“You’re the new captain,” Eris concluded.
“In theory, yes. There will still be the customary duel to the death before I can secure my post—”
“What?”
“—but for all intents and purposes, yes, I now command the Ss’Rass’Kris.”
“Great! Now we just need to figure out how to get to it so I can get my ship back,” Varrin said. “You will give me my ship back, right?”
The Ssrisk flickered his tongue noncommittally.
Click.
“Hands up!” a deep voice behind them growled.
Turning slowly, they found themselves staring down the barrel of Fino’jin’s striker. The Skin Slicer was heavily wounded, and Eris could see his legs shaking from the effort of keeping himself upright.
Varrin winced. “Fino’jin. You’re alive! Which is really a shock, because I would never have expected you to be alive after that tremendous blow I dealt.”
“Silence!” the Skin Slicer barked, swaying on his feet. “You should have killed me when you defeated me, my prince. Now you will pay for spitting on my honor. Any final words before I send you to the fiery depths of Kavishtiva?”
“Yes. Pleasant dreams.”
BZZZT.
Fino’jin’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed to the floor.
Eris whirled on Varrin. “What just happened?”
He opened his hand to reveal a small black device. “Knock-out disc.” He wiggled the little controller in the air for emphasis and then tossed it onto Fino’jin’s unconscious body. “I slipped the receiver onto him after our last fight. Fino’jin’s got this strange mentality where he either has to win or die, so I figured it might come to this.”
“You realize he’s going to come after us again when he wakes up, right?”
Varrin waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll be long gone by then.”
“Why not just kill him?”
“He was my personal guard,” the exiled prince said gravely, staring at the unmoving Skin Slicer. “He’s been around my whole life. It doesn’t feel right for me to be the one to kill him after he kept me alive for so long.”
Eris crouched down and grabbed Fino’jin’s striker. “Then we should probably get out of here before he wakes up and decides the only way he can be sure to kill you is by self-destructing the entire ship.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always been very stubborn.”
“Look who’s talking,” she mumbled.
Turning to the Ssrisk, Varrin said, “Come on, Grashk, move your scaly behind.”
Grashk swiped at Varrin, who dodged easily with a bark of laughter.
“Stop messing around,” Eris commanded. “We have to get off this ship before we get attacked by someone else that Varrin’s pissed off. Where’s the docking bay?”
Miguri gave a long-suffering sigh. “At the greatest concentration of striker-wielding Rakorsians, no doubt.”
Eris and Miguri lay on the metal catwalk that stretched around the perimeter of the docking bay. The bay held several ships of varying designs and was guarded by four Rakorsians standing in the center of the room.
“Do you see them?” Eris whispered to Miguri, peering over the edge of the catwalk.
“No,” the Claktill mumbled. “But I suspect the Rakorsian will make his entrance soon.”
“This plan had better work. I don’t want to end up back in an execution room. Think they’d stick us in B again or go for something more exotic, like F?”
Miguri put his finger to his lips. “Shhh. I believe the show is about to begin.”
Down on the docking bay floor, Varrin jumped out from behind a large stack of crates and walked casually toward the middle of the bay. “Good afternoon, gentlemen!” he called.
The guards swiveled toward him, strikers raised. “Don’t move!” one said gruffly. “Arms in the air!” Then he did a double take. “P-Prince Varrin?”
“My, what a fine docking bay you have here,” Varrin rambled, gesticulating with wild sweeps of his arms. “You have to admire the architectural genius that goes into Rakorsian starship construction. I heard about the Ssrisk boarding parties. How embarrassing for the security team. You know what they say—your prospects are damp when the enemy’s in your camp!”
The guards stared at him, mouths agape. Then one of them barked, “Surrender your weapons!”
Varrin arched an eyebrow imperiously. “I beg your pardon?”
The guard blanched and cleared his throat. “That is—I mean, we request that you relinquish your weapons and accompany us to the bridge, Your Highness—sir?”
“I thought he was exiled,” another guard said in a perplexed undertone. “Wouldn’t that make him our ex-highness?”
“He’s still a prince,” the first guard countered.
The other guards shrugged. Then all four lowered their strikers and saluted Varrin.
“Now!” Varrin shouted and then dove to the floor.
Grashk leaped out from behind a stack of crates and let loose with his striker. Blasts of plasma whizzed over Varrin’s head, splashing into the chests of the guards. As the guards collapsed to the ground, Eris jumped to her feet and shouted, “They’d better be stunned, Grashk!”
“Your obsession with preserving the lives of my inferiors is irritating,” the Ssrisk hissed.
I’ll take that as a yes, Eris thought.
As she and Miguri hurried down the catwalk’s ladder, Varrin and Grashk argued over which ship to steal. They settled on a sleek red shuttle located on the far side of the bay and raced aboard. “Hurry up, you two!” Varrin called over his shoulder.
Grabbing Miguri’s hand, Eris followed them up the narrow ramp and into the small shuttle. Are all Rakorsian ships decorated in red and gold? Eris wondered. Kari, what an eyesore. When they entered the cockpit, they found Grashk sitting in the pilot’s seat. Varrin stood beside him, glowering.
“Get out of my chair, Grashk,” Varrin said in a steely voice. “This is a Rakorsian ship. I am a Rakorsian. Therefore, I will fly the ship.”
The blue reptile flickered his tongue, turned to the control console, and reached out to press a glowing button.
“Watch it!” Varrin snapped, darting forward to knock Grashk’s hand aside. “Do you even know what that button does?”
“I assure you I am a very capable pilot,” Grashk said calmly. “Do not question my knowledge of navigational buttonery.”
“You’d need to have knowledge in order for me to question it.”
“Reinforcements have arrived,” Miguri chirped, watching the security monitor above Grashk’s head. “I suggest we depart.”
The Ssrisk wrapped his clawed hand around a large lever on the console. His other scaly hands descended to the ship’s touch screens.
“Watch the engine core temperature levels,” Varrin warned. “If you start the engines before you get the navigational array online, we’re going to—”
“Silence!” Grashk barked. “I am flying this ship!”
Varrin slumped into the copilot’s seat with a sigh. “Fine,” he said. “Kill us all.”
Eris and Miguri exchanged alarmed looks. “Maybe you should let the Rakorsian fly the Rakorsi—eek!” Eris’s suggestion turned into a scream as the engines roared to life and the shuttle jostled.
The Ssrisk tapped more buttons and pulled up a targeting computer. Thumbing the trigger, he blasted a hole in the docking bay doors. The thick panels exploded, showering the bay floor with scraps of molten metal.
“Hang onto something,” Varrin cautioned.
Eris and Miguri grabbed onto the back of his chair just as Grashk gunned the engines. The shuttle burst out of the Rakorsian cruiser and into the inky blackness of space.
As soon as they were clear of the cruiser, Grashk leaned back in his chair, causing the seat to creak loudly. “You see?” he hissed. “We are not dead. We are not even being followed.”
“Not by the Rakorsians, at least,” Varrin drawled
, indicating the shuttle’s display screen.
Eris’s eyes widened when she turned to the monitor. Floating in space near the blue orb of the Ssrisk cruiser was a gigantic white ship. It was a smooth oval speckled with wide windows, and from its sides protruded four curved fins that spiraled around the hull. There was a four-pointed star emblazoned on the side of the ship.
It looks like a cross between a spaceship and a giant seashell, she thought. “Who’s that?”
Varrin cast his companions a humorless grin. “It looks like the Psilosians have finally decided to join the party.”
40
“The Psilosians?” Eris panicked. “I thought we were supposed to be long gone before they showed up!”
“The situation is still salvageable,” Varrin assured her. “The Psilosians came to deal with Kratis and Hroshk, so I doubt they’ll bother with us.”
“What about the Nonconformity?” she asked.
“We can figure that out later.”
“Perhaps you have forgotten,” Miguri interrupted, “but we are currently in a Rakorsian shuttle. The Psilosians will assume we are under Kratis’s command and will surely intercept us.”
Eris tapped a finger against her lips. “What if I told them the Rakorsians took me prisoner but that thanks to their timely intervention I was able to free myself, and could they please just let me go home?”
“Don’t be a fool,” Grashk hissed. “They will scan the shuttle to make sure you are telling the truth.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Varrin asked.
“I will contact the Ss’Rass’Kris and order them to fire on the Psilosians.”
“But they’re the good guys!” Eris protested. “We can’t attack them.”
“Well, we certainly cannot let them scan us,” Miguri pointed out. “They think we are criminals, remember? They will want to bring us to justice.”
“The rat’s right,” Varrin said. “I’m with Grashk. Let’s attack the Psilosians.”
The intership comm blared to life. “This is Captain Hm’Dala of the Tetrarchy vessel Peaceful Repose,” a melodic voice announced.
Varrin doubled over in his seat, trying and failing to contain his laughter.
“Oh, shush.” Eris scowled. “Peaceful Repose is a lovely name. Anyway, you’re hardly one to talk, Mr. Nonconformity.”
“For a warship, it doesn’t exactly inspire fear in your heart though, does it?” Varrin chortled, wiping tears from his eyes. “Okay,” he said, composing himself. “Let’s see if we can sidetrack them with a little diplomacy.” Flipping the audio-only comm switch, he said, “Good afternoon, Captain. How can I help you?”
“Varrin Gara’dar, I presume,” the Psilosian said.
Varrin blinked. “That was a surprisingly accurate guess.”
“We have been—”
The voice was cut off by the sounds of a struggle. A few seconds later, a different, higher-pitched voice said, “We know you have a human and a Claktill aboard your vessel, Gara’dar. Surrender them immediately, and the captain may show you mercy.”
“I think that is Alyra,” Miguri said.
“It definitely sounds like her,” Eris agreed. “Alyra? Is that you?”
“Yes, it is indeed I,” their elegant benefactor responded. “It has taken me much effort to locate you. Rakorsian vessels are notoriously difficult to track. In addition, the captain encountered some navigational difficulties while exiting the spaceport.”
Varrin doubled over laughing again.
Ignoring him, Eris said, “Are Miguri and I still criminals?”
“That misunderstanding will be corrected,” Alyra assured them. “Please inform your pilot that he must shut down your engines so we can tractor you aboard. You and the Claktill will be debriefed and then returned to your homes within the month.”
Eris and Miguri exchanged dismayed looks.
“You’re going to debrief us for a whole month?” she demanded. “No offense, Alyra, but we really don’t need your help. We’ve got things under control.”
Captain Hm’Dala reacquired the microphone. “I highly doubt that, human. You are being held by a dangerous criminal. He will not help you.”
“Yes, he will,” Eris insisted. “He promised. And he’ll do it right away, not in a month.”
“Charming, but naïve,” Hm’Dala said. “Protocol requires that you be debriefed and mind-wiped before returning to your planet of origin. The Tetrarchy cannot afford to have pre-space-travel societies gaining the type of information you could provide.”
“Mind-wiped! No one ever said anything about being mind-wiped! What information could I possibly give my planet? I’m no astrophysicist!”
Alyra’s voice came through the intercom. “Captain, perhaps we could just release her? The girl possesses a fairly high intelligence. Surely she understands the dangers of contaminating her culture with alien technology.”
“No, Alyra, we must follow the correct protocol for abducted terrestrials,” Hm’Dala said firmly. “Human, let me speak to the Rakorsian. I must give him instructions.”
“Unnecessary,” Grashk interrupted gruffly. “I am the pilot of this vessel. I will decide our course of action.” He flipped a switch on the console.
“This is the Ss’Rass’Kris,” a new voice hissed.
“This is Grashk,” he snapped. “Hroshk is dead. I am now in command.”
The sounds of Ssrisk conversation, interspersed with some hissing and rat-tat-tat-ing, came clearly across the comm link. Then a voice hissed, “Orders, sir?”
“Commence attack on the enemy vessel,” Grashk commanded.
“Which enemy, sir?”
Grashk’s tongue flickered in and out of his mouth impatiently. “The Psilosians! Preferably before they blow up your new captain’s shuttle!”
“Yes, sir!”
The channel to the Ssrisk ship cut out.
“This is foolish,” Captain Hm’Dala sang unhappily. “We do not enjoy taking lives, but if you insist on engaging in battle, we will have no choice but to—Brace yourselves!”
A plasma bolt burst out of the Ssrisk ship, zipped through space, and splashed against the shields of the gleaming Psilosian vessel. Hm’Dala’s crescendo of outrage sounded through the speakers.
Varrin severed the transmission. “Well, this should be fun,” he said.
As the Psilosians returned fire, it looked to Eris as if the two cruisers were equally matched. “Uh, not to be a downer or anything,” she said, “but can the Ssrisk actually win this fight?”
Grashk hissed noncommittally.
Varrin shrugged.
Eris clapped a hand against her forehead. “Great planning, guys.”
“Either way, we’d better get out of here while they’re busy,” Varrin said. “This shuttle has no shields. We’re perching ploogles at the moment.”
Miguri pointed at one of the monitors, which displayed a view of Saturn. “We are very close to that ringed planet,” he chirped. “Perhaps we should hide there until the fight is over.”
“I will personally elect you president of the Tetrarchy if you can find us some solid ground to land on,” Varrin drawled.
“He’s right, it’s a gas giant,” Eris said. “But if we fly around to the far side, the magnetic fields might skew their sensors, and then we can make our getaway.”
Her companions stared at her with varying degrees of surprise.
“Or not,” she muttered.
“How is it,” Varrin said, “that a terrestrial has better strategy than three experienced space travelers?”
“Maybe terrestrials are more space-savvy than you give us credit for,” Eris suggested sweetly.
“I doubt that.”
“The terrestrial’s theory is sound,” Grashk hissed. “I will set the course.”
“Thank you, Grashk!” she exclaimed, and then shot a dirty look at Varrin. “At least someone around here appreciates me.”
Before Varrin could retort, Miguri trilled, “And aft
er we escape the Psilosians, we will take Eris home. Yes, Rakorsian?”
“That’s right,” Varrin confirmed, locking gazes with Eris. “Then we take you home.”
“Eris …” Varrin sighed, cheeks flushed as he gazed up at Eris standing on the precipice of the craggy mountain. His stormy gray eyes blazed with fiery passion. “I … I need to—”
“Oh, kiss me!” Eris cried, her knees weak. “Kiss me now, Varrin!”
As romantic music swelled dramatically in the distance, Varrin leaped up the rocky cliff to reach her side. Clasping Eris’s hands in his own, he pulled them to his chest and whispered tenderly, “I’ve been waiting to say this for such a long time, my dearest. The truth is …”
“Yes?” she whispered breathlessly, swooning in his arms. “Tell me. You know you can tell me anything, my love.”
“I …” Varrin said huskily. “Eris, I …”
She pressed herself closer to his muscular chest. “Please! Tell me!” she begged, yearning to hear him profess the eternal love and devotion that she knew he felt for her.
Eris was somewhat perplexed when Varrin instead grabbed her arms and shook her roughly. “Wake up, girl!” he barked.
“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” she complained. “Try again.”
“Wake up, girl!”
Eris awoke with an unattractive splutter. She blinked sleep from her eyes and looked around the shuttle’s bunk room. Varrin was hovering above her, an amused look on his face.
“I was having a good dream,” she groused, yanking the blanket over her head so he couldn’t see her blush. She felt a tug, and Varrin pulled the covers from her grasp.
“Dreaming about me?”
“You wish.” Why did he have to wake me up? she thought unhappily. It was such a good dream. Totally unrealistic but wonderful all the same. Eris groaned and tugged her pillow over her face. In about three hours, you’re never going to see him again, she told herself sternly. Get over it! He’s an alien. Love is overrated anyway.
“Have I mentioned that I can read minds?” Varrin asked nonchalantly.
She shoved the pillow aside and shot him an annoyed look. “No, you can’t!”
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