Frrar

by Layla Nash

  The crew converged around one of the storage holds in the transporter and began to work on freeing something large there from its bindings. Frrar worked faster, not wanting to miss the opportunity, and held his breath as the ship’s manifest scrolled past him. He wasn’t great at deciphering the Helio characters the transporter used, but luckily whoever translated it the first time left behind good notes. The description that was emphasized and annotated in Xarav belonged to four crates of some kind of weapon, and included details on the number of guards assigned to protect the weaponry.

  Frrar’s eyebrows rose as he reviewed the specifications. The weapon’s capabilities would overwhelm anything the rebels had, and probably most of what the Alliance had in their fleet. His chest tightened as he squinted and tried to decipher the characters that hadn’t been translated into Xarav. Something about stealth technology, a new kind of laser that could defeat Einstein-class armor, and notes with terms for “dark matter” appearing multiple times in a very long technical discussion.

  He glanced around before pulling out one of the fancy encrypted communicators that he’d copied from the gadget another of the Earthers had carried, and scanned the information on the weapon system. He could research more later, or send the information back to the Galaxos for Vrix to look into. There was no telling why Faros wanted the weapons, beyond just making his ship deadlier. He’d taken a lot of risk to attack a transporter that size with two additional ships with it, and from the initial damage on the Sraibur when it hailed the Galaxos, it might have been a second attempt. Faros wanted those weapons badly enough he risked his entire ship twice—and risked Maisy’s life in the process.

  The alarms changed tone again and the screen showed the pirates heading once more to the loading bay. Frrar put away his communicator and concentrated on helping get the cargo into the Sraibur as safely and quickly as possible. No doubt the transporter called for assistance as soon as the attack started. The Alliance, the rebels, whoever paid for the weapons... they could all be en route.

  Faros gave him a dirty look when he re-boarded the Sraibur and saw Frrar at the controls, but the captain didn’t say anything as he stormed past. The rest of the crew celebrated, though quietly, as they returned to the ship and manhandled enormous crates on hover dollies through the transport arm and into the Sraibur. Frrar tried not to look too interested in the mission as Nokx returned to take over, breathless and bright orange with excitement, and instead Frrar turned his attention back to the sick bay, where Maisy and her soft lips waited.

  Chapter 17

  Maisy

  She practically floated as she went back into the sick bay, not even hearing the changing alarms that deafened her in the corridor, and the memory of Frrar’s strong hands on her waist and hips gave her shivers even in the warmer air in sick bay. She smiled at Faryl, who was content to play with his toys in the containment unit, and spun in a circle as she searched for something to do to keep her scattered thoughts together.

  Maisy couldn’t let herself get distracted. She still had work to do, and no doubt there would be injuries from raiding the other ship. She needed to be prepared to treat a bunch of full-grown Xaravians in addition to the little pint in the corner. She sang songs under her breath to keep him entertained, charmed by Faryl’s shy smile, and piled up wound regenerators on one of the prepped beds.

  Still though, thoughts of Frrar’s kiss lingered at the front of her mind. She hadn’t expected him to be so careful with her. Those Xaravians were sheer muscle covered in armored scales; everything about them was rough and scary and intimidating. But the way he’d held her face... Her skin prickled and she shook herself before she forgot to charge the transfusion pods. Maisy had to concentrate. People died when doctors didn’t concentrate.

  Maisy looked up as the sick bay doors opened and one pirate dragged an injured pirate in. She sighed and pointed at the bed that wasn’t covered in regenerators. “Put him there, please.” Then she was too busy to think about anything except the task—and body—in front of her.

  Half a dozen Xaravians arrived with serious or life-threatening wounds, mostly burns and holes from laser weapons, and Maisy ran through a lot of her supplies to keep them alive. Faryl observed it all with solemn eyes, and even though she regretted that he’d grown up seeing grievous injuries right in front of him, the boy was a welcome distraction for almost everyone else. Even the gruff warriors talked to the kid as they waited for the regenerators to heal up their wounds.

  Maisy couldn’t understand most of what they said, but the tones said the pirates teased him like a bunch of grumpy uncles. Faryl did his best impersonation of a grim Xarav warrior when he responded, which just made the pirates grin and tease him more.

  Maisy even found herself halfway entertained as the whirl of faces and injuries continued around her and the day wore on. The serious injuries gave way to less dangerous ones, although they should have sought treatment immediately instead of after dinner, and half the crew appeared eventually with some cuts and wounds while they chewed through dinner and drank their eye-watering liquor. She lectured all of them on making terrible life choices, but the pirates treated her much the same as they treated Faryl—bemused tolerance, as if they couldn’t decipher why she did and said what she did.

  Maisy wanted to fume over it, but at least one of the warriors brought her a trinket in thanks. She really didn’t want to be charmed. She shouldn’t have been—they were pirates, after all, and there was no telling who they stole the gifts from. But at least one took a bead from his hair to give to her, so maybe they were taken from Xarav before the warriors became pirates. She didn’t understand all of their complex rules about honor and codes and gifts, so part of her was reluctant to accept anything, but then again—it could have been a grave insult not to accept.

  So she gave up and tried to remember who gave her what, so she could maybe ask Frrar about it later and make sure she hadn’t accidentally ended up engaged or something. Although... Her whole body flushed at the thought. What if Frrar gave her something? Or started fighting with one of the others because of something the warriors gave her?

  She rolled her eyes at herself, searching for trouble when she already had enough in front of her, and got back to business. She didn’t have time for mooning around over a male and whether he was interested in her. His kiss pretty much made that clear, and it definitely didn’t need translation.

  Maisy had hit the point of exhaustion where she used the gliding stool instead of walking around when Faros reappeared. He carried a tray with several plates and piles of food, and placed it on a counter not otherwise occupied. Maisy knew it was childish to pout, but she still ignored him as the captain brought food to his excited son. Faros murmured to Faryl and carried on a calm conversation that made no attempt to include her, and gradually some of the tension drained out of her shoulders.

  She wouldn’t forget what Faros ordered his crew to do, nor the lives he’d taken just to pillage a transporter. She didn’t care about his justification or reasoning. Nothing he said could make up for the thousands of lives that had ended on the escort ship with the transporter.

  When Faros spoke, she almost didn’t understand him with the fatigue in his tone. “They were not the innocents you thought them, Maisy.”

  “It’s Doctor Cunningham, if you don’t mind.”

  The captain gave a dry chuckle, like he knew exactly why she didn’t want him using her name. “Sure. Whatever you want, Doc. That doesn’t change that life is very different on this side of the Alliance.”

  “I’ve been exiled from Alliance territory,” Maisy said. She kept her back to him, not wanting to see Faryl’s face in case the little boy’s love for his father swayed her, and focused on what she knew to be true in her bones. “They might claim to be the good ones, but we all know that isn’t true. What matters is that we are good. That we are better than they are. And murdering people in the middle of a neutral sector isn’t—”

  “It’s not murder,�
�� he said. Faros managed to keep up his patient tone, though it set her teeth on edge. Just like one of those old, misogynistic professors who insisted on calling her “dear” and “sweetheart” and telling her to get them coffee on rounds.

  The Xaravian captain put his son down and leaned against one of the beds that still had blood-splattered plastic on it from the last pirate who’d been treated. “It was a military operation. There weren’t any civilians on those transporters or the escort vessels. They knew exactly what they were doing flying through this quadrant, and they knew the risks. It’s a chance we all take.”

  “I didn’t sign up for that kind of risk, and neither did Frrar.”

  She turned to face him, too furious to remain dispassionate, despite all her medical training. That had always been impossible for her—she couldn’t separate herself from the emotion and pain of the patients and their families. She needed to feel the desperation and grief; it motivated her. It drove her onward to find a solution, a cure, even when things looked hopeless. Especially when things looked hopeless.

  Maisy steeled herself against the handsome captain and his charming eyes. “Neither did your son, for that matter. And this isn’t a rebel vessel, nor a military ship. So why would you feel it necessary to attack a civilian-flagged ship even if you believed it military?”

  Faros leaned back against the bed and folded his arms over his chest. “Rebels do not flag our ships, Doc, because then we’d never be able to travel safely anywhere. Just like the Alliance doesn’t flag their vehicles or use military escorts when they’re smuggling weapons and dealing with black market arms dealers.”

  Maisy swallowed an immediate argument. There had certainly been a time when she would have defended the Alliance to her dying breath, but the events since she and the rest of the female crew on the Argo had been sold to the Xaravians had long since revealed the corruption that rotted the Alliance from the inside out. She didn’t let him see her hesitation, though.

  “So what are you doing with what you stole? Turning it over to the rebels? Why don’t we call in the Galaxos and they can pick up the cargo and return it to the rebels, so your ship can continue on its way to pick up a new doctor and engineer—like you said we would?”

  He didn’t blink and not a flicker of regret crossed his expression. “You know perfectly well we’re not going to summon the Galaxos. And while I might very well pick up a new engineer, I don’t see the need for a new doctor, not when you’re here and so very interested in adventure.”

  Her heart thumped oddly in her ears and it took a long moment before she was certain she’d correctly heard what he said. “I’m leaving this ship when the mission ends, Captain.”

  “This mission never ends, Doc.” He straightened and took a step in her direction; Maisy held up her hand to fend him off, and Faros paused. Faryl looked between them with a hint of concern in the way his eyebrows drew down. The captain kept his voice soft, nonthreatening. “My son enjoys being around you, Doc, and he looks healthier now than at any other point in his life since his mother died. Surely you realize I can’t let you leave now. It would break his heart and it might kill him as well.”

  She shook her head as panic rose through her. He couldn’t be serious. She wanted adventure but not a lifetime of it. Just a short bit of excitement, not a life on the run with a pirate crew.

  Faros never took his eyes off her. “My crew likes you, which is rare. They’ve requested I do what I can to keep you on board. You’re far more efficient and much gentler than our last doctor, so I’m inclined to agree. You will be well protected and well paid, Maisy.”

  “But a prisoner,” she said. Maisy was proud her voice didn’t shake. She clenched her hands behind her back. “You cannot do this, Captain. I agreed to help on a short mission, and that is all. You will return me to the Galaxos, as you promised, and we will forget this conversation ever took place.”

  “You can forget if you want to,” he said quietly. “But you’ll be staying on this ship. You’ll see. You’ll have more freedom on the Sraibur than you ever could have had on the Galaxos or with my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Maisy’s eyes narrowed as she studied the captain. She had to tell Frrar about what Faros said; hopefully Frrar had an idea of how to get the hell off the Sraibur. And she needed to use the communicator immediately to contact Jessalyn for help. “What does Frrar have to do with any of this?”

  Faros’s eyebrow quirked again, and a hint of a smile touched his mouth, displaying a sharp white tooth. “He claimed you as his. Said I wasn’t to touch or talk to you, and yet... he allows you to stay in separate quarters. So I imagined there was trouble between you. He will treat you like fine dishes—lock you away in a trunk or on a high shelf and never let you see the suns. Never let you feel freedom, all in the name of protecting you. The Galaxos is the same. They’ll follow their sense of honor right into a fight they can’t win, and they’ll all die because of it. Surely you don’t want to die in fire because of principles and rules?”

  “You should leave,” she managed to say. Frrar “claimed” her? Said she was his? Was that why he kissed her? Maisy’s thoughts whirled almost too fast to keep up with, particularly with Faros standing right in front of her with that swagger and confidence. And even though part of her agreed that Vaant’s dogged adherence to the rebel creed and the laws they enforced grew tiresome at times, she also knew that was the only thing protecting them from all the pirates and thieves and complete criminals roaming through space. The rebels stuck together against the worst of the worst because they were all they had.

  The captain shrugged and straightened up, retrieving more food for his worried-looking son before he sauntered to the door. “Think on it, Maisy.”

  “I’m not staying,” she called after him, but she couldn’t be sure Faros heard her. Or that he really cared, if he had.

  Chapter 18

  Frrar

  Frrar waited until after the crew had eaten and the ship was well on its way to somewhere else—though he couldn’t chart the heading or get anyone to tell him where their destination was—before he meandered back to engineering to tinker with the engines some more. He could only improve so much without feeling like he contributed to whatever future crimes his brother might commit.

  He really needed to get into the cargo hold where the crew secured the weapons. He hadn’t been successful in sending a message to the Galaxos or in deciphering more of the technical information on the weapons, but he’d sent both multiple times in the vain attempt to get some kind of information through. He never knew if his devices worked properly until it was almost too late. He made a mental note to increase his testing and calibration timelines before he fielded a new machine. He was always too excited to get a capability finished and in use that sometimes he skipped a few steps.

  Frrar lingered in engineering, debating how close he needed to get to the cargo hold, and held his breath as others entered the large bay. He remained still and silent behind one of the louder centrifuges. No true Xaravian warrior would have hidden from a threat, but Frrar knew he’d learn more from eavesdropping than full-on confronting whoever entered. No one whispered unless they had something to hide.

  And Faros never lowered his voice for anything.

  Frrar held his breath as Faros spoke with his first mate, a surly Xaravian with scars on his face called Wyzak. “Send the message immediately. I want them to know what happened.”

  “I will,” Wyzak said. His voice grated like rough sand under scales. “But dealing with the Alliance... that goes against everything we’ve worked for. You can’t trust them.”

  “I trust them to want their gear back,” Faros said. “Do not tell the crew. If the Alliance wants their weapons back, they’ll agree to give me what I want. It’s the only way.”

  “Faros,” Wyzak said quietly. “As your friend, I understand. But as the first mate of this ship, I have to say that this will backfire on us. The Alliance will be able to track us. They’re not
going to let us get away with stealing their cargo and trading it back to them. There’s no guarantee that they’ll actually follow through and—”

  Faros’s voice sharpened. “The Alliance knows how to heal my son. They know and they refuse to do it. The only way to guarantee their compliance is to hold hostage something they love: power. They’ll try and fuck us over. We all know that. Which is why we have to fuck them over first.”

  Frrar clenched his jaw to keep from growling in sheer rage. Faros stole the weapons to trade back to the Alliance—knowing it would cripple the rebellion and get all of their comrades and fellow rebels killed. He couldn’t fault Faros for trying to save his son, but the price... The price was too high. There had to be another way.

  Faros and Wyzak argued quietly for a few more minutes, but it was clear that Faros’s mind was made up. The first mate eventually agreed, shaking his head, and strode off to start issuing orders. The captain paced around in engineering for some time, muttering under his breath, but eventually responded to a muted call from the bridge and headed out without finding Frrar.

  Frrar took his time edging out from behind the centrifuge when he was certain no one else remained, and counted himself lucky that he didn’t have a tracker on him like the rest of the Sraibur crew—or so he hoped. If he had, no doubt Faros never would have had such a conversation in the engineering bay.

  He edged out of engineering and went back to the mess hall to pick up a snack, even though his instincts screamed to get to the sick bay so he could find Maisy, get her to an escape pod, and get the hell out of there before they both ended up in front of the Alliance agents who negotiated for the weapons. If Faros had no issue with destroying the entire rebellion for his son, chances were he wouldn’t think twice about turning Frrar and Maisy over to the Alliance for the bounties on their heads.