by T. M. Catron
But she didn’t have time to worry about her new CO, because James was positioning the Streaker toward a giant cruiser about to dock at a space station. He tucked their small ship under the engine of the larger one, hiding in its shadow.
“That won’t lose them for long,” he said, “but I’ve bought us five minutes. Captain, what do you want to do?”
“Situation?”
“Too many ships nearby to attempt a jump to hyperspace. We’re bound to hit one of them and blow ourselves—and them—apart. I can try to shake the Unity ships long enough to get a clear path. If we load the emergency coordinates, we can jump as soon as we get away from the chaos.”
“No,” Roote said, nodding to another screen at James' elbow. “They’re sending more.”
At least five more UDFs were headed their way, closing in from above and below.
“What?!” Rance asked no one in particular. “How did they find us? Did they figure out the Streaker was using a fake registration?”
“They don’t send eight UDFs after a ship for fake registration,” James said.
“Captain,” Roote said.
“Not now, Roote. James, ever get out of anything like this before?”
James frowned. “Do you want me to answer that?”
Rance looked out at the underbelly of the larger ship, their only cover. The planet below had thousands, if not millions, of places to land and hide a small starship. But she didn’t know if they could get there without being seen.
“Captain,” Roote said urgently.
“Not now, Roote!” Rance wouldn’t go back to Xanthes. They couldn’t force her to marry anybody. “James, we need a temporary landing on the planet. Can you get us there before those UDFs find us?”
“That’s about the only choice we have. They won’t use the EMP cannons or laser weapons if we get down close enough. Unity doesn’t allow it.”
“You know a place?”
James grinned. “My girlfriend’s got her own little gig going. Landing pads, storage facility, the works.”
“Get us there.”
“Yes, Captain.” James pulled away from the transport and dove for the planet. The airspace beyond the space station was clear, though, and in two seconds the UDFs had locked on.
“James!”
“I see them.”
Something looked off. Rance pulled her screen closer to her face, her nose almost pressing against it. There were the UDFs, flying toward them, but their blinking dots had changed.
Another alarm sounded.
“They’re locking on with missiles!” Rance said, gripping her chair now, too. “They’re shooting to kill! Why?”
No one answered her.
Rance had always been impressed by the way James managed to stay calm in desperate situations. The pilot feigned left back toward the space station. A new alarm sounded, signaling a collision course. The blaring alarms disoriented Rance, and she couldn’t remember how to turn them off. She scrambled a minute before finally shutting them down.
Unanswered questions spun through Rance’s mind. Why was Unity shooting to kill? Had Davos finally decided to avenge his bruised pride? He must have been angrier than Rance thought, and she was going to get them all killed.
How had it come to this?
The Unity ships followed. James dove again with a clear way ahead. Then he punched something into his console.
“Don’t have a choice,” he mumbled.
“James, what are you doing? Were those hyperspace coordinates? James!”
Tally came on the comm. “They better not be!”
But James had already initiated the jump. Directly at Doxor 5.
The hyperdrive spun up just as it was designed to do, and two seconds later, the blue wave rippled over them.
They were going to smash into the planet.
Before Rance could close her eyes and wait for death, the Streaker exited hyperspace with a jolt. She bit her tongue and tasted warm blood in her mouth.
They were inside the sliver of dark space on the planet. Night time.
Rance and Roote gasped.
James let out a whoop. “Take that, Academy! Wish you had accepted me now, don’t you?”
Chapter Five
James piloted the Streaker into Doxor 5’s atmosphere, then flew into the cloud cover over the tall buildings. Even at night, the lights from the city turned the clouds into a haze of dirty golden mist all around them.
“What the—helmet—just happened?” Roote asked.
“That’s the spirit, Roote!” James laughed, still high on adrenaline. The rest of the crew was close to hyperventilating.
Rance got on the comm. “Hang on everybody, we’re going to find a place to land. Thanks to some fancy, death-defying, and stupidly stupid flying by James, we’ve evaded the Unity ships… for now.”
She clicked off the comm. “We’ll have to ditch the Streaker. They know its signature and what it looks like.”
James’ face fell.
“Hey, you got us out of a tight spot.”
“We’re not out of it yet,” Roote said, “but we’ve bought some time.” His jaw was set, and he stared out at the golden clouds below like he saw something Rance didn’t.
“Coming up on Madeline’s place,” James said. Then he pushed another button. “Hey baby!” he said in his best winning voice. “Guess who’s coming to see you?”
“She doesn’t know we’re coming?” Rance asked.
“That’s probably best,” Roote said. “Won’t take long for Unity to figure out that stunt. They’ll be hunting us.”
“Me, you mean.”
“Nah, Captain,” James said. “All of us.”
A minute later, the Star Streaker burst out of the clouds near a tower. Below, a landing pad had been built on the roof of a long, flat building. James set the ship down on the pad so gently they barely felt it.
“Hey Madeline,” James called again. “Where are ya?”
Rance and Roote unbuckled their harnesses and hurried out of the cockpit. Rance slid down the ladder and ran down the hall toward her cabin.
She called over her shoulder to Roote, “Tell everyone they have five minutes to grab what they can. Don’t take anything you can’t carry.”
A minute later she was in her room, throwing things into a satchel. As she turned to leave, she remembered Terryn’s handset on the shelf and retrieved it, shoving it into a side pocket before walking out the door.
Down in the hold, Tally was yelling at James. “Don’t know what was going through your pea-sized, human brain, but a jump like that could have wiped out the whole hemisphere. Worse than ten Renegades in full battle array. And you just did it!”
James pointed a finger at Tally. “In case you haven’t noticed, I just saved our necks!”
“You got lucky! Captain, did you tell this imbecile that this is exactly the kind of stunt that kept him out of the Academy?”
James looked ready to punch Tally. “You alien inbred worm!”
Roote stepped between them. “Save it for later. We need to exit the ship. Now.”
His next command was issued in the kind of voice people rarely disobeyed—deep and sharp and with a ring of authority. “It would be wise to split up. I’ll go with James and Harper. Captain, you want to take Tally and Abel?”
Rance looked at Tally, who was still glaring at James. “We’ll give you a head start while we lock down the ship,” she said. “At least it’ll buy us some time if Unity can’t get in.”
Tally’s green eyes found Rance’s. “But they will eventually get in.”
Rance’s gut twisted with the thought of abandoning the Star Streaker—her ship. It was the only thing she’d ever truly owned, and it was her ticket to freedom. Leaving it was like leaving a friend behind to die. But they had no alternative. She sighed. “I know.”
Tally nodded. While the others slipped outside onto the darkened landing pad, Tally and Rance set alarms and put the ship in lockdown mode. Harper had
programmed the protocols years ago, but they had never been forced to use them.
“Glad we installed these lockdown procedures when we had the chance,” Rance said as she punched in a passcode on the console next to the outside door.
“Always knew there would be the possibility we’d need to buy time,” Tally said. “Ever since you told me you wanted to run away from your father.”
“Davos is probably behind all this!” Rance said with sudden vehemence.
“You really think he has the authority to send eight Unity Dark Fighters after you?”
“I bet he pulled some strings.” Rance glanced at Tally as she set the final code. “Don’t think so?”
“I don’t think your father has the resources to initiate such a chase. They were waiting for us. How?”
Rance shook her head as they walked down the ramp to the landing pad. Behind them, it closed into the ship and sealed with a hiss. They jogged across the platform, stopping when they reached a long overhang meant to serve as a hangar for small ships. Tonight, it was empty except for Abel, who waited for them.
Rance turned to take one last, long look at the bronze ship sitting on the pad. A lump formed in her throat. To keep the despair at bay, she took a deep, shaky breath and turned away. They would return—she would find a way to get the Streaker back if Unity seized it.
“Guess Madeline doesn’t hang around waiting for James to show up,” she said.
“Smart girl,” Tally said bitterly. “One day he’ll be dead from a stunt like that.”
Rance clicked her comm. “Roote? Harper? James?”
“Stay off the comm,” Roote said on it a moment later. “I’ll come get you.”
“What does that mean?” Abel asked.
“Don’t know.”
They waited. Rance shifted from one foot to the other, wishing to dispel some of the tension moving through her body. When at last Roote appeared in the hangar with his bag slung over his shoulder, he’d almost reached them before she heard or saw him.
“This way,” he said. “We found a stairwell. If Unity is looking for us, they’ll be monitoring chatter. No comms, agreed?”
Rance nodded, and they all moved with Roote toward the end of the hangar. In the back of her mind, Rance wondered if Roote was leading them straight into a trap. The doubt grew as they walked. How else would Unity have found them so quickly? Roote could have betrayed her to Davos, warned Unity.
No, he couldn’t have. Rance hadn’t told him where they were going until they were in hyperspace. And he had been with her in the cockpit the whole time after they exited. He hadn’t had the opportunity to send any messages.
Harper and James were waiting in the stairwell. Rance laughed at her own paranoia. Then she turned to thank Roote.
He wasn’t there.
She left the stairwell, out the door and back to the hangar. Roote jogged toward her, looking out of breath but happy about something.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing—wondered where you were.”
He paused. “You didn’t think I would betray you?”
“It crossed my mind. I don’t exactly know you. What were you doing?”
“Taking one last look at the sky, just in case.”
He started walking again, leading her back to the stairwell. “Don’t worry—the last thing I want to do is get tangled up with Unity.”
Rance wanted to ask him what he meant, but now wasn’t the time. They joined the rest of the crew and began descending the stairs. Down, down, ever downward. Their boots clomped on the metal, sending echoes up and down the stairwell. The top of the building pierced the low-hanging clouds, so their legs tired long before stairs ran out. Finding an elevator was out of the question since those were likely to be monitored.
Rance pushed onward, determined that no Unity soldier would take her back to her father. Roote brought up the rear, ready to help if anyone fell behind.
The stairwell ended on a level still far above the ground floor, forcing the crew to enter the building and walk down a short corridor to another stairwell. Here they took a break, passing around water and listening for movement below.
“What happened to Madeline?” Rance whispered to James.
“Guess she’s not home. She works too, you know.”
James didn’t seem concerned with his girlfriend’s disappearance, so Rance wasn’t either. They set off again, and once again all they heard was the sound of boots clanging on metal.
When they finally entered the street through a side door, bright daylight streamed down on them from two directions. People in colorful tunics walked by in darkened visors, shielded from the glare of the twin suns. One by one, the crew sank against the wall, exhausted.
Using a hand to shield her eyes, Rance stepped out into the street first, looking for their next move. Roote stood beside her, waiting for her to speak.
She was just about to announce an all-clear when she spotted fast movement one block over. It sent a jolt of fear through her. She turned, staring straight at three big soldiers dressed in black. The street was swarming with police and Unity.
One of the three eyed her and motioned for his friends to follow. Rance assumed he recognized her.
“Go!” she yelled. Behind her, the crew scattered. As Rance took off in the opposite direction, she saw Harper and James dart across the street. Tally and Abel ran back into the building.
“Stop!” someone yelled behind her.
Rance’s heart was racing, but it sank in defeat. They would never outrun Unity soldiers. Why had Davos sent them all the way here? What hope she’d had disappeared. But she wasn’t going to stop running until they caught her or found her exhausted body passed out in the street. Rance turned down a side street, looking for a door—any door—to hide behind.
Also, Roote had disappeared. In the panic, she hadn’t seen which way he had gone. Probably best—Unity was looking for her anyway. If they caught her, maybe they would forget the rest of the crew.
More clouds rolled in, blotting out the two suns. The temperature dropped, and the air smelled of dirty rain. Rance turned down side streets at random, using her ZOD to show her position relative to the Star Streaker. She still couldn’t believe she was leaving her ship. It was her whole life—what would she do now?
Rance brushed the depressing thought aside and checked over her shoulder. Her path took her to a shopping district filled with people. She slowed down to catch her breath, grateful for more people on the streets, even if they were all hurrying to get indoors before the rain started.
It began lightly, then built into a roaring crescendo. Rance pulled her jacket from her bag and tossed it over her head, squinting to see through the downpour. The water soaked her pants before she found an overhang leading into a store on the ground level of a high-rise building.
A whirring sound caught Rance’s attention, and she looked around for the source of the noise. A police drone flew above her ahead. When it passed, it reversed direction and flew back to the store.
It was scanning for the fugitives.
Rance walked to the doors, which opened automatically. The sound of rain faded, and she stood blinking in the subdued mood lighting of a clothing store. The high-end shop displayed all kinds of technology-enhanced apparel: bodysuits to keep the wearer warm or cool, shirts that measured vitals and uploaded them to a database of the buyer’s choice. All of it interfaced with city networks, handsets, and Zeus Corp tech like the ZOD in Rance’s eye.
The captain moved toward the back of the store, leaving a trail of water on the imported wood flooring. She passed tunics made of shimmery fabrics, holos of attractive men and women displaying bodysuits that changed shape to pad the wearer in all the right places.
A store android scowled at Rance as she passed. The captain stuffed her wet coat back into her bag and smoothed her wet locks. When she glanced in a mirror, her efforts had done little to hide her boring flight suit and dripping hair. She looked bedraggled,
belonging to the gutter and not an expensive clothing store.
The front doors opened, and the police drone flew inside. Rance ducked behind a rack, looking for the back exit. The shoppers’ murmurs swept through the room, and she peeked out from her hiding place. Four police officers dressed in black with gear attached at the hip and on their vests had followed the drone. They carried stun guns but no other weapons. Doxor 5 had banned anything more dangerous years ago.
Rance eased around the wall of the store, keeping the displays between her and the police. They fanned out, systematically checking everything. Rance caught a glimpse of the insignia on one man’s arm: Doxor Planet Squad. He wasn’t police but part of a private, hired security force that protected the shipping lanes between the system’s planets. Mercenaries. Rance wouldn’t feel guilty about fighting them if she had to.
Why had Davos hired them?
A moment of doubt stopped Rance from moving forward. Confused, she crouched behind a counter of sun visors with heads up displays. They were looking for her, but why?
Rance imagined her imposing father laying a final trap for his daughter using all his available resources. He would have had to sell everything for this play—an unlikely move, given he valued power above all else.
Then why were mercs chasing Rance?
“Hold it,” someone said.
Rance froze. While she had been studying one guy, another had circled around and found her. The merc held a baton in his hand, but his stunner was still in its holster.
He had underestimated Rance.
“Hands up—slowly.”
Rance did as asked while eyeing a T-shaped metal rack within her reach. It held a lone green bodysuit.
“Stand,” the merc commanded.
Rance eased from her crouch as if she were going to comply, but she reached for the rack instead. The merc saw her move and jumped toward her, but Rance was a hair faster. She grabbed the rack and swung it, forcing the merc to step back. He swore as the rack smacked the hand holding the baton, knocking the weapon away.
The merc went for his stunner. Rance shifted her stance and hit him with the other end of the rack. He grunted and reeled back, crashing into a counter with goggles. The stunner landed on the floor. Rance threw the rack at the merc and ran.
