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Strange Bedfellows

Space, outside Myr's EMP net

"Linking in three... two... one..." Throttle's words were followed by a loud sound of metal latching onto metal.

Critch unbuckled and was out of his seat before the safety lights turned green. Nearby, less than a mile away, the Ocelot was still going through the same linking procedures with a ship identical to the one the Scorpia had just attached to.

Throttle smiled as she ran her hands over her screens, likely running more safety checks. "I've never flown a Dirac before. I heard they're so advanced, they practically fly themselves. Think they'll let me take the controls?"

"Not a chance. You're a colonist; they're citizens," Critch said. When she scowled, he added, "You could just take it."

She watched him for a second before her lips curled upward. She was considering it. He wondered if he should be proud or worried about guiding Reyne's daughter toward a life of piracy.

She turned back to her screen and tapped the intercom. "Eddy, all checks are clear. The Scorpia's yours until I get back. Take good care of her."

"You got it, boss," came a response via the intercom.

Critch glanced at Birk, who was checking his weapons. The younger man didn't seem one bit bothered that the crew was looking to Throttle as the captain rather than to Birk. Not that Critch was surprised. Birk had been the best right hand he'd had, but the man had never showed much interest in leading a crew. Throttle obviously did.

Throttle pushed back in her wheelchair and stood, holding the armrest until she became steady on her feet. Critch did a double take, then realized she was wearing powered leg braces.

He motioned toward the devices that allowed her to move without a chair. "How're they working for you?"

She looked down at her legs. "Good, except they're not very comfortable. I think the hardest part is still getting my legs used to the concept of walking."

"I'll get you a spinal implant," he said. "I gave you my word."

"First, I have to take care of the one already in my back," she said before turning and heading off the small bridge.

He and Birk followed her through the hallway and to the cargo door at the back of the ship. The light above the wall panel was green, and Throttle visually double-checked the connection through the window before opening the door. A second passed, and the door to the other ship opened to reveal three smiling citizens. All three were Myrads, the bluish hue of their argyric skin making their heritage obvious. They wore colorful clothes, and the blasters in holsters on their thighs looked incongruous with their demeanors and glamour.

"Hello," the young man in front of the group said. "I'm Yang Liu, owner and captain of the Liu-Liu-1and these are my friends, Ted and Ali. We're here to help you start a revolution." He motioned to his left and then his right as he introduced his compatriots.

Critch kept himself from rolling his eyes. These three youngsters were clearly radicals, anxious to change the worlds with their idealistic views. If he hadn't needed these citizens and their ships, Critch would've sent them packing. Radicals were dangerous for two reasons: first, they were obstinate about taking orders, and second, they'd rush in when they should take things slow. He suspected he'd have trouble with this group on both counts.

"I'm Drake Fender," Critch said, using his real name, since most citizens would be unfamiliar with his nickname.

"You're even scarier-looking in person. I've never seen someone with so many scars before," Ali said with a touch of awe in her voice.

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