Read Online STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS by David Bischoff, Saul Garnell - Free Book Online

Mizel away like that,” the pilot—whom the others called variously “Patton” or “George”—commented as the computer went on automatic and the
Starbow’s
tractor guided the pinnace to home port. “You independent? Or are you a Feddy?”
    “I’m independent now, but to be perfectly up front, I am a highly trained officer of the Federation, and the only reason I’m associating with scum of your low caliber is that you have something that I need. I’m a reasonable sort, so—” She broke off, staring at the vu-plates. The
Starbow
was unlike any interstellar vessel Laura had seen before.
    The pilot noticed the direction of his passenger’s gaze. “Aha, I see the old
Starbow
has caught your eye. A beauty, isn’t she?”
    The main body of the starship was sleek and silvery and beautiful. It glowed with a multitextured radiance. More remarkable, however, were the thick spokes radiating from the hub, ending in various jewel shapes, shimmering bezels set in a gigantic pendant hung around the neck of night.
    Patton grinned. “Nope. Just don’t make ‘em like they used to.” His eyes gleamed strangely with some private joke. “And they probably never will again.”
    “I’ve never seen the like in any catalog back home,” Laura admitted. “Is it of alien manufacture?” “You’ll have to ask the captain.”
    “Yeah. I’m looking forward to that,” Laura said, redirecting her attention back where it belonged: on her captives, lest they try something.
    All six of them were amazingly calm, even the one to whose temple she held the pistol. They all sat patiently, waiting as the hangar deck of the
Starbow
opened amidships, a hungry mouth awaiting a morsel of food.
    Laura Shemzak was worried. God knew she’d been in stranger situations, and certainly more violent ones. But now, with this strange crew, and all this quiet, she was a little unnerved. Also, she realized, all those times before she was responsible only for herself and the Federation’s wishes.
    Now she had elected to be responsible for the rescue of someone she truly cared about—Cal, her brother. The thought of him brought back her resolve. As crazy and strange as all this seemed, it was the only way she had any hope of seeing Cal again.
    The pinnace fitted snugly into its slot, with barely a clang.
    A voice erupted through the cabin. “Locks cycled. Ready for deboarding.”
    “Yes,” said Arthur Wellesley. “But are they ready for what will be deboarding?”
    “I think they should be,” Laura said. “Notify your captain that I would very much like to have him waiting outside, in person, for a short discussion.”
    “Sure thing, lady,” said George Patton. “I’m sure that Tars is gonna want to meet you just as soon as possible.”
 
    T he docking bay was spacious. Their footsteps echoed as they walked along the floor, which was marked brightly with strange patterns and hieroglyphics. Laura hung back behind the pi-mercs, pistol trained steadily upon the base of the Frenchman’s head.
    Captain Tars Northern waited for them, leaning against the railing of a upper gangway. Beside him stood a slight, querulous-looking man and a tall, stooped individual in a lab smock and a voluminous purple bow tie.
    Captain Tars Northern held a bottle of brandy in one hand. He saluted the new arrivals and tippled a few swallows. “Welcome back, my comrades. Our new arrival, I salute you. Hail and well met, O wandering star lass!”
    “Captain, really,” the man to his left said, eyes darting nervously about. “Don’t you think a little decorum—”
    “Oh, get your prissy little nose outa my business, Jitt,” said the captain. “The doctor here is monitoring me and my condition, and my condition is just fine, thank you. Isn’t it, Dr. Mish?”
    The man in the lab smock smiled wanly, examining a small machine held in one hand. “You are reaching your hour’s consumption limit, Captain.”
    “Oh hell, I’m celebrating,” the captain said.