Free Allegiance by Timothy Zahn Page A

private security was serious resistance, and the
very
last thing they could have expected was resistance from Imperial stormtroopers. Brightwater spiraled around the raiders, running deft rings around the more amateur swoopers, keeping them herded together as Grave picked them off one by one. The backup troops in the speeder trucks fared no better, with Marcross in his landspeeder blocking any escape as he and LaRone rained blasterfire on them.
    The speeder trucks were on the ground, their occupants out of the fight for good, and Brightwater and Grave had just tagged the last swoop when there was a violent explosion from the direction of the raiders’ freighter.
    LaRone turned to look. The Barloz’s entire engine section had disappeared, blown into a cloud of blazing smoke, taking the freighter’s lone gunwell with it. The Suwantek’s starboard laser was already shifting aim as Quiller stitched a line of fire across the Barloz’s boarding ramp, discouraging any raiders still inside from joining the party.
    LaRone pulled out his comlink. “Quiller, shift the lasers to auto and get the engines started,” he ordered. “Everyone else, pull back to the ship.”
    “Wait a minute,” Grave objected, lifting the muzzle of his T-28 into rest position. “We don’t have all our supplies yet.”
    “We’ll get them somewhere else,” LaRone said. “Right now, we need to get out of here before someone from Consolidated arrives and starts asking awkward questions.”
    Grave made a face but obediently loaded his rifle into the landspeeder’s cargo bay and hopped up into the driver’s seat. LaRone paused long enough to make sureBrightwater and Marcross were also on their way back, then got in beside him.
    Five minutes later they were once again in the air, heading for space.
    “We’re clear,” Quiller announced, giving his displays a final look. “No sign of pursuit.”
    “Well, I can’t say that it wasn’t fun,” Brightwater commented. “But we really ought to try to avoid that sort of thing in the future.”
    “I agree,” Grave said. “What in the
worlds
possessed you two to come charging out that way?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Marcross said with a hint of sarcasm. “We thought maybe you could use a little help.”
    “No, no, the help was much appreciated,” Grave assured him. “Especially the part where you brought me a blaster I could actually shoot with. I was referring to the fact that you came charging out in full armor.”
    “That was my idea,” Brightwater said. “I thought there was a chance we might need to throw a little bluster around, and there’s nothing like a stormtrooper presence to persuade nosy locals
and
corporate hirelings to back off.”
    “Plus, once the blaster bolts started flying, it seemed like a good idea to have the extra protection,” Marcross added. “Not that we had time to change anyway.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “It’s all right, Grave,” LaRone said. “We got away with it, and we helped some farmers out of a jam. That’s the important thing.”
    “Besides, there isn’t one person in a billion outside the corps who can tell one stormtrooper from another in their armor,” Quiller reminded him. “They’ll never know who we were. So what’s the new plan?”
    “Same as the old one,” LaRone said. “We head somewhereelse and finish collecting fuel and supplies. Pull up a map and let’s see what our choices are.”
    “Just a second,” Marcross said, lifting a finger. “Before we go any farther, I’d like to know how exactly we ended up with LaRone making all the decisions.”
    “You have a problem with it?” Grave asked, an edge of challenge in his tone.
    “In principle, yes,” Marcross said calmly. “As far as I know, we’re all the same rank here.”
    Brightwater snorted. “I think the standard Table of Organization’s a little irrelevant at the moment,” he said. “We’re not exactly an official fighting unit anymore.”
    “I thought we did