by T. M. Catron
“Hey!” he said, holding up his hands.
It wasn’t a blanket—the man was wearing a cape. A blue cape—her contact. Rance shook her head at the irony. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time for business deals.
A hatch banged open above them, metal on metal clashing. Rance jumped, bumping her head on the top of the tube. Someone had found the adjacent maintenance shaft. Was it Solaris? She signaled the man to be quiet.
“You’re wearing a blue flight suit and a cap,” the man said.
She glared at him angrily, listening. At least two voices grew louder. Not Solaris, then.
“They’re looking for me,” the man continued as if he hadn’t seen her.
“Shut up!” Rance hissed.
“I don’t know how they ended up at Waystation 11, but if they find me, they’ll kill me very slowly. Kaur promised.”
Pirate Kaur? Rance thought, shocked. How did this small-time smuggler get on Kaur’s radar?
“I figured out who you are,” he said, smiling mischievously. “Looked you up. I’ll bet my right arm that you’re Devri, sole heir to the House of Davos.”
Surprised at this announcement, Rance pointed her stunner at him. “Not. One. More. Word,” she whispered. The man was correct, of course. How he’d discovered her real identity was anybody’s guess. It disturbed Rance that he’d identified her so quickly. It also upset her that the voices on the other side had quieted.
“If I turn you in,” the caped man said, “they’ll nab you and leave me.”
“You filthy double-crosser!” Rance hissed.
“No honor among thieves.”
“I’m not a thief. I prefer anonymous transporter.”
“Hey!” the man yelled, pounding on the top of the tubing.
Rance realized too late that she was laying just below an access panel. Boots on the outside ran for it. The caped man kept pounding.
Without another warning, Rance stunned him.
The bolt hit the smuggler, sizzling around his body for a long moment. He seized up, then slumped to the floor. Feeling guilty for leaving the man to his fate, Rance squeezed past him as something hit the access panel from the outside. The smuggler’s eyebrows twitched, but he was out cold.
Her heavy boots scraped along the metal. No matter how she tried to soften her movements, the boots gave away her position like a built-in tracking device. She sighed, resigning herself to the inevitable. Flipping the releases, she removed her boots and set them against the wall.
Without the cumbersome footwear, Rance crawled faster, past a ladder access. The main ventilation shaft was the only one big enough for her, so she couldn’t make a wrong turn. She hoped it went all the way to the end of the corridor, but she noted the presence of the ladder in case she got stuck.
Another explosion rocked the station, so close that Rance’s teeth rattled. The metal trembled, the vibration tickling her body. Within a minute, smoke began to waft through the shaft.
Below, a klaxon wailed.
“Perfect,” she muttered.
A metal bang sounded close by, followed by the sounds of a person climbing the ladder. Rance pointed her stunner behind her, ready to defend herself. A mop of dark hair appeared, then a face.
“Solaris,” she said in relief. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He smiled. “Good timing.”
More people ran through the maintenance walkway to the right. Boots struck metal decking below. Everything echoed strangely, mixing with the wind in an overwhelming assault on Rance’s ears.
“I’m worried this tunnel will narrow as we get closer to the end,” Rance said as they crawled along.
“Not for a while yet,” Solaris said from behind her.
“You say that like you’ve done this before.”
“It’s possible.”
“Galaxy Wizards must live exciting lives.”
“As I’ve told you, life aboard the Star Streaker comes in at a close second.”
“That’s not a competition I’m hoping to win. This smoke is getting worse. I wish they would stop exploding things down there so they don’t blow a hole in the station.”
“Mmhmm,” Solaris said noncommittally.
“Wait, did you cause that explosion?”
“It was carefully calculated to not blow a hole in the station.”
“Solaris!” she said, ready to scold.
Rance brought herself up short. She happened to be lying over the top of a sheer mesh intake. Between the layers of filters, she saw five people below. Since they all looked alike in their heavy battle armor, it was hard to tell if they were men or women. However, it wasn’t hard to figure out that they all bore the slashed flag insignia of the Pirate Kaur on their arms.
One of the pirates stood in the center. His suit was larger than the others’, and they seemed to defer to him. He must have been the commander.
Rance held her breath, worried that any moment those expensive armored suits would detect her and Solaris with their sensors. The pirates angled toward one another as if they were talking, but since they were using a private—and likely encrypted—comm channel, she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Solaris eased up beside her, cramming in until they were side by side. When he saw the pirates below, he started and tried to pull Rance back. She shook her head. They needed to move forward, not back. And anyway, she was now wedged in so tight with Solaris that scooting backward was next to impossible.
Who is it? she mouthed.
Kaur, Solaris mouthed back.
That’s Kaur? Rance pointed emphatically down through the mesh.
Solaris nodded.
A thrill rippled through Rance’s spine and caused the hair on her neck to stand up. Pirate Kaur was the most feared pirate in the galaxy.
What is he doing here? Rance asked.
Solaris shrugged.
They watched the group below, who had seemed to stop talking and were waiting for something.
A thousand questions ran through Rance’s mind, and she recalled everything she knew about the notorious Pirate King. None of it was pleasant. Kaur famously hated technology but always possessed the finest. His ship, the Star Wraith, was an enormous mining vessel repurposed as a base of operations. It was rumored to be booby-trapped throughout. And he employed cyborgs, who he sometimes fed to his giant half lizard, half dog creature.
Kaur's presence aboard the space station was disturbing. If this were a typical raid, why would he bother to be here? He personally led his pirate hordes only when they needed his expert military guidance.
The large pirate in the middle removed his helmet, showing the face Rance knew from wanted bulletins. Kaur had dark hair and olive skin. Large veins bulged in his neck, snaking their way down under the collar of his suit. The other pirates removed their helmets too.
By this time, Rance wasn’t breathing at all. Luckily, Kaur’s suit hadn’t sounded a warning about spies watching from above. She wondered why not. Even with the air whipping through the tunnel, the sensors should have detected their body heat. Maybe they couldn’t read it through the mesh.
Rance looked at Solaris, ready to give him a questioning look. When she saw his face, she knew why Kaur hadn’t found them.
Solaris’ eyes were closed in concentration, his face had turned pale, and he breathed through his nose as if he were meditating. He must have been employing some sort of invisible shield. Rance grew angry. Solaris was expending all his energy for this, which meant he would be too drained later to escape if they ran into trouble.
She nudged him, breaking his concentration. Solaris shot her an alarmed look and wiped the sweat trickling down his face. As soon as he did, his shield must have broken because the sounds below suddenly became louder. The movements of the pirates walking back and forth along the corridor, the distant explosions, and the rush of wind up through the mesh as the air was finally allowed through.
Unfortunately, the pirates were no longer conversing, so Rance couldn’t sa
tisfy her curiosity about why they were there.
Rance and Solaris pulled themselves forward. When they had escaped further down the shaft, they paused to catch their breaths.
“Solaris,” Rance hissed. “I don’t want to have to carry your butt out of here. As your captain, I forbid you using your powers until you have recovered!”
“Please take more than just my butt, Captain. I’m rather attached to all of it.”
Rance glared at his joke.
He smiled. “Next time, I’ll let them catch us.”
“There won’t be a next time. We’re almost there. If only we could contact the Streaker.” Rance again tried to raise James, but all she got was silence. What if the ship had been captured?
They crawled a few more yards until they reached the last access. The metal plate above it said Section D. Taking care to be silent, they climbed down the ladder. Rance’s stockinged feet slipped on the rungs, forcing her to slow her descent so she didn’t fall. At the bottom, they pried the panel open.
The hall was empty. Gleaming surfaces and expensive artwork covered everything. The screens here displayed beautiful images, not the annoying ads in the rest of the station. They didn’t even have the invasion message displayed across them. Doors were spaced far apart, not crammed together. They had definitely reached the more opulent quarters, the ones for visiting dignitaries and wealthy residents.
The smoke was thicker here, but not unbearable. Rance couldn’t believe their luck. As long as the Star Streaker was at the airlock, they could be gone in a few minutes.
They hurried down the corridor, which curved around to the left. It bothered Rance that they couldn't see far ahead, but they hugged the wall, hoping not to rush headlong into trouble.
As they rounded the last curve, their luck ran out.
The airlock was straight ahead, set into the left wall. In front of it stood five armored pirates guarding the door. Stacks of crates lined both walls. All of the pirates were armed, and all of them stared straight at Rance and Solaris.
Chapter Five
The pirates recovered quickly from their initial surprise. Rance and Solaris darted back around the curve as the first fiery bolts flashed by. They ricocheted off the walls, leaving trails of scorch marks on the pristine, shining metal.
Rance slipped, her feet sliding out from under her. She hit the deck hard as more bolts flew over her head. Solaris reached for Rance as she scrambled away, and they ducked into the first door they found unlocked.
Opulent, plush furnishings, real wood panels, and expensive carpets filled the room. Solaris watched the screen next to the door displaying security feed from a camera just outside. “I don’t think they followed.”
“They were guarding that airlock,” Rance said, nursing a bruised elbow. “They must be under orders not to leave it.”
“James won’t be there, then.”
Another distant explosion rattled expensive decor on a shelf, and a sinking feeling of dread ran down from Rance’s burning lungs to her gut. “Any ideas?”
“We could always turn ourselves in. That’s still on the table.”
“Pirate Kaur is in the way, remember? Do you think we could get through the ventilation shaft a second time?”
“It’s our best bet.”
“And then where? How would we even find Unity and approach them without being shot?”
Solaris turned to give Rance his full attention. “You’re actually considering it?”
“No, but you brought it up, so I’m telling you why it won’t work.”
“We could hide here.”
“And be in even worse shape when either Unity or Kaur wins this skirmish. Once they have control of the station, getting to the Streaker will be next to impossible. Right now, they are distracting each other.”
Solaris’ eyes twinkled in amusement.
“What?”
“You would rather fight off a horde of angry space pirates and run through a battle zone than go back to Xanthes.” It was a statement, not a question.
Rance’s walked over to stand on the soft rug and warm her cold feet. “I don’t know how we will do much fighting. My stunner and your staff aren’t a match for mechanized armor.”
Solaris straightened. “I have an idea, though. It’ll work if we hurry.”
He looked at the screen showing the empty hall and then reached for the button to open the door.
“Hang on,” Rance said. “I need to borrow some shoes.”
Five minutes later, they crept back down the corridor away from the airlock, toward Pirate Kaur. Rance couldn’t decide which was more insane—battling five armored pirates, or their plan before the battle. She wore a pair of too-small boots that pinched her feet, but they were all she could find. And they were better than sliding around the floors in her socks.
Ahead, a pirate guarded the hall facing away from them, alone and alert. Rance and Solaris hid behind a bulkhead, away from his cameras. Finding a guard had been relatively easy. The pirates had cleared this corridor, so the guard wasn’t expecting to have to fight anyone from behind.
Solaris had his staff in hand, unfolded. It was made of dull gray metal unadorned by any symbols or insignia. He had insisted he wouldn't use magic to surprise the pirate, but Rance couldn’t see how he would accomplish that.
“He’s fairly tall,” Rance whispered. “You should be able to squeeze into his armor.”
Solaris eased out from the bulkhead, but Rance grabbed him. “No. I’ll distract him.”
Solaris shook his head.
“That’s an order, sunshine.”
Rance held her stunner tight in her hand. As if it will do any good against the pirate’s armor. She ran across the corridor to the opposite bulkhead.
The guard spotted her immediately. He turned and fired, red bolts sizzling past Rance’s shoulders as she sought cover. The guard’s suit carried him to her faster than Rance had anticipated. She hadn’t taken more than a breath before he loomed over her, his laser rifle pointed at her chest.
“Don’t shoot!” she said, holding up her hands, gun included. Her heart beat frantically.
The pirate made an exaggerated look up and down as if he were checking her out. Rance fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was Solaris doing—taking a break? Shouldn’t he have clobbered the scumbag by now?
As if remembering orders, the pirate stopped ogling. His finger twitched near the trigger.
“Wait!” Rance said, desperate to stall him from blowing a hole in her chest. “I’m Lord Davos’ daughter.”
The guard drew up slightly. “Then he’s about to make funeral arrangements.” His voice was deep, a trick perhaps of the suit’s speakers.
“There’s a bounty on my head, I swear by the Founders. Davos will pay good credits for me delivered to him alive and unharmed, no questions asked. The reward is enormous. Trust me,” she said, trying to be casual while staring down the barrel of the rifle, “I would turn myself in for it if I thought I could get away with it.”
“Any other day,” he said, “I might consider that offer. Today, the Pirate King says no prisoners.”
A chill ran through Rance as she thought of the Streaker. If that were the case and it had been damaged, the pirates would have killed her friends rather than take them aboard their ships as bounty.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rance caught a glimpse of something swinging through the air. It whacked the pirate on the neck with a resounding crack. The pirate grunted, shifted left. Rance ducked, and not a moment too soon. He fired, so close that she felt the heat skim over her body and ruffle her hair. The wall behind her exploded in a shower of sparks.
Solaris had planned to take down the pirate with one swipe of his staff. He had missed the critical spot, though, and now engaged the pirate in a dance around the corridor. The pirate was experienced, and with the suit he was fast. Solaris dodged him, barely getting out of the way as the guard fired again. Rance took the opportunity to aim her stunner at his
helmet. She fired, watching the sparks with satisfaction. It didn’t do anything to the suit, but it distracted the pirate for a half-second. Solaris seized his chance and whacked the pirate’s armor again.
This time he struck gold. The suit paused in mid-swing, its left arm extended toward Solaris, its right still holding the rifle. Solaris had disabled the suit with a simple touch. Rance had never quite figured out how he managed to do this. Something to do with hidden weaknesses.
“The armor will lock him inside,” she warned.
“Nope, I took care of that,” Solaris said. Sweat trickled down his face. He was expending valuable energy just doing simple tasks. Rance hoped he had something left for the next part of their plan.
Between the two of them, Rance and Solaris hauled the cursing, spitting pirate out of the suit. With another well-placed tap, Solaris knocked him out cold before he could hurt them. After that, removing the pieces was tedious but not difficult. The tension grew with every passing minute. Any second, someone could check on the guard after he failed to report in. The more pieces they removed, the more they realized that they had a growing problem.
“I can’t fit,” Solaris finally admitted.
Rance looked over at the unconscious pirate, who was shorter than either one of them had expected. The armor was custom fitted, designed to make him look taller. Whoever tried to put it on would have to cram inside. At least four inches taller than Rance, Solaris would never fit. The plan had been for him to wear the armor, wielding his staff at the same time. It would make him more powerful and allow him to use his magic for a few moments longer. Solaris’ job was to clear a path for Rance, who would commandeer whatever ship was docked at the airlock. Now, they would have to alter the plan.
Rance took a deep breath and began putting on the pieces. She placed them over her clothes, not bothering that they would crumple inside and cause chafing later. Solaris helped her, and within ten minutes she was suited up.
The armor was too small for her, too, and her shoulders pressed painfully into the padded suit. It stank of the pirate’s sweat. The rest of the suit was ill-fitted to her body. It had been made for a man, and all the joints were out of sync with Rance’s own. Mercifully, she didn’t plan to wear it long.
