Rencontres

"Ship, coming in fast!" At Celo's cry, her companion in the cockpit of the sleek spacecraft swung around. Jenna Stannis brushed the long hair out of her eyes and bent to the screens, cursing.

"Where did he come from?"

Celo Virt was already readying the weaponry, fingers playing rapidly across the control boards spread out in front of her. "Dove out of the dust cloud, six hundred spacials to galactic north. Routine scan couldn't spot him there. He--" Her voice broke off as Jenna brought the image on their detectors into full focus. "That's a Federation ship!"

The two smugglers shared a quick glance. An assault by a pirate was a familiar risk, its reward death or escape, its odds even or better, given the skill of the two women. But a Federation fleet meant much, much worse.

"Find the others." Jenna threw their little craft into a series of rapid turns, trying to keep the other's guns from training on them. But the dull-black Federation ship had swooped in too fast, with surprise on his side, and she could not shake him.

Celo lifted her head from the detectors. "There aren't any. And if he is Fed, he'd be a fool to come out so far without support. Maybe he's renegade," she suggested.

"What's his ship?" Celo knew more about ships than anyone alive.

"Mark I pursuit, two-man crew. They outgun us badly, but with the right start we can outrun them."

In front of her a signal light pulsed, indicating an incoming transmission. Celo was still occupied with trying to bring the deadly blasters to bear, so Jenna reached across the boards between their positions to switch on communications from their pursuer. The little screen blurred with static, then cleared abruptly to show a young, male face, framed with tight brown curls. A very young face. Jenna raised an elegant eyebrow.

"You're outgunned," the stranger said without preamble. "Dump your cargo now, and I'll let you go." He smiled. "Is spicewine worth dying for?" A lilt to his voice made him sound extremely pleased with himself.

Celo cursed under her breath. They were indeed carrying spicewine, a drugged alcohol much prized among certain of the outer worlds. Without the added overhead of import duties, they could make an enormous profit. Their assailant clearly knew it.

Jenna eyed the face on the screen. "How old are you, infant?" she finally asked.

"Twenty-one." His chin went up. "Old enough to shoot straight."

Jenna snorted. Not old enough to avoid playing straight man, certainly. She caught Celo's eye and made a tiny gesture, out of sight of the screen. Celo nodded and rested her hands ready on the blaster controls.

With no other warning, Jenna suddenly flung their ship into a series of dizzying spins and dodges, trying desperately to break away from the attacker on their tail. Simultaneously Celo cut loose with a blinding barrage of blaster fire, spraying fiery trails of destruction in the other ship's path. The stars swung crazily around them as Jenna dodged among the enemy blasts as well.

But their pursuer stuck close to their path, matching every roll and twist until the very end. As Jenna wrenched them into a straight-line course again, the other tumbled violently for a moment before the pilot regained control, paralleling them as before. Jenna could imagine the brutal hand that move had required on the controls. Her own palms were sweaty and her fingers trembled slightly with reaction.

The pirate on the comm screen was panting slightly, and some curls hung limp with sweat, but he smiled again as Jenna met his eyes. "You can't get away from me." His voice was almost singsong, irritatingly smug. "Killing you might damage your cargo, and I'd prefer not to risk that. Why not be sensible?"

Jenna had drawn breath for a sharp retort when Celo cut off communication. "Jenna," she said urgently. "There's something odd."

"What?" Jenna could only spare a little attention as she tracked their deadly shadow's movements.

"That last spin. When he kept tumbling, he had us right under his guns for a moment. He could have blown the cockpit to shreds without coming near the cargo bay. Why didn't he?"

Jenna chewed her lip. "Softhearted?" she offered lightly.

Celo spat. "No one softhearted would have that ship. Federation Mark I pursuit? Think how he must have gotten it."

Jenna thought for a moment, and then a smile spread across her face. "Mark I pursuit? Two-man crew?"

"Yes."

"That's it, then." Jenna waved a hand at their own controls, the pilot's console in front of her and the weaponry boards under Celo's hands. "He's alone. He didn't fire because he had his hands full just keeping control!" She grinned viciously. "And that tells us everything we need to know."

"Jenna, you don't know that. It's a big risk." Celo's lips were tight.

"Would you rather dump the wine and crawl away?"

The two were silent for a moment. Celo flexed her fingers and Jenna concentrated on breathing slowly. This would be tricky. They shared a glance and Jenna drew in breath and counted softly, "Three, two, one!"

Again the small ship danced and pitched crazily under Jenna's flying fingers, shooting forward and then abruptly spinning away. Their pursuer matched them twist for twist again, but to Jenna's skilled eyes the pilot's control seemed faintly ragged, slightly slipping. Celo sprayed blaster fire almost casually, watching for the opening Jenna would give her at terrible risk.

The glinting black pirate ship turned and rolled with them, firing scattered bursts when Jenna gave him a moment's straight flight. And then in the middle of a roll Jenna abruptly swung her ship the other way, spinning wildly straight into the needle points of the other's guns. The deadly muzzles loomed, threatened, and were silent as the pirate fought for control, and Jenna angled her ship neatly, and Celo's fingers blurred, and their own guns coughed destruction into their attacker's engines.

The first shots fused a propulsion unit, sending the other ship tumbling awkwardly. Celo had time for another blast, centered neatly on the vulnerable sensor array, before their own spin carried them away. Jenna brought them around in a long loop, studying the other ship as its young pilot fought grimly for control.

"We can finish him off." Celo's hands hovered.

"No." Jenna watched as the ragged flight steadied, the pilot compensating with ingenuity for his unbalanced engines. "Let him limp home."

Celo spat again. "Home to mama."

The black craft, its hull blistered and scarred, drew cautiously away, wallowing slightly. When they made no move to follow, it accelerated, making for the cover of the dust cloud from which it had come. Jenna laughed, imagining that smug young man's face as he crept, beaten, into hiding.

"No, let him go," she said again. "He'll be a good pilot, someday. Very good."

Her partner snorted. "If he lives so long."