'No joke. I have three hundred credits in the world. You've got the wrong boy, McGreavy.'
'You just sold a cargo load of Shanaskilk fur!'
'And bought weapons and a fuel scoop. I bought the furs at a loss to beginwith. I'm no trader, McGreavy. I'm a combateer. I did tell you.' Alex looked down at the Mymurth. 'I'll buy eight off you. How's that?'
'I sell the lot, or not at all. I want fifteen hundred credits for them.
Rafe said you'd come through…'
'Rafe was wrong. Shift them through some other sucker…'
Alex turned to go. McGreavy's whimper of panic was almost funny to hear.
'I save these things up for Rafe. Who else is going to trade in Mymurth?'
'I'll take ten off your hands, for three hundred credits. The more you stall, the less I'll offer.'
Alex was enjoying this.
'I need to shift the lot. To Cirag.'
Where was Cirag, Alex wondered. It was not a name that rang any bells.
'Then you'll have to trust me,' he said. 'Like you trust Rafe. I'll give you a down payment of three hundred against one third of what I get at Cirag. I'll come back and pay you off.'
McGreavy stared at him in silence; the man's breathing was laboured. 'One third will hardly cover my outlay. Fifty percent.'
'Forty percent,' Alex said. 'And no further bargaining.'
The Mymurth shuffled anxiously. McGreavy shrugged with defeat. He summoned the vid-witness, and the two men signed the agreement. Twenty-eight Mymurth for sale to Cirag, forty percent of the proceeds to be returned to Pat McGreavy at South City, Coriolis 7, Xezaor.
If McGreavy was right, and the money was forthcoming from the religious nutcases on Cirag…
Where was Cirag?
… the Nemesis could be equipped with beam lasers, extra missiles, extra shield energy units, and an energy bomb, and the hunt could begin in earnest.
Alex returned to his ship to report on the day's trading.
They had been set up, of course.
And in a way, they went into the set-up gamely. Alex checked up on the planet Cirag and discovered that it was not listed with the Official Planetary Register. That was the reason for its unfamiliar name. Not to be registered was not in itself unusual. Only inhabited worlds were listed.
There were millions of inhabited star systems of use to miners, traders and explorers, which could only be located by reference to the Galactic Gazatteer of Worlds.
But Cirag was inhabited by intelligent beings.
That meant just one thing: Cirag was an independent world, had refused Federation status, was dangerous, probably deadly, most likely the haven for freebooters and criminals, and almost certainly a system in which the general principle of 'laser first, talk second' was applied.
We've got to be crazy…' Elyssia said.
Alex agreed. 'Could Cirag be Raxxla? Could it be the world my father mentioned before he died?'
'No way. Cirag is Cirag, and Raxxla — if it exists — is in another Galaxy; you know the legends. Cirag is just a hell-hole of a world, by the sounds of it. Give the guy his turtles back. Let's trade life-bones.'
But Alex said no. Something about the whole deal, about the way he felt manipulated, guided, had whet his appetite for this venture. There was good money to be made, and the Nemesis could finally equip itself to perfection.
And the hunt could begin. Vengeance could begin.
'It's hit or miss, right? And in Rafe's eloquent language, we'll not know a goddam about any failure.'
'We've got to be crazy…' Elyssia repeated.
'Let's not talk to any strangers, at least…'
Out of Witch-Space.
The planet Cirag floated before them, a pastel yellow world, the dark markings upon its surface — mountains, probably, or deserts — forming a pattern that reminded Alex of bones. At nineteen light years from Xezaor, the Nemesis had made two refuelling stops, and as they came into System Space they had energy enough for a two-light-year jump only. The nearest world, Alex knew, was more than twice that distance away.
No matter With their new fuel scoop they would simply transit the sun's corona, and recharge the fuel cells.
Cirag's sun was a large, yellow star, old, but with much life left in it yet. It was active, too. As Elyssia — at the astrogation console — turned towards it, so two immense streamers of fire were erupting from its surface, whirlpools of plasma that were spectacular when seen through the Nemesis's polarising filters.
'Let's catch some of that heat,' Elyssia said, and punched for top speed.
The Nemesis surged forward.
But they flew for no more than a minute.
'Holy Mother of the Stars!'
Alex stared at the scanner screens and felt his stomach turn over. The bright marks there were so large that they could only be Boa or Anaconda class cruisers. They had formed an attack pattern, four large ships, surrounded by the darting points of light that was its fighter escort.
On the viewscreen, against the glowing sun, the assault group were dark smears, rapidly closing.
'Boas,' Elyssia said. 'They're set up as fighter cruisers, by the look of it. At least they're slow. Hang on…'
Alex gripped his seat, then grimaced as he fell for the same trap that his father had always set for him. But this time it was as well that he secured himself. The universe shifted; his body organs did somersaults. Elyssia feigned an escape loop, and the fighters — Mambas by the looks of them — broke formation and went into the scatter mode that meant pursuit. But Elyssia completed the loop to come full back against the looming pirate craft.
She sailed under the belly of the leader with as much calm and cheek as you please. It belly-shot at them, and she rolled the Cobra so that she could side-strafe back. All along the Boa's under-belly, shards and sparks flew brightly where the shields were lowered around the laser housings.
'Markings are unfamiliar…' Alex said. There had been black and green flags with bright sunbursts on them, and non-terrestrial ideographs on the sides.
'Intentions very familiar…' Elyssia breathed. Behind them, two of the Mambas were closing fast. Pulses of laser fire made eerie streaks in the dark circle of space around the glowing sun ahead of them.
The huge ships had turned too, and were accelerating towards them. Elyssia made it clear, without speaking, that they'd never reach the star and have time to refuel. Alex, never taking his eyes from the scanners, knew as much.