Read The Girls From Alcyone: Merchantman for Free Online Page A

his offer, Sigrid had little intention of dealing with the man again. She'd learned her lesson. But all the while he talked, pontificated, reveled in the sound of his own voice, Sigrid was busy tracking his signal, routing it through the ship's communications. Despite what he had said, Corbin Price was not on the bridge; another lie she had failed to detect. He was here, in engineering, cowering behind the remnants of his mercenary guard.
    "Very well, Mr. Price," Sigrid said, standing, walking slowly forward. "Perhaps we do have something to discuss. But let us do so face to face."
    Sigrid emerged into the engineering section. With her arms raised, she tossed her sidearms to the side, hands held above her head in surrender and submission. The lights in the section had been disabled, but it mattered not; Sigrid could see as easily in pitch black as she could in the light of day, albeit in a hazy monochrome grey.
    "I know you're here, Mr. Price. The captain, too."
    Banks of floodlights flashed on—aimed at her; Sigrid lifted a hand to shield her eyes while her optics made their adjustment. She stood in the middle of the wide room in plain view. Armed men watched her from fortified positions on the raised catwalks above. A turret had been set up near the main reactor, manned by a fire team of mercenary soldiers. They tracked her movements, the muzzle of the great gun swiveling, whirring to follow her. Sigrid logged each of the targets in her PCM, marked them in order of priority. She smiled inwardly as Corbin Price emerged from his position of hiding.
    He pushed Captain Trybuszkiewicz in front of him, a gun pressed to his back, careful to keep the Kimuran officer between Sigrid and his fat figure.
    "I am very impressed, Ms. Peters. The rumors of your skill pale in comparison to the reality. If I had known, I never would have attempted this ruse. We might have saved each other a lot of trouble. That is my failing, and for that, I apologize."
    "Agreed. Now, what are we going to do about it?"
    The fat Merchantman furrowed his brow in concentration. "I would offer you a new proposal, if you will."
    "I'm listening."
    "I propose a service contract. Not binding. Terms would be negotiable. You would work for me and no one else for, say, a period of three years, with an option for two more. For that, I will return the stolen information and release your captain."
    "A generous offer. And during that time I would, what, gather your cleaning , or perhaps act as escort to private functions?"
    Corbin Price found this of great amusement and laughed jovially. "I'm sure I can find something more worthy of your talents. But do not mistake me, Ms. Peters. This offer will expire shortly, and its terms are non-negotiable."
    "No," Sigrid said, surprising the trader. "It is negotiable. Here are my terms. Halt your vessel here. Captain Trybuszkiewicz and the crew go free; the location of New Alcyone must be cleared from your computer banks. Do this and I will perform one task for you."
    " One task? Only one? I'm not sure if…"
    " One, Mr. Price." Recalling the trader's own words, Sigrid added, "Should this go well—we can discuss terms for a second."
    Corbin Price laughed, his hand holding his immense belly. "Very well, Ms. Peters. I think your proposal sounds like a bargain."
    Sigrid could sense the man's confidence. He'd relaxed his stance and allowed more of his frame to be exposed as he talked. The mercenaries picked up on this change of events, as well, and relaxed their guard, their focus more on the conversation than on her. Even now, the soldiers were looking to Corbin Price for direction rather than taking notice of Sigrid and what she held in the palms of her hands.
    She opened her hands now, held above her head. The action was one of submission; the reality quite different. Eight tiny pinhead grenades sprung forth from her outstretched palms—Sigrid's preferred mix of flashbang, concussion and fragmentation. The tiny explosives arched up