Crouched on the deck, Jordan made an easy target for the pirate: a twitch of the blaster could cover him in any corner of the airlock. He dropped his hand from his wristpad to his thigh. “Shouldn’t you be boarding an escape pod?”

Ramirez moved into the room, grip now firm on his weapon. He matched Jordan’s casual tone, as he had during their every conversation. “We have unfinished business. You’ve swindled me, stolen from me, killed members of my crew, lied—possibly with every breath—and now have cost me my ship.”

“Our business was conducted under duress.” Jordan fingered the material of his space suit, smoothing a wrinkle. “Blackmail gives me indigestion.”

Ramirez seemed not to hear. “I meant to revenge myself on you after a bit of torture, but my ship is about to scuttle itself and I have no time for elaborate humor.”

“Think of the future,” Jordan suggested. “Let me go. I could become your nemesis, enriching your later years with my poignant taunts and crafty escapes an—”

Ramirez fired. Sparks erupted.