He slowly loosened his fingers from Rance’s shirt and lowered his gun, stepping back and making a big show of shoving his weapon back in the holster. The thug behind him moved away and returned to Rance’s side, but kept his blaster out.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you again, Sherron. Good journey.”
“I wasn’t born with enough middle fingers to let you know how I truly feel about you, Rance.”
Rance grinned, backing towards his land vehicle, his swagger leaving no doubt the guy thought he’d won yet another round. One of these days, Rance would be unlucky enough to catch Rian in a really bad mood. Or bump into him in the wrong station bar. And he’d enjoy wiping the guy’s shite-eating grin from his smarmy face.
“Goddamn dreg-sucker,” he muttered. If it weren’t for the IPC ship parked on his ass, he might have half considered blowing a decent sized hole in the Dixie’s hull.
Lianna cleared her throat loudly. “Ah, Captain?”
Rian turned to look back up the ramp where Lianna and Callan stood, Sen just behind them.
“Do you maybe want to do something about that?” Lianna nodded in the opposite direction of Rance’s retreating vehicle.
The small robed guy, who couldn’t have been much more than a boy considering his size, had run off into the desert.
“Frecking, frecking Christ!” He kicked the raised edge of the hatchway, frustration and fury smoldering in his limbs. Part of him wanted to let the kid go. But Arleta was a sparsely populated ore mining moon, and the closest settlement would be hundreds of land-miles away. The boy would die from heat exposure and dehydration before he got more than a few hours from the ship.
Unclipping his weapon’s belt, he let it fall to the ramp and took off after the kid, swearing with every breath of searing air that puffed in and out of his lungs.
The boy had a fair head start, but the extreme heat and scorching, dusty air was already getting to him, slowing his pace by gradual degrees. Rian ignored the burning in his chest and pushed harder, closing the distance between them in increasing strides.
He came within arm’s reach and leaped, wrapping his arms around the smaller guy. The kid half turned and tried to scratch his eyes out. As he aimed to grab the boy’s wrists, their legs got tangled, twisting him off balance. They went down, Rian taking most of the impact, including an elbow to the kidney, before he rolled on top of the squirming form.
“That’s enough, you frecking brat!”
Capturing two slender wrists at last, he forced his captive’s arms to the hot, hard ground, his body registering a couple of things before his mind could. One, the kid had soft, luscious curves where no boy should have curves. Two, the voluptuous form writhing against him had started causing a heat that had nothing to do with the sun beating down from above. And three, the subtle, exotic scent of moon jasmine on her skin speared straight to his groin.
Cursing, he wrapped one hand around both her wrists and pushed the hood off, ripping the top of the robe open. If he’d thought laying eyes on the woman he’d mistaken for a kid would help his current hard reaction, he’d been wrong. So wrong.
A wealth of thick, dark brown hair tumbled out, the sun catching fiery red highlights in the strands. The locks were held back from her face by a wide-set bronze headband. Her eyelashes were dense, dark, giving her a sultry, sleepy, sexy appearance. They framed rich, mossy hazel eyes that burned holes in him. Her full pink lips were fixed into an angry thin line, her flawless dark russet skin marred by dirt.
He levered himself off her, not wanting her to feel his obvious response. Where the robe had been ripped down to her stomach, it gaped open to expose a diaphanous garment, revealing the smoothness of her skin, apart from two embroidered sections covering her nipples.
“Don’t try to run from me again.” His voice came out sounding hoarse, but he wouldn’t add to this farce by trying to clear his throat. No amount of gurgling would fix the reason for it anyway.
She looked away from him, a dark colored blush staining her cheeks. Holding onto one wrist—which had a coarsely crafted manacle made of some type of blue metal around it—he stood and helped her to her feet. The brown robe slipped to puddle at her ankles and the rest of the dress wasn’t any better than the upper half he’d seen. Her womanhood was covered by another bit of embroidery, yet the entire length of her shapely legs was visible.
Her chin tilted up with the bearing of a queen as she stared him down. Though how she did that when he stood a whole head taller than her was a total mystery. Yet, that look made him feel like a bug she’d squished under her no doubt dainty foot.
He changed his grip to hold her upper arm, pulling her out of the tangled garment on the ground. “Come on.”
She wrenched out of his clasp and moved two paces ahead of him, walking with even, precise steps, her shoulders back and spine straight.
At the ship, Kira had appeared. One of the other idiots had probably called her down. All four of them stood watching his little procession with obvious amusement.
“And none of you thought I might need some help?” He stopped at the bottom of the ramp and bent to pick up his belt, strapping it back around his hips. His cargo stopped as well, luckily not seeming inclined to run off again.
“Maybe we should have, Cap’tin. She does look like more than a handful.” Callan cocked his head to the side, an assessing gleam in his eye as his gaze fixed on the girl.
A venomous, unpleasant sensation bubbled up within him and Rian stepped in front of her, fist clenching his sheathed knife.
“Didn’t your mama teach you any respect, Callan?” Lianna slapped Callan in the back of the head, saving Rian from doing something that would have likely included blood. A lot of blood. “She’s an Arynian priestess.”
“A what now?” Callan rubbed his head, glaring at Lianna.
“An Arynian priestess. From Aryn.”
Rian glanced down at the woman in question, looking for some sort of reaction. The priestess had fixed her rich, mossy gaze somewhere off in the distance, ignoring them.
No one else said anything, and Lianna sighed. “Over the past hundred years or so, some people have been born with a remarkable leap forward in their level of evolution. Their brains operate at a higher capacity than most people, so they can do things we everyday people can’t. They’re sent to live on Aryn to become priests and priestesses. When they get old enough, they go out in the galaxy to help inter-planet-negotiations, solve problems other people can’t, heal sicknesses that modern medicines haven’t and loads of other things. They’re impartial to politics, they don’t claim allegiance to any governments, and can’t be bought.”
Rian looked back at Lianna. “What do you mean they can do stuff normal people can’t?”
Lianna shrugged. “You’d have to ask her, but the most common are telekinetic abilities, telekinesis, the power of suggestion, healing abilities. Things like that.”
“You mean she can read our minds?” Callan took a large step back, as if that would put him out of mind reading range.
“Callan, I don’t know what makes you so stupid, but it works really well,” Lianna said, an exasperate expression crossing her features.
Rian shook his head. Callan was one of those smart people who could be totally stupid at random times. He turned to the priestess, moving into her line of sight so she would look at him. With Lianna’s explanation, he remembered bits and pieces of gossip he’d heard about Arynians. He’d assumed much of it had been superstition and based in fear, recalling the words witch and sorceress tossed around.
“What’s your name?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes seemed to darken, making him think she didn’t plan on cooperating.
“Miriella Kinton.” She clasped her hands in front of her, shifting her weight a little.
“I’m Captain Rian Sherron. I’m sorry if it seems ignorant, but I haven’t met any Arynians before, and until I’d run you down, I didn’t even know you w
ere a woman.”
She nodded, her gaze remaining steady on him, giving him a buzz in places he shouldn’t be having a buzz. Especially not for a damned priestess.
“Is what Lianna said true?” Callan demanded from behind him.
Miriella held up her hands, which had a crude kind of manacle on each wrist, though luckily, no chain connected the two. “These shackles are made from a specific fusion of metium and an alloy infused with sapphire and micro-crystals. They prevent me from using my abilities.”
Kira moved forward, closer to Miriella. “Rian, we should take them off her.”
“Hell no, we shouldn’t,” Callan scoffed.
Even with everything going on around him, Rian couldn’t get a handle on his awareness of the priestess. She’d said the manacles meant she couldn’t use her powers, but damned if he didn’t feel bewitched, his reactions to her unwanted and uncontrolled.
He caught the scent of exotic moon jasmine again and crossed his arms, moving back from her. “Rance said we shouldn’t.”
Kira scowled at him. “And you’re going to take Rance’s word on anything?”
He clenched his jaw, coming to the end of his temper. “He didn’t give me a key.”
Kira took one of Miriella’s wrists, holding the shackle up for inspection. “There must be some way to—”
“No one’s doing anything I haven’t ordered them to do, got it? Now, unless you all want to be left behind on this frecking desert rock, board up and lock down.”
He clomped back up the ramp, wondering what that bitch karma was paying him for this time. Stabbing the scumrat? Maybe. He’d been gratified when Rance had made contact concerning this cargo the Reidar wanted. Now he was frecking pissed. If he’d known the shipment was a woman, would he still have come? Yeah, he sure as shite would have. His burning desire to destroy every Reidar he could get his hands on went above and beyond any morals he might once have claimed.
“What are you going to do with me?” The priestess’s firm, calm voice behind him made him pause. For some reason, he expected someone who looked like her to speak with a ringing dulcet accent. Yet her words and demeanor were no-nonsense and composed.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t turn to look at her, because he might make promises he couldn’t keep.
Sure as the universe was made up of dark matter, he wouldn’t hand her over to the Reidar. He could too well imagine what the soulless bastards had in store for her. Yet what other option did he have? The Reidar already had an execute-on-sight decree out on him and had proven they were willing to remove anything that stood between them, including his crew and sister. How much more dangerous might it be keeping the priestess aboard?
“You could return me to Aryn.”
He bent his head to the side a little, catching her near-naked form in his peripheral vision. “No, I can’t.”
Striding toward the stairs and the Violaine waiting for him in his quarters, he forced down the uncomfortable sensations stirring in places he thought the Reidar had successfully destroyed. “Someone find her some frecking clothes.”
When Tannin walked into the galley, he got the distinct feeling the conversation going on around the large table had halted at his arrival. In the tense silence, as thick Yarinian cream, everyone was either looking at him or doing a good job of ignoring him. Zahli seemed to be the only one who didn’t look uncomfortable about him being there. In fact, she looked pleased to see him.
“Don’t let me stop you. Continue with whatever it was you were planning.”
He walked over to the cold storage compartment and bent to look in. The last apple had a small knife through it with a note attached saying touch this and die – Callan.
One good thing he could say about living on Erebus, no one had ever killed someone else over an apple… That he knew of, anyway. Living dirt-side meant there had always been a good supply of fresh fruit, vegetables, and meat available. Being shipbound had its draw backs. He grabbed a couple of carrots and shut the compartment, turning to face the silent room.
Rian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and expression guarded, but surprisingly not hostile. “Who said we were planning anything?”
Tannin shrugged and snapped one of the carrots in half. “Educated guess.”
The captain leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms on the table and clasping his fingers loosely. “If you want to know the truth, we were discussing whether or not the IPC officers might still be around and exactly where we were going to dump your sorry ass.”
“So, hack into their ship’s data stream to determine their position.”
Rian glanced at Zahli, who nodded, before returning his unnerving stare back to him. “You can do stuff like that?”
“Sure. It’s easy.”
“Hacking into an IPC ship’s data stream is not easy. I should know. I’ve tried before,” Lianna said.
“Can you do it or not?” Rian demanded.
He set his shoulders, only just catching a scowl before it slipped free, Rian putting him on the defensive as usual. “I had a lot of spare, unsupervised time in the admin offices and learned a trick or two.”
Lianna shook her head, her expression appearing a little impressed. “But hacking into IPC data streams? That’s not a trick, that’s genius.”
Rian stood and moved around the table toward him. “Can you hack anything else?”
Tannin took a considering bite out of his carrot before answering. Did he tell Rian the truth, or fudge things a little? And what reason could Rian have for needing to know? He didn’t want to unwittingly put himself in more danger, as if Erebus officers searching for him weren’t enough. He glanced over Rian’s shoulder to where Zahli sat at the table. She caught his gaze, her blue eyes warm. Making a face, she nodded toward Rian. How was he meant to interpret that? He could only guess she wanted him to trust her crazy-ass brother.
Finding Zahli and her affectionate expression too distracting, he looked back at Rian. “So far I haven’t come up against anything I couldn’t hack.”
Rian’s expression took on a determined edge. “You’re coming with us, then.”
Tannin swallowed a chunky piece of carrot awkwardly and then coughed. “Excuse me?”
He dropped a hand to his knife, as if to remind him he was only a stab wound away from cooperation by force. “You’re coming with us to Kasson Three.”
Tannin coughed again. He must have heard wrong. “Isn’t that space station—”
“Abandoned and stupidly close to the event horizon of a black hole? Yes.” Rian’s attitude all but dared someone to take him on. And he’d confirmed Tannin’s initial impression of the guy. He really was a deranged sonuvabitch.
“Why in the fiery pits of Erebus would you willingly go to Kasson Three?”
“Rian, are you serious?” Zahli stood but didn’t move away from the table.
Rian frowned at her. “Do I often say things I don’t mean?”
His sister rolled her eyes. “Only every other day.”
“I mean, when we’re talking about what we’re talking about.”
If Tannin thought he could get away with rolling his eyes like Zahli had, he would have done it. When we’re talking about what we’re talking about? Cryptic much? Instead he raised an eyebrow and directed an exasperated look at Zahli.
“If you’re serious about taking him with us to hack Kasson Three, then he needs to know the truth. The whole truth. He should make his own decision about whether or not he wants to get involved. Like we all did,” Zahli said in a resolute tone.
Rian looked back at him and for the first time it seemed the captain didn’t have that demented I’m-going-to-stab-you-when-you-least-expect-it glint in his eyes. “I guess I could always vent him into void-space later on if it doesn’t work out.”
Zahli heaved a sigh. “Rian—”
“All right.” Rian held up his hands, the beads on his wrist clinking as they moved. Spinning, he returned to the table and pulled out a chair
. “Take a seat, scumrat.”
With cautious steps, Tannin walked forward and took the offered chair, finishing off the last of his carrot. Rian skirted the table to the opposite side and flipped around the other chair, straddling it with his forearms resting along the back.
“My crew and I aren’t just space-freighters. That’s what Zahli has us do to earn a steady income.”
Tannin nodded, not surprised. He’d gotten the feeling early on there were other things going on around here. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you actually do then?”
“We’re hunters,” Callan said from the other end of the table.
Tannin took a moment to process the answer and when he did, it filled his stomach with ice. “Like…bounty hunters?”
Bloody hell. He’d escaped on a ship full of bounty hunters. If the IPC put a high enough price on his head, they’d turn him over in an instant.
Rian inclined his head. “Kind of, but not the way you’re thinking. We hunt aliens.”
Tannin laughed, and a full second passed before he stopped, because no one else seemed amused. In fact they were all staring at him with expressions varying in degrees of seriousness.
“Aliens? I’m sorry, I find that a bit hard to believe since aliens don’t exist. I never took you for a conspiracy theorist, Sherron.”
“You can laugh all you want, scumrat. I would never have believed it myself. Not until the war when the bastards captured my ship, the Lone Cadence. The Reidar killed the entire IPC crew—a hundred and seventeen people—and kept me locked up for months.”
“Aliens.” He sounded like an idiot repeating it, but he couldn’t help it. No matter that even Zahli nodded, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe Sherron’s words. Yet…the reports Zahli had wanted. The gaps in his military records, the three years they’d had him listed as KIA. Zahli mentioning that Rian had been different when he’d returned.
But aliens? While it made a twisted kind of horrific sense, he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.
“Wouldn’t the entire universe have worked out by now if aliens actually existed? And if they’re murdering whole ships worth of people, wouldn’t the IPC have done something about it?”
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