"Good," Mouse said. "Let me have the gun, Doc."

"Eh? Why?"

"Because I need it."

Puzzled, Niven handed the weapon over. Mouse tossed it into the hallway.

Niven shook his head, said, "We'd better get moving. They won't stay disorganized forever."

"One thing first." Mouse shoved his weapon under his arm. He took a hypo from the doctor's bag and filled it from an ampule he carried in his pocket. "This one's for your great-grandfather, kids. And all his brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews."

"What the hell are you doing?" Niven demanded.

"Just business, Doc. Turnabout's fair play, right? We should expand our own markets." He raised Michael's sleeve.

Marya understood instantly. "No! Piao! Not my children. Kill me if you want, but don't... "

Mouse answered her with a tight smile. "Just business, lady. Gag her, Doc. Hurry. We got to get the stuff out before Navy pops to we've cut out the instel here."

Niven suddenly understood what Mouse was doing. "Hey! You can't... " He wanted to stop it, to protest, to refuse, got confused by the reference to Navy. "Stardust?"

Mouse nodded, smiling wickedly. His hand strayed toward his weapon.

"Oh." How could the man be so cruel? That was murder in the worst possible way.

Marya needed gagging desperately. Her screams could attract attention...

Dazed, Niven silenced her. Her flesh seemed icy beneath his fingertips. He felt the rage and hatred boiling inside her. She started shaking.

For an instant he thought she was having a seizure.

Mouse injected the children. That wicked little smile kept playing with his lips. He was blissfully happy in his cruelty.

Why did he hate so much?

"Come on, Doc. They're on their way down. Can't you hear them?"

The crowd noise and sirens were yielding to the rumble of assault landing craft descending on penetration runs. The Broken Wings' atmosphere howled its protest of the violation.

Jupp was on his way.

Someone stuck his head through the doorway. Mouse shot, missed, jumped into the hallway and shot again. "Doc, will you come on?"

"I'm sorry, Marya. Really. It's the way things had to be." He snagged the needlegun in passing, skipped a fresh corpse, and pursued Mouse into the emergency stairwell.

Later, as they waited in the crowd watching the invaders pour through the main city locks, Niven asked, "What was that crap about getting off before Navy finds out?"

"We're supposed to be the Starduster and Piao, remember?"

"But they'll know when... "

"Not yet. Look." The Marines entering the city wore uniform gear, but it was not Service issue. It was like nothing Niven had ever seen.

Mouse had chosen the waiting place with care. A man loaded with brass headed directly toward them. "Mr. Piao?" He avoided looking at Niven. His attitude seemed one of mixed awe, fear, and loathing. "You have the material for my officers?"

"That I do, Colonel." Mouse proffered a thick package. "Congratulations. Your men are as efficient as ours."

The Colonel reddened. His mouth snapped open, but he caught himself. Carefully, he said, "More so, Mr. Piao. As you'll someday learn."

"All things are possible to those who believe."

The Colonel riffled through a stack of copies. Other officers gathered behind him. He started passing them papers.

"Let's drift, Doc. They can handle it."

Niven did not miss the wariness in all those Marine eyes. "What was that all about?"

"Oh. They think we're Piao and the Starduster too. They think we worked a deal with Luna Command so we could knock over the Sangaree and take control of their nets."

"What's all the smoke screen for?"

"We've got to keep the Starduster story alive, at least till Jupp makes his hit. Otherwise they might evacuate their production facilities. By the way, I wanted to say you did a job digging all that info out. The Old Man is going to love you."

Niven did not follow it. "It's too Byzantine for me. Are the Sangaree supposed to find out that they're Marines? And then figure we didn't say anything about the production facilities because that would cut off our own supply?"

"Wait till you're in on one of the Old Man's complicated ones."

"Mr. Piao?" a Marine non-comm asked.

"Yes."

"If you'll follow me, sir. Your transportation." Marines surrounded them. A precaution against assassination, Niven supposed. Those bounties still existed.

Sounds of sporadic fighting came from the city. Believing the raiders to be Starduster men, the Sangaree minions would battle hard. The Starduster's viciousness toward collaborators was legend.

The Marines guided them into an armored personnel carrier. They had it to themselves. It rumbled away toward Angel Port.

"Mouse, I get the feeling the Admiral threw in a few twists just to make it interesting. What happens when the Starduster finds out that we've been using his name in vain?"

Mouse was in a bright, expansive mood. He had had a beautiful day. He had carved his initials on the Sangaree soul. He had vandalized their house of crime. "I'll tell you a secret, Doc. If you promise you won't ever let the Old Man know you know." He looked at Niven expectantly.

"All right. I give. What?"

"You really are the Starduster."

"What?"

"The Starduster. Piao. The Old Man invented the whole thing. The Starduster is whoever he points at and says, ‘You!' "

"Well, shit. Mouse, I really needed that. Here you've had me scared to death that the son of a bitch was going to crawl out of the woodwork and cut my throat. I got a year's vacation coming after debriefing. And, dammit, as soon as it goes through, I'm going to... "

"Don't count on it, Doc. Not when you're working for the Old Man."

October 3047. Captain Jupp von Drachau, commanding Special Action Task Force IV, with a heavy siege squadron attached, surprises and commences reduction action against Sangaree manufacturing facilities hidden in the inner asteroid belt surrounding Delta Sheol, a white dwarf in the mini-cluster called the Hell Stars. Destruction is swift, savage, and complete. At the same time Confederation and local police agencies begin closing down the drug networks formerly rooted on The Broken Wings.

Admiral Beckhart has taken every point in a victorious round against his oldest and most favored enemy.

Nine: 3048 AD

Operation Dragon, Danion

BenRabi started to push into his cabin, still glaring at the Sangaree woman.

"I should've bent her on The Broken Wings," Mouse snarled. "You should've... " He had not forgiven Moyshe the weakness that had left her alive.

"I can't stomach contingency assassinations, Mouse."

"Yeah? Look over there and think about it some more. How much mischief could she do?"

"All right. So it makes a perverted kind of sense. If you figure a ghost like The Broken Wings will come back to haunt you."

"It will. It always does. Maybe I'll settle this up... "

BenRabi shook his head. "Not here. Not now. Not after what we just went through."

"I didn't mean right now. I'm not a fool, Moyshe. It would look like an accident."

"Let it be, Mouse."

There was no compassion in Mouse. I should be flint too, benRabi thought. But I don't have his knack for hating.

BenRabi found the things and people in his life too transient for more than mild aversion.

"She'd better move fast when we hit dirt again, then." Mouse growled. "One getaway is all she gets... I hope we find Homeworld before I check out."

BenRabi felt a twinge of jealousy. Mouse knew the nature of his Grail. His feet were set inalterably on the path that led to it, though it was a cup of blood.

"For your sake, I hope so." Moyshe laughed softly, bitterly. Sometimes he had to, or scream. "See you later." He pushed into his cabin.