are you ready?"

"Ready and locked on," said the Molarian's image.

"Remember: You're just disabling it."

"You'd better give me the order to fire or I won't even be able to do that," said Forrice. "He's approaching light speed."

"Fire," said Cole.

At first they couldn't see anything. Then Briggs's sensors picked it up, created an image, and flashed it on the bridge's largest viewscreen.

"Nice shot, Four Eyes," said Cole. "He looks to be in some distress, but he's still functional. Now we'll step in and finish the job."

"What do you mean, finish the job?" demanded Val.

"I don't mean destroy the ship," said Cole. "I mean, empty it of bad guys."

"I'll take the Shark myself," she said. "Nobody else on this ship could handle him."

"He's all yours."

And then the Shark's image appeared on the bridge. It looked from face to face, paused at Val's and smiled grimly, then continued looking until it came to Cole.

"Commander Cole," said the Shark. "I might have guessed. I recognize you from your holos. The Navy wants you almost as badly as I now do."

"It's Captain Cole, and you and the Navy are both destined to be disappointed."

"Captain?" repeated the Shark. "That won't last. It never does, not with you."

"It lasted long enough for us to meet. Your ship is disabled. You can't escape us, and you must know that we can outgun you. If you will surrender and turn the Pegasus over to its rightful owner, we will set you down on an uninhabited oxygen world to live out your lives. That's the best offer you're going to get, and it's not going to stay on the table forever."

"You dare to offer terms to me? I'm the Hammerhead Shark! I make offers, I don't accept them."

"Then you'd better learn to start accepting them," said Cole. "I'm withdrawing it in five Standard minutes."

"A lot can happen in five minutes," said the Shark, pulling his thin lips back to expose his pointed fangs in what seemed to be a very alien grin.

"Raise all our defenses, Mr. Briggs," said Cole softly. "I don't know what he's getting at, but he looks too damned confident."

"But if I am to choose an uninhabited oxygen world," continued the Shark, "I choose Riverwind."

And with that, the Pegasus's cannon disgorged another huge pulse of energy, headed right for Riverwind.

"It's your choice," said the Shark. "Board my ship or save Riverwind. You can't do both in the five minutes it will take the energy pulse to hit."

He bellowed his laughter and cut the connection.

"Pilot, catch up with that damned thing!" ordered Cole.

"Which damned thing, sir?" asked Wxakgini. "The ship or the pulse?"

"The pulse, damn it!" Then: "Mustapha!"

The chief engineer's image appeared. "Yes, sir?"

"I assume you've been following this. Once we get within range, what the hell do we use?"

Mustapha Odom frowned. "It has no mass, sir, so we probably can't knock it off course. You'll have to find some way to dissipate it. Give it something to hit before it reaches the planet—and something explosive would be even better. Have we any explosives in the armory?"

"Four Eyes—how about it?"

"Just pulse, laser, and sonar," answered the Molarian. "We've got a thermite bomb in the cargo area, but no way of delivering it."

"This is the Captain!" shouted Cole. "I assume you're all listening in. Whoever's closest to the cargo area, get that bomb and move it to a shuttle. Tell Briggs which shuttle you've chosen. He'll pilot it from here."

"That's me, sir!" said Esteban Morales.

"I thought you were in the Gunnery Section," said Cole.

"I'm still closer than anyone else," he said, and they could hear his feet pounding down a corridor.

"Four minutes, sir," said Christine.

"If there's one thing I don't need right now," said Cole irritably, "it's a countdown."

Another minute passed.

"Done, sir," said Morales. "It's in the Archie."

"Okay. Mr. Briggs, open the shuttle hatch and send the Archie after that pulse at as many multiples of light speed as it'll take."

"It's off," said Briggs. "It's not built for these speeds, sir. It'll shake apart in a couple of minutes."

"A couple of minutes is all we need. Then it's going to blow up anyway."

"What should I do now, sir?" asked Morales.

"Get back to the Gunnery Section," said Cole.

"Gunnery?" asked Morales.

Oh, shit! thought Cole. Don't tell me what I know you're going to tell me.

"I'm on the Archie, sir. That's what I thought you wanted."

"Get into a protective suit, Mr. Morales," said Cole. "Fast!"

"Where the hell do we keep—? Ah! I see them!"

"As soon as you're in it, I want you to jettison."

"It'll kill him, Wilson," said Sharon Blacksmith's voice.

"Let's hope it doesn't."

"Don't you understand? Even if he lives through it at light speeds, he's going to be in terrible shape. In case it's slipped your memory, we're still not carrying a doctor!"

"It's not a choice between the kid and the ship, damn it!" said Cole. "It's between him and a city filled with people!"

"Ready to jettison, sir," announced Morales.

"Oh, Jesus! Did you hear all that?" asked Cole.

"It's okay, sir. I've always wanted to be a hero like you."

Heroes like me live, thought Cole bitterly. "All right, son. I don't know what advice to give you, because no one I know except Slick has ever been outside a ship at light speeds. Try to keep in a fetal ball to protect your vital spots. We'll pick you up less than thirty seconds from now."

"Here I go, sir."

Then there was silence.

Briggs was tracking the Archie on his sensor monitors. "Contact in about fifteen seconds, sir," he announced. "Providing there is contact and the shuttle doesn't melt first, or pass right through it."

"Don't worry about that. If we destroy it, it'll be on every screen in the ship. Concentrate on finding the kid."

"Got him, sir!"

"Any movement, any sign of life at all?"

"No, sir."

Suddenly all the screens turned a blinding white for a few seconds.

"That's it," announced Briggs. "No more energy pulse."

"And the kid?"

"We won't know until we pull him in."

Getting Morales aboard took more than the thirty seconds Cole had promised. More than two minutes. And it was clear before they pulled him out of his spacesuit that he had died instantly.

"Wrap him up," said Cole. "I'll read over him, and we'll give him a burial in space."

"Then what?" asked Forrice.

"Then we're going fishing," said Cole grimly.

Cole finished reading from the beat-up copy of the Bible he kept in his office, and Morales was jettisoned into space.

"He got his wish," said Forrice. "He died a hero."

"Fools die for their causes," replied Cole grimly. "Heroes live."

"You could have saved him."

"True," agreed Cole.

"But at the cost of a city."

"Also true."

"I've changed my mind," said the Molarian. "I guess I don't want to be Captain after all."

"I don't blame you," said Cole.

The two of them took the airlift up to the bridge, where Val and Domak had relieved Christine and Briggs. Cole turned to Forrice. "You're not on duty for a few hours yet. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"Molarians don't need that much sleep."

"The hell they don't."

"All right. I want to be here when we catch up with the Shark."

"I'll wake you as soon as we spot him. But if it takes a few hours, I want you fresh when you come back up here."

"All right," said Forrice reluctantly. "But you'd damned well better let me know when we find him."

"I will."

The Molarian went off to the airlift.

"All right," said Cole. "Has anyone got any idea where he is?"

"I haven't been able to find any trace of him, sir," said Domak.

"Me neither," said Val.

"He can't have gone that damned far," said Cole. "Lieutenant Domak, I want you to capture the images we have of the hit we made on the Pegasus. Enhance them as much as possible, and then have Mr. Odom look at them."

"Yes, sir."

"I still want first crack at him," said Val.

"I don't see anyone racing to fight him ahead of you," said Cole. "Just how tall is he, anyway?"

"Maybe a foot taller than me."

"And he must be three times as broad," said Cole. "How the hell do you beat something like that?"

"By spending your whole life training to beat something like that," she responded.

"Good answer." Meaningless, he thought, but good.

Cole found himself feeling hungry, and it occurred to him that he hadn't eaten in more than twelve hours, so he went to the mess hall and ordered a sandwich and a beer. As he was sitting at his table, Mustapha Odom approached him.

"May I sit down?" asked the engineer.

"Please do."

Odom pulled up a chair. "I've studied the images of the Pegasus."

"You're our expert," said Cole. "How far can it go in the condition it's in?"

"You've done some damage to its light drive and its stabilizers," answered Odom. "My best estimate, and it's only an estimate, is that it can't go more than about ten or eleven light-years before the drive gives out. They're going to have to set down for repairs, or that ship's going to be dead in space."

"Thanks," said Cole, getting to his feet. "That's what I needed to hear."

"Excuse me, sir," said Odom, "but if you're not going to eat the other half of your sandwich ..."

"Help yourself," said Cole, walking to the airlift. A moment later he was back on the bridge. "Lieutenant Domak, how many star systems are there within a dozen light-years of Riverwind?"

"Four, sir."

"How many of them have oxygen worlds?"

She checked her monitors. "None, sir."

"That's encouraging," said Cole. "Pilot, take us by each world in the four closest star systems. Skip the gas giants."

"Yes, sir," said Wxakgini from his pod atop the bridge.

"Lieutenant, scan each world we come to. If Mr. Odom is right, and he usually is, the Pegasus is going to be on one of them."

"What do I do when I find it?" asked Domak.

"Take no action at all. Just let me know."

He noticed Val examining each of her weapons, making sure they were in perfect working order.

"You know, there's every likelihood that he's going to fire on us when he sees us, and that you'll never get close enough to use those."

"Maybe," she said. "But I plan to be ready."

"Very commendable. I'm just warning you that if he stands and fights, we may have no choice but to destroy the Pegasus."

"Just offer him the chance to fight me personally," she said. "He'll jump at it."

"Do you really think you can beat him?" asked Cole. "He looks awfully formidable."

"I can beat him."

He stared at her, and while he'd seen her in action and knew her skills, he couldn't imagine any way that she could hold her own against the Hammerhead Shark.

"Don't you look at me like that!" snapped Val. "I deserve the chance to take him!"

"All right," said Cole. "If he talks before he shoots, I'll make the offer." He turned to Domak. "I'll be in the lounge. Let me know when you find it."

He left the bridge and went to the cramped officers' lounge, where he tried to relax by watching a holographic entertainment featuring singers, dancers, magicians, and statuesque naked ladies, but he couldn't concentrate and he turned it off after twenty minutes. A few minutes later Domak's image appeared.

"Yes?" he said, suddenly alert.

"We examined the Priminetti and Vasquez systems, sir. Four planets in the first, seven in the second, excluding gas giants. No sign of the Pegasus."

"Keep looking. Either the Pegasus is on a planet in one of the next two systems, or Mr. Odom's never getting another one of my sandwiches."

"Yes, sir," she said as her image vanished.

He was restless, but didn't want to be seen pacing the bridge nervously, because that nervousness might spread to the crew. He considered stopping by Security, just to visit with Sharon, anything to take his mind off the waiting so that when it ended he'd be fresh and alert. He was about to leave the lounge when Domak's image appeared again.

"We've found it, sir."

"Good! Where is it?"

"The fifth planet of the Hamilton system, sir. I checked, and none of the planets have been named, so I guess it's just Hamilton V."

"Tell Pilot to hold our position," said Cole. "And wake Four Eyes. I'll be right over."

He left the lounge, walked down the corridor to the bridge, and was soon looking at the image the sensors had constructed of the Pegasus, sitting atop a flat, featureless plain.

"Is anyone working on it?"

"Two Men are outside in protective gear, sir," said Domak.

"Can you tell for sure that they are Men?" he asked.

"Neither of them is the Shark," she replied. "He gives off a different reading."

"So he's definitely inside the ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Let's let him know we're here."

"I'm not at the transmission console, sir," said Domak.

"Let's send something more interesting. Who's in Gunnery?"

"Idena Mueller and Braxite, sir."

"Idena, can you read me?"

"We can read and see you, sir," said Idena as her image appeared on the bridge.

"I want you to fire a laser beam toward the Pegasus," said Cole.

"What!" yelled Val.

"Shut up," said Cole harshly. He turned back to Idena's image. "I want you to miss it by one hundred yards. Then I want you to miss it a second time, by seventy-five yards. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, line up your shot and fire at will." Cole turned back to Val. "I'm trying to get your ship back. If you contradict me or challenge my orders again, I'll blow the damned thing to hell and gone. Do you understand?"

He could see her struggling with her self-control. Finally the tension seemed to ooze out of her and she nodded her head. "I understand. And I apologize."

"You don't have to apologize," he said. "Just don't do it again."

"There it is!" said Domak, as the first laser beam melted the rocky ground one hundred yards from the ship.

"Val, get our defenses up," ordered Cole. "If he thinks we're attacking rather than trying to get his attention, he may fire back."

"Done," said Val.

"And there's the second shot," announced Domak.

"All right," said Cole. "He should know that we wouldn't miss him twice, not after we hit him from long range near the Riverwind system. Now it's his move."

Nothing happened for almost a minute. Then the Hammerheead Shark's holograph appeared on the bridge, glaring balefully at Cole.

"Have your say," said the Shark harshly. "Then the battle commences."

"It won't be much of a battle," said Cole. "You're grounded and outgunned."

"I know it. You know it. Surely you didn't attract my attention just to tell me that."

"You know, you're a really unlikable character," remarked Cole.

"I take great pride in it."

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

"What have you to say?" demanded the Shark.

"We both know that I can destroy your ship and everyone on it— and near it—whenever I choose," said Cole. "The problem is, it's not your ship. It's hers." He gestured to Val. "And she'd like it back."

"What she wants doesn't interest me."

"I never thought it did. But we'd still like it back, so I'm willing to make you an offer." The Shark stared at him, but didn't say a word. "Same as before. If you and your crew will surrender your weapons and become our prisoners, we'll drop you off at the first uninhabited oxygen world we come to. I won't return your weapons, and I won't give you any means of reporting your plight or your position to any passing ships or nearby worlds, but at least you'll be alive. Have we got a deal?"

"I would rather die fighting than live a prisoner, even in a jail the size of a world," said the Shark.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," said Cole. "Very well. I have another proposition for you." Again the Shark said nothing. "The former Captain of the Pegasus—I'd give you the name she's currently using, but I'm sure it's not the one you know—is willing to give you the chance you want: to die fighting."

"Explain."

"She'll come down to the planet and fight you, one-on-one. If she wins, your crew gives up the Pegasus and everything in it, and surrenders to me."

"And if I win?"

"We give up all claim to the Pegasus and you go free."

"Wilson!" said Sharon's disembodied and outraged voice.

"If he kills her, what the hell do we want the Pegasus for?" Cole responded. He stared at the Hammerhead Shark. "Do we have a deal?"

"In principle," replied the Shark. "Only one detail must be changed."

"Which detail?" said Cole suspiciously.

"It occurs to me that your side is putting up nothing of value," said the Shark. "The woman is not a member of your crew, so surely you don't care if she lives or dies. And you just admitted that you have no interest in the Pegasus. So if I win, you've lost nothing. We have to sweeten the pot."

"With what?"

"I accept your proposition—provided that I fight you rather than her."

Cole stared at the Hammerhead Shark's grinning image for almost a full minute without speaking.

"Well?" demanded the Shark.

"You're on," said Cole.

"Wilson!" shouted Sharon.

"Are you crazy?" demanded Forrice.

"Be quiet, all of you. He challenged me. I accepted. That's the end of it."

"Oh, no, Commander Cole," said the Shark with a malevolent smile. "The end of it will come two seconds after our combat begins."

"It's Captain Cole. What weapons do we use?"

"I offer you your choice," said the Shark. "And they needn't be confined to government-issue. I'd dearly love to battle to the death with broadswords."

"I don't doubt it," replied Cole. "But we don't happen to have any."

"Pulse guns, burners, screechers, you name it," said the Shark. "Whatever it is, I accept it."

"Screechers."

"Very well. Screechers it shall be."

"One more thing," said Cole.

"What?"

"I'm not fighting where someone from the Pegasus can backshoot me."

"I don't need any help," the Shark assured him.

"Nevertheless."

"Doubtless you have something in mind."

"There's a ridge about two miles west of where your ship is located," said Cole. "I'll fly a shuttle down and land on the far side of it. The Pegasus doesn't have anything that can shoot through the ridge without killing both of us."

"How do I know you won't bring an entire party down with you?" demanded the Shark.

"I'll land before you walk to the ridge, and transmit holographs of the interior and exterior of the shuttlecraft to the Pegasus. We can speak during the transmission, so you'll know it's current and not canned. When you're satisfied that I'm alone and armed with nothing but a sonic pistol, come on over and take your chances."

"It's a deal!" said the Shark enthusiastically. "I'll be known as the one who killed the famous Wilson Cole!"

"It's 'infamous' these days," said Cole dryly. "The shuttle will depart the Theodore Roosevelt in the next five or six minutes. Keep an eye out for it—or in your case, maybe I should suggest that you keep an eye in for it."

But the Shark had already broken the connection.

"He's inside the Pegasus," reported Domak.

"Wilson," said Sharon's image, "sonic weapons won't work on an airless world. You know that."

"Yeah, I know it," said Cole. "But the Hammerhead seems to have overlooked it. I get the feeling he's not the brightest shark in the water."

"But he's the strongest, and you're going down there without any functioning weapons."

"Then I'll just have to improvise, won't I?" He turned to the Valkyrie. "Walk down to the shuttle with me."

"Val, not me?" demanded Sharon, half angry, half hurt.

"That's right," said Cole.

"You're going to let me fight in your place, right?" said Val eagerly as she walked with him to the airlift.

"No, I gave him my word."

"But I'm the only one with a chance against him!" she protested.

"We're short of time," said Cole, "so just for once stop arguing with me and listen, all right?"

She stared at him curiously as they exited the airlift and walked to the shuttle bay. "Go ahead and talk."

"That's better," said Cole. "As soon as I leave, I want you to go back to the bridge and monitor the Shark. When he sees me touch down, he's going to leave the Pegasus."

"Now tell me something I don't know."

"I'm about to."

He gave Val her instructions, boarded the Kermit, and took it down to the surface, landing on the west side of the ridge, as he had said he would do. He was sure the shuttle was being watched from the Pegasus, but he shot off a pair of chemical flares, just to make doubly certain they knew he was there.

"Let me see the interior of your shuttle," demanded the Shark.

Cole attached his helmet to his protective suit, then stepped outside and let the holo cameras show every inch of it.

"Now respond to me so that I'll know this image wasn't prepared a long time ago," said the Shark.

"I am responding to you so you'll know this image wasn't prepared a long time ago," replied Cole. "I have touched down west of the ridge I mentioned, and I set off two flares. Satisfied?"

"I'm on my way," said the Shark. "It should take me twelve Standard minutes to get there. Say a twelve-minute prayer to your god, Commander Cole, because in less than thirteen minutes you will be dead."

"I keep telling yon, it's Captain Cole."

"Soon it will be the late Captain Cole."

"Save your breath," said Cole. "I don't want anyone to say I beat you because you were too tired to fight or that you used up all your oxygen getting here."

The Shark muttered what Cole assumed was an obscenity in its native tongue and stopped transmitting.

Cole went back into the Kermit, closed the hatch, took off his helmet, and sat down at the command console. He waited until seven minutes had passed, then activated his subspace radio.

"Okay, Val," he said. "It's time. I'll listen in if you don't mind."

"Right," she said. "This is the Teddy R, calling the Pegasus. Take a good look at my image. I want to make sure you know who's contacting you." A short pause. "I know every one of you backstabbing bastards, and you know me. And since you know me, you know it's not an empty threat when I tell you that if you don't take off within one minute and head two hundred miles due east, I'll blow you apart where you sit. If you obey my orders, you will be taken prisoner and set down on an oxygen world, but at least you'll be alive. If you're still on the ground in forty-five seconds, I guarantee you won't be."

A longer pause.

"If you try to leave the planet, there'll be pieces of you in orbit for the next million years."

A final pause.

"All right, Captain. They're airborne and heading east."

"Let them see that you're tracking them from above," said Cole. "It'll encourage them to land where they're supposed to land."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'll be damned," said Cole.

"What is it?" asked Val.

"In all the time you've been aboard the Teddy R, that's the first time you've ever said 'Yes, sir' to me. It's going to be a shame to lose you."

He cut the transmission, then contacted the Shark.

"You still on your way here?" he asked.

"Where else would I be?"

"Well, I'm afraid I've got some disappointing news for you," said Cole. "I've changed my mind."

"What do you mean?" demanded the Shark suspiciously.

"I don't feel like fighting anymore," said Cole, firing up the Kermit. "Perhaps some other time."

"I always knew you were a coward, despite all your medals," said the Shark. "When I get the Pegasus repaired, I'm coming after you, and next time you won't be able to run away."

"That could pose a problem," said Cole. "How much oxygen do you have in your suit?"

"Enough."

"Enough to walk two hundred miles?" said Cole. "I doubt it."

"What are you talking about?" shrieked the Shark.

"You'll figure it out," said Cole as the Kermit took off.

He returned to the Teddy R five minutes later. Val, Sharon, and Forrice were waiting for him in the shuttle bay.

"Not bad," said Val with a smile.

"I still want to know: Why the screecher?" asked Sharon.

"If something had gone wrong and I'd had to fight him, it made more sense to face an enemy who was armed with a pistol that didn't work on this world than one that did," replied Cole, starting to climb out of his protective suit.

"I guess you were right," said Forrice.

"What about?" asked Cole.

The Molarian throw a heavy arm around Cole's shoulders. "Fools die. Heroes live."

"Shit!" said Val, standing in the cargo area of the Pegasus, hands on hips. "Shit!"

She was staring at a small open container that was totally empty.

"What the hell happened to my Meladotian crystals?" she demanded.

"He sold them," said one of the cowering crew members.

"To whom?"

"We don't know. He went down to a planet with them and came back with money."

"All right, he came back with money," said Val. "Where is it?"

"He hid it."

"On the ship?"

"No, he didn't trust us."

"Well, he was right about that, anyway," she said disgustedly. "Now, where is it?"

"He had caches all over the Frontier."

She turned to Cole, who had been silently observing her. "Damn it! I can't afford a new light drive without those fucking crystals!"

"I hope you don't think the Teddy R can pay for one," he replied.

She glared at him, then at her former crew. "All right, you bastards!" she snapped. "Get busy disconnecting the pulse cannon and the cloak."

"What do you want us to do with them?"

"Move 'em to the Teddy R," she said. "This smug-looking bastard" —she indicated Cole—"will tell yon where to put them. Don't cause any trouble and we'll put you off on a colony world instead of an uninhabited one."

"We appreciate this, of course," said Cole. "But why are you giving them away?"

"I'm not giving them away," she said. "I'm taking them with me."

Cole looked around the area. "Where can we talk alone?" he asked her.

"This way," she said, leading him to an empty storage chamber. The door irised to let them in, then snapped shut behind them.

"Val, I don't want to argue with you in front of your former crew, but we can't just carry tons of weaponry in the cargo hold for an indefinite period of time."

"You're not hauling them," she said. "Install them."

"I thought you said you were taking them with you," said Cole, puzzled.

"I am," she said. "I'm the Third Officer of the Teddy R, remember?"

"That was just temporary, until we got the Pegasus back for you."

"Without the crystals, I can't afford to fix it."

"Then you'll find a smaller ship."

"Forget it."

"What changed your mind?" he asked.

"I've been doing some thinking," said Val. "Your crew gave up their careers to follow you. Mine sold me out. I'm a damned good Captain, but maybe it's not a bad idea for me to stay with the Teddy R until I'm a little better at being a leader."

"You're welcome to," said Cole. "But you're under no obligation to."

"If I aimed a pulse gun at you, there'd be a fight between Forrice and Sharon and all the others to take the blast in your place." She jerked a head toward the crew of the Pegasus, hard at work moving weaponry on the other side of the door. "Every one of those bastards would fight to be the first to fire the pistol at me. I'm staying with you until I learn why."

"We're happy to have you," said Cole. "The subject is closed."

He turned to the door, waiting for it to iris, stepped through, and led the crew into the Teddy R. It took them half a day to move the weaponry that he wanted, while Val collected the few things of value that the Shark had not sold or traded. Then they landed the Pegasus on the planet against the day they could refurbish it, secured it so no one could steal it, dropped its crew off on an agricultural world, and headed back to Riverwind.

"We're in orbit around Riverwind now," announced Forrice. "We'd better not linger too long. We were lucky last time, but the police and the Navy can't be expected to overlook us again. Someone on this damned planet had to see the Pegasus take out those three Muscatel ships."

"Tell Moyer and the others to get back here," said Cole. He paused. "You know, this ship had four shuttlecraft just a few months ago. Then we lost the Quentin when Captain Fujiama died, and we lost the Archie right here. All we've got left are the Kermit and the Alice. I think once we accumulate a little loot, the first thing we'd better do is replace those shuttles."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Didn't Teddy Roosevelt have six kids? Which two haven't we used?"

"Let me check," said Sokolov, who was manning the computer console. He looked up a moment later. "Edith and Theodore Junior."

"Okay, we need an Edith and a Junior. At fifty percent of market value, maybe we can get them relatively soon."

He made a face.

"What's the matter?" asked Forrice.

"Listen to me," said Cole. "I'm a military officer, and I'm talking about percentages of market value. I sound like an insurance appraiser."

"You're neither," said the Molarian. "You're a pirate."

"Same thing. What I'm not is a businessman, and I don't like sounding like one."

"One of us is not in a good mood," noted Forrice.

"One of us is in a goddamned foul mood," said Cole. "When you and I were serving on the Sophocles all those years ago, did you ever think we'd be choosing our targets based on what percent of market value we could get for their goods?"

"Wilson, go get a drink or whatever it is that affects your metabolism," said Forrice. "You're depressing me."

"If I can't depress my oldest friend, who can I depress?"

"There's always me," said Sharon's voice.

"Don't you ever get tired of listening in on private conversations?" asked Cole.

"If they're being held on the bridge, they're not private," she shot back. "I second Forrice's request. Start acting more like a hero and stop depressing the First Officer."

"All right," he said. "Meet me for a drink and I'll depress you instead."

"The mess hall?"

"I wouldn't want to depress all the diners," replied Cole dryly. "Come on over to my office."

"All right," she said. "I hope you're not thinking of having sex on that tiny desk of yours."

"I'm not thinking of having sex at all."

"You are in a foul mood," she said. "I'll be there in five minutes."

Cole went down to his office, puzzled by his mood. At first he thought it was Morales's death that was bothering him, but he knew it wasn't. He'd hardly known the young man, and it had been a painful but easy decision to make. It certainly wasn't the Shark's death, or the destruction of the Pegasus. But something was bothering him, and he had spent most of the day trying to figure out what it was.

"Hi," said Sharon, entering the office and setting a bottle down on his desk. "Here, make a pig of yourself. You're among friends."

He stared at the bottle and made no attempt to reach for it.

"I'm past the age where I look good dropping grapes in reclining gentlemen's mouths," she continued, "but if you ask politely, maybe I'll pour some of this stuff down yours."

"Later," he said. "I'm not thirsty."

"What is it?" Sharon asked seriously. "I've seen you tense, mad, frustrated, even frightened, but I've never seen you looking so morose. I'd like to think it's because Val made a pass at you, but I don't see any wounds."

He couldn't help smiling at that, but the smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"I don't know," he said. "When I was a kid, I watched all the adventure holos. Pirate stories were my favorite. So now I'm a pirate, and what the hell have we accomplished? We've destroyed the Achilles, we killed its crew, we killed the kid, we killed a bunch of men on Picacio IV, we killed the Shark, we killed the Pegasus, we arranged for the three Muscatel ships to get killed." He sighed. "And what did we get for all this death and destruction? A higher percentage of market value." He stared at her. "Do you think it was worth it?"

"The question isn't was it worth it, but rather did we have a choice?" she replied. "You might view it as a cosmic joke."

"I don't follow you," said Cole.

"Look at it this way," said Sharon. "You saved five million lives, and got court-martialed for your trouble. You killed all these people and ships, and increased our percentage by a multiple of ten." She smiled. "Don't you think God's got a twisted sense of humor?"

"You know," he said, some of the tension finally leaving him, "when you put it like that ..."

"You see?" she said. "It's all in how you look at it. Some people look at Forrice and are terrified; you look at him and see your closest friend. Some people look at Val and see a sex object; you look at her and see a killing machine. Everything depends on perspective."

"You know something?" said Cole, finally opening the bottle. "I'm damned glad I met you."

"If push comes to shove, I'm damned glad of it too," said Sharon. "And despite what I said about that wildly uncomfortable desk, if you really want to do a little pushing and shoving ..."

He was about to answer when Sokolov's image appeared to the right of the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but David Copperfield insists on speaking to you personally."

"Right now?"

"Yes, sir."

Cole sighed. "All right, put him through."

Copperfield, elegantly dressed and clearly distressed, appeared a second later.

"Hello, David," said Cole.

"Steerforth, you can't desert me!" cried the alien.

"No one's deserting you," said Cole. "You're our favorite fence. Olivia Twist's crystals didn't pan out, but we'll be back soon with more booty for you." He paused. "I doubt we'll be back in the Teddy R. There's no sense pushing our luck. But we'll be back in some ship or other."

"You don't understand!" said Copperfield, his face a mask of desperation. "When your three crew members return to the ship, I've got to come up with them! It's a matter of life and death!"

"Whose life and whose death?"

"Mine/" yelled Copperfield.

"Calm down, David, and tell me, slowly and succinctly, what the problem is," said Cole.

"I betrayed the Hammerhead Shark!"

"Relax," said Cole soothingly. "It's over. He's dead."

"But he sent messages to five or six other pirates that I set him up, and they've told their friends. I can't stay here, Steerforth! There must be a dozen contracts out on my life by now! You've got to take me with you!"

"How do you know he passed the word?" asked Cole.

"I've already received messages from two of them, threatening to kill me! You got me into this, Steerforth, you and Olivia! You've got to get me out!"

"All right," said Cole. "You can come aboard with Moyer and Nichols and the Pepon. But what about your help? And more to the point, what about your warehouse? If you leave it behind, you're out of business—and if you leave them behind, they're going to know what ship you're on and they're probably going to plunder your goods. We can drop you off on any planet you choose, but I'll be perfectly frank—an alien who thinks he's a Charles Dickens character and dresses the part isn't going to be too hard to spot."

"Take my staff too!" said Copperfield. "I know you're shorthanded. They're loyal, they're fearless, and I can't leave them here. The people who want me dead are as likely to demolish my house and warehouse from orbit as to come looking for me personally."

"How many have you got working for you?"

"Fourteen."

"All human?"

"Ten Men, a Lodinite, two Mollutei, and a Bedalian."

Cole looked questioningly at Sharon, who nodded her approval. "All right. If they pass our security check, they can stay on the ship."

"Security check?" repeated Copperfield in panicky tones. "They're all criminals! You know that, Steerforth."

"It won't be a standard check," said Cole. "I want to know what crimes they've committed, and who they've committed them against. And I especially want to know if any of them have killed their employers." Copperfield looked undecided. "It's that or they stay on Riverwind," added Cole.

"I agree," said Copperfield at last. "And probably not all of them will want to join you anyway. I imagine a few will stay behind and find other employment, here or elsewhere." He paused. "They'll have to come in a different ship. Your crewmen assure me they won't all fit on the shuttlecraft."

"It'll be a tight squeeze, but they'll fit."

"Not after I load my Dickens collection onto it."

Cole frowned. "Just how the hell many books do you think Dickens wrote?"

"I have over six hundred editions of The Pickwick Papers alone."

"We'll come back for them."

Copperfield shook his head vigorously. "I'm never coming back. Who knows what traps they'll lay for me? And that's assuming they don't blow everything up from space. My collection comes with me. My men will avail themselves of another ship."

"I don't like that word 'avail,' David," said Cole. "If they steal it, the police could follow them to the Teddy R, and while I've got all kinds of fake IDs and registrations, sooner or later someone's going to recognize the ship for what it is."

"What are you saying?" asked Copperfield. "I'm not entirely clear about it."

"I'm saying that they hire or buy a ship," said Cole. "If they steal it, I won't let them on board. You can afford it. You're a rich man. Or whatever."

"That was cruel, Steerforth," said Copperfield reproachfully. "You cut me to the quick."

"I apologize, David. But I'm adamant—they can't steal a ship and lead the authorities to us."

"Agreed."

"I'm sorry the Shark couldn't keep his mouth shut," said Cole. "It looks like you're going to be out of business."

"Nonsense," said Copperfield. "I've got warehouses all over the Republic."

"Not to put too fine a point on it, David, you're about to board the most wanted ship in the galaxy. The second the Alice is safely back in the shuttle bay, we're heading farther into the Inner Frontier—and we're not coming back this way."

"Then I will find another way to meet my meager needs."

"I've been to your mansion," said Cole. "There isn't much meager about it."

"That was for my help and my clientele," said Copperfield. "I myself can make do on as little as six million credits a year."

"Well, I'm sure glad we don't have to worry about you," said Cole sardonically. "David, we've made our agreement. It time to start moving out with my crewmen, and passing the word to your hired help. The longer the Teddy R stays in orbit, the greater the chance that someone's going to put two and two together and figure out who we are."

"Certainly, my dear Steerforth," said Copperfield. "I shall see you shortly." He paused. "Oh. I'll need one room for myself, and three for my collection. And by the way, I forgive you for debauching poor innocent little Emily."

"What?" demanded Sharon.

"It took place in England three thousand years ago," explained Copperfield. "And he was very young and impetuous."

He broke the transmission.

"Well, it looks like we've just added to our crew and our library," said Cole. "Any comments?"

"Just one." "Oh?"

"We'd better use your desk before it's covered with Dickens books."

The Teddy R headed deeper into the Inner Frontier for the next two days. It had picked up seven crew members from Copperfield's staff— five Men and two Mollutei—and he'd turned their training over to Bull Pampas and Idena Mueller. The pulse cannon had been installed. The cloak had reluctantly been jettisoned when it proved incompatible with the ship's computer system.

And Wilson Cole was still feeling morose without quite knowing why.

He was on the bridge, being briefed on the current situation by Christine Mboya and Malcolm Briggs. This pirate ship had been spotted along the trade route from Binder X to New Rhodesia, that one was lurking in and around the Volaire system, a new fence just twenty light-years into the Republic on Bienvenuti III was said to be offering seven percent of market value. Gold was up, diamonds were down, machinery was still in demand. A pirate with the unlikely name of Yasco de Gama had declared the Silversmith and Naraboldi systems off-limits to all other pirates and was willing to back his claim up with a fleet of five ships.

Finally Cole felt his eyes glazing over, excused himself, and went off to the mess hall, where he ordered a beer and then didn't touch it when it arrived. He was still sitting motionless, a troubled frown on his face, when David Copperfield entered the small room, saw him, and walked over to his table.

''You look unhappy, my dear Steerforth," said Copperfield, sitting down opposite Cole.

"I've been happier."

"I hope you're not worrying about me," said Copperfield. "I assure you I'll find ways to replace my losses."

"I'm not the least bit worried about you," replied Cole, "and I never doubted that you'd recover your losses."

"Then what is troubling you?" persisted Copperfield. "Perhaps I can be of some help."

"I doubt it."

"Try me, my old school chum."

"You really want to know?" said Cole. "I'm looking ahead to thirty or forty years of piracy, and I find it terminally depressing. It's not the career all those novels and holos made it out to be. Most of the time I feel like a goddamned accountant."

"Well, of course you do," said Copperfield. "Consider it a defense mechanism. After all, if you didn't feel like an accountant, you'd feel like a thief, and honorable men like you and I don't like to feel like thieves."

"I don't want to insult you, David," said Cole wearily, "but you are neither honorable nor a man. You're a fence."

"Of course I'm a fence," said Copperfield with some dignity. "The alternative was to become a pirate, and we both know that piracy is no job for the likes of us. I'm surprised that wasn't apparent to you from the beginning."

Cole stared at him curiously. "Go on."

"Look at you. You were the pride of the Republic's navy ..."

"Never that," said Cole. "But continue."

"You came here with the most valuable members of your crew loyal to you and with a powerful ship in perfect working order. There are ships on the Inner Frontier that can challenge the Theodore Roosevelt, but you haven't encountered one yet. And what have you accomplished in the time you've been here? You've destroyed some ships, you've killed some men and creatures that needed killing, and you've accumulated some stones that we both know were barely worth taking. That is the nature of the profession, my dear Steerforth. Even once you learn the ropes, you are forever going to be paid a tiny fraction of what your plunder is worth. And while it's true that you can negotiate with the insurers, how often can you go into the Republic before you're identified and captured? In fact, I have been informed that you've made only two attempts to deal with insurance companies and, even so, one went very wrong."

"We're still learning the ropes," said Cole defensively.

Copperfield shook his head. "You don't understand, Steerforth. You've pretty much learned the ropes. What you have been doing is living the typical life of a pirate." He smiled. "Why do you think I avoided piracy and became a fence instead?"

"So you're saying that I was right, that this is the life we have to look forward to until we're caught or killed."

Copperfield smiled again, an inscrutable alien smile this time. "Steerforth, Steerforth," he said, "how can you be so foolish when you are so smart?"

"It takes skill," replied Cole wryly. "I assume you're going to explain what the hell you're talking about?"

"Who says you have to be a pirate?" said Copperfield. "You're not suited to it, none of you, by experience or training."

"In case it's escaped your notice the first hundred times you were told: the Navy doesn't want us back, except in front of a firing squad."

"Whose navy?" asked Copperfield.

"We're not joining the Teroni Federation!" said Cole decisively. "We've been fighting against them all our lives!"

"Except when you were fighting the Republic."

"You've been misinformed. We didn't betray the Republic. We served it."

"Until they jailed you," noted Copperfield.

Cole sighed deeply. "Until they jailed me."

"We're getting off the topic."

"The topic was piracy," said Cole.

"The topic was alternatives to piracy."

"Joining the Teronis is out of the question."

"I was never about to suggest it," replied Copperfield.

"Then I'm not following you at all," said Cole. "What's left?"

"Who says that the Republic and the Teroni Federation are the only games in town?" continued Copperfield. "You've all trained to serve aboard a military vessel. I see that you're even training my employees to function as part of a military crew. Don't you think it's time you remember who and what you are, and stop pretending to be pirates?"

Cole stared at him, trying to see what he was driving at.

"There are warlords springing up all over the Inner Frontier," said Copperfield. "They need battleships. There are pirates all over the Inner Frontier. Their victims need someone to protect them. There are worlds rich in natural materials that are ripe for plundering. They need someone to patrol them. I don't know anyone who won't pay to protect their safety and their possessions, or to further their ambition. Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Mercenaries?" said Cole, considering the notion.

"You're a military ship with a military crew," said Copperfield. "What possible position could better suit your talents?"

"It's a tempting thought," admitted Cole. "But who would hire us? How would we find them?"

"You wouldn't," answered Copperfield. "Your business agent would."

"You?"

"Who else?" He extended his knobby hand. "Shall we shake on it?"

"You know, David," said Cole, feeling free for the first time in days, "Charles Dickens could have done a lot worse."