Intrepid

''That's what I'm thinking,'' the colonel said. ''It's bad enough to have half my transports broken-down, but to have them pointed out to the locals, oh man, William. They're either laughing at us for being too dumb to drive … or inviting any local kid with a slingshot to go out and hit us. I've got to do something about that.''

''I know, Hernando, believe me, I know. That Longknife girl enjoys yanking a warrior's chain. We need to give her a good solid yank ourselves.''

''Yeah, like a short noose over a tall tree,'' gave them both a chuckle.

Which Thorpe swallowed quickly as the guards dragged Whitebred onto the bridge. As they did, they liberally bounced him off of the bulkhead, overhead, and deck. The civilian fought them, yanking on the three-foot tethers, one to his left wrist, the other to his right ankle. The guards must have had plenty of practice at moving resisting sailors in microgee. Each would glide from one handhold to another, give him a yank while they were secure, then take off for the next grip.

Whitebred bounced off of anything that got in his way and never succeeded in getting a purchase anywhere. It was pathetic for a grown man to be so helpless. Hadn't the man spent any time training in microgee? What was he doing in space?

The guards found themselves handholds, one on the deck, the other on the overhead, and maneuvered Whitebred to a position where he gently twisted in the wind. Occasionally he faced Thorpe directly. Any half-trained sailor would have known how to cancel his rotation, face his captain, and take his dressing down like a fighting man.

Not Whitebred.

''What were you doing listening in on my command channel?'' Thorpe demanded.

''I represent the money, buster. We listen in on anything we want to,'' would have been a whole lot more effective comeback if Whitebred hadn't been twisting his head around at all kinds of odd angles as he struggled to keep eye contact with Thorpe. Did the bloody fool have any idea how ridiculous he looked? He must have heard the bridge crew snicker at his empty claims.

As much as Thorpe hated playing to the crew, the civilian was challenging him as captain. This could not be allowed.

''Steady this fish you've landed,'' Thorpe ordered the guards.

They reeled in their catch, leaving him splayed out like some sacrificial animal, one arm and the opposing leg pulled out straight. From the look on his face, painfully straight.

Thorpe released his seat belt, and carefully maneuvered himself until he was almost nose to nose with Whitebred. ''While you are on my ship, you will follow my rules. Do you understand?'' he said, sharp, hard, but in a deadly low voice.

''I represent the money that got you this ship,'' the businessman insisted, but the power in his words was drowned by the tears in his eyes … and the blubbering of his mouth.

Thorpe glanced at the two guards. They gave the ropes a painful yank.

Whitebred gave a yowl. ''You can't do that to me.''

''You are on my ship. You are under my discipline. You and your moneyed interests sent me and my sailors and soldiers here. The assumptions you predicated this investment upon have been shown to be inaccurate. I am, at present, attempting to resolve this conflict of expectations and reality. This is a matter that can only be handled by officers like Cortez and myself. You are interfering with our work.''

With a flick of his ankle, Thorpe got his body moving back to his command chair. He settled into it with hardly a twitch. Whitebred floated there, awed at what he'd just witnessed.

''Now then, you will return to your room and stay there. Comm Chief, you will remove any unauthorized communication gear you find there.''

''Yes, sir.''

''You aren't going to start shooting hostages we need, are you?'' Whitebred's voice cracked as he pleaded, not for human beings' lives but for his bottom line.

''Not yet, but not because of you. Because I don't want to. Colonel, have you been listening?''

''Every word.''

''You've captured some gommers with mud on their boots.''

''Yes, Captain. I've got quite a few.''

''Organize the groups of ten, like you said. If you have to shoot, start with the hayseeds. If they have any smarts down there, they'll throw their hand in before you get to anyone that our employers might weep for at his funeral.''

''Good thinking, William. Will do.''

''Just one of the advantages of being a couple of hundred klicks above the fray, Hernando. You want me to broadcast a martial-law decree.''

''I recorded one my staff worked up. I'll send it to you.''

About the time Cortez's martial-law announcement arrived, the Comm Chief returned, several comm stations in his hand, all trailing wires that showed they'd been yanked out with little thought to their reinstallation.

''He still sniveling?''

''No, sir. At the moment, he seems quite happy. I think he convinced himself he had something to do with the outcome.''

Thorpe scowled as he shook his head. ''How do such fools survive into adulthood?''