Wyzak

by Layla Nash

  Nokx cleared his throat as he maneuvered the controls and placed the pod into an airlock. “Safe journey, traveler.”

  The ship jolted as the airlock released and launched the pod toward the nearby star. Wyzak held Gemma against his side as they watched through the viewing screen as the pod approached the star and disappeared in flames. He nodded; at least the male ended his journey with dignity. It was a fitting end for a spacefarer.

  Gemma exhaled and wiped her cheeks, straightening away from his embrace. “Okay. Onward.”

  Wyzak wanted to shout his approval, to swing her around in celebration. Instead, he nodded and caught her mech hand in his, squeezing her fingers. She tensed but didn’t pull away, and he counted it a small victory. He’d meant what he said—she was perfect. Every inch of her.

  Violet glanced at their hands, then looked at Gemma without expression. “So we must amend the plan, I take it? We’ll need to circle back for you at some point.”

  Wyzak nearly vibrated with tension, waiting for Gemma to answer. He could have jumped in and made it clear that the Sraibur absolutely would retrieve Gemma from Proxima after the seeds of the deception were planted. But he’d watched Faros make a mess of things with his mate too often to risk turning Gemma’s mind back to the original plan, where she was abandoned to Proxima and an unknown fate. All the same, Wyzak wanted to shout to the stars that she would not leave him.

  But Gemma didn’t hesitate long. “Yes, I think so. For now, I would like to stay on the Sraibur. If that is… okay with the captain.”

  Her tone grew guarded as she eyed Faros, and Wyzak drew her tight against his side. “Of course it is.”

  Faros folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at them both. “Oh, is it? Since when do you make decisions about my ship, first mate?”

  Wyzak growled in challenge, ready to fight if Faros thought he was going to put Gemma off the ship, but Violet stepped between them and elbowed the captain back a step. The Earther tilted her head at the corridor leading away from the loading bay. “Yes, Gemma will stay, if only because I need another female on this damn ship. Nokx is done with repairing her ship, but before we execute the plan, we need to identify how and where we’ll pick her up. So let’s get this taken care of.”

  Faros muttered under his breath about not needing two bossy females on his ship, but he slapped Violet’s ass as she stalked past him, so Wyzak didn’t feel too badly for the captain or his mate. Gemma took a deep breath, still a little shaky, and all of Wyzak’s attention turned to her. He took her face in his hands and rested his forehead against hers, marveling in the hazel of her eyes. “You do not have to do this.”

  “I do.” Gemma smiled faintly, then poked him in the chest with her mech fingers. “I don’t want other bounty hunters coming after me, thinking I’ve got a massive bounty and am flush with credits. They’d want me on their crew just to fund a new ship or fleet. It’s fine. We’ll take care of business on Proxima, then... go wherever the stars call.”

  Her smile turned genuine and she gazed at the viewing screen that still showed the dark expanse of space beyond the ship, beyond the star where they’d jettisoned the pod. Wyzak couldn’t help himself and kissed her again, his hearts beating faster at the promise in her eyes. She wanted to explore with him and looked excited about the next adventure.

  He pulled her close and grumbled as he dragged his teeth down her neck. “The stars are calling us back to my shower.”

  She laughed and pulled free, her cheeks that rosy pink that seemed to indicate she was pleased. “Later.”

  He’d never been patient. The faster they got to Proxima and dealt with Faros’s stupid idea to get rid of the bounty hunters, the better. Wyzak followed her into the corridor, already planning what he wanted to do with her the moment she stepped back onto the Sraibur.

  Chapter 33

  Gemma

  Gemma got the chills the moment she stepped back onto the Memphis. It felt alien, even though she’d just been on the ship, although she couldn’t have said what had changed. Milo was gone, the Xaravians had crawled all over the engine room, and there were still dents in the walls from the scuffle with the Tyboli. The Memphis wasn’t really her ship anymore. She’d have to change a lot about it and completely retrofit it for it to feel like home again.

  And part of her knew it wouldn’t matter unless Wyzak also wanted to be there.

  She swallowed the knot in her throat as she strapped into the pilot’s seat on the Memphis and tested the propulsion power, holding her breath despite the Xaravians’ assurances that the ship would fly. The Memphis shuddered and creaked, then the propulsion system chugged to life and powered up the engines. She wore her damaged flight suit over a spare set of clothes, looking ragged and bruised, so that the teams on Proxima would believe she’d only just managed to make it to the spaceport.

  Violet led the planning session over breakfast on the Sraibur, outlining Gemma’s eventual escape from Proxima. It would be a day or so, despite Wyzak’s growled objections, until she could detach from the crews and negotiate the sale of the Memphis for scrap or to another team. Then she’d board a transport to one of the homeworlds in governed space, and the Sraibur would intercept the ship to loot it—or “tax” it, as Faros insisted they call it.

  She snorted and adjusted the navigation system, frowning at the damage that oriented the Memphis away from where she wanted to go. It took some finagling to finally get the ship going in the right direction. The pirates definitely had one-track minds when it came to chasing down ships and appropriating booty. Although she figured it was necessary when that was the only way they paid for the ship and kept it stocked with supplies. She’d been single-tracked on chasing bounties. Maybe she could convince the Sraibur to get into the bounty business, instead of piracy.

  Gemma rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to fiddle with the comms unit the engineer managed to attach to her mech arm. Maybe the universe wasn’t ready for a Xaravian bounty hunting team, based on how much damage they caused when they were trying to help. Wyzak hadn’t been particularly supportive of the plan, not when he had to stay behind and out of sight. Their story that the Tyboli double-crossed her, took the target, and didn’t pay the bounty only worked if Wyzak stayed out of sight.

  He’d almost insisted on stowing away in the Memphis in order to be close if anything went wrong. Gemma clenched her jaw and adjusted the nav system again, diverting a little power to scan space around the ship to see whether anyone tried to sneak up on her. The Sraibur was supposed to linger out of range until she signaled success on the comms device and sent them the name of the ship she’d boarded from Proxima. But that didn’t mean other pirates wouldn’t take advantage of an almost-disabled ship.

  Or the Tyboli.

  She’d wondered why the Tyboli hadn’t followed up or searched the area for the rest of the Xaravians, if they were really so concerned about the bounties. From what Wyzak said, the Tyboli who attacked her weren’t the same Tyboli who offered the bounties, so maybe there was enough competition that the different ships wouldn’t coordinate. She hoped so, but with the way her luck was going, the whole Tyboli fleet would be waiting just on the other side of Proxima.

  At least being alone in the Memphis with malfunctioning comms gave her time to sort through the muddle in her head. She still didn’t believe she’d decided to stay on the Sraibur with Wyzak. She hadn’t even known she’d decided until Violet asked whether she would stay, right after the funeral for Milo, and Wyzak held her hand.

  Gemma frowned at the nav screen as Proxima came into range, and adjusted power to slow the Memphis and preserve as much power as possible. She didn’t want to turn on the docking systems until absolutely necessary, as those were likely to chew through what little power remained on the ship.

  Her stomach shivered in anticipation, like it always did before taking on a big bounty or confronting a bigger crew or... or looking at Wyzak. Wondering what he was thinking, wishing she knew what he saw whe
n he looked at her. He made her more nervous than almost anything else she could think of, even flying into a port like Proxima and lying to a bunch of vicious, jealous bounty hunters. Alone. With a busted-up ship and no backup.

  Gemma looked down at her mech arm. Wyzak held her hand at breakfast, unconcerned with whether it was the fake hand or real hand, and the metal remembered the warm pressure of his grip. She’d responded to Wyzak’s squeeze without thinking, without realizing which hand he held. Maybe he was right and the arm wasn’t as monstrous as she’d always thought. Maybe eventually it would feel normal.

  She shook her head and sat up in her chair, focusing on what lay ahead. She couldn’t afford to get distracted. The rest of the bounty hunters would sense if something wasn’t right, and then she’d pay the price. The Sraibur would be too far away to be of any real help; she could disappear in a split second, just like she’d gotten Wyzak off the first port. Even Wyzak wouldn’t be able to find her, no matter how hard he looked.

  “This is free ship Memphis,” she said into the docking system, allowing the universal translator to filter through and ping against the orbital control systems around the spaceport. “Requesting berthing for a damaged ship.”

  The response came back garbled, though she couldn’t tell if it was due to the language spoken by the controllers or the messed-up nav system. It must have been her ship, because a beam locked onto the Memphis and took over the docking procedures. Gemma exhaled and unbuckled, donning a life support suit for good measure, and tapped the comms unit on her arm to message the Sraibur that she’d arrived in Proxima. Then she limped through her damaged ship to the loading bay, where the inspectors would arrive to verify she didn’t carry taxable cargo, and tried not to think it would be the last time she flew the Memphis.

  Maybe there was a way to save the ship. Maybe she could repair the Memphis and fly alongside the Sraibur, with Wyzak as her copilot. Then they could chase bounties while Faros did whatever he wanted “taxing” ships in ungoverned space.

  She bit the inside of her cheek and steeled herself against a sudden surge of emotion. The Memphis had been a good ship, but maybe she’d served her purpose. Gemma absently patted the wall and adjusted her coveralls, a stunner in one hand just in case, as the ship docked with a soft jolt and the loading bay door pinged and creaked open.

  Chapter 34

  Gemma

  It didn’t take long for the inspectors to realize there was nothing taxable on the Memphis. They wouldn’t have cared what kind of cargo she carried, as long as she could pay the import fees. That was the best and worst thing about ungoverned space—anything was permissible, if you had the strength and determination to hold your own.

  Gemma gave the inspectors a terse summary of what had happened, accounting for the damage to the ship and the absence of her crewmate, and knew they’d spread the word through certain circles. She also made it clear that the Tyboli and Xaravians were in that quadrant causing trouble, and that anyone who didn’t want to end up in a crumpled tin can of a spaceship needed to steer clear if they saw either on their nav screens.

  She picked up the small bag she’d packed from what remained of her personal effects and stumbled down the ramp to the dock. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d fired at the Sraibur crew as they chased after Wyzak and Milo had struggled to get the hover dolly into the ship. Gemma kept her focus straight ahead, despite the various ships and species lingering on the docks, and ignored everything but the bar waiting a long walk away.

  She limped a little for good measure and concentrated on breathing. She ran over the plan in her mind once more, adjusting how she held her pack, and listened for footsteps behind her that could have heralded trouble. For the middle of the standard day, there were a lot of folks just hanging around and watching everyone else go about their business. It was fairly typical for a spaceport in ungoverned space—everyone up to no good and not wanting to show it to the wrong people.

  A few Slasu lingered in an alley off the docks, clearly plotting something nefarious, and a crowd of Tyluk gambled in the open with one of their games no one could ever win. She paused at one of the parts shops right off the docks, not caring who heard, and asked the owner to come up with an estimate for repairing the Memphis. When the Yyurl mechanic got a look at the ship, it chuckled and waved its tentacles in the air before saying she probably wouldn’t like the figure.

  “Just my luck,” Gemma said. She managed a grim smile, feeling like the universe’s least convincing actress, and squared her shoulders. “Two estimates, then—how much to repair it, and how much you’ll give me if it should be scrapped for parts.”

  The Yyurl nodded and murmured, multi-lensed eyes glinting, and it started slithering down the dock to where her bucket of bolts waited, like a storm-tossed gull next to a flock of shiny swans.

  That accomplished, Gemma ignored a few lingering passersby who’d overheard her conversation with the Yyurl and dragged herself toward the bar she vaguely remembered Milo talking about. They’d planned to stop at Proxima, if they didn’t catch the Xaravians, and hire another crew to work with them. The bounties on the Sraibur crew had been large enough to justify spreading the wealth around a little, if it improved their odds of success.

  The door opened automatically as she approached, and she stepped into the pleasingly dim interior. The artificial lights on the docks always made her head ache, no matter how quickly she got away from them or what type of protective goggles she wore. Gemma sat at the bar, dropping her bag with a thump, and tapped the bar with her mech fingers. “Earther bourbon, if you’ve got it. Bring the bottle.”

  The bartender, another Earther, raised his eyebrows as he lingered in front of her. He didn’t search for any bottles, just leaned his elbows on the metal bar and studied her closely. “Where you comin’ from, stranger?”

  “Bad bounty,” she said under her breath. Gemma frowned at him. “And I could use a drink. A strong one. What do you have?”

  “We got some of what you’re looking for,” the bartender said. He shrugged and dug around behind the bar until he surfaced with a glass bottle, pouring a few shots and lining them up in front of her. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

  “My partner, Milo, told me this was a good place to sit and recover.” She threw back the first shot, then the second, and gestured for him to refill them both. “Keep ‘em coming.”

  “Milo?” The bartender slid a food ordering panel in front of her, but refilled the shot glasses without comment. “Skinny kid from the Federated Asian States? About this tall, dark hair?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.” Gemma closed her eyes for a long moment, remembering her partner once more, then lifted the shot glass in a bitter salute. “May he rest in peace.”

  The bartender’s expression closed. “What happened?”

  She took a deep breath and tried to distract herself from the ache in her chest as she fiddled with the panel. Food was probably a good idea, and for once she could get something that wasn’t toe-curlingly spicy like the Xaravian food on the Sraibur. Gemma knew getting drunk wasn’t a good idea, and it wasn’t entirely part of the plan, but she needed to calm her nerves and blunt some of the fear that made her hands shake. She hadn’t been entirely on her own in a long time; she’d always had a crew or a partner to rely on. It was terrifying, deep down, to realize that no one had her back.

  Her fingers slid over the mech arm and brushed where the comms unit was concealed. Not entirely on her own, and someone did have her back—although he was a little too far away to do anything if something went wrong.

  Gemma started spinning the lies that she and Violet came up with, about how she and Milo captured a Xaravian on a neutral spaceport and flew him to meet with a Tyboli ship—just like the bounty instructed. She even had the bartender bring up the bounties in the shared system that all the crews used, and pointed out how it was still unclaimed.

  She laughed bitterly and spoke louder, letting the liquor loosen her tongue and incr
ease her volume, until the entire bar listened in. More bounty hunters wandered in from the street, apparently summoned by their comrades inside the bar. Gemma condemned the Tyboli for taking the Xaravian, killing Milo, and setting her adrift, then added that the Xaravians came after her, too, and would have killed her if she hadn’t pointed them at the Tyboli instead.

  The bounty hunters traded looks and started muttering, no doubt comparing notes on past dealings with the Tyboli, though Gemma pretended not to notice as she focused on the meal that appeared in front of her. Good. Let them talk and stew over the implications of a lost bounty and a damaged ship. She’d planted the seeds. She just had to stick around long enough to make sure they sprouted into something useful, then she could find a transport ship going anywhere else.

  Gemma exhaled some of the nervousness and hoped the Yyurl could give her something for the Memphis, or could at least give the ship a good start somewhere else. She’d said her goodbyes and was ready to move on—as soon as she knew there wouldn’t be a herd of bounty hunters chasing the Sraibur the moment it picked her up.

  Chapter 35

  Wyzak

  Wyzak paced the bridge of the Sraibur until Faros threatened to shove him into an escape pod and send him into space. He hated waiting. Hated having Gemma beyond his reach, unable to speak to her or see her face. She could get into trouble so easily on a spaceport like Proxima, filled with criminals and pirates and bounty hunters all looking for an easy payday. She was too attractive, too unique. Every male on the port would notice her.

  Violet occupied the navigator’s chair, since Faros refused to give up the captain’s seat, and watched him pace. “She’s as safe as she can be, you know. She’s prepared. It’s a good plan. And she’ll signal if there’s any trouble.”