Lehane hadn't given the pair any additional thought until the Neverland popped out of n-space and discovered a Nidu gunship waiting for them and jamming their communications. Lehane immediately locked down the bridge, sealing the bridge crew in with airtight blast doors. The commander of the Nidu ship sent a message demanding the surrender of Creek's friend Robin Baker (with whom the nation of Nidu was enigmatically at war), the location of her cabin, and that the Neverland open its shuttlebay to allow a squad of marines already en route to the Neverland to retrieve her. The failure to perform any of these would result in the gunship opening fire on the Neverland. Lehane complied, sent Baker's room information and ordered the shuttle bay to begin its cycle.

"If we let them take these two, do you think that'll be the end of it?" Picks asked Lehane, as they watched the Nidu shuttle enter the Neverland's bay.

"They jammed our communications as we entered normal space," Lehane said. "No one knows we're here. I don't think they plan to let anyone know we were ever here."

Then he was on the communicator to Creek; the Nidu were jamming outbound communications but personal communicators had a short-distance peer-to-peer protocol that operated on a separate frequency. It was thankfully unjammed. As Lehane and his crew watched Creek and Robin evade the Nidu marines (or not evade them as the case was on three occasions), Lehane thought mirthlessly that his security chief was dead wrong. Whatever Creek and Baker were in trouble for, simple con artistry was not part of the equation.

"Elevator's at the Promenade Deck," Picks said.

"Here we go," Lehane said. "Let's see if this guy's luck holds out."

"There's one," Robin said, pointing at a lit path on the otherwise dim Promenade Deck that led to a lifepod door. "Now all we have to do is get to it."

The two of them emerged from the elevator in a corridor behind the kitchen of the Celestial Room, the Promenade Deck's restaurant. The Celestial Room was constructed on a platform that stood above the rest of the triple-height Promenade Deck for what the brochures for the Neverland promised was a "delightful dining experience, floating among the stars." At the moment, however, it just meant that Creek and Robin had a flight of stairs to get down.

Creek poked his head up over the railing and spotted three Nidu marines in front of them, walking in the direction opposite of that he and Robin needed to go. The marines Creek had seen were working in pairs. That meant there was one missing. Robin tugged on Creek's shirt and pointed down the stairwell they needed to walk down. The fourth Nidu marine had just appeared in front of it.

Creek and Robin flattened down to avoid being seen, but the Nidu marine wasn't looking in their direction anyway. As they watched, the marine scratched himself, yawned, and sat on the bottom stair. He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a silvery object, then peeled the silver skin, letting it flutter to the ground, and bit off part of what was left. The marine was having a snack.

In spite of everything, Creek felt bemusedly offended; apparently this marine thought so little of his quarry that he could take a meal break. Creek pulled out the Colt .45.

Robin's eyes widened. What are you doing? she mouthed to Creek, silently. Creek put his finger to his lips as a warning and then crouched up and looked down the Promenade Deck. The three other marines were still out there, facing away from Creek, Robin, and the fourth marine. Down the deck Creek saw little shops and kiosks that would normally provide passengers with all manner of goodies to stuff themselves silly upon. He focused on one he remembered sold soft drinks, about 60 yards down the Promenade and just slightly ahead of one of the marines. Creek raised his gun, steadied his aim, and shot at it.

It was a good hit. The bullet hit the kiosk and tore through the aluminum drink dispenser, dislodging the fiber hose inside that connected to the C02 canister. The hose flailed back and forth in the drink dispenser, rattling and hissing. The marine closest to the kiosk barked in surprise and opened fire on the drink stand; the two other marines, hearing the commotion, rushed to their comrade's location and pumped bullets into the kiosk as well.

The noise was deafening—loud enough that the three marines could not hear when Creek turned, ran halfway down the stairwell, and shot at the fourth Nidu marine, who was already standing and turning toward Creek; he'd heard the shot being fired above him. Creek's shot was badly aimed and went wide, the result of trying to run down stairs and aim at the same time.

The marine was surprised but competent; he raised his rifle and let out a short burst. Creek saw the rifle lift and moved to avoid fire. He didn't. Creek felt shocking clarity of pain when one bullet of the four glancingly tore through pants and connected with the communicator in his pocket, exploding the communicator and sending its shrapnel into his leg. Creek stumbled but fired again, hitting the marine in the hand. He roared and raised his hand in pain; Creek, steadier now, shot him in the throat He went down.

Down the Promenade Deck the three other Nidu marines stopped their firing and examined the wreckage of the kiosk.

"Robin," Creek hissed. "Let's go. Now."

Robin came down the stairs and saw Creek's leg. "You've been shot," she said.

"My communicator was shot," Creek said. "I was just a bystander. Come on. Our chariot awaits."

From down the deck they heard bellowing in Nidu.

"I think they just noticed their friend is missing," Robin said.

"Go get the pod opened," Creek said. "I'll hold them off."

"What are you going to do?" Robin said.

"Something messy," Creek said. "Go." Robin went toward the pod. Creek took the marine's knife from its sheath, and then searched for which of the marine's hands carried the network implant that allowed him to use his weapon. It was on the marine's right hand, disguised as a decorative applique on the outermost finger. Creek put a knee on the hand to pin it down and then severed the finger with the knife. He dropped the knife, grabbed the finger and the rifle and then jammed the finger into his right palm, pressed up against the rifle stock. The implant had to be within a few centimeters of the trigger or the rifle wouldn't work. It was painful to leave the Colt behind; it was a beautiful weapon. But it was down to four bullets and Creek didn't think his aim was that good.

"Harry!" Robin said. She had wrenched down the manual bar to open the airlock door that would let them into the lifepod.

"Coming," Creek said, and started walking backward to the lifepod, limping from the communicator fragments in his leg, rifle up and sighted in toward where he knew the other Nidu marines would be coming.

The first came around the corner in a rush and screamed when he saw the marine on the floor. A second later he appeared to notice Creek. He bellowed and raised his rifle; Creek, who had sighted him in, let out a burst of fire to his chest. The kickback of the rifle was impressive and caused the last few shots of the burst to miss; the first three, however, connected just fine. The marine flew back to the ground, twitching and bellowing. Creek turned and hobbled quickly toward the lifepod. He was pretty sure the downed marine would keep the others from rushing down the deck long enough for him and Robin to get on their way.

The lifepod was a compact ball designed to do exactly one thing—get passengers away from a broken ship. The inside held ten seats: two levels of five, arrayed in a circle, each emanating from the white plastic molding that formed the inside shell of the lifepod. Each seat had four-point belts designed to keep people pinned to their seats while the pod fell away from the ship. Save for a porthole on the door, there were no windows, which would have compromised the structural integrity of the pods. Save for the door sealer, which also served to begin the launch sequence, there were no controls; the pods were programmed to hone in on pod beacons when they were in UNE space or to preassigned locations in other worlds. When you entered a lifepod, it was with the recognition that to do otherwise would be to perish. That being a given, you didn't get a choice where you got to go. It was survival at its most minimum.