Starflight

by Melissa Landers

  Though she couldn’t see Doran’s smile, she heard it in his voice. “You were banking on them fighting each other instead of me.”

  She couldn’t help smiling in return. “Looks like it worked.”

  “You’re diabolical. No wonder he married you.”

  A rogue shuttle rammed them from behind, sending Solara lurching forward in her harness straps. Her heart lodged in her throat, and she wished she’d given Doran the wheel. He had plenty of experience with flying. She could barely land, let alone pull off evasive maneuvers.

  “How do I shake him?” she asked. A glance at the nav screen showed the shuttle still trailing her. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  Doran placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You can do this; I promise. I’ll talk you through it.”

  She drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

  “On my mark,” he said, “pull up as hard as you can and come full circle. Don’t look out the window or you’ll get disoriented. Watch the screen, okay?”

  Solara nodded.

  A few moments later, he shouted, “Now!”

  With both hands, she gripped the wheel and tugged it all the way back, never taking her eyes off the nav screen until she’d completed a full rotation and the shuttle was upright again. As soon as she leveled off, she discovered the pirate craft in front of her.

  “Now be ready,” Doran said. “Because he’s either going to do the same thing or circle around horizontally. When he does, I want you to use the nose of the shuttle to clip his outside wing—not hard, just a love tap.”

  “A love tap?”

  He nodded. “Any harder than that, and we’ll go down with him.”

  Gritting her teeth, Solara stared at the craft in front of her for the slightest change in his trajectory—anything to betray his next move. When he veered right, she was ready. Her hands took charge as if operating independently of her brain. She steered sharply to the right and dipped the shuttle just enough to bump his wing, then pulled a hard left as his craft barreled out of control.

  When she circled back around, the pirate shuttle was upside down in the sand.

  Doran gave a loud whoop and ruffled her braids. “You’re a natural!”

  She laughed while her fingers trembled from the adrenaline surge. Tears flooded her vision, but they were the happy kind. Her body simply needed a release. Doran seemed to understand. Instead of telling her to calm down, he rubbed her neck. Then he finally said, “Thanks for saving my pretty hide, Solara,” and her tears turned to laughter.

  After making sure no one else had followed them, she descended into the great smoky valley and found her secret hiding place.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Now we wait for the coast to clear?”

  Solara cut the thrusters and rubbed her palms together. She was still shaking. “We should disconnect the battery while we’re here. Even with the engine turned off, we’ll emit a low-enough electrical pulse—”

  “To trip a scanner,” he finished, nodding with an appreciative grin. “I’m loving your criminal mind right now.”

  She rolled her eyes while levering open the hatch. “Careful, you’re speaking Jackass again.”

  “It was a compliment.” Doran unlatched the hood and held it open while she unplugged the battery and fuel cables. “I wish I had your instincts. They’re a lot more useful out here than the business classes my dad made me take.”

  “I wish I had your calm under pressure,” she told him, wiping grease on her pants. “A solution’s no good if it comes five minutes too late.” As soon as she spoke the words, she remembered how she’d once called Doran helpless, and she realized with a stitch of guilt how wrong she’d been about him. He had plenty of skills, just different from hers. That was what made them such an effective team. “But speaking of instincts,” she said, returning to the problem at hand, “what’re we going to do about Kane? I don’t have any proof that he turned you in, just a gut feeling. That won’t convince the crew.”

  “It’ll be our word against his,” Doran agreed. “We have to dig up some dirt on him. Until then, we can’t let him know anything’s wrong, or he might destroy the evidence.”

  “I’ll check the ship’s outgoing transmissions as soon as we get back. If he deleted a record, I’ll be able to tell by resetting the log.”

  Doran blew out a breath, shaking his head in a way that said he didn’t want to talk about Kane anymore. “I guess you’re stuck with me for a while longer.”

  “All the way to the fringe,” she said, not bothering to hide her smile. “Just my luck.”

  She was grateful for the extra time with him. The journey to the fringe was four rings out from their current position inside the tourist circle, so that meant Solara would have several more weeks in Doran’s company. Thinking about it sent a gradual warmth through her limbs until the shaking stopped.

  The sensation lasted until the sun went down.

  It was amazing how quickly the oppressive desert heat vanished, leached from the cave’s dark stone walls as the first shadows crept in. The temperature plummeted, and she began shivering again. At least she had a jacket. Doran had left his on the ruined ship, along with a sack of fuel chips and everything he owned.

  She told him to search the shuttle for an emergency pack while she checked for activity outside. Taking a seat at the mouth of the cave, she peered at the night sky, expecting to see the orange glow of thrusters. Nothing glowed in the heavens except for two moons and a ribbon of stars twisted into a nebula. But though the activity seemed to have died, the criminal instincts Doran loved so much warned her to stay put for a while longer.

  “I found something.” Doran’s voice echoed from the rear of the crevasse, where the absence of starlight made it impossible to see his discovery.

  She detected a rustle of fabric. “A blanket?” she asked, afraid to hope.

  “More or less.” He joined her and held up a strip of foil-like cloth the approximate size of a bath towel. “Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

  “Will that thing cover both of us?”

  “Only one way to find out,” he said, and started glancing around at the floor. “Where do you want to sleep?”

  A new shiver rolled over her, one that had nothing to do with the temperature. When she’d resolved to spend the night here, it hadn’t occurred to her that she and Doran would need to huddle for warmth.

  When she didn’t answer, he asked, “We’re staying till morning, right?”

  Clearing her throat, she nodded and pointed at the spot beside her. “We’ll camp here, so we can keep an eye out for trouble.”

  If he felt the same nervous tingling at the prospect of sleeping beside her, he didn’t let it show. He unbuckled his belt—just for comfort, she hoped—then lay on his side with his back pressed to the cave wall and one arm curled beneath his head like a pillow. By way of invitation, he extended his other arm to her.

  Solara reminded herself that this was no big deal. People shared body heat all the time in emergency situations. But despite all her encouraging self-talk, she curled onto her side and barely touched him. Doran fixed that problem by wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her backward until they nested together like two spoons in a drawer.

  Solara’s breath hitched while her skin buzzed with awareness. Every inch of him was molded to her, so hot that she doubted they’d need the blanket at all. His heart beat against her shoulder in a strong, steady thump. If he could feel hers, he would know it was trying to pound its way out of her chest.

  He spread the meager blanket over their joined bodies and then slid his arm beneath, where he settled it squarely under her breasts and hugged her even closer. With his chin resting atop her head, he asked, “Better?”

  She gulped.

  This was so much better…or worse, depending on whether she wanted to get any actual rest tonight. With all the atoms in her body pinging against one another in a manic dance, sleep wasn’t going to happen. She wished she
were as unaffected by his touch as she pretended to be. As she lay beneath the glamour of a thousand twinkling stars, she wondered if Doran felt the same magnetism.

  “If you’re still cold,” he murmured, his warm breath stirring her hair, “we could take off our shirts and try this skin-to-skin.”

  Her whole body flashed hot before she realized he was joking. She delivered a light elbow to the belly and told him, “Keep dreaming.”

  “Just trying to be helpful.”

  “You’re such a gentleman.”

  His thumb brushed the base of her rib cage, forcing her to release a shamefully loud sigh. “See?” he said. “At least I’m good for something.” Then he felt the need to add, “I’ve been told my body’s a furnace.”

  And just like that, the spell broke.

  Because with those words came a painful reminder that she wasn’t the first girl Doran Spaulding had held like this, and she wouldn’t be the last. Even if he felt the same stirrings of attraction that she did, where could it possibly lead? He would forget her as soon as he returned to his life on Earth and all the pink-haired princesses waiting for him. She and Doran were cut from different cloth. They were friends now, but only by circumstance.

  She needed to remember that.

  “Go to sleep,” she said, and pushed against his arm until he loosened his grip. She required body heat, not comfort. “I’ll take first watch.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t seem to notice the shift in her mood. After slinging his arm loosely over her hip, he settled in and exhaled, long and slow. A few minutes passed in silence, and just when she thought he’d drifted off, he said, “One more thing.”

  “What?”

  “Since we’re stuck together for a while longer, I think we should reevaluate our ground rules.”

  She hadn’t been expecting that. Intrigued, she cocked an ear toward him. “Does this mean I get my stunner back?”

  “As long as you promise not to use it on me.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And second,” he said, “nobody sleeps on the bedroom floor. That’s nonnegotiable. I won’t camp down there again, and I’m tired of feeling guilty because I’m comfortable and you’re not. There’s plenty of room on the mattress, and I won’t try anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Solara scoffed. But on the inside, she fought to push down the annoyingly persistent tingles that reappeared behind her belly button. “I know where to put my knee if you get too close.”

  From behind her, his hips withdrew an inch. “So we don’t have a problem?”

  “If anyone will have a problem sharing the bed, it won’t be me,” she told him. “You’ll stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.” It sounded so simple, yet even as she spoke the words, she caught herself nestling against his body.

  Solara forced her eyes shut, hoping she hadn’t made herself a liar.

  They returned to the Banshee early the next evening and told the crew everything that had happened. Solara brushed off their encounter with the Enforcers as a freak coincidence, all the while seething in rage every time her gaze landed on Kane. Recounting the story made her realize even more clearly the danger he’d put them in, and she couldn’t wait to expose him for the traitor he was.

  At the dinner table, she sat facing him, smiling sweetly while she tightened one fist on her lap. “The chili’s amazing,” she said. “Did you do something different?”

  “Actually, yes.” He perked up and launched into some spiel about replacing one spice with another, but Solara wasn’t listening. Instead, she studied him for signs of guilt: inconsistent eye contact, fidgeting, widened pupils, flaring nostrils. He betrayed nothing, which made him either a natural-born actor or a sociopath. Probably the latter. “Thanks for noticing,” he added.

  “My pleasure.”

  A sudden rustling noise shifted their attention to the cabinet, and Kane pulled it open to discover Acorn’s head buried in a bag of lentils she’d torn wide open. Some of the tiny dried beans spilled out, clinking to the floor. Acorn seemed to know she was busted. Her furry body disappeared completely into the bag.

  “Damn it,” Kane swore, gently scooping her out. “There goes tomorrow’s supper.”

  The captain reached across the table and took Acorn in his palm. “It’s your own fault,” he told Kane while stroking Acorn’s head with his thumb. “Food belongs in bins, not bags. It’s in her nature to forage.”

  Unaware of the trouble she’d caused, Acorn closed both eyes and purred contentedly. In Solara’s next life, she wanted to come back as a sugar bear. Must be nice to have no worries.

  “It’s your turn,” the captain said to her. “Ask us a question.”

  “Make it good,” Renny added.

  Solara pursed her lips, tapping them with an index finger to feign deep thought when, truthfully, she’d chosen her question hours ago. “Okay, how about this? Would you rather confess your darkest secret to the whole galaxy, or tell your best friend’s darkest secret to their worst enemy?” The question was designed to test Kane, so she looked at him first. “What’s your answer?”

  “That’s easy,” he said. “The first one.”

  She raised a challenging brow. “Your secrets must not be that dark.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he told her, and stared at the scattering of lentils on the floor. “But I’d do anything to protect my best friend.” He flicked a glance at her and stressed, “Anything.”

  Solara frowned at his response. It wasn’t what she’d expected.

  One by one, the rest of the crew gave the same answer until the meal ended, and then empty bowls were piled into the sink, and tin mugs were gathered in preparation for customary after-dinner drinks around the fireplace.

  Doran caught her eye and gave a slight nod—a signal that he would keep the crew occupied in the lounge while she rifled through Kane’s bunk.

  “I’m heading back to my room for a minute,” she told the group. “Go ahead and start without me.”

  She strode upstairs and passed through the lounge, then continued to her open doorway and waited there for Doran’s next signal. The ship’s quarters were connected to the lounge by one short hallway, making her easy to spot by anyone who moved to the far end of the room. So she stayed put until she heard Doran challenge the crew to a poker game and then for the noise of bodies settling into chairs before she tiptoed into Cassia and Kane’s chamber.

  The room carried traces of Cassia’s floral scent, so subtle that Solara wouldn’t have noticed it had she not known about the implants. She felt a twinge of guilt for pilfering through Cassia’s things, but not enough to stop her from searching every drawer built into the storage wall.

  Beneath a stack of Kane’s shirts, she discovered a small pouch containing twenty fuel chips, which was about two months’ wages for a ship hand. Nothing out of the ordinary. In his sock drawer, she found an assortment of basic possessions: an older-model data tablet with a cracked screen; a few photographs, all of Cassia; assorted souvenirs; a Solar League ID fob bearing the name KANE ARRIC.

  There was no evidence of a reward, nor of an electronic credit account. He didn’t even own a laser blade, which explained why he kept using Cassia’s. A peek beneath the bottom cot didn’t reveal anything but dust balls, and if there were any hidden panels in the room, Solara couldn’t find them. It wasn’t until she swept a hand under the bottom mattress that she discovered something interesting.

  For the second time in her life, she touched gold. But this necklace made Demarkus’s choker look like costume jewelry. At the end of a thick, sturdy chain dangled a palm-sized amulet with a faceted blue stone at its center. Even in near darkness, the stone captured the glow from the exit lighting and sprayed prisms over her sleeve. Peering closer, she admired the intricate design work that adorned the piece in an interwoven circle of flowering vines. That kind of artistry proved it hadn’t come off an assembly line. She turned it over and noticed the other side was damaged by light scratche
s, but not badly enough to conceal the name carved there in bold script.

  Princess Cassia Adelaide Rose

  Solara dropped the necklace and had to perform a feat of acrobatics to keep it from hitting the floor. Blinking hard, she read the text two more times in case her eyes had deceived her.

  They hadn’t. Cassia was royalty.

  But from which planet? Dozens of colonies were classified as monarchies, either by active reign or as symbolic figureheads of a democracy. As long as Solar Territory laws were obeyed and taxes rendered, the League didn’t care how the colonies governed themselves. Narrowing down Cassia’s home world would take time and research.

  The bigger question was why any girl would trade a life of royalty for a career as a ship hand—in the company of fugitives, no less—or why Cassia hadn’t returned to that life once she’d discovered the Daeva were tracking the ship. Something terrible must’ve happened at home if she felt compelled to stay here. And how did Kane fit into the puzzle? He seemed to belong to the same race, but judging by his possessions, he was a man of simple tastes, not royalty. Solara had found no trace of reward money in his room, and she was beginning to think that wealth didn’t matter to him anyway.

  She tucked the necklace back into its place beneath the mattress while chewing the inside of her cheek. Had she misjudged Kane? Or did he have a different motive for wanting Doran off the ship?

  Not surprisingly, Doran’s first reaction to the news was to gloat.

  “Told you she was important,” he said, kicking off his boots at the foot of the bed. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it over one shoulder, then dropped his pants. “Looks like I was right.”

  Solara whirled to face the other direction, but it was too late. The image of Doran in his shorts had burned itself into her retinas. For some reason, she’d pictured them sleeping fully clothed when she’d agreed to share the bed. “Whatever. You didn’t know she was a princess.”