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bit heavy handed considering the losses they had suffered. All it would take is one bullet in your back…
    “And listen to this. If you pull your heads out of your asses and get your jobs done, the captain just told me…double bounties for everyone.” That elicited a loud cheer over the main com line, and he saw the difference in the bearing of the men standing before him. Double bounty was a battle cry to Black Viper’s pirates, like an officer in some ancient army waving a tattered flag.
    He held up his assault rifle and popped out the almost-empty cartridge, quickly replacing it with a full one. He only had two left, but he was going in at the head of the men this time, and he knew the first few seconds would decide the fight. Either they’d follow him in quickly, getting past the enemy cover and wiping out the few holdouts still remaining, or he’d find himself in there alone…and get blown away almost immediately. In which case, none of this was his problem anymore.
    He had less than half the men he’d started with. They’d had a dozen casualties already, and he’d detached at least another ten men to ferry the wounded back to Black Viper . Pirates had a bloodthirsty reputation, but they were a brotherhood of sorts. He served with those men every day…they fought side by side. Besides, it did nothing for the morale of those still in the fight to see their wounded comrades ill-treated. Treven wasn’t a military veteran, but he knew that much of the motivations that made men fight.
    “Alright, boys…follow me.” He jumped off and ran down the short corridor, toward the blasted door of the cargo hold.
    Follow me…such powerful words. Why is it so much harder to lead, to be first and so comparatively easy to go on the heels of someone else?
    He scolded himself for letting his thoughts wander. It wasn’t the time. He could already hear his enemies firing as he approached the twisted wreckage of the door, and he leveled his rifle and opened up on full auto as he leapt through.
     
    *  *  *  *  *
     
    Marne propped himself up on the heavy canister…the farthest one from the door the enemy had used to force their way into the hold. He was alone, at least he thought so…though it was possible there were still survivors somewhere on Carlyle . Wherever they were, though, it wasn’t the hold. He’d seen each of his five comrades go down, the last two under the brutal blasts of the pirate leader’s shotgun. He was covered in blood, mostly Sampson’s. The last blast of that damned shotgun had blown off the crewman’s head and most of his chest. Marne knew he was damned lucky he wasn’t dead himself. He’d reacted quickly and managed to plant his survival knife in the pirate’s thigh before falling back to his current position. The last position. He glanced over his shoulder at the heavy plasti-steel doors of the cargo hatch. They were ten meters across and four high. But Carlyle was in deep space, not the hospitable confines of a loading dock. There was no escape that way, nowhere to go. Unless…
    What the hell does escape mean anyway? You’re dead where you sit…as soon as they get their wounded out of here and scour the hold they’ll find you. And you’re fresh out of ammo. You even left your knife behind, ten centimeters into that pirate’s thigh. But that doesn’t mean you have to let them win…
    He reached down to his belt, feeling a wave of pain as he moved his arm. He’d landed hard, and now he realized he’d injured himself worse than he’d thought. It was probably a break, but he put it out of his mind. It hurt like hell, but considering his situation it didn’t seem very important. He gritted his teeth and pulled the small ‘pad from its pocket, lifting it up where he could see it.
    He moved his finger across the screen, bringing up a login page. He didn’t see any way he could escape—and with his entire crew dead and his ship taken, he wasn’t even sure he should want to. But