Lunar Heat: 1 (The Heat Series)

by Susan Kearney

  Unless she could alter their direction, they’d have to abandon ship or be crushed four ways to summer solstice.

  “The portal will draw us into the sleeping pods,” Rak told Kali.

  “Correct,” Azsla agreed. “But, as long as the emergency batteries maintain the pods’ shielding, they’ll shoot us straight through the portal to Zor.”

  Kali’s face brightened with hope. “And someone at the other end will pick up our automated distress signals.”

  “That’s the plan,” Azsla straightened. And if the plan failed, they would drift in space, frozen. Forever.

  She jerked her thumb toward the escape pods. “Hit the airlock.”

  Although her crew often disappointed, not quite living up to her standards, they tried hard. And she wasn’t cruel enough to dash their hopes and reveal they had little chance of survival, never mind escape. Of course, the Corps never intended for her crew to achieve the freedom they sought. Even if they reached Zor, they’d be rounded up by other spies and sent back to Rama in chains as an example of what happened to slaves who attempted escape from the mother world.

  Rak swam and snaked his way from the bridge.

  Kali unsnapped his safety harness and floated toward the rear. “Captain, you coming?”

  “Just messing with the bow thrusters.” She didn’t exactly lie. Although she had little hope of cranking out a course alteration, she used the excuse to stay at the helm to secretly shoot the logs and a report of the disaster back to Rama, a last-ditch effort to inform the Corps of their predicament.

  Notifying home was a calculated risk. Her crew believed they’d escaped Rama, when in actuality the government had allowed them to leave in order to insert Azsla into their midst. If any of them caught a whiff of what they’d consider betrayal, there was no telling if she could handle them after swallowing that tranq.

  “Captain.”

  At Kali’s sharp tone, Azsla stiffened. She hadn’t expected him to return for her. Had he seen her dispatch the log? Despite the tranq, she couldn’t conceal the edge to her voice. “Yes?”

  “Ship temperature’s approaching freezing. The hull’s breached. Shields are failing. We need to leave, now.”

  Relieved her cover remained intact, Azsla skimmed her hands over the keys, robbing the remaining power from every system except the pods. “I’m right behind you.”

  Kali soared through the control cabin toward the ship’s bowels. She heard him pop open the pods and the terrified voices of her crew. So the others had awakened. Good.

  No, not good. She shouldn’t be thinking about them. Slaves were easily replaced. Weak. A waste of salt.

  Yet . . . this crew had trained hard. Not as hard as she had. But then they didn’t have her abilities. Still, they’d done what they could with what they had.

  With her remote, she shunted the last of the power into the boosters.

  Done.

  As the last shields began to fail, the injured hull squealed in agony, the tearing of metal a death knell.

  The crew scrambled into their escape pods.

  Diving for safety, Azsla overshot her mark.

  Kali snatched her by the ankle, saving her from a painful smack into the bulkhead.

  “Thanks.” She seized a handhold and righted herself. The big man had already stuffed Jadlan, Micoo, and Rak into the pods and ejected them through the airlock.

  Kali slid into the last remaining pod. “Ready to bounce?”

  “Let’s do it.” Azsla slapped the button to open her sleeper. Only her pod didn’t open.

  “What’s wrong?” Kali asked as he climbed out of his pod.

  “Don’t know.” She nailed the button mechanism with her fist. All hell was about to come down on the ship.

  And got zip. Zero. Zilch. The canopy refused to budge. Her high-pitched gasp shamed her, and she hoped Kali put it down to the cold that seemed to have frozen her bones.

  This was insane. Surely every freaking system on the ship couldn’t fail . . . unless someone had sabotaged the mission. But who? If the slaves had known about her subterfuge, they would have killed her, or died trying.

  The delay didn’t seem to faze Kali. Instead of ejecting, he picked up a wrench and slapped the release button. “Let me.”

  Azsla shook her head. “It’s no good.” She pointed to the hull that had caved, crushing her pod, and the metal cross that kept her release mechanism from tripping properly.

  The hull howled like a wild beast, the last of the shields failing. From the ship’s bowels, the engines rumbled like a volcano about to erupt.

  The ship shook and Azsla stumbled and pain slammed her head. Hard.

  Her vision narrowed. Everything went black.

  Seconds later, she came to inside a pod, the canopy closed. Kali must have fixed it.

  Groggy, she peered through the faceplate. Sweet Vigo. Kali had slipped her into his pod.

  At the realization that he’d given up his life to save her, he ejected her pod.

  Her last sight of him floored her. Eyes closed, his lips moving, he’d appeared to be praying. But slaves didn’t pray.

  He seemed at peace with his decision, but the pain of losing him clawed at her.

  She shot into space, a rush of emotions flooding over her tranqed emotions. Relief. Hope. Astonishment. Sorrow.

  Kali had given up his chance to live. For her.

  She hadn’t even used her Quait. She closed her fingers into fists. Kali had meant nothing to her. Slaves were easily replaceable. Unworthy. Yet, she’d spent enough time with her second in command to know Kali’s life had meant everything to him. He’d planned to begin anew on Zor. Marry. Have children. His dreams would never have happened because of her mission . . . but Kali hadn’t known that.

  Turning, she watched the ship implode and vanish into the portal. Kali was dead, his body relegated to tactonic dust.

  She shouldn’t have cared. Cold from the sleep capsule spread over her skin like guilt. She told herself slaves died every day. So what?

  But if Kali’s selfless sacrifice didn’t matter, then why was her vision blurred? Why did her heart ache? And why were tears freezing on her cheeks?

  (Please continue reading for more information about Susan Kearney)

  The Rystani Warrior Series by Susan Kearney

  Author Susan Kearney

  SUSAN KEARNEY used to set herself on fire four times a day. Now a USA Today bestselling author, she does something really hot: she writes romance. She can apply the old rule “write what you know” and never run out of ideas for characters and plots. An All-American and professional diver, expert in martial arts, sailor, real-estate broker, and owner of a barter business as well as a women’s fitness club and three hair salons, she has enough material for a lifetime.

  Kearney, a native of New Jersey, resides in a suburb of Tampa with her husband, kids, and Boston Terrier.

  Visit her Web site at www.susankearney.com