"Would you rather die on Venus?"
Big Ungo shifted. "But Ceresta, Jarl—it's too far to go. There are other places nearer, safer."
"And the raider fleet—?" In spite of himself, Jarl's voice was bitter.
"The fleet—?"
"How long do you think the Federation will wait to strike, now that they've got this new projector?" Jarl laughed, harsh and curt. "By now, the armorers will be fitting them into every ship. Tomorrow they'll be blasting down on Ceres."
He could see new fear come alive in the others' eyes. It put iron in him.
He lashed out: "Are your own necks all that you can think of? Does it mean nothing to you that good friends will die and, with them, all freedom?—That the outlaw worlds at last will be forced to bow their necks to the yoke of the Federation?"
The others' eyes fell. The raiders looked away and shifted.
Jarl said: "That's one of the reasons why we're going to Ceresta. With rey Gundre's daughter there, the Federation fleet will hold off striking."
Big Ungo looked up, still half-sullen. "You said that was one reason. What others are there?"