For some time, nothing much happened. I knew he must be explaining matters to his vassals.

  As this time of motionless hanging in space dragged out, I became concerned. Was he able to convince his own people? Sword Brothers were nothing if not independent thinkers.

  At last, he hailed our ship. His scowling face filled my holotank.

  “Is everything in order?” I asked him.

  “No. The knight-captains won’t all follow me. Half have opted to stay here at Flamberge.”

  That was a disappointment. The largest fleet possible would do more to convince the Tulk of Gladius—but I decided to put a good spin on it.

  “An excellent idea,” I said. “No need to trust the Tulk too greatly. We’ll fly with half the fleet and know that Flamberge is safe in our wake.”

  Duke Rago looked like he wasn’t happy, but he dropped the subject. “Now, it’s time to send your Tulk here to my flagship. Is it in a tank of water, or...?”

  My mouth sagged low for a moment. I glanced over my shoulder.

  Having heard the good news about Rago joining us, Dernel and Morwyn had come up to the bridge. As they arrived they overheard this demand from Rago, and they were immediately upset.

  Morwyn seemed especially put out. Dernel only stared balefully from under his bandages. “You sold us out?” she demanded. “My father is to be the prisoner of some vicious pirate?”

  “Some would say he already is,” Trask interjected, chuckling at his own joke.

  Ignoring them all, I turned back to the duke. “Your Grace, there were injuries. We would find it convenient if you were to come aboard our ship and meet the Tulk in person.”

  Rago snorted. “So you can infect me?”

  Trask laughed. It was an unpleasant, mocking sound. “You’re not afraid are you, Duke? I should have known! No one claws his way to your lofty station by taking chances.”

  Rago glared at us. “Very well. I’ll come aboard. I will be accompanied by two armed marines. You will all be destroyed if I become irritated.”

  The channel closed, and we all looked at one another.

  “Did you have to antagonize him, Trask?” I demanded.

  “You wanted him to come to our ship, didn’t you? I made it happen.”

  “Fine.”

  I realized, of course, that Trask was right. By questioning Rago’s personal bravery, he’d shamed him into coming to our ship. But the situation was going to be dangerous now.

  Twenty long minutes passed before a landing boat from Rago’s cruiser came to dock with us. I took Dernel, Trask, Morwyn and Jort to greet our guests.

  As he’d promised, Rago brought aboard two hulking marines. I wasn’t sure what they were—but they weren’t normal humans. They were at least as broad of shoulder as Jort, and they were far taller. Perhaps they were cyborgs—men who’d rebuilt themselves with electromechanical parts to enhance their performance.

  Ignoring the marines, I greeted Rago like he was an old friend. Everyone else was cordial enough, until the duke rudely demanded to see our “spiny jellyfish” as he described the Tulk.

  “Ah, yes… he’s right here. We didn’t have a good survival pod for his species, so Dernel was good enough to host the creature.”

  “What? The alien is infesting this injured crone in the chair?”

  I cleared my throat. “That’s right. This is Dernel, from the planet Vindar.”

  Rago peered at him. “You’re bluish… a mutant, no doubt.”

  “Everyone on Vindar looks as we do,” Morwyn interrupted.

  The duke looked at her for the first time. “Another freak. At least you’re not so offensive to the eyes. All right, Gorman. Lead the way to your conference chamber. I will allow only you and this crippled freak to attend. Everyone else will remain outside.”

  “As you wish,” I said, thinking that my conference chamber couldn’t hold much more than three of us.

  When we got there, I served up three packets of spiced rum. Rago slurped his appreciatively, while Dernel let his lay untouched. For my own part, I took a cautious sip. There was no point in becoming inebriated now.

  After the three of us had wedged ourselves around a tiny table, Dernel studied Rago.

  Dernel had a strange look in his eye. At last, he spoke up. “You once held a Tulk yourself, didn’t you?”

  The duke bared his teeth. “You can tell, huh? Well—even that disgusts me. I managed to rid myself of the damned thing, fortunately. I find everything about your species entirely unpleasant.”

  “Interesting... How did you manage to rebel against your rider?”

  “It was an act of sheer will. I woke up one morning to piss—and I stabbed myself in the belly. I was half-asleep, and I think my rider was, too. I don’t think that spider ever knew it was coming.”

  “Fascinating. I’ll remember your tactic in the future.”

  The two studied one another for a moment longer, then Duke Rago turned toward me. “I’m satisfied he’s a real Tulk. I’ve talked to enough of them. Now… get him out of here.”

  Surprised, I ushered Dernel outside. I’d expected the two would negotiate.

  Morwyn was hovering out in the passageway, and she immediately began to fuss over Dernel’s bandages. To her, he was still her afflicted father.

  Rago looked at me next. “How did you know I wanted to come aboard your ship and talk privately with you?”

  “Uh…”

  He lifted a hand and waved it in the air. “It doesn’t matter. It just shows you’re a good judge of character, and I find that valuable in a lieutenant. Now listen closely, Gorman. I don’t want to repeat myself: we’re going to try to get the Tulk captains to follow us—all of them. Then, the half of my fleet I left behind at Flamberge will retake Gladius.”

  I sighed. Clearly, Rago wasn’t seeing the Skaintz as our greatest enemy. I could understand his position. After all, the Tulk had managed to conquer one and a half of the Sword Worlds—his proud home planets.

  “All right,” I said. “We’ll try to get all the Tulk-infected captains we can to follow us to Vindar.”

  Rago grinned and slammed me on the back. “I knew I could rely on you. You’re human first—hopefully always.”

  I forced a smile.

  We chatted for a while about which ships we could expect to get, which ones had the best mercenary armies as well as gear, and other things. We weren’t planning our campaign yet, but I did show him the holo-maps of Vindar that my passengers had given to me.

  “Looks like a normal enough world,” Rago remarked. “You really think it will be overrun by monsters before we get there?”

  “Probably—if we take too long to arrive.”

  He nodded. “Right. Let’s fly. We’ve got weeks to go—oh, and you should be proud of yourself.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We haven’t even discussed my fee—didn’t you notice? How often do you think the Sword Brothers take to the stars without being given hard credits in advance?”

  “I’ve got a large cache of weapons—I’ll provide them to you if it will help buy more captains.”

  He nodded. “I already promised them all to the men who are out there behind my flagship right now. There will be nothing left for the Tulk, mind you. You’ll have to convince them to come along for the good of it all.”

  Glumly, I wished him farewell and grumbled in my rum afterward. It had grown stale and tepid. I didn’t have the heart to either toss it out or warm it up, so I just sipped it wearily.

  After a few minutes, a timid knock came at the door. It was Jort.

  “Come on in.”

  Jort did so, but he eyed me strangely as he got a rum for himself and sat across the table. His hard belly pressed against the tabletop, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “You feeling okay, Captain?”

  “No… I’m a bit worried.”

  I explained to Jort how both the Sword Brothers were making things difficult at every step. Trask had tried to commandeer my ship and crew the moment my back was turned. Rago, even more of a scoundrel, was already planning to double-cross the Tulk before he even met them.

  Throughout this talk, Jort seemed to barely listen. He was fixated on my drink and my gut.

  “What’s wrong with you, Jort?”

  “Me? Nothing. I’m waiting to see if this stuff works.”

  “What stuff?”

  He shrugged. “It was Sosa’s idea. She put something special in your drink. It makes Tulk-guys sick.”

  “Oh no…”

  I tossed aside the packet of spiced rum. I now realized why it was so heavily-flavored. It wasn’t pure alcohol. It was laced with something.

  “Did Rago go back to his ship yet?” I asked, reaching for my gut. Was that a twinge? I thought that it might be.

  “Yeah. I think this stuff makes you shit yourself. You should go find a toilet.”

  Cursing, I left the chamber, and I indeed found a toilet. After a half-hour, I staggered out again.

  Jort was standing around, leaning on the walls and looking bored. “Sir? Are you all done?”

  “Yes! Get out of my way. I’m going to have a few words with Sosa.”

  “Uh… you might want to talk to Duke Rago first. He’s calling the ship and complaining.”

  “I bet he is.”

  I took the call and listened to a tirade. I tried to explain that I’d become ill too, but Rago didn’t buy it. At last, I informed him it was a Tulk medication, and it should only harm those who were afflicted.

  This final lie shut him up at last. He immediately began to make excuses, claiming that the Tulk that had once ruled him must have left behind some hidden remnant.

  “In that case,” I said, “you should be giving us our thanks for having done you a great favor. Maybe that Tulk could have grown back, or something.”

  “Preposterous…” he grumbled, but he finally dropped the subject.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We planned our flight path and left the details to our respective crews. After all, it would take a few days to get to Gladius.

  When we reached the next planet among the Sword Worlds, Count Harkaman flew out to meet us. His fleet was obviously on an attack vector, spinning up in orbit around the gravity well of Gladius, using the planet to swing around and gain velocity.

  When the enemy fleet broke free of the planet’s grip, it came on with alarming strength and speed.

  “We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before we’re under their guns, Captain,” Sosa told me.

  “How long until it’s too late to reverse course and avoid an engagement?”

  “We’ve got about twelve minutes to that point—unless they launch those fighters early. The rest of Duke Rago’s force has even less time. Probably eight minutes for them.”

  I nodded grimly. Trask was the only other man on the bridge, I’d sent the rest of my crew to man stations or at least stay below and out of my way.

  “Rose,” I spoke into my headset. “Connect me up with Rago.”

  A few precious seconds passed. Each moment brought the large enemy fleet closer. They were clearly intending to attack us. There couldn’t be any doubt about it.

  And why wouldn’t they? We were invading what the Tulk now considered to be their territory. They knew we were humans, free of the Tulk influence. What’s more, they knew that we were very aware of the threat they represented.

  Duke Rago came online at last. “Gorman? Why are you bothering me, man?”

  “This isn’t looking good, My Grace.”

  “You don’t think so, huh? Well, you’re right. We’re doing everything we can to talk to these alien friends of yours. They’re far from welcoming. They’re refusing to open a channel.”

  “Are they listening to your hails at all?”

  “It’s hard to tell, but I would assume they can hear and understand us. We’re broadcasting in the clear.”

  “Well sir, what’s your plan?”

  “Plan? Isn’t it obvious? We’ll fly into the teeth of them and blow them out of the sky.”

  This made me grit my teeth in concern. “Don’t you think they outgun us, Your Grace?”

  “They probably do. But I’m not sure a Tulk pilot can fly a human ship as cleanly as my people can. We have an advantage in crew quality. At this point, I’ll take what I can get. I’m not going to crawl back to Flamberge like a whipped cur.”

  There it was: pride. The Sword Brothers were brave to a fault if they thought they were going to be embarrassed by a failure. Checking the formation of ships, I confirmed my suspicions further. Rago’s cruiser was in the rear of his task force. If things went to hell, he planned to survive. After one pass, he’d probably take whatever he had left of his fleet and keep on flying back toward Flamberge.

  “Dammit,” I said, noticing he’d disconnected.

  I sat in my seat, stewing and staring at the screens. We had five minutes left before our two fleets were committed to at least one pass—forced to fly through one another firing for all we were worth.

  “Not quite what you’d hoped for, eh, whelp?” Baron Trask asked from behind me.

  I tossed him a sour glance. “What do you suggest? They won’t talk to Rago.”

  “Of course not. He’s not a silver-tongued diplomat, as you might have noticed. I suggest you get that addle-brained fool up here. Have the Tulk in his guts call his brothers directly.”

  “Dernel?” I asked, thinking it over. After glancing at the timer—we had only four minutes to go before we were committed—I called for Morwyn.

  She escorted her father up to the bridge. That took a long minute, and I cursed with each passing second. I should have had her on hand all along, but I hadn’t thought the old man would be more than a nuisance.

  At first, it seemed that my assumptions were still in line with reality. Dernel—or rather his rider—wasn’t in a conciliatory mood.

  “Our ships will destroy this ragtag force,” he assured me. “I count two extra ships on the Tulk side, plus six fighters.”

  My head snapped to the screens. Sure enough, they’d launched their fighters. I muttered evil things under my breath.

  “Sure,” Dernel continued, “you humans have that big cruiser in the rear of your formation, but I can’t help but notice that it’s hanging back. I believe it will run from the fight as soon as one of your ships blows up.”

  “Shut up!” I ordered him. “Listen, Tulk—whatever your real name is. Have you forgotten that you’re aboard my ship? That you’re going to die with us?”

  Dernel’s haunted eyes ran over the instruments and the screens. He smiled tightly.

  “Nonsense. This ship is fast. Faster than anything in this system. You’ll break away and run. I will suggest the best method: drift back to the rear of the pack, then gently steer at an oblique angle. When you’ve got a bit of distance, slam the accelerator and leave these fools to their fate.”

  “I’ll do nothing of the kind,” I told him. “If your people are going to start shooting without even talking to us, I’m going to ride out the first pass. We’re going to fight with the humans.”

  Dernel’s eyes, still buried in bandages, became improbably large. “That would be most unwise. I’d hoped my brothers would listen, but—”

  “Too bad,” I told him. “Morwyn, take this creature below. Perhaps you should find a way to kill the thing in your father’s belly. It isn’t doing us any good.”

  Morwyn looked troubled, but I nodded to her. She frowned and gripped the gravity cart firmly.

  “No!” Dernel shouted suddenly. “Let me try! Let me speak to my brothers!”

  Glancing at the timers, I saw we only had two minutes left. Normally, I might have hemmed and hawed, running out another minute of exquisite torment for the irritating alien—but there wasn’t time for that kind of fun. Not now.

  Sosa hailed the enemy formation. Dernel grabbed a headset and spoke into it earnestly.

  “Harkaman,” he said. “This is Varrick. The approaching fleet is friendly. Break off your attack.”

  For several long seconds, there was no response. I was surprised that Dernel didn’t repeat the message, but he didn’t. Neither did he plead, beg or threaten. Instead, he just listened to the dead air stoically.

  Finally, Harkaman’s ugly face appeared on our holoplate. “I don’t see Varrick. I see an injured stranger. These games will gain you nothing, humans.”

  “I am your brother. We once shared a pod dangling from the same brood-mother.”

  Harkaman stared. “You’ve transferred from Varrick to this inferior host? Why?”

  “My lifetime hasn’t gone optimally, brother, since our last meeting.”

  “Explain quickly. We must destroy this fleet soon—there will be no turning back once we launch our missiles.”

  Sosa leaned toward me while the two aliens talked through their human hosts. “Captain, the enemy tubes are open. They’ll fire in the next minute or two.”

  “Keep your course steady.”

  She leaned back to her console, shaking her head.

  Dernel spoke quickly and oddly. He used sounds that weren’t words—at least, not human words. His throat quivered and clicked. It was strange to watch, and even stranger to listen to.

  When he had finished with his freakish alien speech, Harkaman stared at him for perhaps ten long seconds. Every human on the bridge squirmed uncomfortably, but I kept them quiet with hand gestures. They all were close to exploding with urgency.

  At last, the screen went blank.

  “That’s it,” Sosa said, “we’re going to have to fight. We’re in too close now. The fleet can’t break off at this range.”

  “No, but we still can!” Trask said. His two ham-like hands grabbed the back of my seat. “Run, runner. It’s what you do best!”

  I ignored them. I turned instead to examine Dernel. He wasn’t freaking out. He was smiling.

  “No,” I said. “Maintain our course and speed. We’ll stay with Rago. We’ll stay on his wing.”

  For perhaps another minute, the two fleets drove on toward one another. No one spoke. The die was cast, there could be no escape at this range for either side.

  But then, the situation changed on the holo-plate.