Refugee Read Free

one's life to concentrate his attention!
    Faith screamed again—that was one thing she was good at!—and flung her arms about me as my feet touched the deck. The scream was ill-timed; at that moment all the pirates were doing was standing me on my feet and supporting me as I wobbled woozily. Their intent was unlikely to be kind, but in that instant no one was actually doing me violence, despite their leader's order. Maybe it had been intended to cow the other refugees, rather than to be implemented literally. I make this point, with the advantage of retrospection, because of the importance of that particular scream.
    Ill-timed it was, but that scream electrified the refugees in a manner no prior event had. Suddenly they were acting, all at once, as if choreographed by a larger power. Four of them grabbed the pirate beside me, stripping him from me. Others jumped on the one I had stunned with my butt. Still others went after the oncoming pirates.
    The refugee throng had been transformed from an apathetic, frightened mass to a fighting force. Faith's third scream had done it. It remains unclear to me why her first or second screams had not had that effect. Perhaps the first ones had primed the group. I like to understand human motives, and sometimes they defy reasonable explanation.
    At any rate, in moments all the pirates except their leader had been caught and disarmed, surprised by the suddenness and ferocity of the refugee reaction and overwhelmed by our much greater number.
    The Horse stood, however, not with a drawn sword, but with a drawn laser pistol. This was another matter, for though a laser lacked the brute force of a sword, it could do its damage a great deal faster, particularly when played across the face.
    “Turn loose my men,” the Horse said sternly.
    My father spoke up. I knew he did not like this sort of showdown, but he was, after all, our leader, and with Faith and me involved he was also personally responsible. “Get out of this bubble!” he said. “You're nothing but robbers!”
    The Horse's weapon swung to cover my father. I tensed despite my continuing discomfort, knowing that little weapon could puncture a man's eyeballs and cruelly blind him before he could even blink.
    “Who are you?” said the pirate.
    “Major Hubris,” my father responded.
    “You're no military man!”
    “It's my name, not a title. Fire that laser, and the rest of us will swamp you before I fall.”
    The Horse grinned humorlessly. “I can take out five or six of you first.”
    “Two or three of us,” my father corrected him evenly, and I felt a surging pride at his courage. My father had always had the nerve to do what he had to do, even when he disliked it. This was an example. “And there are two hundred of us. We've already got your men. You stand to lose, regardless.”
    The pirate leader considered. “There is that. All right—you release my men, and we'll leave you alone.”
    My father turned to the crowd. “That seems fair enough.” He noted the scattered nods of approval, then turned back to the pirate. “But you have to leave the things you stole from us. No robbery.”
    The Horse scowled. “Agreed.”
    By this time I had recovered most of my wits. “Don't trust him, Father!” I cried. “These are pirates!”
    “I am a pirate,” the Horse said. “But I keep my word. We will not rob you, and we will leave the bubble.”
    My father, like most men of honor, tended to believe the best of people. He nodded at the men who held the pirates, and the pirates were released. They quickly recovered their weapons and rejoined their leader, somewhat shamefaced.
    The Horse stood for a moment, considering. Then he indicated me. “That's your boy who floored my man?”
    My father nodded grimly. “And my daughter, whom he was defending.”
    As I mentioned, thoughts scurry through my head at all times, not always relevant to the issue of the moment. Right now I wondered where my little sister Spirit was, as I