STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS by David Bischoff, Saul Garnell

program was a top-secret Federation project. So far none of the Free Worlds had anything resembling the small, ultrafast, surface/system/Underspace vessels. Any information concerning the structure of one would be valuable on the black market; an actual blip-ship itself would be priceless.
    By bringing a blip-ship on board the
Starbow
, she would be committing that most heinous act against the Friendhood: treason.
    On the other hand, she couldn’t care less about the Friendhood. Loyalty to them, after all, was programmed, knee-jerk stuff, nothing earned or valuable, like her respect, her love for her brother.
    And besides, who said she would have to keep faith with a bunch of pirates if, once she got good solid blip-ship alloy around her pretty tail, she simply thumbed her nose at Captain Tars Almighty Northern and vamoosed?
    She called for a refill for her wineglass. “Sure, Captain. Why not?” She grabbed a napkin and stuffed one corner into the neck of her jump suit. “Now, did you say some food was on its way? I’m hungry as a Denebian frogbeast popping out of hibernation!”

Chapter Ten

    S o, Laura thought, again my intuition was right. I have landed in a peculiar situation, but it looks as though I’ve got a ride.
    Since the deal was struck, she felt no compulsion to be anything but herself. As the soup was served, she fell silent and observed the interplay of the unusual personalities around her, honestly curious about what kind of people banded together to become pirates and mercenaries. Since her own course in life had been mostly plotted, it was difficult for her to understand an autonomous group of intelligent, if bizarre, individuals.
    After the soup, a savory concoction of broth and a variety of vegetation Laura had never seen before, two more crewmembers joined the party.
    The two had helped unload the loot captured from the stricken
Ezekiel
. Whether or not they had actually participated in the raid they did not say; but from the looks of them, Laura surmised that they had every bit as much spunk as Lieutenant Kat Mizel.
    Laura took an immediate shine to Midshipman Gemma Naquist. She wore red hair cut in a no-nonsense bob over a face that was at least Celtic, if not Irish. Bright blue eyes above freckles and a pert nose shone with intelligence. Her body, in a gray uniform, was willowy but firm. She seemed to own all of the self-confidence that Laura feared she lacked. Older by at least half a decade, Gemma was someone Laura would like to talk to.
    But Gemma Naquist, like her counterpart, Midshipman Silver Zenyo, hardly gave the dinner guest notice.
    Laura despised Silver Zenyo on the spot.
    Zenyo was the kind of creature, Laura assumed, who lived off the metaphorical blood of others. Her hair was a beautiful, well-kept cloud of chiffon. Her creamy features were no doubt surgically softened from their true harpy nature. She affected a frilled blouse and bright red trim to her uniform. And worst of all, she was painted … she wore makeup … something you only saw these days on the more decadent colonies like Wonderwhat and Heidi-Ho. Her body, hands, and features moved in a manner calculated to manipulate the sexual interest of males, and only Dr. Mish seemed unaffected by her presence. The stench of her perfume wafted across the table, smelling to Laura like swamp gas.
    But her power was not merely in manipulation; beneath everything else, Laura sensed a deep strength. Beneath a playful half smile there also moved a mystery that intrigued Laura, despite her intense initial reaction of distaste.
    “And my attilium?” Dr. Mish asked, interrupting the staccato report given by Midshipman Naquist.
    “I’m sorry, Doctor,” said Naquist, “but there was no sign of attilium. The boarding parties did double check.”
    “But I detected something on my sensors,” Dr. Mish said bemusedly. “Oh dear oh dear. Shontill is not going to be pleased. I could have sworn … Oh well, it must have been a misreading.