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thing to do,” LaRone said. Taking a long step to the side, he brought up his blaster to cover them. “On the floor, all of you.”
    None of them moved. “Nice gesture,” Grave said. “But it won’t work.”
    “I’ve got the blaster,” LaRone said, lifting the weapon for emphasis. “There’s no way you can stop me, and regulations don’t require you to throw away your lives for nothing.”
    “No, LaRone, Grave’s right,” Marcross said, shaking his head. “They’ll torture us, and as soon as they find out we knew you wouldn’t shoot we’ll be right back in the grinder.”
    “Besides, you can’t fly one of those ISB ships by yourself,” Quiller said quietly. “At the very least
I
have to come with you.”
    “At the very least we
all
have to,” Grave said, his voice heavy. “And we’re wasting time.”
    “I can’t let you do this,” LaRone protested. “I can’t ask you to give up everything this way. You’ll have to leave the Empire, become fugitives—”
    “We haven’t got a choice,” Grave said. “Besides, after what happened on Teardrop, I’m not sure I’ll ever be comfortable wearing my armor again.”
    “And as for leaving the Empire,” Quiller added soberly, “it seems to me the Empire left us first. At least the Empire we thought we were signing up to serve.” He looked at Brightwater. “So: Brightwater. Raise and call to you.”
    Brightwater grimaced. “I’m not ready to give up on the Empire quite yet,” he said. “But I also don’t want to sit around waiting for ISB to put me under their hot lights. What’s the plan?”
    LaRone looked down at Drelfin’s crumpled form, trying to kick his brain back up to speed. “First thing is to hide the body,” he said. “One of those storage lockers over there ought to do it. Quiller, which ship are we taking?”
    “The Suwantek,” Quiller said, pointing to the shipthey’d been discussing earlier. “Considering our combined mechanical skills, we’re going to want the most reliable ship we can get. If they were thoughtful enough to leave the systems on standby, I can have it prepped in ten minutes.”
    “We can’t leave while the
Reprisal
’s in hyperspace,” Brightwater said.
    “Maybe there’s another way,” LaRone said, an audacious idea tickling the back of his mind. “Go get it prepped—Grave, Brightwater, you go with him. Marcross and I will deal with the body.”
    The storage lockers were well packed, but with a little tweaking they were able to make enough room for Drelfin’s body. By the time they finished and descended to the hangar deck level Quiller and the others were already inside the Suwantek. Trying to look casual, LaRone touched Marcross’s arm and headed toward the boarding ramp.
    No one challenged them as they strode along, a circumstance that struck LaRone as both suspicious and ominous. They were halfway across before it occurred to him that with the ISB’s restrictions in place there probably wasn’t anyone in the hangar bay monitor room to watch the parade. They reached the ship without incident and climbed up into a small but nicely furnished crew lounge. Raising and sealing the ramp, they headed for the bridge.
    Quiller was in the pilot’s seat, his fingers tapping here and there as he brought the ship to full life. “Where are Grave and Brightwater?” Marcross asked as he sat down beside Quiller in the copilot’s seat.
    “Checking to make sure no one’s sleeping aboard,” Quiller said. “Okay, we’re ready.” He peered over his shoulder at LaRone. “You said you had an idea?”
    LaRone nodded, sat down behind Marcross at the astrogation/comm station, and gave the controls a quickscan. In-hangar comm … there. Squaring his shoulders, trying to put himself in the mind-set of an ISB thug, he keyed it on. “This is Major Drelfin,” he said in his best impression of Drelfin’s voice. “We’re ready.”
    “Sir?” a slightly puzzled voice came back.
    “I said we’re