by Debra Jess
Swinging the shuttle around so the port side faced the mountain, the runabout's pilot dissolved the bay doors. Careful to avoid the descending ramp, Hart guided her to where they could climb into the small cargo compartment, not rushing her, but mindful of the pilot hovering the craft despite the brutal wind.
"We have incoming ground forces."
The voice was loud enough that even she could hear it through Hart's ear jack.
"Stick to the plan." Hart signaled for the ramp to retract. "Disable the sleds and avoid the cannon. We're taking the evac shuttle as booty, but we'll abandon it if the ground fire gets too hot."
The bay doors snapped into place with Hart's crew following their captain, watching his back.
"We're in. Lift! Lift! Lift!" Hart shouted.
The familiar crash of a pulse cannon's energy punch slammed into the ship, plasma sizzling across the outer hull. The Silt had taken its share of fire over the years, so Kelra knew how to sway with the resounding wave instead of falling on her ass.
If Hart was impressed with her abilities, he didn't show it. He'd clearly memorized her every move too.
When the ship yawed, though, she couldn't help stumbling against him, both of them grabbing on to each other to stay upright. Someday she might laugh and tell drunken tales about how she body-slammed the great Captain Hart against a cargo container, but for right now, she couldn't muster the energy.
"Four sleds down. Cannon disabled. Two sleds left." The voice reverberated over the intercom.
"Let me know when we're out of the atmosphere."
G-forces pressed her even closer to Hart as the runabout accelerated upward. Despite this, he slipped his arm around her waist so her back met his firm chest, his stance unmovable.
She waited, her breath harsh as the ship rolled, and lifted again.
"We're away," the voice announced from the ear jack. "The Queen's incoming."
The decked-out destroyer had every possible weapons configuration in existence. She was a beautiful ship, and it was a shame Kelra had scorched the length of the starboard side during their last encounter.
The one that had changed her life.
"Get us out of here as soon as the bay doors lock."
Hart released her so she could stand on her own two feet. How was it possible that her body felt the coolness of system-filtered air underneath all her layers?
Again, the slight pressure of g-forces strained against the Queen's internal gravity, but this time she was ready. The darkness outside the view panes welcomed her back to where she belonged—in space.
Hart watched her while she stripped off her gear, right down to the orange jumpsuit, still wary about her machinations. From his expression, it was clear he really couldn't get over the idea that he'd been dancing at the end of her string, not his own.
Or was he watching her for another reason? Even with her head as bald as his, and extreme weight loss, could she still capture his attention?
"C'mon, Hart. What's with the face?"
After she discarded her stolen boots, he motioned her ahead of him. Classic pirate—he didn't trust her at his back. Well, she couldn't blame him.
His crew had also shed their stolen Manitac uniforms as they headed for the decontamination tubes. She was of no concern to them beyond a payday, but since they hadn’t harmed her, she was guessing that payday increased if they got her out alive. She’d been counting on precisely that.
She would see to it that they received the biggest booty ever, if Hart agreed to help her get her revenge. If he didn't, well, then…betraying pirates wouldn't be quite as easy as ditching Manitac because Hart would be expecting a betrayal from her. Only a fool wouldn't, and Hart was no fool.
In the meantime, the decon tube awaited. She'd need at least four hours, unless she'd picked up a virus or other bug that could turn into a contagion.
Instead of following his crew, Hart guided her toward a drink station.
"Prescription order—Kelra Shade."
With a clink, a container plopped onto the small half shelf after transferring from sick bay to the fountain. A thick brown liquid poured from the nozzle until it hit the brim.
"Meal-in-a-mug?" she guessed.
"Doctor's orders."
Her stomach growled and it took more self-control than she ever thought she possessed not to gulp.
"Chocolate with a hint of orange. My favorite." With one last swallow, she finished. "Guess I had better start decon."
Hart took the mug from her, tossing it into the nearest recycler. "I'll take you to sick bay when we're through, then to your quarters. After that, you're welcome to eat in the wardroom."
No pressure, sharing meals with the pirates who had tried to kill her while she attempted to arrest them. There would be no information exchanged until she had a firm guarantee that she would have her chance for revenge. Then, and only then, would she give up her leverage.
Decon tubes lined up along the space between the drink station, followed by three sets of lockers, and a compression gate. Grabbing Hart's hand to keep her balance, she stepped over the lip to the nearest decon tube. The shock at skin-on-skin contact set her head spinning. Her heel banged into the lip of the cylinder, and she stumbled back into Hart, who grabbed her under her arms, steadying her.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "What happened?"
Her head buzzed with embarrassment, even though it was perfectly normal for a half-starved woman to be unsteady on her feet. At least that's what she told herself. Funny how she hadn't felt dizzy until Hart's warm hand covered her cold one.
"I'm just a little off-balance right now. Warm atmosphere, change in gravity. I guess I need more time to adjust."
Half lifting her, half pushing her, Hart set her into the tube, turning her so she faced outward. "I'll give you as much time as you need. As long as you can talk, I'll make sure you're safe on board my ship."
His certainty came with a condition, but after the risk he took pulling her off Ruintalos, she couldn't blame him.
"Talking has never been my problem."
His sharp bark of laughter echoed against the decon tube's lid as it reformed. Through the clear transparacil window, she watched him climb into the tube next to her. He rubbed his hand as he did so.
So he'd felt the charge too. More than likely, it was static electricity, nothing more, but she couldn't help grinning to herself as her eyes closed. What a thought—that she gave the most charming and dangerous pirate in all of Andromeda the shock of his life.
What would it take to do it again?
Chapter Two
Twenty minutes after he and most of his crew had completed decontamination, Hart paced around sick bay while his best friend, Nazaniel Cuff, watched from where he sat at his corner desk. Not for the first time, he wished his friend would allow sick bay some decor; no artwork hung from the white walls, no view panes to see the stars, not even a small holo-vid to keep patients entertained. Nothing to look at but bio-beds, scanners, and other medical equipment. For all his complaining, though, the quiet space made for an excellent area to brood when there were no patients.
"I don't understand your trauma." Naz rubbed a small injector he'd been repairing against the sleeve of his white coat, his fingers delicate enough to handle a scalpel in surgery or a plasma blade in a knife fight. Though his skin was almost as dark as Darvik, their resemblance ended there. Naz preferred to short-clip his hair rather than shave it all like Darvik, and no amount of prodding could get him to grow a beard.
Naz reached for a third instrument, a pump of some sort. No matter how small or simple the operation, the Queen’s doctor always prepared for the worst. "She's here. How she got here shouldn't matter."
"It does matter." Darvik never broke rhythm as he turned on one heel to retrace his steps, digging into his memory to review everything he knew about Kelra Shade. "She manipulated me. The entire time we'd been planning to kidnap her off the Silt, she'd been planning to turn traitor, deliberately get herself co
nvicted, and then wait for us to rescue her off Ruintalos. She knew we were after the Majesty of the Stars."
"So that's what has you chewing transparacil." Naz chuckled as he picked up another gadget to clean, but this time with a soft cloth. "Not the time you wasted planning her kidnapping, but that she outwitted you. I thought that was what you liked about her? You always picked targets in her sector, knowing she was smarter than the average Manitac officer."
His friend was right, but Hart wasn't ready to admit it out loud, so he pivoted once again and walked along the short path he'd created, tugging at the damn Manitac collar of the uniform he still wore. He should have gone straight to his quarters to change, but he needed to talk to Naz first because it wasn't just the collar that choked him. "Like is too strong a word."
"Oh, no, it isn't. With curves like she has and a voice like soft butter on toast, you've been lusting for her ever since your first encounter. The fact that she's smarter than you are only adds to her allure."
By the Stars, Naz wasn't wrong, and that annoyed him even more. "Not smarter."
"Okay, let's try…better strategist. How many encounters with the Silt have we escaped out of pure luck and not strategy, huh? I can name at least four."
More like six, but his friend didn't need correcting. No matter the number, his agitation continued to build.
"Will you stop already?" Naz reached out to grab Darvik by the forearm. "You got what you wanted. She's in our custody. That's what the endgame was, whether it's because you kidnapped her, or she manipulated you. Your plan will still work. Turning traitor on Manitac means she has no loyalty to them. This whole situation makes it easier for you. She’s not and probably never was a true Manitac officer. She’s not responsible for the destruction of the Iron Heart. If she had been, no amount of booty would have you rescuing her off Ruintalos. Sweet-talking her into telling you where Majesty of the Stars is located will be like raiding an abandoned ship."
There was so much more at stake than even his friend knew. At first, he thought Shade's genius caused his restlessness, and part of that was true, but her voice alone could also make him act like a boy lost in a hormone overload. Her ability to turn his best-laid plans to slag only made him want her more, not less. When he taunted her the first time she ordered him to heave-to, she’d mocked him right back and continued to do so after each encounter, adding fuel to his fire. He’d expected her to be outraged, not rise to the challenge. Right then and there, he'd known he was in trouble.
Put it together with his unexplained restlessness, and the flames would consume him if he weren’t careful.
"Sweet-talking her isn't the problem," he insisted. "She wants to talk. Otherwise, why would she put herself through all this? At some point during the disaster at Cordova Station, she figured it out. No, she figured me out. Somehow she knew that we wanted the Majesty of the Stars, and she dangled her tight ass right in front of us."
"Tight, huh?"
Did he just say that? "Metaphorically speaking."
"Uh-huh." Cupping the back of his head with his hands, Naz sat down, leaning as far back as his chair allowed. "I'm still not seeing what has you so agitated. You wanted her, and now you have her."
"It's too easy."
"For you, maybe. Think about what she's been through. I wouldn't call a six-month stint on Ruintalos easy. It's going to be a while before she gets that tight ass turned skinny back into shape."
"I don't mean her. This whole operation has become too easy."
Naz nodded, finally understanding. "Pirating has become too easy, you mean."
The truth dug deep, plucking at the one fear that he'd buried because his crew wouldn't understand. His pace slowed, and deep breaths calmed his nerves. "So you figured it out. Who else knows?"
"Just me, and only because I know you so well. You don't like easy. Challenges keep you here. Vaulting over the next hurdle ties you to this ship. Once you killed Horgath Silt, destroying his ship, avenging both of our families, your motivation deflated. Pirating has become a meaningless tradition for you. Kidnapping Shade off the cruiser named after the man who destroyed the Iron Heart was supposed to be your second-biggest scat squat to Manitac and Unity. She stole that from you, and you can't stand it."
He'd have to stand it. He had no choice. "You're not wrong."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I owe it to the crew to keep going. We've come too far for me to back out now because I'm bored." Not to mention the possibility of a mutiny. Each member of his crew became a pirate for one reason only—acquiring booty. Giving up a treasure like the Majesty of the Stars for any reason other than certain death would scuttle the Queen of Hearts faster than a head-on collision with a closed slipstream.
"You're not thinking of giving up pirating, are you?"
"Isn't that what you've secretly been hoping for?"
"Yes, but not so secret since you already know. The only reason I signed on with you after my residency was because I missed my family, and you're the only family I have left. We only have each other now."
All true. The Harts chose pirating over living under the laws of the Unity Government twelve generations ago. The Cuffs joined the crew of the Iron Heart three generations after that. Pirating was all they knew, and all they would have known until Naz went rogue. Instead of remaining on the Iron Heart when he came of age, Naz had adopted a fake identity and went to medical school on the Unity Homeport. Experiencing the life their families fled all those centuries ago gave Naz a different perspective on pirating.
Despite their years apart, though, Hart welcomed his friend on board the Queen of Hearts when he first took command, after the death of both families and the destruction of the Iron Heart.
"What's your point?" Snapping at Naz wouldn't make this situation any better, so he stopped pacing and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Please tell me what your point is."
Grinning even wider, Naz shook his head as if wondering how Hart couldn't see the obvious. "Let me ask you this: If Shade can lead us to the Majesty of the Stars, and if the ship is intact, and if we can retrieve the wealth it carried without loss of life, what do you plan to do with Shade afterward?"
What indeed? Images of Shade sharing his bed teased him, but another image intruded—an unwelcome one at that. Sure, bedding Shade would put a nice cap at the end of a successful operation, but why did he see her on the bridge, standing with him shoulder-to-shoulder? If his imagination already had them between the sheets, well, that would be perfectly normal, understandable, and desired. This other vision? Not welcome, not at all. A ship could not have two captains, and there was no way he would cede his authority to anyone, not even to someone who could outthink, outmaneuver, or out-strategize him.
It would never happen. Not while he lived and breathed. And as Naz pointed out, there were still a lot of ifs they had to overcome.
"That depends on Shade and what she wants from the Majesty of the Stars."
"Will you kill her after we find the ship? Technically, the ship is hers, but given that she's a fugitive, it's a claim she can never make."
For some reason, the idea of Shade never being able to legally claim the Majesty of the Stars tugged at a heartstring he'd ignored for a long time, another fact he didn't like. The same heartstring ached whenever he thought about the Iron Heart, and how he'd been visiting Naz when the news broadcast announced the destruction of the ship and the deaths of all on board. Unity cheered the news and made Horgath Silt a hero while Manitac declared its first victory in breaking the lock pirates had in the Callisto arm of the galaxy. Without fear from pirate raids, Manitac's corporate colonies and businesses could flourish. The fact that Manitac lost an entire space station not soon after, when the Queen of Hearts joined a blockade and ran through a slipstream to the Calypso arm, was not mentioned.
Only he and Naz mourned the Iron Heart, but at least they had each other in that one gut-wrenching moment. Hart vowed to continue his family's legacy. Naz never tried to stop
him, but he hadn't signed on right away either. By the time he'd finished his residency, Hart had "acquired" the Queen of Hearts, and Naz was ready to come home.
Or so he'd said. Living on the Unity Homeport had changed his friend. Medical school had made him averse to violence and death. Hart needed Naz on board, not just to care for his new crew, but because of their common history and the families they shared. While Hart had welcomed his friend back home, Naz made it clear that business would not be as usual. Bargaining wasn't even necessary, as Hart thrived on challenges.
Could he use this promise to not practice the wanton killing associated with most pirate ships? Would he be able to manage a pirate ship if he lost some booty due to not murdering everyone who crossed their paths?
The challenge worked. The more survivors who made it to port would whine to all and sundry about their encounter with the Queen of Hearts. The more they talked, the farther his reputation spread, and he soon became the most notorious pirate in the Andromeda Galaxy. It had gotten to the point where most of his targets gave up without the need to fire a single shot.
Not all deaths were unavoidable, however, but there were few enough to keep Naz by his side.
"You know me better than that. We'll drop her off at a port with sufficient currency to build a life someplace where she'll be safe."
Naz snorted. "No chance of allowing her to stay? You'll need a second-in-command when Johza retires."
"What do you mean? I thought he was fine?"
Naz shrugged. "There's no cure for his particular myeloproliferative neoplasm. Whatever he was exposed to, it altered his cells in a way I've never seen before—no one has. I can manage it indefinitely, but the treatments are tiring. He's pirated since before we were born. As much as you've tried to accommodate him, there's going to be a point where he might want to spend his life relaxing and enjoying his wealth."
