Maia had a point. We couldn’t simply walk two kilometers. Even if the tribunal hadn’t raised the alarm yet, people would notice an assault team on the prowl. Those Raist marines had shown up pretty quick during the brawl.

  “I’m open to ideas,” I said, in what I hoped was a humble voice. Hao gave me a raised eyebrow, so it might not have been all that humble. Or it was so humble it surprised her.

  “Crate the guns,” she said.

  I reached in, carefully picking up my foil, and clipping its scabbard to my waist. It hung like a stiff snake, ready to bite anyone nearby.

  Including me, if the Ladrian ship had a mage on board. I’d only fought another mage with it twice, and both times had ended in disaster.

  For a second, I considered leaving it behind. But the foil was a powerful weapon, the second most powerful I had after my magerifle, and just as scary. We’d need it, if for nothing else than to get inside that ship.

  Leaving the foil wasn’t an option. I’d better get used to the idea of flailing it around, the foil would see a lot of wear shortly.

  And if there was another mage, I’d deal with him the usual way. With massive amounts of high-velocity tungsten.

  “Still leaves us exposed,” I told Hao. I held out one of my heavy submachine guns to her, a twelve-millimeter bullpup Wahir Tornado 2. It was heavy, hard-hitting, and looked like something that came off a mech, then got shrunk to human size. Point it in the right direction and it took care of everything. Short of a Caravel assault shotgun, the Tornado was the perfect corridor-cleaning weapon.

  Hao’s face turned all sour. She hated guns.

  “You’ll need it,” I said.

  “I won’t hit crud with it,” she replied. “I’ve got another crowbar.”

  “You’re not storming a ship with a crowbar,” I said. “Maia, talk to her.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “A crowbar is less conspicuous,” Maia said.

  I threw up my arms in exasperation. Arm, singular. I still held the Tornado and it’s a solid piece of equipment.

  “You can’t shoot,” I told Maia. “And she won’t. Crud. What do you expect us to do? Walk in and talk them to death? The kid will die, if he’s even alive.”

  “You want to save the kid?” Hao said. “That’s why you’re going?”

  I glared at her. That was a question I hadn’t expected.

  “You got a problem with that?”

  “No,” Hao said, and her glare was just as hot and angry as mine.

  The Bucket’s ventilation sent a chill, dry wind down my neck. Hao blinked.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” she said. “I underestimated you.”

  Meaning she’d thought I was after the money. Half a kiloton of helion was a lot of money, but some things weren’t measured in weight of fusible isotopes. I should have been offended. Then again, I’d thought the same about her.

  “And I you,” I said, holding out my fist to her. An unvoiced apology.

  She bumped. We understood each other. Good feeling.

  “We still have not realized a way to approach the ship,” Maia said, interrupting our moment.

  “That’s your job,” I told her. “My job is to shoot and ward.”

  “It was flying and warding,” she said.

  “Well, I’m good at shooting, too,” I replied. It would have been a good time to throw in a grin, but I wasn’t in a grinning mood. “Plan is go in, find the kid, get him out, get him to explain everything to uncle Caramon, celebrate.”

  “I can get behind that,” Hao said. “Especially the celebrating part.”

  “Good,” I said, not waiting for what Maia had to say.

  I tossed my broken jacket aside and grabbed my armored coat from the gun locker. The coat’s leather and warded ceramic plates settled over my shoulders, the smell of polish familiar, the weight reassuring. We might be about to get hunted, but at least I was protected. Somewhat protected. I’d left a lot of wards in my hat.

  Crud, I missed my stockman. Hopefully, someone on the Raist would recognize it for what it was, and take care of it. I’d had that hat for a long time. Losing it didn’t make me friendlier.

  “Take the crudmucking gun,” I told Hao. “You can club people with it for all I care.”

  She gave me both eyebrows, her too-blue eyes staring down at me. I stared right back, the Tornado a black weight in my arms.

  Finally, she relented, and I handed her a carry pack of magazines. She hung it over her shoulder without a comment.

  “And you?” she said.

  Instead of replying, I leaned in, removing one of my slimline assault rifles.

  I had two, firing five-millimeter armor-piercing rounds. The guns were untraceable, custom built by a friend, from a previous time. I’d worked them on the range until they felt almost as much a part of my body as my lost Mino M3 and equally lost stockman. I really should keep a better hold of my things, especially those that meant something.

  “I’m done,” I said. “Any luck figuring out how we’ll get to that ship?”

  “Yes,” Maia said. “I have summoned a ped cart.”