Aces Over Queen (The Drift Book 8)

by Susan Hayes

  “I don’t know. But I do know that one night of drunken sex does not make us live-in lovers.”

  “It was amazing drunken sex, though.” Royan threw caution to the cosmos and closed the last inch between them to brush his mouth across Owen’s. “Come on, admit that much.”

  Owen groaned. “You and me are not a good idea. We’re too different.”

  “Opposites attract,” he retorted, desperate enough to cling to clichés.”

  Owen put his hand on Royan’s but didn’t push him away. “And mixing volatile chemicals can make things go boom in a very bad way.”

  “Or very good ways. Come on, admit it, baby. That night we had was amazing.”

  Owen sighed, and Royan knew he’d won. “Everything with you is amazing, you lunatic.”

  “I know.”

  “Asshole.” Owen kissed him, his mouth slanting across his with a fire that made Royan’s head spin.

  Finally.

  Lips locked, hands fisted in each other’s shirts, the taste of coffee and cinnamon teased his tongue. He was rock hard in seconds as Owen let down his guard and let Royan get another glimpse of the wild side his best friend kept locked down most of the time.

  He’d only seen that side of Owen once, the night of Zale’s wake. The celebration of Zale’s life had been so loud the big guy must have heard it in the afterlife. The booze had flowed, along with laughter, tears, and stories from everyone who had ever known him. It was a hell of a night, the mix of liquor and grief erasing every line Owen had drawn in their friendship. They’d crossed them all, and now… Now, he had no fraxxing idea what they were. Because while they hadn’t been lovers since that night, they were a hell of a lot more than friends.

  Owen tore his mouth from his. “We need to stop.”

  “That’s a terrible idea. What we need to do is—” his suggestion they put the ship on autopilot and get naked was cut off by the ship’s AI.

  “Captain, I’m receiving a distress beacon.”

  That news was probably the only thing short of a comet strike that could make him change trajectories right now. “So we’re clear, I’m not stopping because you thought we should. I’m stopping because someone out there is in trouble.”

  They let go of each other and Royan turned toward the console. “Play the message, Sprite.”

  “There’s no message. Only an automated beacon.”

  Odd. Normally there was some sort of message identifying the craft and what the problem was. “Show me the location of the beacon.”

  A star map shimmered into existence in the air over his chair. Their current position was marked in red, and the beacon showed as a blip of strobing yellow.

  “How long would it take to reach the location of the beacon?”

  “Thirteen hours, forty-eight minutes.” By the standards of space travel, that was no time at all, but for whoever had sent the distress call, it would feel like a lifetime.

  “Make the calculations. I’ll deactivate the FTL drive and restart the engines with our new coordinates.”

  Owen cleared his throat. “You don’t even know who we’re going to help, or what happened to them. That’s a big risk to take for a stranger.”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t respond?”

  “I’m saying it’s a risk, and it’s my job to make sure we avoid as many of those as we can. We have no idea who or what is out there. For all we know, this is a trap.”

  “It might be, but I doubt it. Space is too big to just randomly set off a distress signal and hope someone is close enough to reach you in a reasonable amount of time. There are better ways to set an ambush.” He pointed to the flashing circle of yellow. “They’re alone out here. If we don’t help them, they’re going to die out here. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  Owen’s jaw flexed as he clenched it in obvious frustration. “Can’t anyone else help?”

  “Who?” He gestured to the map. “Sprite, are there any other ships in the area?”

  “Negative.”

  “Can you be sure of that, Sprite?” Owen asked.

  “There is an eighty-one percent chance this area is empty. I cannot be one hundred percent sure.”

  “Which means there’s a one-in-five chance we’re not alone out here.” Owen pointed to the yellow beacon. “Just tell me you accept the possibility it might be a trap.”

  His gut told him this was the real thing, but having finally made some progress with Owen, Royan didn’t want to blow it by fighting. “Alright. It’s possible. We’re still going, though.”

  “Only if you agree to do this my way.”

  Royan’s cock twitched at the tone of command in Owen’s voice. Hell, if he uses that tone of voice, I’ll do whatever he wants. “I can do that.”

  “How the fraxx do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Make anything, and everything sound like foreplay.”

  Royan deliberately bit his lower lip. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Owen growled low in his throat. “Quit it. If we’re doing this, then we do it slow and smart.”

  Royan wasn’t sure what they were talking about anymore, but he hoped it wasn’t just the rescue. Slow wasn’t his preferred speed, but if that’s what Owen wanted, he could throttle back a little – For now.

  “Okay. You want it slow, we’ll do slow. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  “We’ll go check out this distress beacon, but we will approach it cautiously and make sure we know what we’re getting ourselves into. One more thing. Once we’re there, your ass stays on the Sun Sprite.”

  “Fine. No risking my cute ass. I’m good with that, but I’ve got a rule of my own.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your fine ass comes back in one piece, too. And before you get all twitchy, there’s nothing sentimental about it. If you get hurt, Zura will take it out of my hide.”

  Owen snorted with laughter. “Duly noted. I’ll try and come back in one piece…for your sake.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “I’m going to run a full diagnostic on the weapons systems. I won’t be long.” Owen left, and Royan turned his chair back toward the console to start the process of taking the ship back into normal space. It would take a few minutes to recalibrate the FTL drive with the new coordinates, and then they’d be on their way again.

  He checked the new course and sent the information to his sister, back on the Drift. She wouldn’t be happy he’d be late with his delivery, but she’d been a pilot, too. She knew the code. When someone called for help, you answered, because the next time someone sent out a distress call, you might be the one in trouble.

  Chapter Two

  Owen stood at the back of the cramped cockpit as they made their final approach to the source of the distress beacon. If this was an ambush, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make it look real, more work than any raider or pirate he’d ever crossed orbits with. The dark bulk of a crippled ship drifted in the void, surrounded by a constellation of debris, and the sensors couldn’t detect any other vessels in the area.

  “Sprite, what’s the status of the damaged ship? Life signs? Power signals?” Royan asked.

  “I’m detecting one life sign and a weak power source midship, upper deck. The are no other active power sources apart from the one powering the automated beacon. The ship is dead.”

  They moved in closer, maintaining a cautious speed he knew must be killing Royan.

  “Re’veth. Look at the damage. How the hell is anyone still alive?” Royan muttered, watching the external feeds as they got close enough to get a proper look.

  The ship wasn’t just crippled, it was shattered. The hull was torn open in several spots, and the area around her was full of debris from her interior. “There are bodies out there.”

  Owen tapped the screen, zooming in on part of the wreckage. Two corpses were visible on the screen, both of them wearing some kind of uniform he didn’t recognize.

&n
bsp; “Poor bastards didn’t know what hit them. Hell, I’m not sure what could do this, either. I don’t see any scorch marks or signs of a fire fight, and there are too many holes for this to be a simple hull breach.”

  “This was an attack, but I don’t think there was another ship involved.” Owen zoomed in on the front of the ship. “Look at the way the hull is peeled back. These holes were caused by explosions from inside the ship.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  Owen had, but he wasn’t going to admit it. There were parts of his past he didn’t talk about with anyone, not even Royan. “It’s the only thing I can think of that would explain why the metal is blown outward.”

  “I know who we can ask,” Royan said as he deftly maneuvered them closer still.

  “Who?”

  Royan pointed to the screen. “There’s someone still alive in there. If anyone knows what happened, they would.”

  “Good plan. Sprite, where are the airlocks on the damaged ship?”

  The ship’s AI generated a three-dimensional model and projected it in front of Owen. “There are two primary airlocks, both leading to parts of the ship that have been depressurized.”

  “Fraxx.” He stared at the image of the ship. “How the hell do we get them out of there without killing them in the process?”

  “Sprite, is there any way to communicate with the occupant of the other ship now we’re this close?” Royan asked.

  “I can try sending a ping to the power source I detected. It might be able to receive a short-range transmission.”

  “Do it.” Royan glanced back at him. “If we’re lucky, they’ll respond and tell us they have a pressure suit with them.”

  “When do you ever get that lucky?”

  Royan raised his brows and grinned. “This is me we’re talking about, remember? I get lucky all the time.”

  Owen was well aware of Royan’s sexual exploits. His good looks and charm made him almost irresistible to anyone he took an interest in, and he took an interest in damned near everyone. At least, he used to. Lately, Royan had focused all his attention on him, and he hadn’t been strong enough to resist temptation.

  “I am receiving a response to my ping.”

  “On speaker.” Royan said.

  A female voice filled the cockpit, her words accompanied by the distinctive sound of chattering teeth. “Hello? P-please, is someone th-there?”

  Royan answered first. “Hello. This is the captain of the Sun Sprite. We heard your distress beacon and responded. We’re currently circling your ship. Are you injured?”

  “My name is T-Tianna. I’m not injured, but it’s f-fraxxing cold in here. No life sup-port.”

  “Good to hear you’re not hurt. My name’s Royan. Any suggestions on how we can get you out of there, sweetheart?”

  She scoffed. “S-sweetheart? Do you always f-flirt with women m-mid-rescue?”

  He chuckled. “No idea. This is a first for me.”

  “Well, flirt or not, I’m g-grateful you’re here. There’s an emergency hat-ch that should give you access to the area of the ship I’m trap-pped in.”

  “Do you have a pressure suit?” Owen asked.

  “N-no. Who are y-you?”

  “Sorry. This is Owen, the Sprite’s security officer. I’ll be the one coming to get you. We’ll have you out of there soon, Tianna. I promise.”

  “Thank y-you.”

  “We’re going to scan your ship for this hatch. Once we find it, we’ll be latching onto the side of your ship. You might feel a bump when that happens.”

  “Okay. Can you guys do me a f-favor? Keep talking to me.”

  “You got it, Tianna. I’ll keep this comm line open,” Royan said, then looked at Owen. “You got this?”

  “Yeah. I’ll grab the equipment and get into the airlock. You get us into position. And try to remember the agreement. Your ass stays here.”

  Royan waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But for the record, as captain, I really think I should be there to greet our soon-to-be guest.”

  Owen rolled his eyes just as Tianna uttered a soft snicker of amusement. “I cannot w-wait to meet the p-pair of you.”

  “The feeling is very mutual, sweetheart.”

  “You are unbelievable,” Owen muttered.

  “You forgot incorrigible, lovable, and adorable.”

  “No, I didn’t. Do your thing. I’ll get things ready. Let me know when we’re in position.”

  He jogged down the battered corridors of the Sprite, making for the largest of the ship’s airlocks in the cargo bay. It had a universal docking hatch and should allow them to link up with the other ship. As he moved, his mind sifted through all the questions the situation conjured. Tianna hadn’t given them her last name or volunteered the name of her crippled ship. How had she survived the explosion? Did she have any idea why her ship had been targeted, or by who? These were dangerous times, and while he appreciated her situation, he needed answers.

  “You ready?” Royan asked, using the ship’s comm system to broadcast the question.

  He toggled his comms to broadcast and kept jogging. “Did you find the hatch already?”

  “I did. We’ll be in position in three minutes or less, so move your ass.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He broke into a run, which gave him enough time to grab two portable oxygen masks, a pair of heavy gloves, and a pry bar from the equipment locker before stepping into the airlock. The airlock door had barely closed when Royan spoke again. “We’re in position. You can start the docking process whenever you’re ready.”

  “Starting now. Tell Tianna she’ll be out of there, soon. She might want to close her eyes, too. There’s no way to dim the lights in here.”

  “Thanks, Owen. I’ll do that,” Tianna answered for herself.

  Owen winced. He’d forgotten about the open channel. He’d have to do better than that. Royan needed someone to watch his back, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he cared about that lunatic too much to trust anyone else to do the job. Royan was a pain in the ass, but somehow, Owen had become responsible for the lunatic pilot. Not only because he’d signed on as security officer, but because he cared for Royan – far more than he liked to admit.

  Time had never passed so slowly for Tianna. Not even the agonizing hours she’d spent alone in the wreckage of her skimmer had felt like this. The darkness surrounded her, swallowing her up and distorting her other senses. Every ping of the hull as it cooled made her flinch, and Tink’s occasional updates had been so loud they hurt her ears. Her medi-bots kept her alive, but they couldn’t stop the cold that crept into the marrow of her bones and chilled her fingers to the point of pain. She’d give anything for the cyborg’s ability to shut off her pain receptors right now, but that was one enhancement she hadn’t been given.

  The lack of gravity meant the smallest movements would send her drifting across her quarters. She’d wake up with a start each time she came up against some cold, hard surface or some errant piece of clutter brushed across her face. Her nanotech allowed her to go without sleep, but she couldn’t escape into blissful unconsciousness, either.

  Worse, her communicator and data tablet were lost somewhere in her room. She’d spent hours looking for them to no avail. She could have missed them by a centimeter, or never come near them at all. She had no way to know.

  She’d used up some of Tink’s precious power to dictate a brief message to her father summarizing her situation. If she died, at least there would be some record of what had happened to her and the crew of the Alacrity III. She needed to warn him that things were even more dangerous than they’d expected. If she was a target, then so was he.

  She didn’t waste time or oxygen with sentimental messages or final farewells. Her father wouldn’t appreciate it. Emotions were a waste of energy, a distraction he didn’t allow himself and barely tolerated in others, including his daughter.

  The only emotion she allowed herself was a rush
of relief when Tink came out of power- save-mode to announce she had received a communication ping.

  Now she waited in the darkness, swaddled in her bedding and floating a few feet from the outer wall. There were no windows in her quarters, nothing that could compromise the double-thick hull and reinforced walls that were designed to withstand anything from an explosion to a plasma cannon blast. At the time she’d thought her father’s modifications to their fleet of private cruisers were the product of paranoia. Now, she wondered if there were other precautions they should take. Someone had tried to kill her once, and whoever had done this would surely try again once they learned she was still alive.

  “Guys? How m-much long-longer?” she asked her would-be rescuers. She knew the odds of being rescued hadn’t been good. The distress beacon would have let her father know there was a problem, but the circuitous route her father had insisted on meant they were far from civilized space and the larger shipping lanes. Help was likely on its way, but it wouldn’t have reached her in time to do anything but retrieve her corpse.

  There was a metallic double-knock from the outer wall. “I’m here, Tianna. The hull buckled a bit around the hatch, I’m going to need to use some muscle to get it open.” That was Owen. She’d learned their voices already. Owen’s was deeper, and he didn’t talk much. Royan talked enough for both of them.

  “Uh, Owen? You might want to hurry it up,” Royan said, his tone edged with worry.

  “Problem?” Owen asked. She could hear him working on the other side of the hull while he talked.

  “Maybe. Another ship just dropped out of FTL and is headed this way.”

  “Do you think it’s s-someone else responding to my distress b-beacon?” she asked.

  “That’s one possibility.” Royan didn’t sound convinced, and honestly, she wasn’t either. Her luck hadn’t been that good lately.

  “And another is that whoever tried to kill you heard your distress beacon and is coming back to make sure the job is done. Tianna, the second I get this fraxxing door open I want you to get your ass onboard the Sprite.”