More en-bolts streaked past, crimson mingling with orange. Heavy footsteps thundered toward them, and Mick aimed her weapon, ready to fire.
But the first armored man ran past, his back hunched, his helmet scraping on the ceiling, and his bolt bow firing relentlessly—at nothing.
Another man followed in exactly the same manner. It was the third that ran into view between Ariston and Mick and spun toward her.
She fired before his weapon came to bear. Her bolts slammed into his armored chest as Ariston lunged out of his alcove.
Their helmets both cracked against the low ceiling, but he got his arms around their enemy’s neck, pulling him back off his feet. Like some tentacled sea monster, Ariston dragged his prey back into his alcove. Something snapped. A piece of the man’s armor?
More en-bolts streaked down the aisle, this time from the opposite direction. Maybe those two idiots had realized they were shooting at shadows.
While Ariston wrestled with his armored foe, Mick leaned out and fired at the other two men. Unfortunately, they were fully in the dark—the only light source was at her back—so she fired blindly.
They might be idiots, but they had no trouble hitting a target. Two bolts bounced off her shoulder.
She leaned back into her alcove, debating on how to get some light back there without making a bigger target of herself. Before she had more than two seconds to think, Ariston lunged out of his alcove, rounded the corner, and barreled toward those men like a train.
A few more rounds fired as he raced toward them, but then he reached them, having no trouble finding them in the dark, and extended his arms, taking both of them to the deck.
Mick glimpsed a tangle of flailing arms and legs as the three men engaged in a furious wrestling match. Something flew toward her and she ducked. A broken bolt bow. It skidded all the way to the trapdoor, dangling over the edge of it.
She crept out of hiding, hoping to find a way to assist with the skirmish.
An armored man flew through the air, crashed into a crate, and tumbled down, almost at her feet.
She lunged toward him and fired, a sustained blast aimed at a charred and dented seam between his shoulder and chest plate.
“Yield!” the man cried, dropping his weapon and throwing up his arms. “I give up.”
He panted, sounding pained as well as scared.
“Remove your helmet,” Mick said as Ariston and the third man continued to box and wrestle, each trying to damage the other’s heavy armor. “Do it,” Mick barked when the downed man hesitated.
She pressed the tip of her bow to his faceplate.
He removed his helmet, revealing a tangle of black dreadlocks and bulging eyes. Mick was surprised by the sheer terror in those eyes, the raggedness of his panting. Was all that from dealing with her and Ariston? Or did some other fear haunt his mind? Could the crew on the salvage ship be affected the same way as her team on the planet?
Mick had hoped for a respite up here in orbit. She wished she could talk to her scientists, some of whom had believed bacteria or something in the atmosphere was affecting them. That couldn’t be the case way up here, could it? There was no atmosphere. What if the shuttle that had gone down the night before and taken off without all its people had brought some weird virus aboard? Some weird virus that was affecting everyone up here?
Her first thought was that it might make getting the converter easier. Her second was that these people seemed way crazier than her team on the planet had been. What if things were escalating down there too? What if her scientists started going crazy and attacked each other? Or did something irreparable to her ship?
“Mick?” Ariston asked warily. “Are you… in your head?”
He’d finished his fight—his opponent lay facedown underneath him and wasn’t moving. Mick hadn’t been moving, either, though she had her bow pointed at the man who’d removed his helmet.
“Yeah, just thinking.” Mick realized he might believe she was having another waking dream. “In a non-crazy way.”
“Good. I think my two are out for a bit, but you better strip your man out of the rest of his armor so we can tie him up.”
“Now, Ariston, you know I’m only interested in stripping you.” She smiled, though the joke came out forced. She was worried.
“So, you want me to strip him?”
“Only if I can watch.”
“You’re a quirky girl.”
“Does that excite you?”
“Maybe a little.” Ariston slung his bow over his torso on its strap and came forward to help her with her man. “But you might alarm me if you start talking about penis jewelry again.”
“Guess I better cross that off my Ariston-birthday-present idea list.”
“The Zi’i!” the man with dreadlocks cried, lurching from his back to a seated position.
Mick’s finger tightened on her trigger, but she didn’t fire. “The what?”
“They’re big, furred, fanged aliens that like to eat people,” Ariston said as their downed man looked left and right, eyes darting in his head as he searched all around him.
“I know that—didn’t I tell you I met one? And regretted it? But we don’t think they’re here in this system, do we? Or on the ship?”
Ariston gazed down at the man who barely seemed to know they were there. “I’ll check the sensors if we go to the bridge, but I doubt it. We’re deep in Confederation territory, and they have no reason to be here.”
The man didn’t seem to hear them. If anything, his panting had grown louder and more ragged.
“Be right back,” Ariston said, moving to the trapdoor.
He disappeared into the engineering compartment, apparently believing Mick could handle this guy. Which she could, though his darting eyes made her uncomfortable. She wondered if he was having the same kind of waking nightmare she’d experienced, some memory of the past returning to haunt him. She’d heard the Territory Wars, in which humans had battled the Zi’i for their lives as well as star systems, had been horrible and that millions had died.
Ariston returned with the injector. He tapped it against the man’s neck.
“How many doses of that do you have and how long will they last?” she asked.
“Only a few more and an hour or so, depending on the person’s size and metabolism.”
The man’s breathing slowed, and his eyes rolled back. Ariston caught his head, keeping it from clunking to the deck. He set it down with surprising gentleness.
Mick was glad for it. Even though these were enemies, she found herself feeling camaraderie for anyone dealing with something similar to what she’d dealt with. Or maybe his memories had been even worse.
“What now?” she asked, assuming Ariston hadn’t found a squad of troops down below.
“We go to engineering and get your part.”
Mick nodded. “I’m ready.”
18
Ariston led the way out of the shuttle bay and into the ship. The two pilots had been the only ones in the lower part of the shuttle, both knocked from their seats and unconscious on the deck. The skulls had also been knocked aside, with a hole blown in one. He’d winced when he’d seen that, knowing he had orchestrated the damage when those skulls should be preserved and handled carefully. But he also knew that seeing them may have stoked the men’s hallucinations, so he couldn’t regret his actions, not when he and Mick had gotten out uninjured.
He glanced back at her as they sneaked through a corridor, the lights dimmed for night, even though the ship should have been on the day shift. He couldn’t see her eyes through her faceplate.
“I’m fine,” she said, somehow guessing his thoughts.
Maybe because he’d asked her how she was earlier and kept glancing in her direction. He couldn’t help it. It creeped him out that a two-thousand-year-old chip that looked like little more than a tiny black jewel had not only levitated itself into the air but then burrowed into her head, into the exact spot it had been on the skull. He knew Wand
erer technology had been far superior to what humans had accomplished, and that it was responsible for things his people might easily regard as magic, since they couldn’t understand it. That didn’t make it any less creepy.
“You are, indeed,” Ariston said, keeping his tone light as he turned down another corridor. She had to be worried about the chip, too, and he didn’t want to do anything to fan the flame of her worry. “It’s a shame you weren’t the one to lose our Kapti game.”
Not that he’d minded doing push-ups for her. Especially when she’d come over and started touching him. Those had turned into tantalizingly exquisite push-ups, and he wondered what would have happened if their charged kiss hadn’t been interrupted. He’d definitely had thoughts of pushing her all the way back onto that table and climbing up after her.
But he should make sure her name was cleared and ask her on a formal date before presuming to seduce her, if he could call that seduction. It had been his horny instincts rather than any premeditated act of romance. Maybe she’d been seducing him.
“Perhaps we can find a game to compete at that places me at the disadvantage,” Mick offered as they reached one of the ship’s two lifts. The lights were brighter here. “Something that requires strength and power.”
“I haven’t noticed you lacking in those areas.” Ariston smiled at her as he waved at the controls to order the lift down, and he caught an appreciative look on her face.
The lift doors opened, revealing someone on the deck inside. Ariston jerked his weapon toward the man before his brain caught up to his instincts. A bloody dagger stuck out of the man’s eye, and he was very dead.
“Shit,” Ariston said, recognizing the ship’s chief engineer, Mrook. “That’s my boss.”
Mick looked at him.
“The man I worked under for the six weeks I was a part of the crew. The chief engineer who was planning to retire soon.”
A shout came from the corridor they’d left, and Ariston forced himself to step into the lift.
“I didn’t realize you were here—undercover?—for so long.” Mick stepped over the engineer to stand opposite Ariston.
“Yes. It was a while before the captain did anything except take on legitimate missions for legitimate insurance companies that wanted ships recovered and towed or scrapped for parts.”
The lift doors closed, leaving them with the dead man. Ariston tried not to look down. Smart, quiet, and bookish, Mrook hadn’t been a bad man, despite his dubious choice in employer. About half the crew had been jerks and criminals that Ariston didn’t mind fighting, but half of them had just been people scraping by, taking employment where they could find it and trying not to worry too much about where their paychecks came from. For those like Mrook, who’d worked in the bowels of the ship and kept things running, harming others hadn’t been a part of their day-to-day existence. They’d merely maintained the Pleasant Journey.
“Do you know all of these people then?” Mick asked.
Ariston nodded grimly. “Crazy Eyes with the dreads is named Okereka. He’s on the ship’s security team. I’m surprised he wasn’t sent with the shuttle team to try and take us down.”
The lift doors opened to another empty corridor. Fortunately free of bodies.
When Ariston had realized things weren’t running smoothly up here, he’d been happy, since it would make retrieving the converter easier, but he wasn’t sure he should wish this craziness on anyone.
As they stepped out, something moved back in the lift.
Ariston spun, thinking Mrook might somehow be alive, after all. He’d thought he’d glimpsed the man’s hand raising out of the corner of his eye. But he realized it had been his imagination. A hallucination.
He hadn’t been immune to the planet’s influence, despite the medical scans suggesting he wasn’t as affected as the others, and he’d noticed more optical wonkiness since leaving the planet.
“You didn’t see anything?” Ariston asked, catching Mick looking at him.
“No.”
“Guess you’re the more reliable one now.” He headed down the corridor, taking the lead again. Engineering was around the corner.
“You think the chip is fixing my brain? Keeping me from being affected?”
“That was your hypothesis, I believe. Have you had any hallucinations since it installed itself?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Huh.”
“Envious?” Mick asked. “We can go back and get you one.”
“I’ll pass since we don’t know the long-term effects. Or if it can be removed.”
Her expression grew bleak, and he wished he hadn’t pointed that out. She had to be nervous about having some ancient alien chip embedded in her skull.
“That’s engineering up there.” He pointed to two yellow-painted double doors at the end of the corridor. “And those are the storage areas for machinery and replacement parts. The last I looked in, the Pleasant Journey was quite well stocked.”
Ariston stopped at the door on the left, and it opened automatically. Not all of the doors on the ship were keyed to open for him, but he’d worked down here, so the ones in this area were.
Screams came from somewhere on their level as he gestured for Mick to walk into a room full of shelves.
“We’ll get the bastards!” someone yelled. The faint squeal of weapons fire followed.
“I don’t suppose there’s an inventory system?” Mick asked, standing with her fists on her hips as she gazed at the deep and packed floor-to-ceiling shelves that stretched along the walls. Crates of all shapes and sizes were also stacked on the deck.
“It was in Mrook’s head.” Ariston started to walk in after her, but paused on the threshold of the room, listening to the chaos of the crew firing at each other. Were they all lost in the same memory? Believing that Zi’i had invaded their ship? Or had a couple of people thought that and put the idea in everyone’s mind, so they were experiencing some mass hallucination now?
“Helpful.”
“Do you mind looking by yourself? I believe you’ll find the converters in that corner back there.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Before, I thought it was ludicrous to believe we’d get here and be able to get the part. I didn’t think there’d be a chance of actually capturing everyone and taking over the ship, but...” Ariston spread his hand, palm up.
“That was before you learned everyone up here was crazy?”
“Essentially, yes. My sensors show that people are running around in clumps with hardly anyone at their stations. Even though there are at least thirty people still up here, I might be able to pick them off one-by-one. At the least, I’d like to put the ones we knocked out in the shuttle into the brig. This ship has cells enough to hold everyone until we can fly it back to Talon Station in the next system over.”
“I’m not going to ask why a salvage ship would have a large brig. I’m just going to get my part and get back to the shuttle.” Mick headed toward the corner he’d indicated. “You could stay and help me find it, and then I could help you capture your wayward crew.”
“That’s not your job. I don’t want you to get hurt picking fights that aren’t yours.”
“So instead, I should stay here where a roving group of crazy creeps could find me and kill me because they see me as something fanged and furred that wants to eat them?”
“I imagine you could handle a group of crazy creeps,” Ariston said, but he stepped into the storage room, letting the door shut behind him, instead of heading out into the ship.
It was true that he didn’t want her to get hurt fighting beside him, but she had a point. Nowhere on this ship would truly be safe for her, and splitting up would make them weaker. He didn’t want to leave only to come back and find her in a similar state as Mrook.
“You change your mind?” she asked as he joined her in the back corner.
“About your ability to handle crazy creeps? No, but I realized I’d be a fool to
pass up a chance to spend time with you in a private nook on the ship.” He eyed the shelves, looking for labels. Unfortunately, most of the parts were heaped in boxes without them.
“Closets are popular places to make out on Earth.”
Ariston didn’t consider the large storage room a closet, but he would have been amenable to the activity if they didn’t have other things they needed to do.
“Presumably not between people in full combat armor,” he said.
“Presumably not. I can’t imagine kissing being that exciting when both parties are wearing fish bowls.”
He smiled, clinked his helmet softly against hers, and dug into the boxes.
An alarm went off before he’d searched three of them, a pulsing wroo wroo that assaulted his ears even through his helmet. All the emergency lighting came on.
Ariston ran toward a control panel by the door.
“Tell me those idiots didn’t break the ship,” Mick said.
“I don’t know. It’s something in engineering. I better check.” Ariston lifted his eyebrows, not certain if she would want to stay and search or come with him.
“Go.” Mick waved and turned back to the shelves. “I’ll be here, cursing your dead engineer’s organizational system.”
Ariston ran out, pleased by her independence and competence. He still hoped he’d be able to run in, push a button, and return to her side. He’d meant what he’d said about her handling roving creeps, but he worried about that chip, and who knew what other craziness this ship might hold?
• • • • •
Mick resisted the urge to remove her helmet as she searched through the hundreds of boxes in the corner Ariston had pointed her toward. Enemies might stumble upon her in the storage room and open fire at any time.
A burst of static in her ear made her wince. As if that alarm going off wasn’t obnoxious enough.
“Captain?” a voice whispered.
Mick struggled to identify the owner. “Dev? You’re still on the planet, right?”
Maybe it was a dumb question—where else would they be?—but Mick hadn’t realized the Viper could signal boost enough to reach her comm up in orbit.
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