"That was close." Everett's comment lingered in the tense atmosphere of the ship's cockpit. The crew crowded in the small space, watching on the viewscreen as explosions rocked the city. Everett, as captain, had commandeered the scanning station chair where the view was best. Milaga was definitely under attack. Who was attacking and who was defending was open to interpretation.
Leon watched the buildings burn. The fight was coming closer. Their ship was the only one in port. The fighting today was intense. It made him nervous.
Everett put one hand on Leon's bright purple jacket. "Relax. The ship has better shields than a Patrol battle cruiser. We'll be fine. And if they get too close, we can always lift off. Watch from orbit if we have to."
"Then you don't believe Dace is dead any more than I do." Leon said it automatically. They'd had this discussion a lot over the last two weeks. The deadline he'd given that police commander had passed without a word. Leon still hadn't quite decided what to do about it.
"They're headed for the Patrol building," the engineer, Furril, commented.
The crew mostly treated the fighting casually. They even had a betting pool going on what building was going to blow up next.
"Didn't they evacuate it?" Everett asked.
Leon shook his head. "There's still a few there. I went to talk to them a few days back."
He watched as the explosions marched closer to the Patrol compound. A shimmering field suddenly snapped on, surrounding the building. Leon relaxed, shrugging the tenseness out of his shoulders.
"Force shield," Linzy, the pilot, spoke up. "They'll be fine now. Nothing gets through one of those."
The crew drifted away from the controls. The talk was of what to cook for dinner and who was currently losing at the game of comets that was on its eighth straight day. Leon stayed, standing behind Everett's shoulder. Both of them continued to watch the fighting.
"Think they'll stop at sundown?" Everett asked. The fighting rarely carried into the night. Darkness made it hard to tell friend from foe. Harder, since they all wore the same clothes and used the same weapons and probably all knew each other.
Leon shrugged. "Let the Tivorans shoot each other, doesn't matter to me if they want to do it at night or during the day."
A particularly big explosion lit up the rapidly darkening sky, rivaling the sunset overhead. The filters cut in automatically, dimming the sheets of fire to a dull orange.
"The deadline I gave them is up," Leon commented. "What do we want to do about it?"
"No answer isn't acceptable," Everett said. "I think they're rather occupied with other matters right now. Give them until tomorrow. When, and if, the fighting dies back down, we'll go intimidate them again."
"I can't ignore the rumor we heard, that Dace is dead." Leon scratched his ear. "What if we're wrong?"
"I'm not going back to Jasyn without proof, one way or another. We find that work farm they sent her to and get her back ourselves if we have to." He didn't say that his crew were all trained with weapons, some of them ex-Patrol Enforcers. The twelve of them were deadlier than anything they'd seen so far on Tivor. They had an armored flitter in the cargo bay capable of flying over a thousand miles before needing recharging. It carried a lot of weaponry not available on the standard models. If the Patrol needed an excuse to arrest the lot of them, it was there, in the cargo bay along with several cases of weaponry. Leon hoped it never got to that point. He was more than willing to duck the Patrol. They were already here without authorization. The Patrol was the least of their worries right now.
An explosion ripped through the warehouse next to the port. Bits of burning building rained down on the Windrigger, scraping along the hull.
"There goes the new paint job," Everett said, glancing up reflexively as an extra large piece made the hull ring like a giant bell. "I thought our shields would stop something that size."
Leon didn't answer, he was staring at the viewscreen. The bubble of force keeping the Patrol compound secure flickered. Everett glanced at him then at the screen.
Dark figures ran in front of the flaming building, silhouetted by the fire. They attacked each other, looking like something straight from a vision of hell. The surge of people fighting moved slowly towards the Patrol building. The force shield flickered and died. The howl of triumph from the rampaging mob carried even into the ship.
They ran at the door to the Patrol compound. The repelling charge still worked. Several were electrocuted, their bodies blasting away from the contact. One wasn't so lucky. He hung, quivering and sparking, in the metal grate protecting the door. The mob shouted angrily. A hail of stones fell on the Patrol building.
"Rocket, there," Everett said, pointing at the snub nosed weapon being hauled up close to the building.
"Look there," Leon said, pointing at the other side of the building.
A back door eased open. The mob didn't notice. Five figures bolted from the door, running for their lives across the lot.
"Where are they going?" Leon asked.
Everett pushed himself quickly from the chair. "They're coming here," he called as he ran for the outer hatch. "Get those shields shut down!"
The crew hurried to help, alerted by Everett's shouted command. Dyva, the scan tech, pushed Leon out of the way, her hands hitting the buttons to shut down the force shield protecting them even as she sat in the chair Everett had just vacated.
Leon stepped back, into a corner where he could see but not get run over. Russell had the weapons locker open, the one the Patrol wasn't supposed to see. He passed out blast rifles. The crew took the weapons and headed for the hatch.
Leon watched out the viewscreen, unable to look away from the figures running for the ship. The mob howled after them even as the Patrol building began to burn. Rocket after rocket slammed into the side of the building. A lucky shot took out a window. Flames shot out the opening. The fugitives ran close to the Windrigger, moving too close for the cameras to see. Everett's people were outside, shooting into the mob chasing them.
"Shields, now!" Everett shouted. The hatch slid shut as the Patrol fugitives ducked inside with Everett's people.
Leon flinched as he saw a rain of stones fly at the ship. He hoped none of them were explosives in disguise. In the dark it was hard to tell.
The screen dissolved into white static as they hit. The whole ship rattled under the impact. The lights dimmed and flickered then came back on.
"What did they hit?" Everett demanded of Dyva.
"Minor damage to the aft scanning antenna," she answered. "A few dents. Nothing more. Shields are at ninety three percent and holding."
"What if they turn that rocket shooter on us?" Leon asked.
"Warm up the engines," Everett ordered. "We wait it out in orbit," he added to Leon.
"Already done," Furril answered over the com.
Another burst of light blanked out their screen.
"Still holding," Dyva announced.
"Lift, captain?" Siy asked from the pilots station.
"Not yet," Everett answered. He was focused on the screen, watching the eddying mass of people outside. "They're moving away," he said after a tense moment. "I think we're safe now. I still want watches of three, change every four hours."
The crew didn't relax. They shifted their attention to the five people in Patrol uniform watching them from the door to the control room.
Everett turned to face them, leaning casually against the back of Dyva's chair. His posture and attitude silently dared the Patrol commander to say something about the blast rifles his crew still held.
The Patrol commander looked pointedly at the weapons and then just as deliberately at Everett. "Thank you, captain. We wouldn't have made it without your assistance." He extended his hand. "Commander Sirle Harouk."
"Everett Greene," Everett replied. He shook the other man's hand.
"My staff, what's left of it," Harouk continued. He introduced them. One man and one woman, his personal aides, still looked a bit shocked. The other two men were Enforcers, left by Lowell to help guard the others. "We evacuated all the other staff before you got here," Harouk finished. "Admiral Lowell was going to send the Seeker back for us. They are due to arrive in three more days."
"Admiral Lowell?" Everett asked. He traded looks with Leon. "Well, where Lowell is involved, I'm sure we can trust everything to be in good hands."
"You knew he was behind this," Leon said to Everett.
"With Dace here, it was rather obvious."
Harouk shot puzzled glances at them. "You know about Lowell's agent?"
"She's why we're here," Everett said. "Unofficially, of course."
"Of course," Harouk agreed.
"Let's find your people a place to sleep," Everett said, steering the Patrol commander out of the control room. He gave Leon a warning glance behind the other man's back.
Leon waited until Everett had handed off their uninvited guests to his crew. They would be fed and well cared for. As long as they pretended not to notice certain items on the ship that shouldn't belong on a freighter.
Everett slid the door shut behind himself. "We really had no choice. They didn't have anywhere else to go and I couldn't let the mob have them."
"I'm not arguing with that," Leon said. "It gets us lots of favors from the Patrol down the road. As long as they remember what we did."
Dyva swiveled her chair around. She grinned at Leon. "It just sticks in your throat, having to help the Patrol. I know it does in mine."
"That isn't what's bothering him," Everett said. "It was their reference to Dace as one of Lowell's agents. You do know," he said turning back to Leon, "she is officially in the Patrol now. Nothing we could do about that. It was notarized, authorized, and signed. In triplicate on at least five worlds."
"Lowell should have never pushed her into signing anything," Leon protested. "We could probably argue coercion and extortion."
"It doesn't matter right now," Everett said. "What does matter is finding her before those idiots drag their whole world back into the stone age." He gestured at the screen.
"None too soon for me," Dyva said as she swung her chair back to face her controls. "I've got a fix on the location of the work camp," she offered.
"We'll give them two more days," Everett said. "They should be out of rockets by then."
Leon sighed heavily. He brushed imaginary lint from his glowing purple lapels. He would have to be patient, though he wanted nothing more than to be off Tivor. He understood why Dace had wanted to remove it as her planet of birth from her records. Tivor was worse than the armpit of the Empire. He spent the time until dinner thinking up anatomical descriptions of the place. None of them were bad enough to suit him.
After dinner, he switched to thinking up new ways to sue Lowell. On Dace's behalf, of course. Lowell deserved everything Leon was planning to give him. He was sure Dace would agree. Once they found her.