“Sure he would,” Whitey interrupted. “Any of us would. If an unidentified ship came easing up to us with its sails in and its guns out, what would we do? We’d crank our guns around and cover the bastard until he said who he was and what he wanted. That ship couldn’t have known whether or not we were pirates just like we didn’t know if he was a pirate–and we still don’t.”
“What were we supposed to do?” Egor snarled. “Wait until he opened fire and cut us in half?”
“Whitey’s right,” Tambu said softly.
“But-captain-” Egor protested.
“She’s right.” There was a bitter firmness to Tambu’s voice now. “We don’t know. We’ve got to find out-if it’s not too late. Whitey, are we still set for hailing?”
“Affirmative, captain.”
Tambu slowly picked up the hailing microphone, hesitated, then depressed the transmission button.
“This is Tambu, captain of the Scorpion. Identify yourselves and state your condition.”
There was no response.
“This is the Scorpion,” he repeated. “We want identification of either or both of the two ships in our vicinity. Do you require assistance?”
It seemed strange, offering assistance to a ship they had been firing at a few minutes before. Still there was no response, nor was there any sign of movement from either of the other two ships floating on the viewscreen.
Setting the hailing microphone aside, Tambu flipped several switches on his command console, then settled himself in the swivel chair, one hand resting on a small keyboard.
“Egor!” he called into the intercom.
“Yes, captain?”