He shrugged again, and Kanjcevic smiled.

“Understood, Lieutenant,” she said. “And I don’t suppose I should complain about anything designed to make life harder on pirates. We’ll give your people full cooperation.”

“Thank you, Captain. We appreciate it. LaFroye, clear.”

Gower cut the connection and turned to grin at his captain.

“How was that, Skip?”

“Perfect, Lou. Just perfect,” Ackenheil assured him. Now let’s just hope Reynolds knew what he was talking about in that intelligence brief, he added very quietly to himself.

· · • · ·

Captain Denise Hammond, RMMC, stood and moved to the center of the pinnace troop compartment. Quarters were more than a little cramped, given that she had two entire platoons of battle armored troopers.

“All right, People,” she told them. “We’re docking in five mikes. You know the drill. No nonsense off anyone, but no bloodshed if we can help it either. Copy?”

A chorus of assents came back over her helmet com, and she nodded in satisfaction. Then she turned back to the hatch and waited with a hungry grin of anticipation. If the Skipper was right about what they were about to find, then this would be one of the best days she’d had in months, possibly years. And if he was wrong… Well, she was only a Marine. None of the crap was going to splash on her for following orders, and she’d never much liked Sollies, anyway.

· · • · ·

The pinnace settled into the docking arms, the personnel tube mated with the lock, and the Solarian merchant marine lieutenant Kanjcevic had sent down to greet their visitors straightened into what might charitably have been called a posture of attention. He didn’t much care for Manties—damned arrogant upstarts; that’s what they were, crowding Solarian shipping lines all the time—but he’d been ordered to make nice this time. Given the circumstances, he thought that was an excellent idea, however much it might gripe him to do anything of the sort, and he pasted a smile on his face as the green light of a good seal showed above the tube hatch.

The smile disappeared into sickly shock as that same hatch slid open and he suddenly found himself looking down the business end of a stun rifle. One held in the powered gauntlets of a Royal Manticoran Marine in the menacing bulk of battle armor. A Marine, a corner of the lieutenant’s stunned brain noted with something almost like detachment, who appeared to be followed by dozens of other Marines… most of whom appeared to be armed with things considerably more lethal than stunners.

“My name is Hammond, Lieutenant,” the Marine behind the stun rifle said over her armor’s external speakers in a soprano which would probably have been pleasantly melodious under other circumstances. “Captain Hammond, Royal Manticoran Marines. I suggest you take me to your captain.”

“I—I—” The lieutenant swallowed hard. “Uh, what’s the meaning of this?” he demanded. Or tried to demand, anyway; it came out sounding more like a bleat of terrified confusion.