Pirates of the Dark Nebula (Hearts in Orbit Book 2)

by S. C. Mitchell

  As Rik reached the top of the stairway he noted the bold ray of light beaming into the dim hallway near his apartment entrance, illuminating the dust that hung in the air. The door to his apartment stood wide open.

  Luna’s swift intake of breath told him she’d noted the same.

  A chill coursed through Rik’s gut.

  He’d securely locked that door when they’d left to meet with Markus. Kristin had been unconscious and bound, lying on his bed.

  They’d returned to pick up some supplies, and to take Kristin with them to the ship. As much as he loathed the woman, he wasn’t ready to murder her in cold blood. Still, he didn’t want to leave her behind, even if they would be able to get away.

  She’ll get her fair trial . . . and then spend the rest of her miserable life on Theiler 12.

  Theiler 12 was the prison planet for the worst, most despicable criminals in the galaxy. She’ll feel so at home.

  As cunning as she was beautiful, Kristin Devenport had somehow avoided the interstellar dragnet that caught up her old boss, Djon le Piere, and the bulk of his pirate cartel, and landed on her feet amongst the Brotherhood of the Dark Nebula. Slippery as a Larsoron eel, and deadly as an old Earth asp, still she’d risen far too quickly in the ranks of the Brotherhood than could be attributed to her talents alone. That she was Zartos’s niece explained a lot.

  The door to his apartment was bashed in from the outside, the wood splintered around the lock. He dashed to the bedroom to find the bed empty.

  Shit! We are in a sauralops dung-pile of trouble.

  Kristin must have had backup waiting in the wings when she’d come to his apartment.

  Damn, damn, damn. He turned to Luna. “We’ve got to move fast.”

  The woman should still be unconscious, but the moment she awoke, she’d bring the full forces of the pirate faction against him. No place in Port Hubble would be safe.

  He messaged Markus: Change of plans. We have to move now. Get your people to the spaceport as soon as you can. Hanger 34.

  Rik walked the bridge of The Starboard Mist like he owned the ship. Well, in a way he did. Zartos had given him command, if only temporarily. He didn’t even want to think about the fate of the previous captain. Onwin Planemo hadn’t been anywhere in evidence when Rik arrived back at the vessel and the crew had been made aware of his promotion.

  “Shore leave for everyone. Two days. Then we’re heading out to fill the hold with plunder.” It was a swaggering speech that brought cheers from the assembled ship crew. “Now, get out of here, ya mangy dogs.”

  He hoped the refugees were assembling in the hanger outside. They were to filter in two or three at a time so as not raise any suspicions. He’d left Luna there to motion them into a storage unit as she spotted them.

  The pirate crew fell over itself rushing for the hatchway. It was hard to believe any of these louts would give up two days of drinking and whoring to remain on the ship, but he’d still need to do a thorough sweep before bringing the refugees aboard.

  Luna counted again. Markus and . . . twenty-six others. Someone was missing.

  Tina la Cross, the ship’s new navigator, looked daggers at the others. “Where’s Quatrain? If that little shit fucks up this operation, I’ll skin him.”

  Tina’s high, black tarsk leather boots tapped an irritated tempo on the plascrete floor. She ran a nervous hand through her curly raven locks as her dark, almond-shaped eyes scanned toward the doorway.

  “Put a sock in it, Tina. I’m here.” The voice came from behind a large packing crate.

  A young man, looking barely into his teens, hunkered down behind the crate, his eyes masked by a Comptab Virtua display. The sandy-haired, lanky youth wore a stained shipsuit that had a wrinkled, lived-in look.

  Luna sighed. Kids!

  Tina hauled the boy up by the back of his collar. “You’re hiding out, playing games at a time like this?” Her taught frame betrayed controlled anger.

  He raised the facemask of the computer. Eyes wide and teeth clenched, his face pinched with rage. “Nu-uh. I’m practicin’.”

  Tina released him, but stood with her hands on her hips, no doubt awaiting a better answer.

  “You heard ‘em. Cap’n Mazar wants me to run a weaponry console. Been months since I played Oberon Rising, and that’s the best destroyer class sim there is. So, I’m not playin’ games. I’m doin’ my job.”

  “The starship weaponry experience you boasted of to the captain comes from video games?” Tina’s eyes lit in fury. “Does Captain Mazar know that?”

  Markus laid a hand on her arm. “I told Rik, so he knows. Despite Quat’s subterfuge, he’s the best we got. He can target an ion phase cannon ten times faster than I can. At least theoretically.”

  Quatrain nodded, which also brought the comp display back down over his face. “Now leave me alone until we’re ready t’ move out, bitch.”

  Tina huffed, shaking her head as Quatrain hunkered back down in his gaming rig. She turned toward Markus. “Really?”

  The right side of Markus’ broad mouth lifted into a half grin. He shrugged. “Rik needs a gunner and he’s all we got.”

  Tina huffed. “Damn brat kid.” Then her voice softened. “Do you think Quat can handle it? He’s so young, and he’s been through so much already.” Her change in tone took Luna by surprise. She cared.

  Markus shook his head. “I don’t know much about kids. We’ll just have to keep an eye on him. You’ve done a great job of handling him so far.”

  “I’m not his mother.” Tina shook her head while adjusting the crimson headband she used to hold back her lush fall of ebony curls. “But he needs a firm hand from someone, Markus.”

  He patted her arm. “You’ve already been a better mother to him than that drat woman he was born to.”

  There was a hint of resignation in Tina’s sigh as she turned toward Luna. “How long do you think we have before we can board?”

  Control and compassion. No wonder the other’s look to her for leadership. Luna found there was something very likeable about Tina la Cross.

  “Soon, I hope. This waiting is putting me on edge.” Luna’s gaze swept the huge docking chamber through the doorway of the storage room.

  Tina grunted, her lip rising slightly at one corner. “Me as well.”

  Un-frackin-believable.

  Rik stared down at Nerman Larnce, one of the ship’s maintenance crewmembers.

  “I c’n git drunnnk jus as easy here.” The man was already more than halfway there. “An’ it’s easier findin’ ma bunk.”

  I don’t have time for this.

  Rik grabbed the scraggly, bearded man by the back of his collar and hoisted him out of his seat.

  “Hey.” The drunk pirate tottered, his eyes wide.

  Dragging him to the exit, Rik threw him down the ramp. “Go have some fun. That’s an order.”

  The man pulled himself to his feet and, grumbling, staggered off.

  Rik caught Luna’s eye where she stood in the storage room doorway.

  Gods, she’s so beautiful.

  He waved to her, motioning her forward. “Coast is clear. Get everyone onboard.”

  Chapter 7

  If Quatrain Tyson shook his head and said “Nu-uh” one more time, Rik would personally box the little snot’s ears in.

  You’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em. The words of his adoptive father, Wezen Mazar, echoed through Rik’s mind.

  Gods, I wasn’t this bad, was I?

  Deep down, he knew the answer was hell yeah.

  Rik barely remembered his mother, who’d abandoned him when he was five to the backstreets of Whifflen, Texica, in the Satari 9 system. On his own for almost a year, he’d lived on scraps and whatever he could acquire. Then he’d met Poland Plumber
, a con man and thug who used the young boy’s innocent looks to lure unsuspecting passersby into dark alleys.

  He hadn’t been much older than Quatrain when the galactic marshals’ dragnet swept Rik and the rest of Poland Plumber’s gang into lockup. Fourteen years old and looking at life on the Theiler prison planets, Rik found himself singled out by that big, burly galactic marshal.

  Wezen Mazar had come into the cell and looked Rik right in the eye. The man had the height and weight advantage, and was packing a blaster. Still, Rik hadn’t backed away. Whatever was coming, he’d meet head on.

  “What?” Rik had kept his head high, his jaw clenched. But there was something in the old marshal’s eyes that hinted at honesty and compassion. Not knowing what to do with emotion that real, he’d looked away.

  “Yup. Thought so.” The marshal had snorted, cocking his head. “How about I give you a chance to make right all the things you done wrong?”

  “Piss off, old man,” had been Rik’s response.

  It wasn’t until six years later that Rik thanked him for that day. At his graduation from the marshals’ Star Point Academy, Wezen Mazar was the only ‘family’ in attendance. The man had given Rik a last name and a clear record.

  “You’ll be a good marshal. You got the backstreet smarts most those young snots from the coreworlds will never have.” He still remembered the pride beaming in the old man’s eyes.

  “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me, Wezen.”

  The burly marshal had only huffed at Rik’s statement. “You don’t owe me nothin’.”

  “No, really, Dad.” It had taken Rik years to bring himself to call the man Dad. He cringed when he thought of some of the things he’d called him before that.

  Wezen Mazar had chuckled. “Oh, I’m not lettin’ you off, boy. Not by a long shot. I said you don’t owe me nothin’. The galaxy . . . that’s something else.”

  A serene smile had graced the old marshal’s lips. “There’s another kid out there somewhere. A kid who needs you. And he’s gonna make your life a living hell . . . for a while. But he’ll be worth it. You’ll make sure of that.”

  Rik’s mind had whirled. “How do I find this kid?”

  “More ‘n likely, he’ll find you.” Wezen had shrugged. “In any case, you’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em.”

  Could this be that kid?

  “Targeting, power levels, fire blaster.” Quatrain pointed lackadaisically to each display and control as he listed them. “Photon programming, target seeking, launch.”

  The most frustrating part was, the little shit knew his stuff. Quatrain sprawled sideways in the console chair, lazily playing with controls that could decimate the entire hanger with phason and protorian fire power. His shaggy sandy-blond hair curled at the base of his neck, while a careless swatch of bang obscured one hazel eye. The other eye stared at him in defiance.

  Rik shook his head and turned away. At least the kid seemed to know what he was doing. With a bit of luck, they wouldn’t need his skills anyway.

  “Any idea where we’re going, Captain?” Tina la Cross sat straight-backed at the navigation workstation, checking coordinates. All business, her attitude was a refreshing change from dealing with Quatrain, though Rik didn’t have a clue where the ship was heading . . . yet.

  “A clean, speedy exit from the system, with as many jumps as you can make in the shortest amount of time. I have a feeling we’re going to be followed, and I’d like to get away as quickly and cleanly as possible.”

  He could just visualize Kristin Devenport, awake and livid. She’d be after him as soon as she could requisition a fleet and throw together a crew. But here, that could take days.

  “Rik, we’ve got visitors.” Luna shifted in her seat, worry in her voice. He’d put her on visuals and scanning of the spaceport. “About thirty, heavily armed.”

  Fiery faculae.

  He plopped into the captain’s station and brought up the scanning display. Sure enough, Kristin led a group of pirates that looked loaded for tundradon. At least three titanium piercing phase bazookas and a motorized pulse cannon.

  Rik hit the shipboard com. “Engineering, how long before the ion drives are online?”

  “Less than a minute, Captain.” Thuban Pinder was more farmer than engineer, but his two sons, Pollix and Wasat, seemed to have a good grasp of mechanical and electronics maintenance. He’d only needed to spend a few moments with them to see they’d gotten a good grasp of what they needed to do in the engineering bay.

  He turned toward Quatrain. “Mr. Tyson!” Rik’s sharp command made the boy jump. “I want the starboard blaster targeting the main hanger hatchway. Use full suppression fire the moment you see movement. And don’t let up until we take off. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy’s sudden, serious attention to his workstation was a good sign. So, the belligerent snot is all an act? Hopefully.

  Rik’s fingers hovered over the launch controls, his eye on the ion charging gauge. 87%, not bad, but he needed 100% to launch. Old Pinder had been right in his estimation.

  He filled the role of pilot as well as captain, at least until he ferreted out and trained someone else from the refugees. Backups and relief would be required at all stations, but for now he had the skeleton crew he needed to get off world.

  The initial burst of fire from the starboard blaster thrummed through the ship’s hull, and Rik brought up the weaponry display on his secondary screen. I’ll be damned. Quatrain was doing exactly as ordered, and doing it well. Pirates were diving for cover or backing away from the entrance of the hanger. Impressive. He’d certainly underestimated the kid. The pulse cannon the pirates had been rolling in was nothing more than blasted shards.

  Quatrain was concentrating on the doorway itself, but Rik noted a pirate rising from behind a packing crate to the right, leveling a phase bazooka. His gut froze. A blast from that weapon could breach the hull of the ship or damage the ion drive enough to keep them from lifting off.

  Rik reached for the weaponry override switch, but before he could grasp it, the blaster stream shifted, hitting the pirate full-on and throwing him back.

  The blast stream then swept back to the doorway.

  Yup, he’s good. Very good.

  The bodies littering the floor mounted. Could the boy handle the emotional impact of killing another human being? Markus had told him Quatrain’s gunnery experience came from video games.

  It was one thing to kill a virtual person and quite another to take a real life. If the boy felt nothing when taking a life, that opened up a whole other set of problems Rik would have to deal with. One way or another, he’d need to keep an eye on the boy, but there wasn’t time right now to coddle him.

  The ion charge flashed one hundred percent, and Rik shifted over to the piloting display, punching in the launch sequence.

  Engines fired, and The Starboard Mist lifted from the hanger floor. His view spun as the ship rotated, facing the big hanger hatch. He keyed in the open sequence and breathed a sigh of relief when the big doors parted. “Ms. la Cross, do we have a course yet?”

  Tina ran a hand through the back of her long ebony curls. “Laying it in now, Captain.” The woman had an exotic kind of beauty that could, under other circumstances, bring a man to his knees. Not his type, thank goodness. Luna was enough of a distraction. But she must have surely had her share of problems living amongst the lascivious pirates of the Dark Nebula.

  The other refugees seemed to look up to her though, so he didn’t expect any problems there. He’d still keep his eyes open for any trouble. Tina’d already earned his respect.

  The navigation file appeared in the piloting window, and Rik loaded the data. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He punched the execute button, and the ship launched out of
the hanger, rocketing through the stratosphere and into the blackness of space. Ion drives sent a rumble through the ship’s hull until the ship accelerated past the speed of sound.

  In the quiet aftermath, Rik’s ears rang.

  Luna piped up, “Five ships in pursuit.”

  “Five?” His insides froze. Kristin must have something on every pirate captain in Port Hubble to pull together that large of a fleet in such a short time. “Give me the fleet makeup, Ms. Callista.”

  He looked over at Luna to see the color rising attractively in her cheeks. The warm pink prompted thoughts of the sleek, elegant rings of Sirus 7 at perihelion. She glanced at him and their eyes met, and for one brief instant, his heart stopped.

  “Uh . . .” She blinked.

  Had she felt it too?

  Her gaze darted back to her controls. “Two small personal crafts, Captain. Plus a Shriek class cutter, a Vega class starship, and,” she paused and swallowed, “an Umberhulk.”

  Rik’s gut knotted as sweat broke out on his forehead. We’re screwed.

  How the hell had the pirates gotten their hands on a latest tech, military grade planetary destroyer? The thing only started production under government contract a year ago. It could track a microdroid to the ends of the galaxy and had enough firepower to decimate a planet. The ship was big, fast and more dangerous than a thundering herd of carnosaurs.

  “Ms. la Cross, give me an alternate course and add in a micro jump if possible.”