Starfishers Volume 1: Shadowline by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online

Dharvon, sotto voce , expressed his animosity in words. His voice grew louder. Deeth became frightened.
    The man was falling-down drunk, and had a reputation for verbal incontinence even when sober. He might say something that would push the Norbon into a corner of honor whence there was no exit save a duel.
    The Dharvon was little brighter than his son. He did not have sense enough to avoid offending a better man. And the stupid pride of his heir would, of course, lead the Dharvon into vendetta. The Norbon Family would strike like a lion at a kitten and swallow the Dharvon whole.
    But the mouth of a fool knows no restraint. The Dharvon kept pressing.
    His neighbors edged away, dissociating themselves from his remarks. They shared his jealousies without sharing his stupidity. Sullenly neutral, they hovered like eager vultures.
    Sangaree found feuds entertaining when they were not themselves involved.
    Fate interceded just seconds before challenge became inescapable.
    Rhafu burst into the hall. His face was red, frightened, and sweaty. He ignored the proprieties as he interrupted his employer.
    “Sir,” he said, puffing into the Norbon’s face, “it’s started. The field hands and breeders are attacking their overseers. Some of them are armed. With weapons from the wild ones. We’re trying to get them under control in case there’s an attack from the forest.”
    Guests buzzed excitedly. Heads and station masters shouted requests for permission to contact their own establishments. A general rising could not have been better timed. Prefactlas’s decision-makers were far from their respective territories.
    A few mumbled apologies for leaving ran from the table. What began as a babble of uncertainty escalated into a frightened clamor.
    An officer of the Norbon Family forces compounded it. He galloped in, shouted over the uproar, “Sir! Everyone! A signal from Norbon Spear .” Spear was the Head’s personal yacht and the Family flagship. “A flotilla-scale naval force just dropped hyper inside lunar radius.” A single sneeze broke the sudden silence. A hundred pale faces turned toward the soldier. “No IFF response. The ship types are those of the human navy. Spear’s signal was interrupted. We haven’t been able to raise her again. Monitors show a sudden increase in gamma radiation at her position. Computer says she was hit in her drive sector and blew her generators.”
    The silence died. Everybody tried to leave at once, to escape, to flee to his own station. The great terror of the Sangaree had befallen Prefactlas. The humans had located their tormentors.
    A gleeful wild devil spun circles of terror around the hall. Children wept. Women screamed and wailed. Men cursed and shoved, trying to be first to escape.
    There had been other station raids. The humans had been merciless. They never settled for less than total obliteration.
    Prefactlas was an entire world, of course, and a world cannot be attacked and occupied like some pitiful little island in an ocean. Not without overpoweringly vast numbers of ships and men. And, though sparsely settled, Prefactlas had a well-developed defense net. Sangaree guarded their assets. Normally a flotilla could have done little but blockade the world.
    But conditions were not normal. The decision-makers were concentrated far from the forces responsible for turning attacks. No one had yet found a way around Family pride and stubbornness and formed a centralized command structure. The various Family forces, because their masters were far away, would be loafing far from their battle stations. Or, if the slave rising were general, they would be preoccupied. Attacking quickly, the humans could be down before defenses could be manned and effective interception barrages launched.
    Even Deeth saw it. And he saw what most of the adults did not. Attack and uprising were coordinated, and timed for the height of this party.
    The humans were working with someone on Prefactlas.
    Their