The Captain's Secret Daughter

by Eve Langlais

  The crew worked efficiently. Sometimes calling out random status updates.

  “The citadel has cleared the mountain and is moving in our direction.”

  “Sir, would you like me to hail them?” Natalya, his communications officer, asked.

  “Why not?” It couldn’t hurt. Kobrah tapped his fingers restlessly as he watched the screen in front of them. Made to appear as a window for the moment, it was actually a camera that managed to filter out the lack of light and show him in glaring gray tones the sky, landscape, and approaching menace.

  “Lazarine, inform the cargo crew to clear the bay.”

  His second mate relayed the command before replying, “Captain, cargo is secure.

  “Major, what says the port authority?”

  Natalya didn’t turn as she replied. “We are cleared for departure, sir.”

  “Engineering states the Moth is prepped for takeoff,” Damon announced.

  Indeed, there was a fine vibration running through his seat as the engines of his ship woke. He could even imagine their growling hum. Many levels below, Craig, his chief of engineering, would be overseeing his staff. The man was a veritable wizard when it came to machines, his cyborg side having a natural affinity.

  “Sir, the citadel is responding to your hail.”

  “On screen, Major.”

  The view changed from the landscape to the inside of a ship. A figure took up the majority of the screen, clad in white, from the mask on their face to the robes concealing their shape. A Rhomanii priest. Unusual. Where was the commander? Usually a duke commanded those ships.

  He didn’t let it show in his expression. “Hello, I am Captain Jameson—”

  “I care not for your name. Hand them over.” The voice emerged almost machine-like and flat.

  Ignoring the rude interruption, Jameson leaned back in his seat and played dumb. “Excuse me? Hand who over?”

  “The woman known as Dara Abandonee and the child she brought with her.”

  Chilling words, especially spoken without inflection or facial expression.

  “Dara is under arrest and being transported to a location where she will be tried for her crimes. As for a child… I don’t recall seeing a child with her.”

  Despite the face mask, he could tell the features twisted. The words certainly emerged with a bit more bite. “You will hand them both over.”

  In that instant, Jameson made a stand. “I don’t have to do shit.” What he didn’t add but certainly implied was, you can’t make me.

  “You are meddling in Rhomanii affairs.”

  “I have done no such thing. Merely apprehended a wanted criminal.”

  “You disabled our drones.”

  “Because they were chasing me. Perhaps you should keep them on a tighter leash.”

  “They were after the woman and child. You got in the way.”

  “All this talk about a child. What child? I didn’t see a child.” He looked around at his crew doing his best to look innocent. “Anyone see me with a child?”

  His crew always had his back. One after another he heard them replying, “Nope,” “Not here,” “No kid.”

  The fabric over the priest’s mouth moved in agitation. “We know you took her and the mother aboard. Keep the mother if you want her, but we will have that child.”

  The thing about threats was the more someone tried to strong-arm, the more Kobrah had a tendency of pushing back.

  “I ain’t giving you shit, but I will bust a hole in your hull if you don’t get your freaking ship out of my way.”

  Because the citadel now loomed close by, crowding his airspace as the Moth lifted and prepared to punch through the atmosphere.

  “Is that your final answer?”

  “Captain,” an ensign interrupted, “the citadel is arming its weapons.”

  “Battle stations,” he yelled. “Major Blake, ensure the weapons are armed. Raise the shields.” Then he glared at the screen. “You want to fight, then bring it, but I am warning you. You’re making a big mistake.”

  “No. You did.”

  The communication ended, and the screen turned blank. Only for a moment before returning to its video view of the outside. Open air and clear skies except for the giant citadel.

  Despite having seen them before, they never failed to strike him anew, their shape like a giant marble. Black. The surface almost glossy and yet it reflected nothing.

  He’d seen a few since he took to the galactic skies. They were impressive vessels, capable of taking incredible blows—a fact learned by more than one decimated pirate. Most of the time, the citadels ignored other travelers in space, so why the interest in Dara and the child? What made them so important?

  The very question always brought a realization. If Dara and the kid were so damned important, then want to wager they wouldn’t actually fire?

  “Major Blake, hold off on firing. First Mate, keep us on a steady course for space.”

  “But, sir, what of the citadel?”

  “Ignore it. Are our shields raised?”

  “Shields are at eighty-five percent, sir.”

  Damn that energy core for not being completely replenished yet.

  “We could try firing some EMP missiles.” Major Blake turned from her station to address him.

  Kobrah shook his head. “We don’t want to get in a firefight with a citadel.” They’d been known to take down ships much larger than his. “I don’t suppose we’ve got some of that plasma magnetic pulse juice left?”

  “Negative, sir.”

  A shame because they were still lifting from the planet’s surface, which meant no streaking yet—a form of travel faster than light and sound. Back in the day, when Earth first began to roam space, they measured everything in terms of speed of light. That seemed so sluggish now.

  Amazing what a few hundred years of space flight, alien contact, and innovation could do to travel.

  Now, they could traverse an entire galaxy in the space of a few days if it was small. Something that used to take lifetimes.

  But for as quick as they could sometimes travel, the universe remained too vast to fully explore. In some places even the streak technology faltered, as the laws of science and technology warped and worked differently, if at all.

  Some called galaxies with the reversed laws of physics a place of magic.

  He called them stay-away-from zones.

  It was theorized the Rhomanii citadels, with all their strange innovations and their drones, came from one of those strange areas.

  What use did they have for Dara and the child? With her blonde hair and fair skin, Dara didn’t resemble the space gypsies at all. Despite their time off planet, the Rhomanii retained a tanned appearance, the majority sporting dark eyes and hair. Attractive people who kept to themselves.

  Centuries ago, it was said they used to live in every corner of the universe, inserting themselves into society, carving out a niche, stealing what they needed to survive.

  Then, they found their original planet. They went home. But something happened. According to rumor, war broke out. There was a splintering of clans. Fighting. Fleeing. Then nothing. Nothing for almost two centuries.

  That changed about twenty years ago. The citadels started making an appearance. At first, just looming presences, docking at way stations, trading for goods on colonies. Asking no questions but obviously looking for something.

  Or someone.

  Surely not the woman in his hold. Dara had never once mentioned the Rhomanii in all their time together. Then again, she’d not told him she was a double-crossing spy either.

  He drummed his fingers on the armrest, watching the screen and how the citadel kept pace with their flight. Their weapons remained armed. Their presence menacing.

  The thought of hailing them and asking more questions crossed his mind. He could even save himself some grief and hand Dara over. Perhaps that would be enough of a compromise.

  He rubbed his chin. Giving her away would solve on
e problem.

  But that left the child…

  Not my daughter.

  Dara had all but confirmed it when she claimed Karolyne had been born during their marriage.

  What a load of crap. He’d have noticed if she carried a child. Wouldn’t he?

  Didn’t matter either way. He wasn’t handing them over. He’d not spent the last four years dreaming of his revenge to hand Dara off to the Rhomanii.

  “Start the count.”

  Damon projected a ship-wide message. “Penetration of planetary atmosphere eminent. Streak in two minutes after expulsion.”

  Which meant cease what you were doing, secure shit, and then secure yourself.

  While not a rough ride, streaking nonetheless screwed with balance and other things. Sometimes stuff moved. Without anyone ever seeing it happen. People could get tossed. And sometimes the ride could get bumpy.

  While his staff sat at consoles and stations, fingers flying and eyes watching, Kobrah orchestrated his desires verbally.

  Most ship functions were hands-on. Humans had long ago learned automated controls should only be used sparingly. The Android Revolution of 2192 showed them not to place all their trust in machines because machines didn’t care if humans lived or died.

  “Prepare to engage evasive maneuvers.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lazarine bent down, fingers flashing.

  “Abrams,” Kobrah barked, knowing the ship’s computer would open a channel between them. “What’s your status?”

  “We can streak the moment we’re clear of the planet’s atomosphere.”

  “Not a second later. I want six jumps at least. Let’s muddy our trail.”

  “Six is pushing it, and you know that,” Craig snapped.

  Yes, he damned well knew; however, the citadels were a force to be reckoned with. “Just do it.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” The sarcasm was thick, but Kobrah had no fear the cyborg running his engines would obey.

  Craig might hate Jameson for saving his life, but he would never betray.

  I don’t think he’s hating life as much these days, though. Ever since Craig had met Ghwenn the stowaway, he sang a different tune. He sometimes even smiled, which sent many a person running to inform their captain. They worried the chief had finally snapped and was going to rampage, killing them all.

  Craig had snapped, all right. The man had fallen in love.

  Idiot.

  The tug of the planet as they emerged from the atmosphere left only the faintest of sensation. The ring of debris around the planet—some of it intentional, some not—pinged off the shields. Lidruk kept the ring thick to filter the intense sunlight from the two stars it orbited around.

  It took less than a minute to clear it. They emerged into space itself, that never-ending open road of possibility. The Gypsy Moth immediately accelerated away from the planet.

  “The citadel has emerged from the ring,” his second mate announced.

  The cameras switched to show it on screen, an ominous shadow behind them.

  “Prepare for streak.”

  The command repeated itself vessel-wide as Kobrah watched the citadel pursue them. A lit square appeared within its dark surface. He didn’t need to issue an order for the screen to zoom.

  Figures in robes appeared on the edges of the opening, protected behind force fields that did nothing to stop the emerging drones.

  “Incoming wasps,” announced Major Blake. “Weapons are ready to lay down fire.”

  Waste energy on a futile task? “How long until we reach the streak point?” he asked.

  “Twenty-four, twenty-three…” Lazarus counted aloud, and the clock appeared on screen, overlaid atop the citadel.

  “And the drones?” Kobrah asked.

  “They will make contact in eleven seconds.” A second counter appeared on screen below the first.

  A challenge. How to make it to streak before the drones swarmed? Firing might cause a slight disruption, but it would also draw energy from the shields. He needed something to slow the drones. Something like—

  “Let’s make the Moth fart.”

  A snicker met his words, but his crew understood what he meant. Since their energy weapons would simply be absorbed by the drones, and they needed incredible aim to detonate anything near the fast-moving targets, he had to do something else to stall.

  Like push those following to give himself a few extra seconds.

  What better way than to expel noxious built-up gases—which they stored because some planets actually bought it. But he sacrificed the possible revenue and watched as the release of air—a smelly fart, so to speak—blasted from the vee of his ship into the approaching drones. It acted like a hurricane on Earth. The force of it enough to push the free-floating machines back.

  It bought seconds.

  Enough seconds. The two clocks ran within a half-second of each other.

  He braced himself and held on as the clock approached zero. Everyone on the bridge not already harnessed held on.

  They counted…

  Four. The first of the drones reached the very tail of the Moth.

  Three. He imagined rather than heard the noise of tentacles suctioning onto the ship.

  Two. A warning light illuminated, indicating a hull breach.

  One. He closed his eyes.

  Chapter 4

  Locked in the brig, Dara nonetheless felt it when the ship streaked. Her stomach bottomed right out, and reality stretched as the ship moved.

  Moved where?

  She hated not knowing what was happening. Did the citadel follow them? Where was Karo?

  Had they truly escaped? She’d almost begun to despair. Of late the drones were finding them faster and faster. Or at least they were homing in more quickly on Karo. If only she could split the amulet she wore in two.

  She didn’t understand how it helped, only that when she wore it, she was more or less invisible to the drones. Which helped when it came down to a fight.

  She’d gotten good at evading capture. Practice did make perfect.

  This last escape, though, was due to luck. And one handsome captain.

  My husband. Possibly not for long. She’d promised him a divorce if he saved them. Odd how she found herself reluctant. Yet she also understood why he’d want to make it legal. They were married in name only. Years apart. Secrets separating them. Secrets that even now she couldn’t divulge—and some that even I’m in the dark about.

  Her teacher had warned her early on that there was something special about Dara. That, in order to survive, she had to remain hidden. And she’d done a good job, too, until she met Kobrah. Her weakness. My first and only love. Because of him, she’d woken a slumbering threat. A threat that she just couldn’t seem to shake.

  I shouldn’t have involved him.

  She’d tried so hard to keep him out of this. To keep him safe. Now she had no choice. She needed his help to save Karo because, in the end, her daughter was the only thing that mattered.

  The streak ended with a bone-jarring lurch, and she heaved a deep breath, blinking as she wondered how long she’d been holding it and how much time had passed. Minutes could run oddly during flight.

  An alarm sounded.

  “Breach in the hull. Personnel in the affected area are urged to evacuate. Repair teams prepare for weld.”

  Where did the damage come from?

  The ship wasn’t done with its messages. “Streak in five minutes.”

  Another one? And so quickly, too.

  A shudder in the floor widened her eyes. She knew that sensation from flying her own ship.

  Impact. Did someone fire on them? Had the citadel managed to trail them during the streak? Hard, but not impossible. Not with their technology.

  She moved to the door of her cell and banged on it. “What’s going on?”

  No reply. She hit the portal a few more times, yelling, “Damn you, Kobrah! Tell me what’s happening.”

  “Streak imminent.” The ship compute
r relayed the instructions, and the countdown arrived quickly.

  Three. Two. Bang. Warning sirens blared all around.

  One…

  She tumbled to the side as the ship streaked again. A short one, or so it seemed. Then even shorter as they streaked again.

  And again.

  By the eighth one—head pounding, ears ringing—she’d already thrown up twice.

  She hung over the basin for a third go when she noticed the ship remained smooth. Her stomach stopped churning. She took a deep breath.

  And screamed, “What the fuck, asshole?” It felt good. It did nothing to change her situation.

  She paced as she waited. Kobrah would see her when he was good and ready, which could be awhile. A heavy sigh escaped her. Might as well make herself comfortable. She grabbed a blanket from the cubby in the wall, added a foam pillow, and had a nap on the cot that projected from the floor.

  It had been awhile since she’d not slept with one eye open. She rested, knowing Kobrah would keep her safe.

  She couldn’t tell how long she slept. The door opened with a swish, and she woke instantly. She crouched on the slim cot, cursing the fact her knives were missing and that she had nothing to fight with but her bare hands. Which could do more damage than she’d ever let Kobrah know. He knew she could do some hand-to-hand combat, and she never hid her targeting skills with a gun, but for some reason, she’d downplayed the fact she knew how to incapacitate a good number of species with well-placed jabs.

  But now he suspected the truth. Or at least understood Dara was more than she’d let on. What that meant for her…

  Kobrah stalked in. Alone. His face a blank mask, however his eyes blazed.

  The door sealed behind him.

  She tried to appear casual. Flicked back her hair, sat down on the cot, and regarded him coolly. “About time you showed up.”

  “Don’t give me attitude. Not now. Do you have any idea how many people want me to flush your ass out of the nearest airlock?”