by Kathryn Hoff
“How important is Lyden?” I asked. “Is she really influential in the College of Religion?”
Jamila wagged a hand. “Right now, she’s just the leader of a splinter group that thinks Gavs have been too affected by alien influences—meaning Terrans, of course. Young Gavs see Terrans choosing their own careers, forming their own colonies, and governing themselves, and have started to agitate for fewer clan restrictions. A few matriarchs like Lyden think the best response is to clamp down on dissent.” She grinned. “As an anthropologist, I could tell them the likely outcome of that.”
I nodded. Xenophobia would explain Lyden’s eagerness to keep Mya away from a cross-blood.
“Lyden’s just a fringe player now,” Jamila said, “but if she can claim some new revelation from the Sages, who knows? She might actually spark a Gav religious revival.”
“Mya certainly seems to be under her thumb.”
Jamila dropped her voice. “Don’t be taken in by Mya’s shy schoolgirl act—she’s as ambitious as they come. She’s chosen to be a rising star in Lyden’s tiny movement instead of one among many in the mainstream, even if that means fetching and carrying for a demanding old lady. Of course,” she added, “Mya may also believe the Sages are about to reappear and begin a new age. People believe all sorts of unlikely things.”
I stood to go. “What about you? Do you think we’ll find the Sage homeworld?”
Jamila turned back to her console. “I’m an archeologist. If there’s an unknown archeological site out there, I want to be on the spot when they find it.”
That night I dreamed of male embraces. I couldn’t quite see my lover’s face, but his arms were long and strong and lightly furred. A deep joy filled me as my skin touched his, as his heart beat next to mine. His long fingers touched my face, my lips, my breasts…
Suddenly, my dream was filled with anxious struggles and shrill alarms. I heard Papa warning me about something. Maybe about faithless men.
I awakened with the sheet twisted around me. The alarm sounded again, a shrill buzz. Were we under attack? In a moment, I was up and running barefoot to the wheelhouse.
Hiram was at the helm, flustered. Beside him, Danto hissed furiously. “What have you done?”
The scanner was blizzed with static noise. “Is it an attack?” I asked. No ship was visible through the canopy.
“Radiation field,” Hiram said, gesturing toward the scanner. “Tell your boyfriend to quit yelling.”
I caught a whiff of brandy.
“What’s going on?” Kojo crowded into the wheelhouse. A bit late, I thought. He must have been with Jamila.
“You pilot has drifted off course,” Danto said, tightly. “The man is incompetent.” The alarm ceased its buzz, and the scanner’s blizz began to clear.
Hiram turned sheepishly to Kojo. “Sorry, Captain. I must have been a little sleepy. Look, we’re out of the field already. I just drifted off for a few minutes.”
Kojo clenched his fists. “Hiram, where is it?”
“Where’s what?” Hiram said innocently.
“The bottle. I can smell the brandy from here.”
“Ah, lad, it was just a little pick-me-up.”
Kojo reached under the pilot’s seat and came up with a bottle, half-empty.
“Out!”
“Kojo, honest…”
“Out,” Kojo took over the helm. “Go sleep it off. I’ll deal with you later.”
Hiram slunk away.
“Such behavior is completely unacceptable,” Danto said. “He must be disciplined.”
I shoved myself between them. “That’s enough!”
Danto and Kojo both turned to me in surprise.
My balled fists were on my hips like an angry matron. “Sergeant Danto, this is a civilian ship and a civilian crew. Hiram is quite reliable within his limits. Our crew is entitled to reasonable rest periods and shore leave. They’ve had neither because of you, and that damned bloodstone.”
I stabbed a finger at his chest. “You lead the mission, but you don’t command this ship. It’s not your place to criticize Hiram or any other member of this crew.”
“It is my place to complete this mission. If another pilot were available, I would ban that man from the helm.”
“We’ll deal with it, Sergeant,” Kojo said.
“Do so.” Danto gazed at me for a moment, then left.
“Well,” Kojo said with a sly grin, “you sure told him.”
“Humph. Gav men are used to taking orders from females.”
“And that flimsy nightshirt might have helped as well.” Kojo laughed as I realized I was wearing very little indeed.
CHAPTER 19
Distress call
The next day, I felt better than I had in a while, having slept surprisingly well after the night’s excitement. The good mood seemed to be catching—despite the growing darkness, the ship’s course was calmer and the passengers were less fractious. Jamila and Lyden conversed quietly at Jamila’s console, translating the inscriptions from the walls of the ruined Cazar temple, while Grim played chinko and made an occasional sarcastic contribution. Rachel cheerfully reported that Balan had slept well and she was keeping him tranqed.
Even Hiram was in a good mood, although I expected him to be hung over. “Never better!” he claimed. “Just what I needed, a little drink and a good sleep.”
In the afternoon, after Lyden had retired to her cabin for a rest, Danto sat near the viewscreens, gazing at the darkening vista where the dense ether clouds blocked out the stars. Mya soon joined him, listening raptly as he described the perils of radiation sources and ether maelstroms. As she let her hand linger on his arm, he bent his head toward hers.
The interest is definitely mutual, I thought, clearing the table of lunch leavings. No wonder Lyden had tried to push me in Danto’s direction.
A pang of envy washed over me as I remembered my dream of embraces from strong, furred arms. But that was foolish—why should I dream of Danto, of all people? Maybe it was just the novelty of imagining an affair with a hybrid, someone who understood what it was like to be in-between.
I shook my head to clear it. This whole day had been a little strange, too bright somehow, too full of emotional highs and lows.
Danto’s voice sounded through the com. “Captain to the helm. We’ve received a distress call.”
I ran up to the wheelhouse, arriving just behind Kojo.
Sparrow seemed to be sailing in ink. Aside from a hazy glow to starboard, the ship sailed in darkness as deep as an ocean.
Without visual cues, we were dependent on the scanners. They lit with warnings of a large debris field filled with radiation.
“What’s up?” Kojo asked.
Danto nodded toward the scanner. “Distress signal, intermittent, from that debris field.” His fingers were already keying in his codes to open the hailer. “This is Sparrowhawk, answering…”
Kojo slapped his hand down, cutting off the hail. “Are you crazy? That’s an old pirate trick!”
Danto looked daggers at Kojo. “I cannot ignore a distress call. I am changing course to investigate.”
Kojo glared back. “You’re not in a Patrol cruiser, Sergeant. This is a civilian ship and your duty is to protect us. Look at the scanner. You see the distress call, but do you see a ship?”
“The radiation may have…”
Kojo hit the com. “Archer, we may have trouble. Prepare escape thrusters, just in case. Hiram, to helm. Passengers, secure for turbulence.”
I pointed to the scanner. “Something’s coming.”
A blip had appeared from behind and below us, approaching fast.
Danto glanced at the blip. “Terran ship, predator class.”
Our transponder pinged. I stared at it, unbelieving. A Terran ship with a Selkid Trading Cartel transponder? And what would a Cartel ship be doing here, so far from Selkid sectors?
“What the Zub?” Hiram slipped into the wheelhouse. “A Cartel flash? Out here?”
“Illegitimate?” Danto cried.
“We are here to recover a stone artifact belonging to Rampart Militech. In accordance with the articles of the Selkid Trading Cartel, fair compensation will be paid for assisting the recovery. Resist and we will take the item by force.”
Rampart had joined the Cartel—and they wanted the relic.
Damn! That meant the Cartel knew we had the “sacred relic” they’d been looking for ever since we left Santerro. We’d carried a valuable item out of Selkid space without giving the Cartel their cut and disobeyed a Cartel order to turn it over to them. Either of those infractions would see us blacklisted in Selkid sectors—and that would be the least of our worries. If we were in default of our Cartel obligations, then even if we delivered the synthreactor as promised, the Cartel might refuse to release the mortgage on Sparrowhawk or Kojo’s indenture…or mine.
How had they found us?
Danto returned the hail. “Kamok, this is Sergeant Danto of the Corridor Patrol. Sparrowhawk is under the protection and in the custody of the Corridor Patrol. Any interference will be treated as an act of piracy.”
Kamok answered, “Sparrowhawk is a private vessel, operating under Cartel articles. The Corridor Patrol has commandeered Sparrowhawk in order to prevent a Cartel member from taking delivery of an important item of cargo. That is an abuse of authority whose legitimacy is challenged by Rampart and the Cartel. We demand the Patrol release Sparrowhawk and allow her to proceed with her free trade.”
I felt a glimmer of hope. If Rampart and the Cartel thought the Patrol had coerced us, maybe we had a chance. Maybe if we gave Kamok the artifact now, we could convince them that we hadn’t known it was the thing the Cartel had been looking for.
“Kojo,” I said, “we have to give them the damned thing. The Patrol can track them down later. Let the College of Religion, Rampart, and the Cartel fight over the relic in court—somewhere we’re not caught in the middle.”
“Are you cowards?” Danto snapped. “I will not allow my first command to be tainted by surrender.”
“This is a space hauler, not a battle cruiser.”
Kojo nudged me. “Danto’s right. Surrendering to raiders is never a good idea. Trust me, it would be better to fight them off if we have to.”
My stomach sank. What was Kojo up to?
Danto hit the hailer. “Stand down, Kamok. Sparrowhawk and her crew and cargo will remain in Corridor Patrol custody. Any interference will be met with…”
Kamok fired a concussive blast.
CHAPTER 20
Battle stations
Kamok sped toward Sparrowhawk, extending booms tipped with grapplers.
Danto ran for the gun turret.
Kojo shouted, “Patch—drones! I’ll help with engines.” He hit the com. “Archer, ready thrusters. Half bore, two seconds. All hands, strap in.”
As I flew down the companionway, Kojo close behind me, a second blast rocked Sparrowhawk, tumbling Kojo into me hard enough to knock my breath away. Kojo cursed and stepped over me, heading for the aft steps.
I took a moment to check that the passengers in the salon were secured. Lyden seemed to be praying, Grim looked sick, and Rachel simply looked interested. Through the viewscreen, we saw our guns fire three concussive blasts in quick succession, followed by a burst of armed projectiles. Several hit Kamok but failed to penetrate her hull.
“Engaging thrusters,” Kojo warned on the com. “Now!”
I grabbed for a chair as the thrusters slammed us into a new course. Screams and vomit filled the salon.
As soon as I was back on my feet, I ordered, “Grim! Help me with the drones!” He was a military man, he must know how to fight.
“Me?” But he stumbled down the steps behind me to the lower decks.
With Grim grumbling and cursing, we muscled a heavy cargo drone out of its locker and shoved it onto the launch bay.
Something was wrong.
There were only eight drones in the locker. We’d restocked at the checkpoint—there should have been a full load of nine drones. Where was the ninth?
And why was the relic silent? It should have been pleading to go home.
Then I knew—it was gone. Kojo!
While Grim locked on the mooring lines, I ran to the magazine for grenades.
Damn! Kojo had once again gone behind my back. No wonder he was ready to fight—if we couldn’t produce the tablet, then surrendering to the Cartel ship wouldn’t solve our problems.
I armed the grenades and banged them into the drone’s payload. We shoved the drone into the airlock. From the drone console, I opened the airlock to space and launched the drone. “Drone away. Grenades armed for remote detonation.”
Danto responded on the com. “Prepare another. I’ll control them from the turret.”
Absurdly, tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want the relic to be gone. I wanted to talk to it, to learn about its past, to understand its nature. I missed it! How could Kojo make such a decision without me—again!
I sniffed. “Come on, Grim. Another drone.”
Grim paused in front of the open magazine, then took out his high-class stunner and stuck it in his belt. “Now’s our chance. I don’t want to die for this. Just dump the burzing relic out the airlock and get out of their way. Let Rampart and the Cartel and the burzing gorillas fight over it.”
The idea would have had some appeal, except we didn’t have the relic to surrender. “Shut up. You want to explain that to Danto?”
After another moment of hesitation, he reached for the drone. “All right, but you make sure you tell that jumped-up sergeant how helpful I am.”
A concussion blast nearly knocked both of us off our feet.
“Where is that drone?” Danto demanded over the com.
Struggling against the reeling of the ship and the slow-to-adjust grav generator, Grim and I managed to get the drone to the launch bay. Hiram was sidewinding, trying to stay away from Kamok’s grapplers. Rachel’s heavy analyzers strained against their lashings.
Just when I’d begun to lock the drone in, the bucking ship took a lurch that slammed me to the bulkhead and sent Grim flying across the hold. The drone collapsed toward me, held back by only a single mooring line.
“Pincer!” Danto shouted. The viewscreen showed a small vessel approaching at high speed from above and behind us, grapplers deployed.
I leaned against the bulkhead and pushed my feet against the drone, using my legs to tip it back into position. Once it was upright, Grim, moaning and rubbing his side, wrangled a second mooring line onto the drone, then shoved it into position for launch.
Sparrow shimmied as Hiram dodged blasts from the looming Kamok while trying to evade the grapplers of the smaller attacker at our flank.
“Helm’s sluggish,” Hiram said. “They must have hit something.”
Flashes. Danto fired Sparrow’s guns at the smaller ship, a Selkid harrier-class vessel, designed for short range.
I ran to the grenade case and set three grenades to detonate on signal.
Another jolt made the ship shudder.
Kojo called on the com, “Propulsion’s hit! Patch? Where’s that burzing drone?” It sounded like all hell was breaking loose among the engines.
“Almost ready!” I loaded the grenades and slammed down the payload hatch. Grim pushed the drone into the airlock. I hit the launch lever. “Drone away!”
From the com node came unintelligible shouts.
With a flash, the drone exploded near the harrier. A moment later, the shock wave hit Sparrowhawk. As the ship lurched, Grim and I dragged another drone into the launch bay.
“Son of Satan,” Grim swore. “Grapplers.”
The harrier fill
ed the viewscreen, its grapplers reaching out like claws. I ran to the magazine.
With my arms full of grenades, there was a crunch. Sparrow tilted sickeningly.
I fell against cases of supplies, dropping grenades to the deck. Grim scrambled on his knees to retrieve them.
“Patch, we need another drone!” Hiram called.
The ship swayed and bumped, Hiram doing some fancy tacking. Gray-faced, Grim thrust the grenades at me to set and load into the drone.
Damnit, I didn’t want the relic to be gone. I told myself not to be foolish. The relic had brought us nothing but trouble. It had killed Deprata and made Balan half-crazy. It was like one of Kojo’s vampires. All day, I’d felt better than I had in a long time—because it was gone. Even Balan, dosed with tranqs, had seemed stronger and healthier.
How could I want it back? I told myself to be grateful the voice was silenced.
I shut the drone’s payload hatch.
Balan leaped into the hold. “Where is it!” He grabbed Grim and threw him to the deck.
“What have you done with it?” Balan pulled frantically at the vault door. “Open it! Open it!”
Damn—his meds must have worn off.
“Balan, the drone!” I shouted back. “Help me with the drone!” I pulled myself up and ran to the launch bay. “Help me, Balan! Grim, get up.” I shoved the drone in the airlock. Grim rose to one knee, his stun pistol in his hand, aiming at Balan frantically trying to open the vault.
Danto’s shout came over the com, “Grapplers! Brace!”
There was a booming crash as the hull crunched into something solid. There was no recoil—the magnetic grapplers had Sparrow.
Kojo called on the com, “Patch! Get out of there!”
I ran to the magazine and grabbed two stun pistols. “Balan!” I threw one to him.
A blast tore through the cargo hatch.
