Starflight

by Melissa Landers

  Once Doran forced himself to calm down, he nodded in agreement. Pirates weren’t likely to leave behind anything useful, like a ship and all her cargo. Some of them were probably still here.

  Renny led the way to the boarding ramp. Once they reached the bottom, Doran peered inside and caught a glimpse of movement. He quickly drew back, but not before the two pirates rummaging inside the cargo hold had spotted him. One shouted to the other, and they clomped down the metal ramp to investigate.

  Doran’s heart lodged in his throat, and he backed into Kane, who was futilely glancing around for a place to hide. There was nothing to conceal them, not even a boulder.

  While they continued backing away, Renny ducked beneath the ramp until the men passed him by. Then he climbed up behind the pair and crept silently toward them. In the time it took Doran to blink, Renny swiped a pistol from one man’s holster. The pirates spun around, and he instantly shot them both in the chest. Before the smoke had even cleared, he used hand signals to announce that he was going inside and disappeared up the ramp.

  Doran tried not to notice the steam rising from the bodies. He took the other man’s gun while Kane pilfered himself a pair of knives, and they joined Renny in scouring the Banshee. After searching every crevice of the ship and finding no other scavengers, they met in the bridge to discuss what to do next.

  Boots paced the floor, none of them able to stand still.

  “We can’t spend any more time here,” Doran said, tapping a nervous finger against the helmet latched to his hip. “We have to go right now. Demarkus could be—”

  “Agreed,” Kane cut in. “Let’s get airborne and figure it out as we go.”

  Renny tried reasoning with them, lifting a hand. “We’re up against a fully armed battleship, and the only weapon we have is the element of surprise. That’s why I haven’t activated the com-link yet. If we go off half-cocked, we don’t stand a chance. We can’t help anyone if we’re dead.”

  Doran understood, but he couldn’t stand around while Demarkus killed everyone he loved. There was a simple solution, and it would only work if they hurried. “It’s me Demarkus wants. So take me to him.”

  “Out of the question,” Renny objected, pulling off his glasses to rub his eyes. “Demarkus is smarter than you think. He won’t let anyone go; it would make him look weak.”

  “I’ll make sure they get out,” Doran said.

  Kane arched a curious brow. “How?”

  “They have to be suited up, right? Otherwise they couldn’t have boarded the pirates’ shuttle,” Doran pointed out. “If they still have their oxygen helmets, I can—”

  “Flush them out an air-lock, or an open hangar,” Kane finished, shifting his gaze to Renny. “It could work if you’re there to pick them up in the Banshee.”

  “I’m hearing a lot of ifs in this plan,” Renny said.

  Ignoring him, Kane turned to Doran. “I’m coming with you.”

  Doran shook his head. “We need you in the shuttle to collect anyone Renny misses.”

  Kane gnawed on the inside of his cheek, silently turning the idea over until he locked eyes with Doran and made a single demand. “Promise you’ll watch after Cassy. I know what she did to you was wrong, but—”

  “I’ll bring her back,” Doran said. “Or die trying.”

  “All right. Then I’m in.”

  Kane extended his hand, and for the second time since their fight, Doran shook it. But this gesture was more than an empty peace offering. When they clasped palms, a look of understanding passed between them, an unbreakable trust that they would do whatever it took to bring their people home.

  Solara peered out the multipassenger shuttle window and watched the pirates’ hangar door close. It didn’t seem so long ago that she’d entered this ship willingly. Now she would eject herself into empty space if given the chance. She didn’t want to be here when Demarkus realized he’d nabbed the wrong twin.

  Glancing at her lap, she strained both wrists against her bindings, but they held firm and delivered a light electric shock as punishment. She jumped in her seat, bumping Gage’s shoulder and drawing the gazes of Cassia and Captain Rossi, who occupied the seats directly across from hers.

  The captain brought both bound wrists to his helmet to unfasten it. “No use wasting your oxygen supply,” he said. “Might as well breathe the shuttle air for free.”

  Cassia followed suit.

  Stretching her spine, Solara peered toward the front of the shuttle and noticed that the pilots had left. She pulled off her helmet. “I escaped from this ship once, and I can do it again. But first I need to unlock these cuffs.”

  As soon as Gage removed his headpiece, Cassia and the captain did a simultaneous double take. “Who’s this?” Cassia asked.

  “Oh, him?” Solara said, scanning the floor for something to use as a lock pick. “That’s Doran’s evil twin.”

  Gage rolled his eyes. “Excuse me for wanting to protect everyone stuck out here in the armpit of the galaxy. Which is exactly the point of my research, by the way.”

  “If I were you,” Solara advised, “I’d shut up about that research. If you think your father’s bad, wait until the pirates find out what you can do.” Thumbing at him, she told Cassia and the captain, “Meet Gage Spaulding, the inventor of Infinium. His mom faked his death nine years ago, and they’ve been living out a twisted revenge fantasy ever since.”

  “Wow,” Cassia said, wrinkling her nose. “And I thought I had baggage.”

  “Enough about me,” Gage dismissed. Leaning forward, he peered out the window at the cluster of men chatting at the far end of the hangar. “What does this Demarkus person want with Doran?”

  “To kill him as an example to his men,” Solara said.

  “I imagine he’ll do the same to me,” the captain added. “For shooting him in the chest last year.” He lifted one broad shoulder. “Can’t say that I blame him.”

  Cassia squirmed in her seat, clearly worried about her own fate. “I think he’ll do a lot worse than kill us.”

  Gage snapped his eyes to hers. “What could be worse?”

  “A trip to the slave auction,” Cassia said. “That’s probably where we’re headed. Pirates are scum, but they’re not stupid when it comes to business. They know we’re not worth anything dead.”

  “Except for me,” the captain said with a half grin, rubbing the spot above his Beatmaster 3000. “They can sell my carcass for spare parts.”

  Cassia nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t joke like that.”

  “Who’s joking?”

  A lump of fear rose in Solara’s throat, but she held her breath and counted backward from ten. The only way she would solve this problem was by staying calm, and by God, she did not come to the outer realm to be sold as a slave. When the countdown finished, she closed her eyes and imagined all the tools within her reach. An idea came to mind, and she touched her pocket to make sure the ore samples were still there.

  “You know those rocks I stole from your lab?” she asked Gage.

  “Like I’d forget.”

  “How combustible are they?”

  He slanted her a glance. “Very. Why?”

  “Because I think I know a way out of here.” She twisted her hip and brought both hands to the bag in her pocket. The act cost her a dozen electric shocks, but she was able to fish out a few bits of ore and hand them to the others. “Hold on to these. When I give the signal, we’ll make them go boom.”

  Gage laughed. “And then what?” He raised an index finger and added, “Assuming we can ignite the ore and we don’t end up with a chest full of shrapnel.”

  “Then we return here and steal a shuttle,” she said. “Look, I know it’s not an airtight plan, but unless you’ve got a better…” She trailed off when she noticed Demarkus break away from the men in his group and move in her direction.

  The giant chief had never looked so content, grinning broadly as he approached the shuttle in the bouncing strides of a rich kid on C
hristmas morning. But his grin died when he hauled open the shuttle door and caught a glimpse of Gage.

  Forehead wrinkled, Demarkus reached across the seat and grabbed Gage by the suit collar. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Where’s Daro the Red?”

  From her position sandwiched between the two, Solara felt Gage’s muscles lock with terror. His breath hitched, and he said in a trembling voice, “Daro is dead. I’m his brother.”

  While Demarkus pondered this news, Solara crept her fingers along his utility belt, feeling for anything she might use as a lock pick. She struck gold, her grip landing on a small key ring. She slipped it free and tucked it under her sleeve just in time to avoid Demarkus’s hand as he unsheathed his knife.

  “Not anymore,” he said, and sliced off Gage’s ponytail. “You’ll have to do.” He tossed the hair aside and ordered the four of them to exit the shuttle. “I’ve assembled my men for a rematch.” Slapping Daro’s substitute on the back, he added, “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll make it quick.”

  As they marched toward the air-lock, Gage elbowed Solara and whispered, “Feel free to work your magic. Preferably before I die.”

  She covertly tried each key on the ring until one connected with a click. Keeping her hands inside the loosened cuffs, she calculated the risk of returning to the shuttle and locking themselves inside. She could probably hot-wire the ignition, but without anyone to open the hatch from the guard station, they’d be trapped inside the hangar like a bug in a jar. Seeing no other option, she was about to slip her cuffs when one of Demarkus’s men shouted, “A transmission just came in, Chief.”

  Demarkus made a so what? gesture.

  “From Daro the Red,” the man said. “He’s requesting permission to come aboard.”

  Solara went numb as she watched Demarkus’s face transform with rapture. “Well, it seems our friend has been resurrected,” he said, sliding an amused glance at Gage. “Who am I to deny this miracle? Bring Daro to the great hall so I can return him to his maker.”

  They made their way to the entrance of the great hall, where Solara received more than her share of dirty looks from the pirates she’d once held hostage there. The bald guard with eyes tattooed on his head seemed especially pleased to see her in cuffs. While he stood outside the boxing ring and puffed on his cigar, she took stock of her surroundings, particularly the number of men within lunging distance.

  A dozen, she thought. All with pulse rifles at their hips.

  She leaned into Gage and whispered, “I see one way to ignite the ore. Pulse pistols.”

  He jerked his head toward a pig roasting over an open flame at the other side of the hall. “Make that two ways. If you’ve got a good arm, and even better aim.”

  Footsteps sounded from behind her, and she spun around, instantly locking eyes with Doran while searching his expression for clues. The steadiness in his gaze told her he had a plan, but not much more. Seeing his face brought a flood of relief—but also fear, because she knew he had no weapons. The guards by his side would’ve made sure of that.

  When he reached her, he took her face between both hands and kissed her like a man heading for his own execution. He was so convincing that for a moment she doubted it was an act, and dread gripped her heart. But then he whispered in her ear, “Do you have your oxygen helmet?”

  She nodded, feeling its weight hooked to her suit.

  “Does the crew?”

  Another nod.

  “Good,” he whispered. “Be ready to put them on and run back to the hangar. Renny’s waiting outside to catch you. Kane, too.”

  “You’re coming with us,” she insisted, and pressed a chunk of ore into his palm. “When the time is right, throw this—”

  A guard pried him away before she could say anything more.

  While he strode into the room to meet Demarkus, Solara summoned false tears and rushed to Cassia and the others for “comfort.” Huddled around them, she quietly passed along the message and the handcuff key. She only hoped that Doran had understood what she’d put into his palm.

  The crowd silenced their murmurings when Doran reached the center of the great hall. He stood tall in front of Demarkus and announced in a firm voice, “I’m here for my friends. If you let us leave, nobody has to die.”

  Laughter broke out, Demarkus’s throaty chuckle rising above the rest. “I do like your spirit,” he said with a regretful shake of his head. “In another life, we might’ve been crewmates. But in this life, I’m going to break you in half.” He grinned in a way that contradicted his next words. “I hope you know this gives me no pleasure.”

  “Last chance.” Doran rested a hand on the helmet hooked to his belt. When his warning was met with another round of laughter, he pressed his com-link and said, “Renny. Kane. Get ready for us.”

  Demarkus sobered up enough to deliver a quizzical look. His lips formed a question that he never had a chance to ask, because Doran hurtled his rock into the fire with flawless precision, and an instant later, an explosion rocked the ship.

  The floor shook beneath Solara’s feet, sending her stumbling for balance. Just when she’d righted herself, a second detonation thundered in her ears, twice as hard as the first. It seemed Gage had ignited one of his samples as well. Sirens blared and smoke filled the air as men scrambled toward the exits.

  Solara slipped her cuffs and grabbed a pulse pistol from the nearest holster. When its owner spun on her, she fired off several rounds, none of which managed to hit him. He bolted in the other direction, and she paused to fasten her helmet. In the few seconds since the blast, the air had grown frigid and thin. It told her the hull was breached, and the ship had yet to seal off the damaged areas. The ore must be more powerful than she’d thought.

  Cassia and Gage appeared on either side of the captain, helmets already secured.

  “You know what to do,” the captain ordered through the com-link. “Everyone book it to the hangar.”

  Solara motioned for them to go ahead while she stood on tiptoe and searched through the smoky haze for Doran. She spotted him sprinting her way, a group of men close on his heels. He caught up with her and snagged her hand, and they were off, tearing down the hallway so fast they passed the crew. They’d nearly reached the hangar when Solara glanced over her shoulder and realized they were a man short.

  “The captain,” she said, squinting to bring his lumbering form into focus. He kept stumbling against the wall, pounding one fist against his chest. “Something’s wrong.”

  They circled back and noticed Demarkus flanked by several guards, all running toward them from the other end of the hall. Solara raised her pistol and fired. The men ducked for a moment, and then, seeing she hadn’t hit any of them, continued in pursuit.

  “I’m not saying you have bad aim,” the captain said with a pained smile. “But you couldn’t hit water if you fell out of a boat.” He took the pistol and squeezed off several shots, but Solara wasn’t paying attention to his targets. Her eyes moved over his face, which had grown waxen and sweaty beneath the glass. “I’m fine,” he said when he caught her staring. “The Beatmaster needs a recharge. Happens all the time. Let’s go.”

  Doran and Gage each took one of the captain’s arms to help him move along, but they weren’t fast enough. Demarkus was closing the distance, plodding onward with his pistol raised, despite the lack of oxygen that clumsied his steps. A whirring noise from the overhead duct system said the ship was filling with heated air, which meant Demarkus and his men would soon get a second wind—literally.

  A few moments later, the corridor twisted to the left, and Solara ran through the open air-lock doors into the hangar. Escape seemed so near, but she stopped short as soon as she crossed the threshold. There was a problem. Someone had to open the hangar hatch from the guard station, and the interior air-lock door had to be shut in order for that to happen. It was a safety mechanism, just as she’d told the pirate guard all those weeks ago. That meant one of them had to go back inside and face Demarkus.


  The others must have realized it, too, because nobody said a word.

  Tapping his com-link, Doran started to say, “I’ll do it,” but the slamming of the air-lock door cut him off, and they spun around to find the captain watching them from the other side of the thick windowpane. Doran grabbed the door handle and shook it with both hands, but the captain had already locked himself inside.

  “Go,” Captain Rossi said. He held up his pistol along with a chunk of ore. “I’ll open the hatch and send a few pirates to hell while I’m at it.”

  Solara’s breath caught when she understood his meaning.

  “No!” Cassia yelled, banging both fists against the window. “We’ll wait for you!”

  From behind the glass, Rossi delivered a stern look and thrust a finger toward the hangar door. “You’ll move your ass, Cassy Rose. That’s an order. I want you at that exit and ready for pickup when I hit the switch.”

  “But…” she began, and choked on a sob.

  “No buts.” The captain disappeared into the guard station. They couldn’t see him, but they heard his final words through the link. “Don’t you dare cry for me. I’ve lived twice as long as most men do, and I’ve finally found something worth dying for. That’s a blessing.” His voice turned soft. “Now, go, and take care of each other. It’s been an honor to have you as my crew.”

  The next sound they heard was the synchronized click of a dozen shuttles releasing from their docking ports, followed by the hum of the hangar door opening. The pressure changed, sweeping Solara off her feet as her body drifted toward the exit. She thrashed her limbs, unprepared for zero gravity, until she caught hold of a rudder and used it to steady herself.

  Shuttles floated into space, and beyond them hovered the Banshee, cargo ramp open and ready to welcome her inside. As Solara launched herself toward the exit, she listened for the captain’s voice, hoping more than anything that he would join them. But when a sharp boom rang out from the guard station, tears flooded her vision, and she had to hold her breath to keep her heart from cracking in half.