Pirates of the Outrigger Rift by Gary Jonas, Bill D. Allen

plan?”
    “Let me check the starport databanks for transport. We need to get you off Raken.”
    “To go where?”
    “Anywhere but here for now. You can lay low until I determine to whom the package needs to go.”
    “Do a search for Hank Jensen. He’s the pilot I traveled with earlier today. He’s an arrogant bastard, but I trust him.”
    “Trust is rare. Searching now.”
    As Dirion sent his senses through the Grid, Sai got up to go to the kitchen. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat in here anymore, do you? I’m starving.”
    “Sorry, all intravenous. I didn’t bother restocking after you left the nest. Of course you’re welcome to a vein full of saline with lipids and glucose on the side.” Dirion’s voice followed her to the speakers installed in the kitchen.
    “No, thanks.” Sai poured a glass of tepid water and drank it while Dirion’s circuitry hummed around her.
    “I think I’ve found your ship. Hank Jensen is still in port. I’m showing that he just made a credit purchase at the Silver Dollar Saloon, a spacer club in the Warehouse District.”
    “I know where that is.”
    “You’ll need some traveling money,” Dirion said. Sai heard a faint hum as a credit stick ejected from the side of Dirion’s chair.
    She walked over and took the stick. “You don’t have to do this.”
    “Take it. I wish it could be more.”
    “Thank you. I never seem to be able to tell you how much I appreciate you. I love—”
    An alarm sounded from one of Dirion’s communication stations.
    “Sai, you need to leave … now,” Dirion said. “I’ve been monitoring the security channels. There’s an attack squad coming this way. They have orders to kill, and they know you’re here.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    A ngus Brock sat in his floater, parked in the shadows
outside the stronghold of Dirion the oracle. The nanite observers he had placed
around the building were still functioning and had reported no activity since
the girl had gone inside. She was trapped.
    He watched a sleek black sedan float to a stop at the curb. Four
men clutching pulse rifles piled out—a Nebulaco Security heavy weapons squad. That
didn’t take long, he thought. The flow of communication between Thorne’s underground
network and corporate security was efficient. Why was Thorne so interested in
Nebulaco getting this girl?
    When they began marching straight for Dirion’s building,
Brock cursed. No combat sense at all. They were going to screw it up and get
killed. He couldn’t just let it happen without at least warning them. He exited
his floater and rushed toward them.
    “Hello there, officers!”
    They froze and turned to face him.
    He put on his most innocent grin. “I’m just a concerned corporate
citizen trying to help. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I just thought
you might want to know that building over there is owned by an oracle.”
    There was no reaction.
    “Oracle,” Brock repeated. “As in stronghold. As in you might
want to be a little more stealthy.”
    One of the men approached him. “Listen, bud, we don’t need
some civilian telling us our job,” he said, stabbing Brock in the chest with an
armored finger. “You need to back off and get out of the way.”
    Brock put both hands up and stepped back. He read the name
stenciled on the man’s breastplate armor. “Sorry, Lieutenant Larson, just
trying to help.”
    Larson spoke into his comlink. “Red Team Leader to control. We
are executing. Okay, men, let’s go!”
    Brock waved. “Have fun, Sparky!”
    The team rushed across the street and into the building with
little more than a cursory weapons check. Brock leaned against a light pole,
cleaned his fingernails, and waited for the show. He knew it wouldn’t be long.
    A few minutes later, he saw lights flashing in the windows
of the building as apparently random pulse-rifle rounds shot every which way. He
heard faint screams. Shortly thereafter, Larson staggered out of the building,
his face