Star Streaker Boxed Set 1 (Star Streaker Series)

by T. M. Catron

  Solaris shot Rance a dirty look. “It was on the duty roster when I started,” he said. “The CO has to wash the captain’s uniforms.”

  James snorted. “The last CO didn’t do that.”

  Rance grinned. “I thought you enjoyed it, sunshine.”

  Solaris smiled back as the ship bucked with another direct hit. “Like I’d ever tell you.”

  “Must not have been too bad. Took you ten months to figure out.”

  “I’ve only been on the Streaker ten months? Seems like a lifetime.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “No,” Solaris said, locking eyes with Rance. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

  An alarm sounded. Already, the shields were at twenty-five percent. Whatever the aliens were firing at them was more powerful than anything Unity used on their fighters. Too many more direct hits and the shields would be useless. “Sons of Triton,” Rance muttered. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Well, almost every minute,” Solaris amended as the Streaker shook with another tremor. The aliens missed as James maneuvered away, and the shot had skipped off their starboard side. “What are they hitting us with?”

  “Something I’ve never seen before,” Harper said over the comm. “Some cross between a laser array and plasma cannon.”

  “And we’re still alive?”

  “Not for much longer.”

  “Captain?” James asked seriously. His implied question hung in the air.

  Rance hated the thought of blowing the aliens back into the planet. Not because she felt bad for them—they were shooting at the Streaker. But because there were plenty of innocent lives on Tribune that could be lost if the alien ship landed in the city.

  “Why are they shooting us in the first place?”

  James did a complicated swoop, hoping to lose the alien ship long enough to make the jump. But the fighter copied them flawlessly as if it had some invisible tether attached to the Streaker and was merely along for the ride. “Their pilot is good,” James said. “Maybe the best I’ve ever seen. Except me, of course.”

  “Abel,” Solaris called. “Who are these people? Pirates?”

  “No, boss.”

  “Smugglers?”

  “Wrong again, boss. Alien warlords.”

  Alien warlords, Solaris mouthed, disbelieving. Then he yelled, “Why in Hades are warlords chasing us?”

  Rance sighed. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

  “What?”

  “The six months of uneventful trips.”

  “It was bound to end sometime.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Abel was saying. “But she was so beautiful.”

  Rance’s eyes widened in shock. James, who was concentrating evading the latest barrage of fire, hunkered down over his console to hide his laughter.

  “Beautiful?” Solaris asked. A vein bulged in his forehead. “Who was it? Please tell me it wasn’t the warlord’s wife.”

  “No. Nothing like that. I met a guy who was selling a cappatter.”

  “We already have one of those!” Rance yelled.

  “It was a girlfriend for Henry.”

  “That doesn’t explain why an alien warlord is after us,” Solaris said, clenching his fists in his anger.

  “It was his daughter’s pet. It was stolen from him, and he caught up to the sellers just as I met them.”

  “Please tell me you don’t have this cappatter now.”

  “No, boss. I left it with them. What kind of simpleton do you take me for?”

  Solaris fumed. “You’ll talk civilly, or you’ll be on lav duty for a month. Assuming we get out of this, that is.”

  “It isn’t my fault. I didn’t know it was stolen.”

  “Hey Captain,” James said, breaking some of the tension. “Know what happens when cappatters mate?”

  “You get more cappatters?” Rance asked weakly. Really, she’d thought Abel was smarter than this. But when it came to that furry creature that ran freely about the ship, the man had lost his mind.

  “Lots of cappatters,” James was saying. “The ship would be overrun within the month.”

  “I’d almost rather it was the alien’s wife,” Rance muttered. “At least that seems like something to fight over, rather than a pet cappatter. Then I could understand getting shot at.”

  “What is it with the tough guys and their cappatters?” Solaris asked, clearly still angry with Abel. He pulled out his staff from under his chair and stood. “Hang on, everybody.”

  “Wait, Solaris!” Harper said. “I’ve figured it out. James, I’ve been studying their maneuvers. They have trouble following when you nose down. Something about their propulsion system at this close range. Take a nose-dive.”

  James obeyed. The Streaker dipped forward sharply. As it scooped under the alien vessel, James twisted the Streaker so they saw the fighter’s underbelly. More rapid fire struck them, and the shields held on by a thread. They were too close for effective maneuvering from any missiles.

  The alien ship requested an open channel. Rance answered. “Captain Cooper here. Why are you shooting at us?”

  A long, dark face appeared on the screen in front of her. The alien’s blue eyes and protruding forehead reminded Rance of old Earth movies she had seen of alien sightings. He spoke in a deep voice, in a guttural language that sounded like metal scraping over rock, accented by deep booming tones.

  Deliverance, the ship’s AI, translated. “You have insulted Xar,” the alien said.

  “My apologies to Xar,” Rance answered. “We meant no disrespect.”

  “You will pay tribute now or die.”

  “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Rance asked. “I’ve never met Xar. It’s rude of him to ask me for money when he won’t even show his face.”

  The alien moved out of the way, and another took his place. This one looked similar to the first but was taller. Multiple earrings, necklaces, and piercings adorned the upper part of his body. All of them looked like they had teeth attached. Human teeth.

  “Humans always think they are funny,” he said. The alien grinned, showing dirty yellow fangs that looked like they had been chiseled to sharp points. “At first, it’s all jokes. Then, the screaming begins. I am Xar. Surrender now, and we may only take your ship.”

  “They’re maneuvering around to fire again,” Solaris said.

  “Deliverance sent hyperspace coordinates,” Harper said calmly. “Punch it, James.”

  James hit the button. Rance watched Xar’s face disappear as the Streaker made the jump to hyperspace.

  All three of them sank back into their chairs in relief.

  “Well,” Rance said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “That was a first, Captain,” James said. His hair was soaked with sweat.

  “Abel,” Solaris said sternly, “meet me in the galley. And bring your toothbrush. You have a lot of cleaning to do.”

  Chapter Two

  Until the encounter with Xar and his alien crew, the crew of the Star Streaker had gone six months without anything more sinister happening than James falling down the stairs. James’ pride had been bruised more than his body, and he’d been glaring daggers at anyone who mentioned the way he had bounced off the cargo deck.

  Despite the lack of excitement, Rance was happy in her boredom—a state rarely found aboard the Star Streaker. The crew and ship were safe, and she didn’t take it for granted.

  Boredom was safe, she told herself. Boredom was happiness, an absence of trouble. Since a pirate incident at Waystation 11, the crew had taken small jobs, staying within the realm of mundane shipments and run-of-the-mill assignments. Mostly, they contracted with law-abiding citizens who wanted a private courier and could pay a premium price. No more contacts, no more dubious meetings.

  During the long hyperspace trip back to the Outer Colonies, Harper used a screen capture of Xar and his minion to find out that the aliens belonged to a warrior race commonly called the Arlackens. They were so deadly t
hat an unrelated human plague was named after them. The Arlackens rarely flew into Triton’s domain, and running into Xar had been a freak encounter. Tally expressed concerns that the aliens had dared to land on Tribune, leaving Rance with an uneasy feeling about the whole situation.

  Other than her injured ear, which had been healed up in a few days by some burn ointment, the only thing concerning Rance at the moment was her growing regard for one of her crew members.

  And that crew member stood below in the hold, elbows tucked close to his body, sweat gleaming on his face. Solaris was the picture of relaxed concentration. His opponent, James, stood opposite him in a similar stance. They circled around each other, preparing to lunge.

  Solaris and James had been sparring in a spur-of-the-moment match for twenty minutes. Solaris wore his flight suit. James had stripped to the waist, which had earned him sarcastic catcalls from Harper. Rance had nothing else to do at the moment, so she watched their training while sitting at the top of the stairs.

  She had always made a point to hire people who knew how to fight in a tight situation. But until Solaris had joined, the captain had only enforced minimal training. After Prometheus, the CO had insisted everyone train and exercise every day. He personally demonstrated hand-to-hand combat skills to the crew. Since Rance had graduated from the Xanthes Flight Academy, she was schooled in certain types of martial arts. But she was no match for Solaris, who had shown her a thing or two since they began.

  With an absence of Unity or pirate run-ins, the crew practiced with each other. Solaris was the better fighter by far, but James was small and crafty. He knew he didn’t have Solaris’ skill, so he used his smaller size to his advantage. A dodge here, a roll there. Solaris had to work harder to land any blows because James wouldn’t engage.

  Perched atop a rations crate in the corner, Harper kept up a constant stream of insults directed mostly at James for his evasive maneuvers.

  “It’s literally my job!” James spat back. “I keep the Streaker out of trouble, don’t I?”

  To vent his frustration, James finally made a move toward Solaris with a quick jab to his head. Solaris blocked him and delivered a cut to his nose. James blocked it in time. They traded a few moves back and forth until Solaris found an opening and caught James on the cheek. They weren’t wearing protective gear, so the sound of Solaris’ palm hitting James’ face sounded loud in the empty hold.

  Harper called the point, and the opponents backed away. James dabbed his mouth, which bled slightly from the corner.

  “That’s five points for Solaris and two points for James,” Harper called. She looked so tiny sitting folded on the crate that anyone who didn’t know would have thought she was a child instead of a grown woman. “James, you sorry son of the Outer Colonies. You’re supposed to be scrappy. What are you waiting for? Get in there and knock his head in.”

  “I would like to remind you that Solaris’ reach is much greater than mine.”

  “James can’t reach Solaris’ head,” Abel taunted, laughing. He knelt in the corner, scrubbing invisible grime from the decking with his toothbrush.

  “So you must work harder,” Rance called. James, who spent most of his time in the cockpit, thought his skills were best used there. Well, in the cockpit and with women. Rance had been goading him into practicing more—with fighting, not with women.

  James stepped back from Solaris and threw a challenging glance at the captain. “Show me how it’s done, then.”

  “I don’t have any problems knocking Solaris in the head,” Rance shot back. “My arms are long enough.”

  Harper and Abel let out guffaws.

  James grinned. “Are you afraid?”

  Solaris smirked.

  “No,” Rance said decidedly.

  Despite her assertion, Rance felt uncomfortable. Lately, her interactions with Solaris had been awkward, like they were dancing around each other but one was doing the salsa while the other did the tango. To make the dancing worse, Rance always felt like her shoes were on the wrong feet when Solaris was around. But as he stood there with a smug grin, she decided there was no reason to feel embarrassed. She and Solaris had sparred plenty of times before.

  Rance descended the stairs to the approving claps of James, Abel, and Harper. She removed the belt at her hip and rolled up her sleeves.

  “Are you washing dishes or fighting?” Solaris asked.

  “Just watch what you’re doing, wise-guy,” she muttered. “I don’t want a broken nose.”

  “I would never dream of marring something so perfect.”

  Rance blinked, confused by the possible subtext of Solaris’ words. Since he was grinning from ear to ear, she dismissed it as one of his jokes and took her place facing him.

  Harper jumped down from her perch, landing neatly in a crouch on the balls of her feet. She waltzed over to stand between the two opponents, taking each of their hands in hers. “Touch only. It’s unnecessary to draw blood, you two, or to take out your… frustrations… on the object of your affections.”

  Rance blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Solaris winked at Harper. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he settled for looking at Rance.

  Rance composed herself, making a mental note to ask Harper later what she meant by that comment. Was her growing attraction to Solaris that noticeable? The captain nodded to Harper and fought the heat rising in her cheeks. She would have to do better.

  Harper let go of their hands. “Best two out of three. A connect is a point.”

  And so they began. Solaris surprised Rance by jumping forward first. His arm extended, his hand shooting out to connect with her chin. Rance blocked him, tried a few cuts of her own. Solaris blocked her every time.

  Finally, Rance stepped forward on the offensive and managed a jab to his chest. Solaris grunted as her fist connected with his breastbone.

  Smirking, she stepped back for Harper to call the point.

  “First point to Captain Cooper, best captain in this sector of the galaxy!”

  “That’s it?” Rance called, her eyes glued to Solaris. “Just this sector?”

  Solaris lashed out with a kick. Rance blocked him with a leg kick of her own and missed Harper’s snarky response. The captain followed up with an elbow directed at Solaris’ face. Solaris blocked her. The CO moved faster now, pushing Rance back until she hit the bulkhead. Even then, Solaris didn’t let up, bringing his hand around to jab the pressure point on her shoulder. When Rance blocked him, it gave him an opening, and he tapped her on the chin.

  “Point two goes to our illustrious CO—chocolate-cake-eating, staff-wielding, Galaxy Wizard extraordinaire!”

  Rance smiled at Solaris. “I think Harper has a crush on you.”

  “Nah,” he whispered. “I paid her to say those things.”

  “Trying to impress me?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to try, Captain.”

  Rance shoved Solaris back, going on the offensive once again. Her competitive streak kicked in, and she traded jabs with Solaris in a flurry of arms and legs that gained approving whoops from the crew. A sweat broke out on her forehead. She wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t beat her.

  Finally, Rance took advantage of an opening and kicked, sure she had him. But she misjudged her position, and her foot connected with Solaris’ groin instead of his gut.

  Solaris dropped to the ground, doubled over.

  James and Abel both winced. Harper gasped, then snorted with suppressed laughter.

  Rance was mortified. “Solaris—”

  Solaris held up a hand. “I’m okay,” he said, gasping. “Just give me a minute.”

  Rance knelt over him, and he looked up at her with watery eyes.

  “I concede the match,” he croaked. “I didn’t know you’d play dirty.”

  “The captain thought you were a pirate coming to kidnap her,” James said, his humor returning.

  “Sorry,” Rance said. This time, the heat flushed her cheeks so hotly she wanted to
crawl into a hole with embarrassment. “But you should have known I like to win.”

  Solaris half-smiled through his wincing. The combination contorted his face into a grotesque image. “Seeing you blush like that was almost worth it,” he whispered.

  Resisting the urge to kick him again, Rance rose. “He’s fine. Everybody get back to work. Abel, the decks need to sparkle by the night cycle.”

  Chapter Three

  “We’ve got another job, Captain,” James said the next day. They had exited hyperspace and were orbiting Doxor 1, a small but well-developed planet that orbited twin suns. James sat in Rance’s seat on the flight deck. His red-orange hair streamed water, soaking Rance’s chair. He smelled of soap and steam.

  “You’re dripping water everywhere!” Rance said, motioning for him to get up.

  “Just got out of the shower. Ran up here when I heard the call. You’re lucky I’m wearing pants.”

  “You have never been so correct in your life. Go dribble in your own seat.”

  James turned to Rance. “I don’t want to get the instrument panel wet.”

  “What’s the job about?” she asked.

  “A simple run from Iliea 4 to Persephone—thirty-six hours in hyperspace. We are picking up packages and delivering them somewhere.”

  “Where are we delivering them to?”

  “Don’t know. They were rather evasive about it.”

  “No,” Rance said. She looked out the cockpit window at the millions of stars shining down on them. “They either tell us where we're headed, or we don’t do the job.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  James returned the call. A man’s face appeared onscreen—the dispatcher, not the client. His face was saggy and bored-looking. James argued with him for a minute.

  Rance stayed out of the conversation, instead gazing at the stars through the window above. When she was a kid, this was how she had imagined life in space. A crew of friends, a beautiful ship, and the galaxy stretching out before them. The possibilities were endless, just like the stars.

  A grin entered James’ voice as he got his way. While he received the particulars, Rance decided to check the risk assessment.