And so, several hours later, Captain Craig, who had lingered near the moon Rafale and the planet Engano awaiting Chad, suddenly saw with surprise and horror the ship of Corvin North rapidly approaching him.
He had long been peering anxiously at the distant flashes of salvos, but when they ceased, he concluded that the Alatris had been captured. Now, seeing this cruiser, intact and undamaged, swiftly closing in, he could not believe his eyes. What had happened to Chad? The Harpy was nowhere to be seen. Could Chad have made some idiotic blunder and allowed Captain North to destroy him?
However, other, far more unpleasant reflections soon overshadowed these thoughts. What could be the intentions of this damned convict-mechanic? If Craig had the opportunity to board, he would fear nothing, because even his prize crew on the Andromeda outnumbered North's crew twofold. But how could he bring the crippled transport alongside the Alatris if North prevented it? If, after his engagement with the Harpy, North harbored ill intentions, the Andromeda would become a helpless target for his guns.
These considerations, depressing enough in themselves, drove Craig to frenzy when he remembered what cargo lay in the ship's hold. Apparently, fortune had not been kind to him at all but had merely mocked him, allowing him to seize what he was not destined to keep.
And then, as if all these troubles were not enough, the prize crew mutinied. Led by a villain named Gann, a man of nearly the same gigantic stature and cruelty as Craig himself, the pirates fell upon their captain with fury, cursing his excessive blind greed that had landed them in trouble: the threat of death or captivity seemed especially bitter to them now, thinking of the wealth they had possessed for such a brief time. Having seized such a prize, the pirates shouted, Craig had no right to take risks; he should have kept the Harpy with him for protection and not coveted the Alatris with its empty holds. The crew heaped reproaches upon the captain, to which he, acknowledging their justice, could only respond with curses—which he did not fail to do.
While this altercation lasted, the Alatris drew very close, and Craig's mate shouted that the cruiser was signaling. It was a demand: the captain of the Andromeda was ordered to appear immediately on the Alatris.
Craig was terrified. His ruddy cheeks paled, his thick lips turned purple. Let that mechanic North go to hell, he declared.
But his crew immediately assured the captain that they would send him to hell if he did not comply, and without delay.
North could not know what cargo the Andromeda carried, Gann reminded the captain, so there was still hope that this convict might be persuaded and allow the transport to continue peacefully on its way.
One of the Alatris's plasma cannons fired, and a plasma bolt whistled past the Andromeda's bow—a warning. It was quite enough. Gann pushed the mate aside, took the controls himself, and put the ship into standby mode, signaling obedience to the order. After this, the pirates launched a boarding boat, into which six troopers jumped, and then Gann, threatening Craig with a blaster, forced him to follow them.
And when the boat docked and Craig ascended to the command deck of the Alatris, drifting several tens of kilometers from the Andromeda, there was hell in his eyes and mortal terror in his soul. Toward him stepped the despised mechanic, tall and slender, in Dominion armor and a tall black helmet. Behind him stood Vane and several dozen of his crew. A barely perceptible smirk played on North's lips.
"At last, Captain, you stand where you have so long desired—on the deck of the Alatris."
In response to this mockery, Craig only growled something angrily. His powerful fists clenched and unclenched, as if he longed to seize by the throat the mechanic who mocked him. Captain North continued:
"One should never covet what is beyond one's reach, Captain. You are not the first to end up empty-handed as a result. The Harpy was a fine and swift frigate. One would think you might have been quite content with her. A pity she will fly no more. She entered the atmosphere and burned."
"How many men do you have?" he suddenly asked sharply.
He had to repeat the question, and only then did Craig sullenly reply that there were three hundred and forty men aboard the Andromeda.
"And how many landing boats do you have?"
"Six, counting this one."
"Well, that should suffice for your men. Order them to descend into the boats, and immediately, if you value their lives. In fifteen minutes, I will open fire on the transport and destroy it. I am forced to do this because I do not have enough men to send a prize crew aboard, and I cannot leave it intact—that would mean allowing you to continue your piracy. For as soon as we leave, you would return to it."
Craig protested furiously, interspersing objections with complaints. He pointed out the dangers that landing on the moon Espada posed to him and his men. They would immediately be taken prisoner by the forces of the Holy Dominion. But North interrupted him:
"You are being treated with more mercy than you have ever shown your prisoners. I advise you to avail yourself of my kindness. If, by some means, you can escape the Dominion soldiers on Espada when you land there, return to your smuggling—you are better suited for that than for space battles. Now get out."
But Craig did not immediately leave the cruiser. He stood, legs wide apart, swaying, still clenching and unclenching his fists. Finally, he made a decision:
"Leave me this ship, and when I reach Libertagne, I will pay you four hundred thousand credits. I think that is more profitable for you than empty gloating, if you are merely landing us on the planet out of revenge."
"Get a move on!" was all North replied, but in a more threatening tone.
"Eight hundred thousand!" Craig exclaimed.
"And why not eight hundred million?" North asked with feigned astonishment. "Promising them is as easy as breaking such a promise. I am as ready to trust your word, Craig, as I am to believe that you have eight hundred thousand credits at your disposal."
Craig's malicious eyes narrowed. His thick lips, hidden by his black beard, pressed tightly together, then parted slightly in a smile. If nothing could be achieved without revealing the secret, he would keep silent. Let North destroy the treasure that, in any case, would no longer be his, Craig's.
This thought even brought the pirate some bitter satisfaction.
"I hope we shall meet again someday, Captain North," he said with feigned sullen politeness. "Then I shall tell you something, and you will regret what you are doing now."
"If we ever meet again, I have no doubt that meeting will provide cause for many regrets. Farewell, Craig, and remember—you have exactly two hours."
Craig grinned malevolently, shrugged his shoulders, and, turning sharply, descended into the waiting boat.
The news of North's decision threw the pirates into a rage—they refused to part with their plunder. The radio waves filled with wild howls and threats, which were even broadcast to the Alatris's bridge. Not suspecting what truly lay behind this outcry, North responded only with a cold, contemptuous smirk.
He watched as the boats cast off, but suddenly noticed something amiss: the shuttles halted at the airlocks. The pirates, blinded by greed, rushed back into the holds for the remaining spoils. Watching the monitor screens, North felt a dull irritation rise within him at this senseless scrambling.
"Tell Barrow to send a plasma bolt into their bow section. These scoundrels need hurrying."
The flash of the shot and the impact of plasma piercing the transport's high bow sent the pirates fleeing the hold in terror and rushing back to the boats. However, fearful for their lives, they still maintained some semblance of discipline.
The boat engines roared, and the boats, finally clear of the transport, began moving away toward the moon Espada, no more than two light-minutes distant. Barely had they departed when North commanded to open fire, but then Vane gripped his elbow.
"Captain, incoming visual signal on the emergency frequency!" Vane reported. "Someone is on board!"
The screen before North flickered, clearing static. Against the dark hull of the Andromeda, he saw a man. He was without a helmet, in crumpled armor, and his bearing immediately made it clear—this was no pirate. The man was shouting something, desperately waving his arms directly before the camera lens.
There was no sound. Leaving the ship, the pirates, in powerless fury, had smashed all equipment they could reach. They had reduced the captain's bridge to a pile of rubble and cut the communication cables so that North could not take the vessel even if he changed his mind.
The man hailing them had somehow miraculously managed to activate an emergency beacon in one of the airlocks. He could say nothing, but the main thing was that he was seen.
"Probably some Dominion officer," North said coldly, not taking his eyes from the screen. "Whom Craig forgot to cut the throat of when he seized the transport."
North ordered a scout boat prepared and sent a detachment of men under Stratmore's command, who knew a little of the Dominion language.
Commander Ilfonso, who had been mercilessly left to die on the doomed ship, had managed to free himself from his bonds and now, descending the emergency ladder, awaited the approaching boat. He trembled with joyful excitement: both he and his ship with its priceless cargo were saved! This sudden deliverance seemed to him truly miraculous. The fact was that, like the captain of the patrol ship, Commander Ilfonso—even had he not recognized the ship's origins from its forms and construction, so unexpectedly coming to his rescue—would still have concluded that he was facing fellow countrymen, for the Alatris continued to display Dominion identification codes.
And so, no sooner had the boat pulled alongside the Andromeda than the Dominion commander, choking with excitement, was already telling Stratmore what had happened to his ship and what cargo it carried. They must lend him a dozen sailors, and together with those locked in the Andromeda's compartments, he would be able to reach Porto Bianco safely with the treasures.
This story staggered Stratmore. However, he did not lose his composure. Fearing that his accent might allow Ilfonso to guess the true state of affairs, he replied with all possible brevity, affecting the laconic speech of a true Dominion citizen:
"I will inform the captain."
Then he whispered to the boat's pilot to return urgently to the Alatris.
When North heard this story and recovered from his initial astonishment, he burst out laughing:
"So that's what that scoundrel was going to tell me at our future meeting! By God, I'll not give him that satisfaction!"
Five hours later, the Alatris was docked alongside the Andromeda.
In the distance, Craig and his crew, noticing this maneuver, cut their engines and, exchanging malicious remarks, observed the proceedings. They already understood that they had been deprived even of the miserable satisfaction they had anticipated—watching Captain North, suspecting nothing, destroy the priceless treasure. And Craig again erupted in curses.
"Blood and space! I forgot that black devil in the cabin, and he blabbed to North about the cargo. That's where mercy gets you! If only I'd cut his throat..."
Meanwhile, Captain North—who in his black armor with the gold cross emblem on the breastplate could easily be mistaken for a Dominion officer, were it not for his green eyes in a fair-haired face—was explaining in impeccable Dominion tongue to the bewildered commander why he had brought the Alatris alongside his ship.
He could not lend sailors from his crew to the Andromeda because he himself was shorthanded. And in that case, leaving her alone in open space would mean handing her back to the pirates from whom he had managed to rescue her.
There was only one thing to do: before destroying the transport, transfer to the Alatris the treasures hidden in the hold. He would be happy to offer Commander Ilfonso and the surviving members of his crew passage to Libertagne; or, if he did not wish that—which was quite probable—Captain North would give them one of his boats, and choosing a favorable moment, they could make their way to the vicinity of the moon Espada, where they would encounter the Dominion patrol ship currently hunting the pirates who had landed on the moon.
Although Commander Ilfonso had already been forced to marvel many times that day, this proposal struck him as the most astonishing thing he had ever heard.
"Libertagne! Libertagne! You said you are bound for Libertagne? But why? In the name of God and the Dominion, who are you?"
"My name is Corvin North, and who I am—to be honest, I do not know myself."
"You are a Northerner?" the Dominion officer exclaimed in horror, beginning to suspect his true situation.
"Oh no! I am certainly no Northerner." Captain North drew himself up with dignity. "I am a Celt, born in the New Worlds."
"Celts and Northerners are the same thing."
"Actually, no. We have nothing in common."
The Dominion officer looked at him angrily. His cheeks paled, his mouth twisted contemptuously.
"Celt or Northerner, you are still a pirate, like all inhabitants of the Northern Colonies."
North's face darkened.
"I am afraid you are right," he agreed. "I have tried my best to avoid it, but what can I do when fate persistently imposes this role upon me and offers such a magnificent beginning for such a career."