"Hello, Morrison," he said. "Hello, thief."
Morrison's face was as hard and white as something carved from bone.
"It wasn't just an old wive's tale, Morrison," he said. "It was true, and here it is. The Bitter Star, Morrison."
Karlovic reached over and shook him, pointing out the viewport. Coming swiftly in toward them was a small ship, curiously shaped before.
"Space-sweep," Karlovic said. "Those funny bulges are torpedo tubes, and the torpedoes carry heavy scatter charges to clear away debris so the ore ships can come in."
Durham said to the image in the screen, "Call him off."
Morrison showed the edges of his teeth, and asked, "Why should I?"
Durham nodded to Karlovic, who spoke to the darkbird. It disappeared. Within a few seconds the Star had begun to move. It moved fast, the angry gleaming of its body making a streak like a white comet across the green-lit void. It wrapped itself around the space-sweep, and then it lifted and the ship continued on its way unchanged.
Morrison laughed.
The sweep rushed on toward the lifeboat. Its tubes were open, but nothing came out of them. Durham shifted course to clear it, and it blundered on by. In the screen, Morrison's image turned and spoke to someone, and the someone answered, "I can't, they just aren't there."