“Damned bastard overrode the safety controls,” Moe growled.
Now trapped with his left arm hanging outside, he blew out a breath, allowing the pressure to dislocate his ribs. Despite his determination to keep quiet, his attempt to stifle a yelp failed miserably. Then, figuring he might as well make it sound like he was dying, he let out a screech that would’ve done a banshee proud as he slithered through the gap. He dropped to his feet just as the engines began to hum. The hatch sealed shut with a resounding snap.
Shaking off the pain, he took a deep breath to re-expand his chest and drew his pistol. He’d never been aboard a Scorillian vessel before, but he’d been on starships from practically every planet in the known galaxy and the layout was nearly always the same. From the main hatch, the bridge was on the left and the crew quarters and galley were on the right.
Dashing down the corridor, he took what he believed to be the first left turn, only to collide with the rear wall of an alcove that housed a shrine of some sort. This time, he managed to bite back a scream of agony as his shoulder, already weakened from the tussle with the hatch, dislocated.
“Okay,” he panted as he snapped the joint back into place. “So Scorillian ships just have to be different. Great.”
The ship was still going through its warm-up sequence, so he had a little time to explore. Moving silently with his pistol in hand, he came to a place where the passageway widened out to form a large circular area that seemed devoid of any purpose—no controls, no weird Scorillian furniture, no nothing.
This is a Scorillian ship. And they have wings...
He leaned back, staring at the open, cylindrical space above him. The bridge was up there, all right—he could see lights blinking from the control panels—but to get up there, he would need to borrow a pair of wings.
Recalling that the bodies he’d passed hadn’t been Scorillian, he reasoned that there had to be another way up—a ladder or a stairway of some kind. A quick visual sweep of the area proved the ladder theory; a row of discreet tubular rungs was bolted to the wall. Unfortunately, with a bum arm, not only would he have the devil of a time climbing up there, he would be a sitting duck if Pelarus spotted him.
Then again, having overridden the safety controls on the hatch, Pelarus probably didn’t believe anyone could’ve made it aboard. Not in one piece, anyway.
With no other choice, Moe shifted the pistol to his left hand and started up the ladder, praying that Pelarus was too busy trying to launch the ship to notice an intruder.
“Psst!”
Moe spun around, nearly falling from his perch as Nexbit emerged from the shadows of an intersecting corridor.
“I flew in a few seconds behind Pelarus,” he whispered. “Wasn’t sure what to do—without a weapon, I mean.”
Moe pointed upward. “Think you could fly me up there?”
“Unless you think it would be better to climb.”
“Not really.” Moe winced. “I kinda tore up my shoulder getting in here.”
“I could carry you,” Nexbit suggested. “I do a pretty good Herpatronian, you know.”
“No, I don’t, but I’ll take your word for it.” He frowned. “Why are you just now showing yourself? I could’ve used your help a few minutes ago.”
“I, um, wasn’t sure you’d made it.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you hear me yell?”
“Um, yeah. I did. I thought you were dead.”
“Well, with any luck, Pelarus thinks so, too.” He climbed down from the ladder. “Okay, let’s see your Herp.” Taking a step back, he surveyed the transformation—broad shoulders, muscular arms and legs, longer-than-normal fingers and toes made to order for gripping the rungs of a ladder. “Yep. That’ll work.”
“Unless you’d rather fly,” Nexbit cautioned. “Might be quieter.”
“Okay. You’re right. Quieter is better. Do the kradjet.” Moe was amazed their whispered conversation hadn’t been overheard. Perhaps Pelarus had only gotten the bird-like wings instead of the package deal of enhancements Val had received. Then again, he was clearly older than Val.
Must be an earlier model…
Again, Moe waited while Nexbit assumed his kradjet form, then climbed aboard. “You are cleared for takeoff.”
Nexbit flapped his wings so gently, Moe was barely aware of rising. Even with their silent ascent, he hoped Pelarus was busy at one of the control stations and at least had his back to them. He’d already fired up the engines. The next step would be to lay in a course. After that, he would have to move to the pilot’s seat for the takeoff.
As Moe drew level with the floor of the bridge, he spotted Pelarus at the navigation station, his fingertips flying over the console as though he knew precisely what he was doing.
The moment his feet reached deck level, Moe dismounted and aimed his pistol at the middle of Pelarus’s back. “So, you can fly a starship. We wondered.”
Pelarus turned around so fast, he lost several feathers. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Lucky me, I’m not. But there are a lot of people outside wishing you were. Dead, I mean.”
“And they will remain outside,” Pelarus said with a careless wave of his hand. “Anyone in the blast zone will be incinerated very shortly.”
“You are such an asshole,” Moe observed. “But then, that’s to be expected from a greedy, narcissistic tyrant.”
“My, such colorful language,” Pelarus drawled.
“If you think that’s colorful, you should hear my mother.” Moe motioned with the barrel of his pistol. “How about you step away from the console?”
Pelarus shrugged. “I’m finished, anyway. Time to play pilot.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He nodded at Nexbit, who by this time had resumed his normal shape. “Check him for weapons.”
“Will do.” Nexbit edged toward Pelarus as though the Vessonian were a ticking time bomb.
“And don’t even think about trying anything funny,” Moe warned. “My patience is already worn pretty thin.”
Nexbit obvious reluctance as he patted the winged man’s pockets was nothing compared to the disdain Pelarus displayed. “Must you touch me with such disgusting fingers?”
“I can do claws if you like,” Nexbit replied. “Or would you prefer talons?”
“Shut up,” Pelarus snarled.
Nexbit stepped back. “Okay, boss. He’s clean.”
“Of course, I am.” Pelarus gave his clothing a haughty brush. “If only I could remove the stench of your presence as easily.”
Nexbit chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”
Moe took a moment to consider his captive. Something about him just didn’t add up. “You know, you don’t look old enough to have done this much damage to a planet in your own lifetime. What are you, the third or fourth generation of tyrants?”
He smiled. “I’ve been cloned twice,” he said as he spread his wings. “The second time I had these added. Lovely, don’t you think?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “I was planning to get another replacement ready soon, but Klara seemed like the perfect mother for my offspring—although I suppose I could have simply used her as a surrogate mother for another clone. That is, after I’d expunged her womb of your foul spawn.” His smile vanished. “If I haven’t done it already.”
“You’re treading on thin ice,” Moe growled.
“Perhaps.” Pelarus inclined his head to one side. “I’m wondering what it will take to make you snap.”
“And do something stupid, like take my eyes off you? Not a chance. You really are finished here.” He nodded at Nexbit again. “Shut down the engines and open the hatch.”
Moe had the pleasure of seeing the color drain from Pelarus’s face. “Throwing me to the jackals?”
“Something like that,” Moe replied. “It seems appropriate somehow.”
“You could try,” Pelarus said with a lip-curling smile, seeming to regain a measure of his composure. “Once I’m outside, I�
��ll simply fly away again.”
“Nope. I’m gonna clip those wings. Or at least tie them together. A bunch of the locals are headed this way, brandishing a wide variety of improvised weapons. Surely someone has a pair of bolt cutters or a saw of some kind. Removing those wings probably won’t kill you, although it might hurt like hell.”
If Pelarus had been pale before, he was positively ashen now. “That’s–that’s—”
“Inhumane?” Moe suggested. “Possibly. But then, from what I’ve seen, you deserve a helluva lot worse than that.”
Pelarus licked his lips before drawing in a ragged breath. “What if I tell you where I hid the money?”
Moe shrugged. “I don’t believe we’ll need any help finding it. At least, not from you.” He nodded toward the navigation panel. “You laid in a course; I know because I watched you do it, and I have some experience with navigation systems. We’ll just go wherever it is you were headed and have a friend of ours hack into the local web so we can recover all of your ill-gotten gains.” With an assessing gaze at his adversary’s drooping wings, he added, “Unlike you, Val has some truly awesome wings.”
“Val?” Pelarus nearly choked on the word. “Do you mean Valkyrie? The Avian clone?”
Moe chuckled. “Yeah. Kinda figured you’d know him. I’m guessing he was cloned by the same guy as you.”
“He was part of an–an experiment.”
“While you and your forebears were paying customers,” Moe said with a nod. He’d heard bits and pieces of Val’s shocking history—enough to know he had no love for his “creator.” “Val’s still kinda pissed about all that. He’s gonna love helping to bring you down. Now, all I have to do is call him.”
“No need for that,” a tall, dark-haired woman said as she stepped from the ladder. “He’s already here.” She glared at Pelarus. “And so am I, bucko.”
Chapter 26
Moe couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, Mom. Should’ve known you’d show up sooner or later.”
“You can thank your pilot—Nevid whatever-his-name-is,” Jack replied. Drawing her trusty pulse pistol, Tex, from its holster, she aimed it at Pelarus in a move as smooth as it was automatic. “He summoned the troops as soon as he lost contact with you.”
“Took off with my ship and left me stranded here, you mean,” Moe said with a snort.
“Claims he was under attack and that the ship was about to be boarded.”
“All he had to do was close the damn hatch,” Moe grumbled. “Nobody could’ve gotten past that palm lock.”
Jack shrugged. “Apparently, there were some big guns involved. Anyway, Cat and I are here, along with Larry and Althea and their three kittens—and Nevid, of course. Leroy is on his way, just in case we needed more firepower, although we could probably call him off now.”
“Damn,” Moe exclaimed. “Nevid must’ve panicked big-time to get all of you here. Too bad you didn’t arrive a day or two sooner. Could’ve saved me some dungeon time.”
Jack gave him the same withering look he’d often received as a boy. “You don’t really think I could get a message like that and not strain the engines getting here, do you?”
“Not really. I know how much you love to save the day.”
“Looks like I’m too late for that this time,” she said with a sigh. “You appear to have everything under control.” She eyed Pelarus with mild interest. “So this is the dude causing all the trouble?”
“That’s the one,” Moe replied. “Claims he knows Val.”
Jack let out a low whistle. “Is that so? Although I’m not surprised, considering the, um, wings. Interestingly enough, Val just happened to be aboard Larry’s ship when they got the call. Convenient, huh?”
A whisper of wings heralded the Avian clone’s arrival. Landing lightly on the deck, Val fixed his unsettling gaze on Pelarus. “He does indeed know me. He was aware of our desperate situation and made no attempt to help us escape.”
Not surprisingly, Pelarus didn’t say a word, but his wings began to quiver.
Moe waved a hand. “Hey, Val. Long time no see.” He glanced toward the ladder. “Where’s Klara?”
Jack stomped a foot. “Are you kidding me? Do you really think I’d let a pregnant Zetithian woman—especially one who’s carrying my grandchildren—climb that rickety ladder when we weren’t sure whether you’d gotten the drop on this punk yet?”
Moe grinned. “I, um, take it you’ve met her.”
“Yep. Nice girl. Filled me in on the pertinent details with no muss or fuss.”
“That’s Klara, all right,” Moe said with a nod. “Although I’m kinda surprised you were able to keep her from coming aboard.”
“Yeah, well, I promised I’d take good care of you until she—”
“Get out of my way, Harlex!” Klara shouted from below. “I’m going up there and you aren’t going to stop me!”
Moments later, Klara clambered onto the bridge with a rifle slung across her back. After a sweeping glance, presumably to assess the situation, she ran toward Moe. “Thank the gods!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him. “I thought that hatch was going to pinch you in half.”
“Damn near did,” Moe said between kisses. “Hurt like the devil, but I’m okay. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”
“Speaking of Harlex,” Jack began, “since when have you been teaming up with Nedwuts?”
“Only in the past day or so,” Moe replied. “They actually helped us escape. Turns out they weren’t too happy with the boss man, either.”
“Hmm… Well, I can’t say as I blame them for that,” Jack declared. “This is the sorriest planet I’ve ever been on, and from what I hear, this Pelarus character is responsible for most of the damage.” She glanced toward Klara and Val, obviously taking note of the rifles they were both carrying, before directing her gaze toward Pelarus. “Seems everyone has a grudge of some sort against him. The only question now is which one of us gets to shoot this bastard?”
Klara frowned. “If we shoot him now, how will we ever find all the money he’s stolen?”
Jack rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say we had to kill him, but making sure he doesn’t escape will be a helluva lot easier if he’s, you know, unconscious.”
“Gotcha.” Klara aimed her rifle at Pelarus and smiled. “Nighty-night.”
Pelarus hit the floor in a shower of feathers.
“My, that was satisfying.” Klara had only used a mid-level stun, but it was obviously enough to loosen a few feathers. “Although I wish I’d done that while we were still in the arena. Could’ve saved us a lot of trouble.” She glanced at Moe. “And you a lot of pain.”
Moe shrugged. “I’ll get over it. I always do.”
“One of the perks of being a Zetithian,” Jack grumbled. “Glory may last forever, and scars may look really cool, but for us mere humans, pain sure feels like it lasts forever.”
Klara suspected an inside joke between mother and son—something she now had a lifetime to enjoy. She gave Moe a nudge. “I really like your mother.”
“So do I,” Moe said. “Reminds me of an old song… I want a girl, just like the girl that married dear old dad,” he sang. “Or something like that.”
She had a sneaking suspicion that Moe wasn’t kidding. She’d only met Jack a short time ago, but she could already see similarities between them—which might make for some interesting arguments. They’d already had one minor skirmish when Jack had refused to let Klara climb the ladder when she was beside herself with worry over Moe’s safety. Granted, she understood the need for caution, but still…
Nexbit eyed Pelarus’s inert form with disgust. “What do we do with him now? I’m certainly not carrying—or flying—him down from here. How about we push him over the edge?”
“Not a bad idea, actually,” Moe said. “I’m sure Val would love to do the honors.”
“I would not,” Val said firmly. “If I am going to inflict punishment on him, I will do it when he is awake enough
to feel it.”
“Good point.” Jack tapped her chin in a contemplative manner. “I’ve got a decent load-lifter on my ship. We can get him out with that, but we’d better tie him up first.” She tapped her earring, which was a small round stone in a simple setting. “Hey, Cat, if you’re finished locking down the ship, would you please bring us the load-lifter and some rope? Or better yet, bring the chains. You know, the ones you were wearing when I found you in the slave market on Orpheseus Prime?”
“How could I possibly forget?” a male voice drawled, seemingly from out of nowhere. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Jack grinned at Klara’s bemused expression. “Darconian comstone,” she said, tapping her earring again. Turning her head, she indicated the other earring. “This one is a glowstone, although I have to be careful with it. Sitting that close to my eyes, it can be a little too bright.”
Klara felt genuine—and very welcome—laughter bubbling up inside her. Was this truly what her life would be like from now on? She certainly hoped so, as it was a pleasant change from living as a fugitive in the Barrens. To be able to go anywhere in the galaxy—places where green plants grew and wildlife flourished would be heavenly compared with her life on Haedus Nine.
And, of course, there was Moe.
She gave him another nudge and whispered, “When you were telling me about Val, you neglected to mention what a looker he is.”
Moe grinned. “Didn’t think it would matter. Does it?”
Taking in the Avian’s tall, bare-chested form, the glistening wings that matched his long golden brown locks, his full lips, firm jaw, cleft chin, and skin-tight leggings, she had to admit, he was flat-out gorgeous—even if his round, crystalline blue eyes were a bit strange.
A moment later, she took one peek at Moe, who easily eclipsed any male beauty Val might have possessed. “Um, no, it doesn’t.”
“Glad to hear it. If it did matter, we would have to talk.”
Captive Page 25
