by S. E. Smith
“Then why did you follow me?” He closed his hands around her slender waist and lifted her, parking her on the galley table. He moved in close, so close he could feel the heat of her breath on his face. “What do you want from me, Ket?”
Her lips parted, but she made no sound. A sudden electric tingle coursed through his body, followed by the sharp buzz of the ship’s warning system.
A buzz that grew insistently louder.
Jagger’s attention dropped to his discarded helmet, and he uttered a curse. Abandoning Ketsia, he swept it up off the deck to park it on his head.
“Proximity alarm,” he snapped. “We’re being scanned.”
Six
Jagger bolted out of the lift and sprinted for the pilot’s couch.
Outside the port, an unmarked Parolian frigate floated off Sheeban’s starboard bow, hot-firing its retros to bring its ungainly hulk to a full stop. Her crew must’ve been as surprised to have come upon Sheeban as Jagger was to be come upon.
Jagger sliced sideways into his command console and opened a channel. “Sheeban, hailing hauler. State your business.”
“Acknowledged, Sheeban. Keltoose here, corporate spacefreighter. It wasn’t our intention to enter your space at velocity.”
Jagger took a deep breath. “Cords and bounds, Keltoose?” Freighter lingo for ‘Where are you headed?’
“Veros.” The trajectory was right, but it didn’t mean the ship wasn’t ferrying pirates. The captain didn’t offer anything further except a question. “And you, Sheeban?”
“Set for Arst, bearing crop seed.” He’d just offered more than was usual protocol, but he hoped the frigate was just a frigate who’d take him at his word, and not a privateer who might decide he was hiding something important.
Which he was.
Ketsia slipped into the co-console beside him, her helmet back in place. Luna followed, slinking into her lap to curl into a ball and softly chitter. Jagger gave her an acknowledging nod.
Though he’d have felt more comfortable if both she and her pet stayed below decks, the Keltoose had scanned them, so they knew he had a second aboard. Her instincts were dead on. It looked far less suspicious if she parked herself on the Flight Deck for the encounter, like any other co worth her carbon would do.
“Apologies for the unintentional intercept, Sheeban. We wish you every luck in making safe port.” Jagger thought he heard subtle laughter behind the captain’s voice. His crew seemed to be enjoying a joke among themselves that a battered hulk like Sheeban would even survive the journey. “We’ll reset course, and be on our way.”
“Acknowledged, Keltoose. Closing channel.” Let them laugh. If they as much as twitched in the wrong direction, they’d be saying hello to a hefty duo of paracannons secreted beneath Banshee’s deceptive exterior. Or damn the Compact, Jagger could smoke them with a quick blast of short-range Mennelsohn DEDdrive, leaving them floundering in a whirlpool of twisted time-space dimensions. His ego would delight in either of those solutions.
But his better sense told him the right course was to let them leave in peace, still laughing and clueless about both the ship’s capabilities and what she carried. His ego was just going to have to take this one for the team.
The Keltoose fired several bursts of its navigational thrusters and pushed itself out of Sheeban’s personal space, skirting her and continuing in the general direction of planet Veros. Jagger kept a steady eye on his visor readings for any hint of deviation—a common ploy for blacklane bandits—but the departing ship stayed true to course.
Once the freighter had slipped out of scan range, he relaxed. All was well. Just a chance encounter in the murk of the Rift. Hopefully, the last until they reached their destination in seven days.
The tension in his muscles began to ease to parade rest then did an about-face when Ketsia slid off her helmet and locked her black diamond eyes on his faceplate. “We need to talk.”
Jagger cocked his head. “About the freighter?”
Ket leveled him with a searching look. “About what the freighter interrupted.”
Jagger bowed his head and crossed his arms. “The freighter interrupted nothing, if you’re good for your word.”
“I am.”
“Then I think we’re done here.” He rose from his console to check a component that was registering hot on his helmet display.
Ketsia stayed put in her flight couch. “Are you in the habit of shuttling aside anything you don’t know how to deal with, Captain?”
That question was a two-barreled lase-pistol.
“I’m in the habit of being the best officer I can be. On occasion, I might falter. But I try never to make the same mistake twice.”
Her voice went low. “So what happened in the galley was a mistake?”
“I believe,” Jagger answered matter-of-factly, “I’ve already conceded that.”
He was painfully aware of the tight set of her mouth and sharp line of her shoulders when she turned her face away to peer out into the stars.
He rose to locate and pull the overheating capacitor from its slot in the instrumentation behind his flight couch. “I need to run a diagnostic. I’ll be in the maintenance bay.”
Jagger moved toward the lift, feeling like he couldn’t retreat fast enough for his own good.
Ket was so done with Captain Navene Jagger. She didn’t think she could suffer another moment with the man on this small ship.
Him and his overblown, infuriating, insolent pride.
Luna might’ve sniffed out a prince somewhere inside, but there was definitely a black-hearted ogre guarding the door.
Fine. He could stay glued to his Flight Deck, and she’d stay here in her quarters with Luna—conveniently out of his sight and out of his way—for the balance of the voyage. They’d managed just fine without his company for an entire day already. Once he’d delivered them to Jaeo six days hence, he could fly on to Hades for all she cared.
Luna crawled into her lap and whimpered, ever sensitive to her sullen mood. How in the Gods’ known universe could she have ever believed she was falling for such a conceited, narcissistic jerk? After what she’d been through, he was the last man—
A gentle rap on her cabin door was followed by Jagger’s soft query. “Ketsia?”
Jagger waited outside Ketsia’s quarters. She didn’t respond. After a long silence, he was reaching out to knock again when the soft click of her cabin seal sounded.
Ketsia appeared, her face obscured by her helmet except for the quivering downward spike of her mouth. Luna balanced on one shoulder, cooing, her long, furry tail wrapped protectively around the front of Ketsia’s neck.
“I know I’ve been an asshole, Ket.” He lowered his head, at the same time raising his eyes to give her a soulful look. “Truth is, I can’t seem to help myself where you’re concerned.”
“Is that supposed to pass for an apology?”
Jagger braced a hand against the corridor wall and shifted his weight. “No. This is. I’m very sorry for how I treated you.”
“Apology accepted. Is there anything else?”
“Yeah.” Jagger lowered his head and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his coveralls. “I think you called it earlier. We do need to talk.”
She stared at him through her visor. Her answer came on a shaky exhale. “I really think it’s better we don’t. We’re only six days out now…”
“I know.” His gaze dropped to his deck boots, and his face took on a pained expression. “But it could be a very long six days, so if you change your mind…”
She gave a stoic nod and quietly shut the seal to her quarters.
He turned back to the lift before realizing the thin wail of the proximity alarm was rising from the helmet he carried in his hand. Jagger scrambled for the Flight Deck.
Seven
“Sheeban, prepare to be boarded.”
Jagger clamped his hand over the armrest of his flight couch. The Keltoose was back. She’d probably never actually lef
t the vicinity after her captain’s clever duck and feint to keep up appearances.
And he’d been an absolute fool to accept the deception at face value.
Now, with the freighter on top of him, bristling with unsheathed cannons and missile mounts, his options for escape were nil. He couldn’t take action without drawing their fire and endangering Ketsia. He had no choice but to let the pirates board and discern for themselves that he carried no cargo of interest or value.
Except for Ketsia herself.
Another ship came into range on his readouts. Hades, a monster ship a good ten times the size of the freighter. Jagger held in a blistering curse. They’d come back—with reinforcements—for a reason. Crop seeds were nothing but ballast, but a young, attractive female like Ket would be solid gold for human traffickers.
He’d really screwed up. Let himself get distracted when his mind should’ve been on his duty. He’d failed her…and he’d failed Jaeo, too.
Jagger made a fist. He’d be damned if he’d let these bastards take her, even if it meant going down in the blazing hellfire of a close-quarters firefight to protect her.
“Adey, report to the Flight Deck, double time!”
“Right here,” Ketsia answered from his side. She slid into her station, helmet in place but Luna nowhere to be seen. “I heard them, Dallan.”
He muted his mic and said, off channel, “I need you to stay at your con. Let me do the talking. Don’t let them hear your voice unless it’s life or death.”
She faced forward, the knuckles of her left hand going white where she had a death grip on the side of her flight couch.
A trio of hollow thuds reverberated through Sheeban’s interior—the sound of the mothership’s cargo arm making contact with the outer hull and pulling their vessel into her massive shuttle bay.
“Open your outer hatch, Sheeban, or by all that’s unholy, we’ll breach you,” a deep voice demanded.
Jagger pulled in a breath between clenched teeth and exchanged looks with Ketsia. “Aye, ya bleakers. We’re opening.” He flicked a toggle and pushed off the flight couch, giving Ketsia a hand signal to sit tight. “And I’ll be collectin’ intentions at the a-lock.” Freighters slang for ‘What the hades do you think you’re doing boarding my ship?’
He cut off the open channel and bent down close to Ket. “You know how to raise and fire the paracannons or take her to flashpoint?”
She gave a tense nod. “Yes. But I’ve only done it a couple of times.”
“That’ll work.” Jagger licked his lips. “My code words are ‘trigger’ for the cannons and ‘flash’ if you need to make a run. If I say either, it’s an emergency. Don’t hesitate, k?”
Ket never took her eyes off the monitor. “K.”
“It’s going to be fine.” It was a hollow reassurance after just telling her two drastic options they might have to employ.
Jagger eased his hand onto her shoulder in a comforting grip before pounding to the lift, hitting the control for main deck with the flat of his palm. Before the lift closed, he caught a brief glimpse of Ketsia’s blacked-out faceplate peering over her shoulder at him from her co-couch.
Jagger was tall by Carduwan standards, but felt a runt in the presence of the four towering Ithians—rogues!—who stood hunched in Banshee’s corridor, weapons drawn and beaded on him. If these were rogues, this behemoth mothership that had swallowed them had to be a Hammerhead Destroyer—no doubt one of the two that had gone missing when their government was nullified by Operation Reset.
This was escalating to worst case scenario in a hurry. He was glad the helmet concealed his initial expression as he skidded to a stop and conjured up a degree of outrage before wrenching off his headgear.
“Hope the quad of ye have a gigadam good cause for an uninvited layover,” he growled between clenched teeth.
One of the Ithians stepped forward, his voice calm and a tinge amused as he spoke in universal. “I think it will be in your best interest to stand down, Captain…?”
“Tion.” Jagger’s upper lip twitched in a bared-teeth sneer. “And who would I have the distinct displeasure of addressing?”
“Call me Rinn.”
“Captain, is it?”
The Ithian lowered his head with his voice. “Just Rinn will do.”
“What’s your calling here?”
The men exchanged looks, and Rinn leveled a steely glare on Jagger. “We’ll be asking the questions, Tion. Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“My co is on the Flight Deck. We be the crew.”
“Call her down.”
Her. The Ithians knew Ket was female. A clammy chill swamped his blood. He couldn’t let them take her, so best play the card as it lay. “Her would be my bondmate, and ya best not have any dark designs on her status.”
“We have no interest in the whore trade, Tion. But for your own safety and hers…call her down.”
If Jagger gave Ketsia either code, they’d have a fair shot at escape, but they’d still have to contend with the four angry, armed giants onboard Banshee. Best not take that chance for now. Ket’s safety was his ultimate concern, and he didn’t want her injured—or worse—in an on-deck laze-pistol blitz. As long as one of them was wearing a drive helmet, their options remained open, and Jagger was sure Ket had the good sense to know that.
Never taking his eyes off the four men, Jagger raised the helmet and spoke into it. “Adey, these four Ithians want a chat as one.” He was giving her fair warning what she’d be walking into. Facing members of the subspecies that had enslaved her and forced her to breed was not going to be easy.
“And what if I have no hanker to chat them back?” came her clipped response.
Jagger almost smiled. She’d pulled off one damned fine freighter impersonation there, shot through with attitude.
“Best appease the asking, m’love. They’re claiming you’re not their mark, so I’m beholdin’ them to that promise.” Jagger kept a soft edge on his words, so the men would see Dallan Tion had full respect and deep affection for his partner, Adey. A strong pair-bond made them appear less vulnerable.
“’ight. I’m down.” Perfect air of disgruntled disdain she’d put on that reply. He’d never suspected Ketsia had such fine-tuned talents as an actress. Another tiny slant in their favor.
She joined them in moments, covering the deck in a bold stride that didn’t waver even upon sighting the four titans hunkered down in the corridor.
She stopped eight paces away. “I’d like ta say I’m happy ta make your acquaintance, but it’d be a gigadam lie. Why’d you board us, then?”
“Please remove your helmet, Ms. Tion,” Rinn asked in a quiet voice.
She stood her ground and crossed her arms defiantly. “Think I’ll be keepin’ my face to myself and my mate, ya hedgers.”
“I understand your reluctance. But it’s tantamount we establish your identity.”
“Aren’t ya the fine talker, though? Bet you were amongst those high n’ mighty once.”
“Are you asking if I’m a holdout from the Old Alliance, Ms. Tion?”
“Don’t much care. All I know is I’m lookin’ at a pack of roughs now.”
Rinn exchanged a grin with his comrades. “While I admire your pluck, Ms. Tion, I recommend you cooperate so we aren’t forced to deal with your obstinance. Remove your headgear.”
“Fine.” The scorn she’d put in that extended F was brilliant. As long as she was amusing the head Ithian and not angering him, Jagger wouldn’t intercede in their little tête–à–tête.
Ketsia tilted her head to the side and toppled off her helmet, letting her tangled hair fall over her face to partially obscure her features.
“Ah. Tectolian, are you?” Rinn rumbled as one of his men ran a scanner beam over her face.
“Born’n raised,” Adey Tion replied.
Jagger tried to hide the tightening of his muscles with a lazy loll of his head to one side and a disgruntled exhale. He was confident the Carduwan mili
tary had deleted their real histories and inserted their cover data into all the major ID databases…but what system would rogue Ithians access? “This time we’re burnin’ is costin’ us percents,” Jagger complained. “Maybe let’s get to the pork and tell us whatchu want?”
Rinn turned to Jagger with a less than pleasant expression. “Your profits—or lack of them—are of no concern to us. Your intentions and your cargo is what we’ve yet to ascertain.”
Sounded like their aliases had passed muster. “Ya care for a spy of my product, do ya?”
“We’ve already determined the nature of your cargo.”
“Then why—”
“What we’re questioning is the third lifesign on your ship. A small one. Is there an animal stowed away somewhere on this vessel?”
“Hadeees, yes,” Jagger answered emphatically, attempting to draw the Ithians’ attention to him and away from Ketsia’s visible fist-clench. “It’s a cat-thing we picked up on Veros to keep the vermin down. Would be bad for the bottom line t’show up on Arst with a cargo that’s been et. The creatures mostly feral so you’re not likely to glance her.”
“It’s a cat, you say?”
“Cat. Ish. Look at the lifesign. Feline-size, right?”
“Call the beast,” Rinn instructed.
“I tol’ ya, she’s feral. Beastie don’t answer when yelled for.”
“Call her.”
Jagger scratched his cheek and rolled his eyes. “What’s the name again?” he asked Ketsia.
“Berra,” she said flatly.
The LaGuardian word for “hide.” Clever.
Jagger sauntered over to a vent opening. “Berrrrrra, here, kitkit,” he called. “Ya hungry, ya beastie?” He made a show of patting his pocket with his hand before turning to ask Rinn. “Ya wouldn’t happen to have any food on ya?”
“No,” Rinn snapped. “As a rule, I don’t carry feline food on my person.”
“Might help, is all.” Jagger shrugged. “Berra! Berra!”
“Secure them,” Rinn commanded.
The Ithians seized both him and Ketsia, making quick work of wrestling their arms behind them and locking restraints on their wrists in spite of their shouts of protest.