by Debra Jess
A small burst of static electricity pulsed from the forefinger of her right hand. A whimper escaped her lips as voices, so many voices, whispered to her in languages she didn't understand.
One language sang louder than the others. A language she understood, a song, a lullaby. Her lullaby. Her parents were singing to her.
A pulse of understanding rocked her. Not a clear memory, or an exact emotion, or a pure thought, but a little of all three. Her parents and the crew lived as stars within the cloud, a small minority among the billions of beings already living there. That's why the alien—no, the aliens—hadn't killed her. Her parents, despite their altered state, had recognized her and kept her alive.
She could keep her parents alive too, at least until she died. What would happen after that? Would she join them in the cloud? Would the cloud find a new host? The cloud whispered to her, but she didn't understand. Some day she would, but until then, she had to solve her current problem: rescuing Darvik and the Queen of Hearts.
Slow down. She was getting way ahead of herself. Return to the bridge first, and check the holo, which she did. The Silt hadn't fired again, but it was still attached to the Queen of Hearts.
Where was Darvik? What had he thought when he saw the engines flare? He had to know she was alive. She had to believe he lived.
More voices whispered in her ear, questioning her.
Yes, I love him.
Yes, I believe in him.
No, I don't want him to die.
No, I don't know how to stop Silt from killing him or turning him into a puppet.
Wait. What did her parents say? She listened again and looked down at her hands. They glowed bright yellow, the stars' power pulsing through her.
She knew. All this power…she knew how to bring Silt to his knees and make him pay if he had hurt Darvik or the crew.
Chapter Forty
Darvik dropped through the hole created by Buxter and Jinsin and into the corridor lined by the puppets' quarters. Mayla stood at the far end, gun raised, ready to shoot.
"Don't shoot!" He raised his hands. "Hey there, Mayla. Do you know who I am?"
"Captain Darvik Hart."
"That's right." He took a cautious step toward her. "You know I'm not here to hurt you or your friends, right?"
She had to think about that question. "Yes."
He slid another foot closer. "So why don't you lower the gun?"
She did, but only pointing it down, not dropping it. That was good enough for him. Darvik walked toward her, keeping his movements slow and steady.
"Who gave you the gun?"
"The nice lady. The one who visits."
"Good. Kelra is generous like that. What did she tell you to do with the gun?"
"Shoot the people wearing gray, the one’s who aren’t crew members of the Queen of Hearts.”
Of course. A guaranteed way to make sure Mayla didn't shoot his pirates. "What else did she say?"
"Put the Z-nips into the water supply when she tells me too."
Which wouldn’t happen now. He could still use the Z-nips to his advantage.
"Mayla, Kelra isn't able to talk to you because she's working on another ship. Why don't you give me the gun, and I'll give it back to Kelra when she returns?"
Mayla turned the gun so she handed it to him grip first. He slipped on the safety before he tucked it into his pocket.
"Can you get the Z-nips for me?"
While Mayla disappeared into her room, Darvik gathered the rest of puppets into the hallway. When Mayla reappeared, he pulled her aside to make sure only she could hear his instructions.
"Here's what I need you to do. I'm going to help you get through the hole in the flooring. You need take the compressor window on that level directly to the kitchen. Do not let anyone see you. Once you're in the kitchen, instead of putting the Z-nips into the water supply, I want you to put them into claffien mugs and pour hot Koka roast from the mountains of Harakua over them. Once they've dissolved, bring the mugs out onto the bridge. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Darvik took a deep breath. By the Guardians, he hoped this worked. One of the quirks that he’d learned about Silt while investigating his alleged affair with Kelra was his love of that particular type of claffien. The potent drink had some mild addictive qualities, and if he waved it under Silt’s nose, maybe he’d drink it. "If we're lucky, Kelra will come back to our ship and she can visit you more often."
Darvik could have sworn a ghost of a smile tugged at Mayla's lips.
“And I need you to say exactly what I tell you.” He leaned close and whispered the remainder of his plan in her ear.
Once he was convinced she had it down, he straightened up. "Let's get started." With a push, he got Mayla through the hole. She disappeared immediately, headed for the compression gate on that level. Darvik gathered the other puppets and got them through the hole in the ceiling with orders to pull him through once they were there. It took two of them to haul him upward, but he got them to the bridge faster than he expected.
Silt still held Ezick by the hair, but he dropped the boy as soon as the puppets walked through the window ahead of Darvik. Despite what must have been a screaming headache, Darvik watched Ezick as he silently counted the puppets, making sure they were all there. All of them except his sister. Darvik couldn't risk keeping his gaze on Ezick when the boy realized his sister was missing. He would just have to trust him not to give it away.
Without waiting to be asked, Darvik handed the gun to Silt.
Silt grunted, deprived of an opportunity to accuse Darvik of hiding it.
"Now what?" Darvik asked.
Silt tossed the gun to one of the guards. "Now you're going to get Shade off the Majesty of the Stars."
"I'd love nothing better, but as you could see, the plans we had for killing that alien didn't work."
"I do not care about the alien. Just get Shade onto this ship."
"And what do I get out of this?"
"You get to live, as my personal puppet."
Typical Manitac maniac. The board of directors knew how to pick them. No wonder his ancestors chose piracy over the Unity. There must have been plenty of Silts back then too.
"We’ll see about that. But if you guarantee my crew’s safety, I’ll get her. I'll take one of the roundabouts and fly over—" His comm chimed, interrupting his plans.
"It's her, isn't it?"
It wasn't much of a guess. Between the crew kneeling in their restraints, and the puppets passively standing near the window, there wasn't anyone else to contact him.
"Shade?" More than ever he wanted to hear her voice, but he dared not use her first name. Whether or not Silt guessed that Kelra meant more to him than just a conduit to the Majesty of the Stars, he needed to make sure Kelra knew he was being monitored. After so much time calling her by her first name, switching to her last…it should at least alert her that all was not well.
"Yeah, Hart. I'm here. I'm fine."
She used his last name too. Good. She knew. "I'm glad to hear that. Where are you?"
"In the launch bay of the Majesty of the Stars. I'm returning to the Queen of Hearts."
"And the alien?"
"Handled."
Handled? Not dead? What did that mean? "I'm glad to hear that. I was concerned. We couldn't plunder the ship with an alien on the loose."
"You know me, Hart. I always come out on top."
That almost made him choke, but he cleared his throat instead.
"We'll be ready for you when you land. We have a lot to discuss. So many plans to make."
"I know. I'm looking forward to it. I'm launching now. See you in a few minutes."
He could wait forever for her, but Silt wouldn't. She said nothing and everything. Whatever plan she had, he would adjust his to support hers.
At that moment, Mayla stepped through the compression gate. Rifles rose at her entrance but lowered again when they saw the tray in her hand. Her blank-eyed look told the s
ecurity squad she was just another puppet.
She started toward the senior members of the Queen of Hearts crew, but Silt held out a hand and ordered her to stop.
“What is this?” he demanded.
Letting out an exasperated sound, Hart feigned looking at the time on the clock near his station.
“It’s claffien break time,” Mayla replied, just as Darvik had instructed her.
Silt leaned over the tray and took a deep sniff. “By the Guardians, that’s Koka roast from the mountains of Harakua. How did you get a hold of that?” he snarled at Hart.
Hart made a show of rolling his eyes. “Pirate,” he snapped back, as if that answered everything.
Silt snagged Mayla’s elbow—the arm that wasn’t holding the tray. The way his fingers dug into her flesh made Hart twitch with the desire to pummel the man. He chanced a glance at Ezick, giving him a warning look to hold his position.
“Puppet, is this your daily routine?” Silt demanded.
“Yes. I bring claffien to the senior crew members at this time each day,” Mayla answered in typical puppet monotone.
With his free hand—the one that wasn’t digging into Mayla’s flesh—he took a cup. “Puppet, you will give these to my crew, the people in gray, only,” he commanded.
Eyes cast to the ground, Mayla nodded and proceeded to do as instructed the moment he let go of her. Only those who didn't have a rifle pointed at a pirate took a mug, which spoke more about their belief that puppets weren't capable of subterfuge.
Ezick rocked ever so slightly from his position on the floor, struggling to do nothing as his sister passed within arm's reach but didn't stop.
At least by the time Kelra made it to the bridge, half the guards would be incapacitated. Silt might be a problem, though. He took only a small sip before beginning to pace, his sharp gaze switching from the holo that monitored the shuttle Kelra flew to Darvik, who kept his face passive.
The Manitac captain put his cup down on a console. "You're sleeping with her, aren't you?"
Silt was fishing for information to use against him, against Kelra. If he confirmed, he'd pit Kelra and himself against each other, perhaps promising one would live if they executed the other. These types of stories flourished in the shadows of every station, colony, and outpost owned by Manitac and a few that weren't. Darvik had to wonder if these rumors hadn't generated from Silt's own behavior.
"No reason why I shouldn't. She's a good-looking woman. When you described your affair with her to me, I figured I'd give her a try."
A gross thing to say, but now, Silt had nowhere to go with the information.
"You think you could replace me in her bed?"
Oh, so that was how it was going to be. Silt sure had an overblown view of his own talents, considering Kelra couldn't even remember their affair. If it were even true—Darvik had his doubts—but as long as Silt believed it, he would play along.
"Replace you? No, I’ve no desire for that. Fill in, sure, why not?"
Silt growled again. It was amazing how many times Darvik could puncture the overheated bravado of the man. Given no ammunition to use, Silt returned to pacing. Darvik kept his eye on the holo, listening to Johza's labored breathing, the rustle of Rusa's jacket as it brushed against her pants, Mirin's quiet cursing, and Ezick, who started to fight his restraints again.
He gave the kid another pointed look that he hoped communicated, Hang in there, Ezick. Don't be stupid. We'll get out of this. I always keep my pirates safe.
Naz, always steady, always reliable, remained close enough to let Darvik know he was there, radiating his support, but far enough away so as not to give Silt more ammunition.
They were all counting on their captain to get them out of this situation. He'd been successful for so many years, but he needed their faith in him now more than ever, and Kelra need his.
Yet whatever he might do, he couldn't because Kelra had a plan of her own. That much was certain. If his plans interfered with hers, the results could be more devastating than what happened on Station Seven. Pure happenstance saved Johza, Mirin, and himself. It could have been worse because he hadn't known Kelra was there. Right now, the best he could offer was his patience, to wait and see how the situation played out once Kelra came aboard.
The holo-view switched from the shuttle docking to Kelra bypassing the decon tubes and activating the compression gate. A moment later, she entered the bridge.
Except it wasn't Kelra, not his Kelra. She didn't have to say a word, but her whole being appeared off kilter. The way she carried herself, as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders, gave her the attitude he would expect of a Manitac officer. Perhaps she reverted to her Manitac-style profile for the sake of dealing with Silt. Afterward, when he had her alone in his bed, hopefully the Kelra he'd come to know since he'd brought her on board his ship would return.
For now he watched, biding his time, waiting for her to signal him that it was time to strike.
Kelra ignored him once her feet were planted on the bridge. Her gaze raked over the security squad, still poised to kill his pirates. Did she remember any of them? Did they know her from her years as captain of the Silt?
Her expression gave away nothing.
"Which one of you is Hyeph Silt?"
Odd she asked, because Silt wore his Manitac uniform, and not a decontamination suit to protect him while he was on board the Queen of Hearts. He was hard to miss.
Silt knew it, too, because he bristled before charging forward into Kelra's personal space.
"Don't play games with me. You damn well know who I am."
"Do I?" She tilted her head to the side, her gaze roaming Silt's body from the tip of his nose to his booted toes. "I don't recall ever meeting you."
Ouch. Under other circumstances, Darvik might have felt a modicum of sympathy for the Silt captain. To have the one person he'd bragged about bedding dismiss him as unworthy of remembering had to drive a plasma knife right into his oversize ego.
Before Silt could stop sputtering his response, Kelra took control of the situation away from him.
"If I'm supposed to know you, tell me where we met."
"Where we met? At the Manitac Academy for Naval Service, many times. We were in the same classes. We attended events and parties together."
Kelra frowned, her brows rammed together. If her attempt to remember wasn't genuine, her acting was impeccable. Part of Darvik, however, believed she really wanted to remember.
"Do you have an image I could look at? I do not recall attending that many parties. I spent most of my time at the academy studying for classes or researching the Majesty of the Stars."
Silt looked stricken. "How could you…we had mutual friends…"
"I do not recall having friends. To my recollection, I had a higher purpose for attending the academy, one that didn't involve entwining myself in friendships."
How sad. Growing up on a pirate ship, Hart’s friendships had been limited to Naz. Naz had been enough, but after visiting the Unity Homeport, watching the other medical students walking across campus chatting with so many others like themselves…it had made him think about so many things he'd never considered before. Until the destruction of the Iron Heart, Darvik had thought about maybe staying on Unity for a little while longer.
A consideration that died along with his parents.
"Enough of this! Restrain her." Silt snapped his fingers at the squad leader, motioning him to take care of the deed himself. Not even a pirate would do such a thing. Almost any crew would mutiny over such treatment. But then, he was used to pirates, not military personnel who had been broken down and built back up to be the perfect, obedient soldiers.
Kelra looked away from Silt. "Belay that order. Stay where you are."
The squad leader halted in place. Laughter tickled Darvik's stomach. The squad leader must have served under Kelra when she was captain. Obeying her order without a second thought was instinctual, whereas obeying Silt was a struggle.
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Pride blossomed under his laughter. Kelra had Silt by his balls, and he didn't even know it.
From behind, he felt Naz leaning against his back. Not so close to catch the attention of the distracted guard standing nearby to notice, but enough so Darvik could feel the edge of Naz's surgeon's coat pocket. A sharp, cone-shaped object brushed his fingers.
If Naz hadn't gone into medicine, he would have made an excellent escape artist. Hitching his shoulders up, Darvik forced his hands backward, straining against the cuffs, but he managed to slip two fingers into Naz's pocket and pull out a surgical scalpel, judging by the size and shape of the handle. Pressing the plasma release would activate the blade, but he had to make sure the blade was angled in such a way that he wouldn't slice off his own finger. The handle felt wet, possibly with blood. Johza must have interrupted Naz while he was dealing with the puncture wound. Darvik hoped Naz had time to finish his surgery.
By this point, Silt realized he had two battles on his hands: keeping his prisoners captive and making sure his crew obeyed him, not Kelra.
"I said, restrain her." Silt reached for his sidearm.
"Stovis, yes?" Kelra gave the squad leader a look of pure confidence. "I remember you. You're a solid leader. You reviewed my plans for capturing this one"—she nodded in Darvik's direction—"before I submitted them to the board of directors. You made good suggestions."
Stovis lowered his weapon, lessening his threat. "And you listened to them."
"What in the name of the Guardians are you two talking about?" Silt stepped between the former Silt captain and her former security squad leader. "I said, restrain her. If you don't obey, I'll have you replace her on Ruintalos."
Darvik found the blade's discharge slit. Twisting his wrist as far as he could, he activated the blade. Turning his hand back to its previous position, he started slicing at the plasma locks.
The muzzle of Stovis’s weapon fell further. "Last week you threatened to have me turned into a puppet. We're already down two full squads. What's next? Dropping me into the garbage collector and shooting me into space, like you did that poor kid you beat half to death?"
