by Layla Nash
The mechanic made something like a thoughtful noise, grumbling and sputtering, and turned the windows on the front of the shop opaque. “Will not take long before they realize you are here. Do not want business destroyed.”
“Best way to keep your business intact and neutral is to get me out of here, fast.” Gemma tapped at her mech arm, trying to signal the comms unit and alert the Sraibur that there was a problem. “Because if you hand me over to them, you’ll be picking a side. And there’s a crew of Xaravians looking for me that will land on this spaceport and destroy everything they come across if they don’t find me. I’d rather be able to say that you helped. If you know what I mean.”
The eyes tracked her and reflected her own image back at her. Gemma’s heart pounded as she stood there, waiting for a response, and tried to think of what the hell she would do if the Yyurl sent her out onto the dock alone to face the bounty hunters.
There might have been honor among pirates, but there wasn’t among bounty hunters, apparently.
“Xaravians,” the Yyurl said in a long, drawn-out hiss. “Dangerously unpredictable; barbarians. Not a side to go against.”
“No,” Gemma said slowly. She breathed through her nose, trying to stay calm, though it sounded too loud and fast in her ears. It sounded like the bounty hunters drew closer, tracking her after she left the bar, and it was only a matter of time until they found the mechanic. The group had probably already boarded the Memphis and started tearing it apart. She needed help. She needed a partner.
She needed Wyzak.
While the Yyurl watched, Gemma activated the comms unit on her mech arm and felt the jolt of static as it fed off the connections and nerves that had replaced her human arm. It hurt for a moment in a bright flash, then the bridge connected and zinged through her in a rush that sent her up on her toes. The Sraibur’s engineer had been certain it would work—connecting the comms to the synapses from the arm that had worked into her spine and brain—but Gemma had had her doubts.
Wyzak hadn’t liked it since she had been uncertain, but Gemma figured she needed to throw the engineer a damn party after the thing started working. If she made it back to the Sraibur.
Double vision crossed her eyes and made her fall against a shelf in the back, almost landing on the floor as she struggled to keep her balance. Gemma swallowed down bile as her stomach threatened to send all that food and liquor back up, and she managed to whisper, “Does this thing work?”
Silence, a crackle, and then... a voice boomed inside her skull. “Gemma?”
She flinched and clapped her hands over her ears, looking around wildly. The Yyurl watched her warily, blinking one eye and then the others, but didn’t seem to have heard the voice. Her stomach turned over again. Maybe it worked. Maybe the comms unit had linked to the damn mech arm and worked its way into her nervous system. Another step closer to being a Crick-damned cyborg.
Gemma exhaled slowly and kept her eyes closed to combat the nausea and double vision. “Yeah. Quieter, though. You’re too loud.”
Wyzak growled, but at least he did it softly. “You’re in danger.”
“How do you know about that?” She rubbed her ears more and shook her head, unnerved by the reality of literally having Wyzak’s voice in her skull. How the fuck was she going to turn it off? What if he was always there?
“What do you mean, how do I know about that? There’s a bounty on you. We just found it.” He snarled at someone in the background, but at least he didn’t yell in her head again. “Have they found you? Are you in trouble?”
“Sort of.” Gemma forced her eyes open so she could look the Yyurl in its eyes. “There’s a mob on the dock searching for me, but I’m in a mostly safe place for now. There’s someone who might help me get to a ship so I can escape the port. The only question is the price.”
“The price?” Wyzak’s tone took on a dangerous edge. “Whatever it takes.”
Gemma definitely heard Faros’s objection in the background, and massaged her temples. She’d have a word with that damn captain the moment she was back on the Sraibur. “I’ll trade him the Memphis.”
“Perhaps that is not the best option. We might need your ship for a distraction,” Wyzak said after a long pause.
She frowned, forgetting about the mechanic standing across from her. “What do you mean, you’ll use it for a distraction?”
“Szark packed some explosives around the propulsion system, so we could disable the ship if there was a problem.”
Gemma fought back a surge of anger. “You planned to destroy my ship? You let me fly that shit across ungoverned space without telling me there were explosives on it?”
“Well...”
She growled in irritation and fiddled with the comms unit until she muted it, too irritated with the Xaravian to listen to him, then turned her attention back to the Yyurl. “Change of plans, and a better deal for you, I think. The Memphis can be detonated and will no doubt damage many of the ships on this dock, and the next one down. That’s a lot of repairs for you to undertake, since there don’t seem to be many mechanics on this port.”
The tentacles lifted in the air and hovered as the mechanic considered. “Interesting.”
“Right. But that’ll only work they don’t think you’re behind the destruction, right? I can…draw them away from here, if you’ve got a ship I can run to, and I’ll draw their attention before the Xaravians cause the explosion. You’ll still get the Memphis for scrap and whatever parts you can take off her, plus the business of the damaged ships.” She looked down at her mech arm and the streams of green-gold code that indicated someone was activating the comms unit to try and reach her. No doubt Wyzak, on the verge of panic, had come up with what he thought was an apology. “And when I get away clean, the Xaravians will bring you more business.”
The mechanic was silent long enough that Gemma started to think about alternate plans. Maybe she could knock him out so he didn’t raise the alarm, then slip out the back and into the closest ship she could find. Then the Yyurl heaved its equivalent of a sigh and waddled toward the back of the shop. “Two thousand credits for small ship you can take. Whether you can outrun those looking for you... up to you.”
She exhaled in relief and sagged against the wall, but didn’t allow herself to celebrate too soon. She still had to get out of the port’s atmosphere and beyond its gravity, hopefully without too many other ships giving chase, but that was a tall order. Gemma turned the comms unit back on and gritted her teeth against the sudden influx of Wyzak’s worried, “Gemma? Gemma? Are you there? Can you hear me?”
“I turned it off, jerk,” she muttered. She ducked into the back behind the mechanic, moving slowly in the dim light, and added, “You’ll have to send two thousand credits to a Yyurl mechanic down here. Port departure fees.”
Wyzak snorted but sounded too relieved to argue. “Right. Port departure fees. Do you have a weapon?”
She patted her bag, dragged from where she’d left it by the counter, and fished around inside for the stunner she’d packed to back up the one in her belt. “I’ve got two, thank you very much.”
“What’s the plan?”
The connection crackled and static wound through her thoughts until Gemma could hardly see; she paused to brace against something in the darkness behind the Yyurl’s office. She squeezed her eyes shut and amended her plan to throw a party for the engineer. Szark might get a gift, but it wouldn’t be a very good one. She’d save the celebrations until he figured out how to take the comms unit out.
The Yyurl motioned for quiet and Gemma dropped her voice to a whisper. “Hold on.”
He didn’t like that; she could tell by the grumbling in the background. But she needed to focus.
The mechanic disappeared outside, then a tentacle returned to motion her to follow him. Gemma took a deep breath and braced for an ambush or a trap, a little astonished that she trusted the Yyurl, and stepped into the open.
Chapter 37
Wyzak
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Wyzak almost lost his mind when Gemma finally answered the comms unit he’d been pinging constantly since the moment he saw the bounty with her face on it. His hearts still pounded with worry and the urge to beat Faros until he pushed the Sraibur to its absolute fastest speed. He had to get to Proxima immediately. She was in danger. Though hearing her voice made him feel somewhat better, it also created the awful possibility that he would hear her attacked or injured and would still be too far away to help.
He geared up in the loading bay with his armor and as many weapons as he could carry, all the while listening to Gemma’s whispered updates on what had happened. She knew about the bounty on her head somehow, though it sounded like everyone else on Proxima also heard about it. He cursed himself for putting her in danger, for going along with the stupid plan. If only they’d known about her bounty just a few hours earlier, the whole ship would be on its way to safer quadrants.
Violet found him in the loading bay. “What’s the update?”
“The mechanic found a small ship in his garage, apparently. He’s trading it to her so she can escape.”
The Earther made a thoughtful sound. “Interesting that he chooses to help her, despite the possibility for a significant bounty.”
“He’s getting something out of it,” Wyzak said under his breath. He couldn’t blame the mechanic for asking for payment, though he hated the bastard for it at the same time. Wyzak didn’t expect more from someone who lived on a port like Proxima in ungoverned space; one survived by whatever means were available, and that meant taking advantage of every opportunity that landed in front of you. “Two thousand credits and whatever’s left over of the Memphis.”
She nodded along, then gave him a sideways look. “Also very interesting that I didn’t hear about the little plan with the explosives. Seems like quite a big decision to overlook.”
“Didn’t tell you on purpose,” Wyzak said. He checked the status of his weapons and strode back to the bridge to figure out where the hell they were in relation to Proxima. “Since you might have told Gemma or called the whole thing off.”
She said nothing, so he added, “It was Faros’s decision not to tell you.”
He didn’t mind making trouble for the captain, after all the trouble Faros made for him over the years.
“Interesting.”
He knew there was a hell of a lot of danger in the four syllables she drew out, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He’d deal with it later. Wyzak held his comms unit up to his mouth and checked in with Gemma once more. “Where are you? What’s going on?”
He knew exactly what she looked like based on her tone as she muttered, “I’m in exactly the same place I was ten seconds ago, the last time you asked. I’ll tell you when I move to the ship. The Yyurl is charging the engines. When we get ready, I’ll tell you—and then you can blow up my ship.”
She still sounded irritated about it. He didn’t care. They could deal with that once she was safely back on the Sraibur. He marveled at the clarity of the comms unit, still impressed by Szark’s idea of connecting it to the mech arm. Something about nerves and neurons attached to the metal and feeding into Gemma’s brain. Wyzak still didn’t understand it, but he was grateful all the same.
He stood on the bridge and watched the viewing screens as the Sraibur barreled toward Proxima.
Faros said, “It’s a long shot, brother. Getting on a small ship, getting out of the port’s atmosphere without being detected, then making her way to us? Brace yourself.”
“I know,” he said. Wyzak didn’t take his eyes off the viewing screen, as though he could will Gemma into appearing right in front of him. He needed her. He needed her so much he couldn’t breathe for fear that he wouldn’t see her again. “It will be fine.”
The captain didn’t believe it, but at least he didn’t say anything about it. Wyzak growled and started to pace. He’d never been bothered by the difficulties of space travel, but being confined to a small ship that couldn’t get to where he wanted to be fast enough? There was no way to help Gemma. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and wished there were something he could break to make himself feel better.
Only her voice, murmuring in his ear, made him feel calmer. “Okay. I’m in the ship. It’s…quaint.”
“Quaint?” Wyzak whirled on his heel and gripped the back of the navigator’s seat, fingers biting into the material. “What does that mean?”
“It means it’ll be lucky if the damn thing makes it out of the port’s atmosphere,” Violet said under her breath, approaching Faros without looking at Wyzak. “How far out are we?”
Wyzak only half paid attention as the two conferred on the Sraibur’s progress, listening instead to Gemma describing what sounded like a museum piece instead of a real ship. He bent his head and focused on sounding calm so she wouldn’t panic. “We’ll be there soon. Perhaps you can wait, and we will—”
“I have to go,” she said. “There are a lot of people looking for me, and there are only so many places I can hide. They’ll find me soon enough. I’d rather go out fighting.”
“You won’t ‘go out,’” Wyzak said. “It will be fine. Szark is here if there are any engineering challenges.”
Gemma did a good job of trying to sound confident, but Wyzak heard the faint quaver in her voice and the hesitation before she spoke—measuring and weighing each word, testing it for its impact before she said it. It made him even more afraid for her, even crazier with worry. They had to be in range or nearing it—close enough the Sraibur could seize whatever ancient ship she was in and claim it before the bounty hunters tried to do the same.
It troubled him that there was no background noise when her comms unit kicked on—just her voice, perfectly clear as if she stood right next to him. The engineer said it was due to her voice being transmitted via her skull and the nerves, something to do with Earther physiology that Wyzak didn’t really care about, though it bothered him that he didn’t know whether something nearby threatened her. He needed to know when the ship fired up, whether anyone shot stunners in her direction, if there were alarms or threats.
He ripped at the back of the chair and threw the pieces on the floor. “Good. You can fly the machine? It will get you past the atmosphere?”
“He says it’s spaceworthy,” she said. The few details spoke volumes about the lack of confidence in the ship. “Get ready to destroy my ship.”
“I’m…sorry,” he said. Wyzak lowered his voice; he didn’t mind apologizing to her, but Faros and the others would never let him forget he’d groveled. “About your ship. Perhaps later we can—”
“She served her purpose,” Gemma said. Her tone gained strength and conviction. “She was a good ship. And she’ll be a great ship if she can buy me enough time to get the hell out of here.”
“Good.” Wyzak nodded and squared his shoulders. He motioned at Nokx and Szark, both of them standing back on the bridge, and the engineer went to a console to activate the transmitters and charges they’d planted on the Memphis. “We’re ready when you are.”
She took a wobbly breath, easily heard through the comms unit, and Wyzak clenched his jaw. He hated feeling helpless. He hated being helpless. He’d go back to Proxima and hunt down every bastard who threatened her, who even thought about turning in the bounty. He’d destroy the entire spaceport without a shred of guilt. He spoke as calmly as he could, desperate to calm her so she could think and react rationally. Panic would get her killed faster than the Tyboli bounty. “One step at a time. Talk me through what you’re doing. Is the mechanic gone?”
The silence stretched until he feared that something terrible had happened, and his hearts nearly broke through his chest and pounded against his scales. He choked on the need to call to her, to repeat her name until she answered, and waited. She needed time. It was never easy to fly an unfamiliar ship, and less so when under stress and being chased by a horde of vicious bounty hunters.
“He’s gone,” Gemma finally
said. She murmured something he didn’t quite hear but sounded like what she’d said over her dead partner’s body—perhaps it was a prayer of some kind, one of those old superstitions he’d heard the Earthers sometimes clung to. Then she spoke louder, smoother, once more in command and ready to confront the universe. It reminded him of the confident woman who’d walked into the bar and bought him a drink. “Ship is functioning properly, at least by the gauges. I’ll send the transponder ID via the comms unit. Stand by.”
Izyk at the comms console nodded when he received the tracker information, and immediately loaded it into the Sraibur’s viewing screen and navigation systems so they could identify her ship. Wyzak had no doubts that a fleet of ships would depart Proxima the moment they suspected Gemma had escaped.
He gripped what remained of the navigator’s chair and clenched his jaw until his teeth creaked. He spoke in Xarav so that Gemma would not understand, and fixed all of his crewmates with a hard look that made their scales pale. “I will do anything—anything—to protect her. She will escape that port and she will be back on this ship immediately. Safe and in one piece. There is no other outcome.”
Faros arched an eyebrow. “And here I thought I was the captain.”
“Not today,” Wyzak said. “Not for this.”
The captain folded his arms over his chest and gave him a dark look. “We will resolve this later. For now…fine. Go get your mate.”
Wyzak braced himself and stared at the viewing screen. “Izyk, do you have her on the tracker?”
“Yes, right there. The ship hasn’t departed Proxima yet.”
He took a deep breath. All that was left was to wait for Gemma to make her move.
Chapter 38
Gemma
She gripped the controls on the ancient ship and wondered if she should have found a hiding spot and hoped no one found her before the Sraibur arrived. Surely they weren’t that far away?