Her ship had been sliced straight through the main body, reminiscent of a piece of layered cake cut by a shaky hand. On the bottom level, she spotted two moving lights beaming from the heads of figures in spacesuits—one in the kitchen, the other in the dining room on the opposite side of the wall. The one in the kitchen threw open a cabinet door, and hundreds of metal utensils flew out. The one in the dining room had his feet planted on the wall, trying to pull something out of a cubbyhole. With one final tug, a metal safe—her safe, holding her belongings—burst out of the cubbyhole and sent him flipping out of the dining room and into open space. The figure could’ve easily stopped himself with suit thrusters if he let go of the safe, but instead he clung to it like a baby koala bear to its mother.
Jai Lin pointed at the spinning figure. “Him. Is his ship.”
Sierra narrowed her eyes as she watched him tumble along, spewing compressed air in all directions, trying to stop somersaulting. She gave Jai Lin an incredulous glance.
“That’s the captain?”
Jai Lin gave his jolly smile again and nodded. Sierra’s eyes fluttered as she let out the breath she’d been holding. These were no Abramists; they were bumbling pirates.
“I’d like to talk to him as soon as he comes inside.” Sierra glanced down at her scant garments. “And . . . do you have anything I can put on over this?”
Chapter Three
Davin hoped he remembered to turn off his comm, because he laughed all the way back to the airlock. The safe was a thick sumbagun. And it was a last minute find, too. A sweep of the whole glitz-boat revealed no obvious gems, but the portrait of Old Man Falco in his crisp, lordly uniform looked just a little too perfect. Or maybe it was the diamond-studded chandelier, which he made sure Jabron bagged, that gave it away. Something about the room felt too rich to lack secrets. In any case, he found the safe. And already he felt like a million sharebucks.
“You done, Cap?” Strange’s voice buzzed in his ear.
Damn. He hadn’t turned off his comm.
“You see what I found?” Davin asked.
“I’ve got your helmet cam on the dash,” she said. “Listen, I’ve got an incoming message from one of the ships inbound, tagged for captain’s eyes only. You want me to save it or relay it?”
“Huh.” Davin delved into serious thought. “Weird. Have we ever gotten a message from other scavengers?”
“Not like this,” Strange replied. “Want me to relay it? I’m gonna relay it.”
A small, square screen appeared in Davin’s visor. A seated bald guy with a salt-and-pepper mustache-soulpatch combo stared straight into the camera. A stiff, black, upraised collar circled his neck. Silver buttons formed a line down the center of his chest. No patches or pins or insignias, but the fellow still looked military.
“This is a message to the captain of the HCC Fossa. You have encroached upon property belonging to the Republic of Carina. This is a violation of law in our star-space. Leave now, without taking any scavenged goods or we will be forced to fire upon you. We await your compliance.” The video blinked out.
Davin looked down at the big safe in his arms. No way in hell was he tossing this thing back.
“Uh, boss,” Jabron said, opening the outer airlock door ahead. “He didn’t sound like no scavenger.”
“No, he did not,” Davin said. “Strange, how many moving targets inbound?”
“Three, Cap. What do you want me to do?”
Davin soared into the airlock and shoved the safe into a compartment behind a cargo net, staring at it as he thought. Jabron propelled himself to the locker beside him.
“I say we ditch the girl, keep the loot,” Jabron said. “They after her. They won’t see this loot missin’ till we’re long gone.”
Davin slapped the button to close the outer airlock. The ramp door slid up and clicked into place. Then came the slow-building hiss from the vents. A red light spun around on the ceiling until the hissing reached a climax. When it stopped, a green light flashed three times, and Davin popped his helmet. So did Jabron. Davin felt hot and moist and revved up.
“Alright, everybody,” he said into his nexband. “Let’s make a show of dumping some junk, then hightail it. If they ask for the princess, we’ll dump her, too. If not, we keep her.”
“Yeah, and let’s make it fast, boys,” Strange said. “Those incoming ships are Carinian frigates—fully loaded gunships.”
Davin wiped his forehead with his dermasuit sleeve as Jabron opened the inner airlock door. Why did all the best loot have to be the hardest to get away with?
Chapter Four
When the inner airlock door opened, Sierra tightened the drawstrings of the baggy sweatpants she’d borrowed and propelled herself forward. Two scavengers floated around, peeling off sections of their suits. She grabbed onto a handlebar at the edge of the airlock, feeling timid as they apparently didn’t notice her.
“Do you know who I am?”
The smaller of the two was an impish type with short, damp, disheveled hair. He reached into his locker, withdrew a rubbery water bottle, flipped it around in his hand, and squirted some into his mouth. “Sure do, Princess.”
“Wha—” She didn’t expect such a flippant reply but resolved to respond graciously. “First of all, I’m not a princess. I’m the Carinian prima filia. We aren’t a royal family. Second, my ship has an automatic transponder that’s already alerted my government.”
The scavenger opened his mouth to reply, but Sierra wasn’t finished.
“Third, you’re pirates, meaning the Carinian government won’t hesitate to execute you if you don’t return me safe and sound.” Spoken out of fear rather than strength; she felt her voice wavering. No matter how much she wanted to sound authoritative like her father, she couldn’t.
The scavenger’s boyish face sported a lopsided grin as he loosened the cinchers around his suit. “Three points, eh? I’m sure your rhetoric teacher would be proud. But I’ll do you one better.” He yanked his skintight suit pants to his ankles and kicked them off, wearing only tight boxer briefs underneath. He held up one finger as Sierra averted her eyes. “First, your dad’s the prime minister. Your dad’s dad was the prime minister. And his dad was the prime minister, too. Sounds like a royal family to me, which makes you a princess.”
Sierra felt her face flush and started to protest, but the scavenger cut her off, holding up two fingers.
“Second, my boy Jabron found the transponder. Turns out it has an on-off switch.”
“Yep,” said the swarthy, deep-voiced man across the airlock, now wearing sweat shorts and a T-shirt bearing an image of a rabbit in a bow tie.
“Third,” the scavenger went on. “We’re not pirates, we’re scavengers.”
Once again, Sierra tried to protest, and again he cut her off.
“Fourth—” He peeled off his suit top and tossed it in his locker, leaving him naked except for his underwear. Rugged, brawny, and utterly obscene. Sierra kept her eyes far away. “You can call me Davin.”
“Okay, Davin, how did you happen upon my ship so fast?” Sierra asked, focusing on the lockers.
Davin shrugged. “Right place at the right time, I guess.” He glanced at Jabron. “Put some junk in the airlock. I’ll get the safe.” He turned and grabbed a vacuum-packed bag floating behind him. “Oh, and we found your wardrobe.” He tossed the bag at her, hitting her square in the stomach and sending her flying backward into the cargo hold. She clasped a worn cargo net with one hand and her clothing with the other. Some of the finest clothing in the galaxy—stuffed into a scavenger’s grubby loot bag. Still, they had salvaged something for her. She didn’t expect such thoughtfulness from scavengers, Orionites no less.
She watched as Davin turned over in the air while sliding on pants and a shirt. His return to decency brought relief and afforded her a few seconds to examine him. He moved through these minimal spaces with practiced ease, as if it was his home. Perhaps it was. Nothing seemed to break his lax demeanor, som
ething she hadn’t experienced from strangers since she was a girl.
Sierra gaped as he soared into the cargo hold with the safe—her safe, full of her most precious possessions.
After shoving the safe into a nook, Davin’s face sobered. “And Princess? I’m sorry about your crew.”
The words pelted her like meteorites. Suddenly, she felt nothing but guilt. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, about her crew, each of them the beloved of God, swept from existence in a matter of minutes? Guilt gave way to the hot sting of shame.
Davin hung in the air not far from her, eyebrows drawn together, looking hesitant. “You okay?”
A brusque question, even though she sensed him trying to be tender.
For a long time, she said nothing, felt nothing, except her heart crumbling in her chest, struggling to beat. He reached out and touched her forearm with a gentle hand. Coarse and weathered but gentle.
Sierra felt like breaking into tears, but she restrained herself. She had a more pressing concern. Deep down, she remained certain her attackers were the Abramists, her fellow Carinians.
She pulled her arm out of Davin’s reach. “Are there any ships nearby? Or has anyone tried to contact you since you found me?”
Davin recoiled. “Why would you ask that?”
Sierra felt a weight drop in her chest. “You have. Who was it?”
“I didn’t say anybody contacted us,” Davin said uneasily.
“You have a bad poker face.”
Davin scoffed. “What poker face?”
“Who contacted you?”
Davin sighed. Behind him, ignoring them, Jabron tossed small appliances and scrap metal into the airlock.
“No idea who it was,” Davin said. “But they’re Carinian. Three ships are inbound right now.”
Sierra’s eyes widened. “They didn’t say they were from the government?”
Davin shrugged. “I just assumed they’re some secret agency. Royal guard, princess division, something like that.”
“Was he wearing a black uniform? With silver buttons?”
“Uh . . . yeah, he was.”
“Shit,” she whispered. An impolite outbreak, but one she figured wouldn’t offend in this setting.
“Who are they?” Davin asked.
“They’re a radical faction in Carina,” she said. “Abramists. The Dominionist Party.”
Davin’s brow furrowed. “The super-religious war hawks?”
Jabron pressed the button to close the inner airlock door and looked up at them.
Sierra took in a stunted breath. Could she trust these scavengers? She had no choice. “They’ve been pushing for war against the Sagittarians for decades. My only guess is they saw my ship coming out to the border planets and staged an attack to make it look like the Sagittarians did it.”
“What were you doing out here at the border planets anyway?”
She shook her head. “Meeting with planetary leaders. Trying to steel them against Abramist influence, sway them away from war.”
The band around Davin’s wrist buzzed and beeped. It emitted a woman’s voice: “Got a vizchat request from the Carinians, Cap. They’re getting close.”
He raised his wrist. “In capture range?”
“For the past five minutes.”
“Hold up. We’re coming.”
His eyes lingered on Sierra a moment longer, then he pushed himself toward the hatch door, motioning for Sierra and Jabron to follow.
Chapter Five
Davin opened his palm toward Sierra to halt her at the entrance of the crowded cockpit. Jabron, Jai, and Strange already huddled over the old-fashioned instrument panel of manual switches and keypads. Besides, he couldn’t let the Carinians see her in his ship. Not yet anyway. Not until he had some leverage, some room to set a price.
“Say nothing about me,” Sierra said, gripping a handlebar in one hand and her loose pants in the other.
Davin held back a laugh. She looked like a homeless stowaway. “Of course not, your majesty.”
Strange poked her head around Jabron’s bulk. Her ponytail wafted weightlessly under the bill of her backwards baseball cap. “On the dashboard screen, Cap. Waiting for you.”
Davin maneuvered to the dash and swiped the video icon at the bottom of the screen. An image appeared of the same man as before, graying mustache-and-chin action along with the black collar. He put on a pleasant smile that thinly masked his irritation.
“Am I speaking to the captain of the HCC Fossa?”
“That would be me,” Davin replied. “Davin de la Fossa, live and in the flesh.”
The Carinian began to speak, but Davin cut him off. “Now, before you get upset, let me acknowledge that a couple items from the wreckage did find their way onboard my ship. But they are all now accumulated in the airlock. All I’ve gotta do is press a button and they’re gone.”
“So why haven’t you yet?” the Carinian asked with raised eyebrow.
Davin reached across the control board and flicked a switch. A square in the corner of the dash screen showed a feed from inside the airlock as the doors opened and a bunch of knickknacks flew out. Then he flipped the switch up again and watched the doors close.
“See? All gone.”
“Thank you for your compliance.” The Carinian gave a slight nod but didn’t seem satisfied. “Did you come across any survivors?”
“Nope,” Davin said, a bit too casually. “Only bodies. Whatever hit their ship took ‘em out fast.”
The Carinian’s eyebrows twitched. “Indeed.” He looked down for a moment. “Our scanners read you have five people aboard your ship. Is that correct?”
Davin looked at Strange and Jabron, taken off guard. “Uh, yeah. That’s creepy, but correct.”
“Please list each of their names.” The fellow’s eyes flicked up, waiting, as if ready to take notes.
“Sorry, but no can do. This is an Orionite ship carrying an Orionite crew, and I’ve got no obligation to—”
“May I remind you,” the Carinian interrupted, “you are in Carinian space, and it is a violation of Carinian law to approach or loot a crippled Carinian ship.”
Davin had a brilliant thought. “And are you from the Carinian government?” If he said yes, he would be admitting to their proximity to the attack, thus creating suspicion against the Carinian government. If he said no, he had no authority to boss Davin around. Brilliant.
“We are Carinian citizens,” came the unfazed reply. “And under Carinian space charter, code six point fifteen point eighty-four, citizens have the right to act on behalf of law enforcement in defense of a Carinian-registered ship against a non-Carinian ship.”
Damn! Too rusty on that Carinian space law.
Strange leaned toward Davin and whispered, “Doesn’t give them the right to strip search us.”
“We’ve complied with you and released all items from the wreckage,” Davin said. “Now, as I see it, we’re under no other obligations and we’re gonna leave. Sorry for the trouble.” He switched off the dash screen, turned around, and let out his breath.
Sierra moved further into the cockpit, eyes bulging, cheeks so red they almost hid her freckles. “Get me out of here. I’m begging you. Please, get me out. You’ll be rewarded, I swear.”
“I don’t know, boss,” Jabron said, not looking at Sierra. “She worth it?”
“My father is a good man,” Sierra pleaded. “He repays his debts, and if you return me, he’ll be deeply indebted to you.”
Davin crossed his arms. “You suggesting we go deeper into Carinian space? Where we’ll stick out like a cold tit?”
“No!” she said. “Well, yes, but—”
“I say we tell ‘em we got her,” Jabron said, eyes on Davin. “Then get to a safe distance, dump her out the airlock in a suit. We get away, they get their girl. Everybody wins.”
“Except me!” Sierra exclaimed, shaking with intensity and fear. “They’ll kill me! Can’t you see that? Your ship and theirs a
re the only ones in this area. It was either you or them, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you.”
“Boss, use your head,” Jabron said, noticing the conflict on Davin’s face. “The one on your shoulders. This girl ain’t worth risking our lives—”
“They attacked my ship,” Sierra said. “Now they’re coming to finish what they started. Please, Davin . . . don’t let them.”
Four pairs of eyes rested on him, waiting for a decision. Davin had never taken up the role of hero, and wasn’t about to start, but this girl did represent a lot of money. Old Man Falco’s pockets ran deep, and a few hundred million sharebucks would be no skin off his nose for the safe return of his daughter. Plus, this Sierra girl was kinda cute. And innocent as a puppy. Could he live with himself for dumping her to a group of homicidal fanatics?
“Cap, something we haven’t considered yet,” Strange piped up.
“What’s that?”
“If they find out we have the princess on our ship, they might just take her and then blow us up anyway.”
Jabron stirred. “That’s why we get to a safe distance—”
“They’ve got three military-class frigates!” Strange protested. “We won’t be able to outrun ‘em.”
“No chance they telling the truth?” Jai asked, growing more worried by the second.
“Listen to your pilot,” Sierra said. “She’s right. Carinian citizens don’t own gunships, much less three of them. These are Abramists—extremists. I didn’t think they would go this far, but . . . they did.”
“And they won’t blow us up as long as they’re not sure if we’ve got her aboard,” Strange added.
“Alright,” Davin said with finality. “Get us out of here, Strange. Everybody else, find a seat and strap in.”
Sacred Planet: Book One of the Dominion Series Page 2