SCORPIUS was hurrying to Command when a call from the medbay below stopped him in tracks.

"Say that again," he demanded.

"Crichton is dead, sir."

"How?"

"We don't know, sir. We can't find anything in his system and none of his wounds were enough to kill him."

"Incompetents! I need him alive!" Scorpius insisted, feeling his dream now so close slipping from his fingers.

"Regeneration is not possible, sir. There seems to be some kind of chemical stasis coating his cerebral organ. Standard revision therapies won't work."

It was all Scorpius could do not to lash out. The machine in his grasp. Non-functional and without coherent plans as to its construction it could take cycles to back-engineer it! His one sure resource dead and his brain inaccessible! He could feel his cooling rods beginning to strain and struggled to get a grip on himself. Nothing was impossible until every avenue had been explored. It would just be a matter of… of course.

The pirate.

"Scorpius!" Braca's voice cut through his concentration.

"Put Crichton in stasis and rig his flask for storage!" He ordered the medtechs. "Braca… this had better be…!" Scorpius started striding forward again, Braca still on his heels.

"Tactical reports that the incoming ships are heavily armed. They could do considerable damage in our present state."

"We have barriers, do we not?"

"Uh, no, sir. We've been diverting resources to repairs of our offensive capabilities and…"

Scorpius stopped and Braca could see a wisp of blue smoke escape from the side of the half-breed's head.

"I made you Captain for a reason, did I not?"

Braca had an answer for that as well.

"All Prowlers and Marauders are currently engaged planetside, Scorpius, as per your orders. Our space-based ones are not responding to orders and have been presumed destroyed. That fleet - Tactical reports that it's all unsanctioned vessels – are definitely pirates. We have identified Karadandidos' Capital and Dar'shanne's dreadnought. At current count there are sixty-five ships. Most are mid-class cruiser sized. They moving on an intercept with us at vector Velka 9. Without mobile Frag Cannon…"

"Redouble all efforts to repair them." Scorpius glowered at Braca. Moving the Carrier itself was not viable in such a situation. More smoke was escaping from the side of his head. "Kill the techs if you must to do it, use them all but fix those Cannon!" Scorpius started walking again. "Recall the Prowlers and Marauders from Earth. They are to instantly engage that so-called fleet! Our ground forces will hold until I say otherwise. Call Froy to attend me!"

He and Braca entered Command. On the huge screen before them hung the pirate fleet with a swirling wormhole behind it. The ships of that fleet were spreading out.

"All secondary defensive and offensive weapon platforms are responding, sir!" A tech told Braca as he marched in. Scorpius nodded behind him. A few moments later, Froy had arrived with her kit. Scorpius sat and she began maintenance on his cooling rods.

"We are now on total war alert!" Braca ordered. "We are also under Code Illcha III emergency conditions! All non-essential operational techs to the Frag Cannon repair teams! The instant they are repaired sufficiently we attack!"

All around them techs scrambled. Braca nodded with satisfaction and turned to Scorpius just as a blast of harsh static sizzled through Command. Everyone could also hear it through their personal comms.

"What in…?" Braca looked to a tech who looked as confused as he was – and another moment later a calm voice filled the entire Carrier.

"Scorpius… what do you think so far? Impressive or what?"

"Find where that's coming from!" Braca ordered.

"It's the other one." Scorpius stood, his cooling apparatus still ejected.

"You like to think this is all a great game with you playing everyone like pawns, so… all right. A game." A pause. "Your move."

The comm cut out and a tech confirmed it.

"Well?" Scorpius demanded instantly. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, sir – he must be in a sensor blindspot."

Braca stepped forward.

"Release seeker drones! Find him and stop him! Now!" Braca turned to Scorpius. "Can we believe him, Sir? Our position does seem… somewhat less than advantageous at this point."

Scorpius was silent and Braca could see his mind turning over. Tech Captain Ereel entered command and walked directly to Scorpius, halted and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Scorpius jerked his head up and said something back Braca couldn't hear but to which Ereel nodded. Looks were exchanged on Command, many eyes turning to Scorpius. Froy calmly finished installing his new rods and closed the cooling unit. Scorpius smiled his death's-head smile.

"Seems, Braca." Scorpius told him at last with a new seeming self-assurance. Ereel clasped her hands behind her back and waited. "Two Crichtons. Each equal and identical said the data." He turned his smile to the Captain, something Braca was never really happy to see. "How is our power?"

Braca turned to a tech.

"All power restored, Sir." The tech said. "There are some dead areas, but…" the tech was diverted by another report. "Something odd about that fleet, sir," the tech continued, "they are all in perfect formation. Not a single one has broken that formation or altered its place in the swarm. We also can't scan into them, but all sensors say they're real."

Scorpius knew of Karadandidos and Dar'shanne. Neither had patience, neither had such discipline and neither would ever be at anyone's – not even Crichton's - beck and command. There was no loot to be had at this backward world. What could he have promised them to have them launch such a foolhardy venture?

'A game', Crichton had called it, but now it seemed some of the game pieces were back on his side of the board. Very well. My move.

"Our pulse wave repeater system?" Scorpius asked her. "Has it been damaged?"

"No, sir."

"Well, Braca… there is your answer to our shielding worries. Activate the wave repeaters and send a triverteron pulse through the cycling array until I say cease. Then flip the charge and redirect it through our shunts. Reroute reactor power from the lower tiers to do it if necessary. Tech Captain, you are in command of that effort. See me when this is over."

"Thank you, Scorpius." Ereel saluted and marched smartly out.

"Sir," Braca interjected, "I'm afraid I don't see how…."

"They are designed to shunt energy away from this vessel, Braca – specifically the rather intense energy inside a wormhole. A few paltry pulse cannon will be nothing against a triverteron pulse infusing our hull. I was taken off guard. That will not happen again."

"Sir," a tech inquired, "flipping that pulse will also depolarize the hull."

"So it will. It will also doubtless generate a rather massive static discharge, so warn any of our ships away when we initiate as it. Recall any of our troopers who may yet be on the ship's hull as it will disrupt their suits as well. We wouldn't wish any …incidents."

Scorpius looked to Braca. In moments, the pirate Crichton and his machinations would be just a footnote in the day as the charge on the Carrier reached him. Scorpius would collect the man from space and preserve him. That Crichton's brain would certainly yield its secrets once appropriately rendered. The other he would keep as a trophy, to remind himself that this was the day victory over the Scarrans truly began. Earth and its system would be annexed into the Influence and its people quarantined. Humans were certainly interesting and billions of them could prove useful. Who knew what other secrets their simple brains could conceal?

Outside, his squadrons of Prowlers and Marauders were assembling and he ordered them to attack. He would soon see the true mettle of Crichton's allies. The problem with pirates is that you could never trust a single one.

"Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"

Braca suddenly smiled.

"Oh, indeed, sir. Initiating repeater sequence… now."

CRICHTON WATCHED the Prowlers flash by as they streaked toward the area of the wormhole and his fleet. He tipped his metaphorical hat to Haxer and old friends and waited for the fireworks. Surprises, he knew, were to be had all round.

In the distance a faint copper-coloured glow rose from below the 'horizon' of the Carrier. What scans he could make with his suit told him that it radiated from the Carrier. Crichton had wondered when Scorpius would finally get around to using his repeater arrays. In the half-arn since he'd thrown down his challenge, Crichton had explored the area around his site and again found himself impressed at the skill it had taken to construct so mighty a vessel. Satisfied he'd sat and watched the sky. At length he rose and unhurriedly went to his Impactor, his magnetic boots clicking through his suit. When one slipped he smiled. He'd reached the Impactor as both boots lost contact and he wedged a foot under its latching strut to keep himself down. Fifty microts later, his suit registered a massive static charge building across the hull and estimated he had about two hundred microts more before the main charge reached him. He breathed calmly and waited.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Crichton shook his head. We are what we are and it's never enough.

His comm crackled.

Here it comes.

THE PROWLERS AND MARAUDERS ENGAGED the pirates darting among them and firing furiously. A smaller pirate ship the shape of a sword slashed with red broke from the main fleet and attacked the first of the Prowlers to arrive, blowing it apart. A cruiser-sized ship, flat, grey and bristling with cannon also dropped from the formation, ploughing through a squad of Marauders, destroying several before a half-dozen Prowlers chased it off. Several pirate vessels broke off and ran and the Prowlers pursued. The rest of the Fleet broke apart and engaged, yet their fire seemed to have little effect. A beam from the Red Thorn passed directly through a Marauder with no damage, although a missile from the sword-shaped ship blew its engines and sent it careening away. A Prowler dove at a smaller ship and seemed to pass into it before suddenly exploding. The pirates moved and dodged, some running for Earth and some for the Carrier, always with Peacekeepers pursuing. Shots were exchanged but always seemed to miss.

Much later, many of the surviving Peacekeeper pilots would give grudging credit where it was due.