The Cyborg's Stowaway_In the Stars Romance

by Eve Langlais

  Currently, she hid in the export warehouse. The busy machine-run building was constantly receiving packages and bundling them for delivery to ships. Despite La’zuun’s reputation for pleasurable adventures, trade also accounted for a good portion of everyday profit.

  Ghwenn observed the many ships docked. A golden-hued one for the Bubyg hive. The queen had arrived with her consorts for the wedding. A Rhomanii citadel orb vessel hovered over the tarmac, its gleaming black exterior matte and yet mirroring.

  There was a slave ship as well, the cages used for transport currently outside on the tarmac. Machinery rinsed and disinfected the boxes lined with bars and a few clear glass-like cubes, getting them ready for their next cargo run.

  A massive vessel, its name boldly painted on its side—Gypsy Moth—was being loaded. The crates, moved by robotic means and overseen by humans, were large. Certainly large enough to smuggle herself aboard.

  She almost went for it. Then a vehicle stopped and spilled out some soldiers.

  Guess who they were looking for?

  I am the most popular person on this planet right now. It wasn’t a distinction she craved.

  She needed to go. Now. There was no time to find a specific crate and climb inside. Ghwenn had to depart this planet. At this point—the point of desperation—just about any ship in port would do.

  The cloak covered her as she stepped onto the tarmac. A clench of her fists and a whispered, “I’m invisible,” helped her take a second step. Then a third. She felt as if everyone could see her. Any moment, someone would point.

  Yell.

  You can’t see me. She whispered the words to the very ether around her. Nothing here.

  She made it past the Gypsy Moth, almost having a moment of panic when her gaze met that of the towering man overseeing it. Giant among the other humans, his bald pate seemed at odds with the scruff along his jaw. The metal hoop in his ear gave him a rakish appearance. He wore a tunic with the sleeves torn clear. He surveyed things with a rapier gaze.

  Their eyes locked.

  He sees me.

  Invisible. She held her breath. It’s nothing. Just a trick of the eyes. She kept her fists clenched.

  His glance shifted away. She let out her breath and scurried, heading not for any of the large ships but a small one that could be flown by one person.

  She even knew all the codes to make it run. She’d learned them on the trip over. A trip where she’d been played for a fool.

  I’m not blind anymore.

  The sleek, emerald-colored vessel opened with the press of her hand on the hull.

  “Welcome—”

  She cut the computer off before it finished. “Prepare for departure.”

  “Pre-flight check in progress. Destination?” the dulcet voice asked, and Ghwenn had a moment of panic.

  Where to? Where could she hide?

  A limitless number of galaxies and planets. How to choose?

  She knew of one that wouldn’t turn her, a female, over to anyone. “Zonia.” A planet of fierce warriors where the males had few rights and where their honor wouldn’t allow them to hand Ghwenn to anyone, no matter how much they demanded—or threatened.

  And there would be threats.

  The computer began preparing the vessel for takeoff. “Setting coordinates. Pressurizing the craft. It is advised that biological passengers take a seat and buckle themselves in.”

  The process for departure happened quickly. Just not fast enough to suit Ghwenn. How long before someone remarked on the ship preparing to leave? A ship that wasn’t scheduled to depart for a few days.

  As she sank into the navigator’s seat, one of two in the smallish vessel, the summons came.

  “Incoming communication from the Bazzr Port Authority.”

  It couldn’t be avoided. “Put it through and present all replies in audio pattern F67.” This would turn anything she said aloud into a specific voice that would pass any speech recognition program.

  “Emerald Spring, you are not cleared for departure.”

  “Then clear me.” She spoke the words in her voice, but she knew on the other end they heard a gruff man.

  “Negative, Emerald Spring. We cannot clear you for departure. Due to a security issue, all vessels are to remain grounded.”

  “You think I don’t know about your issue?” She gave the word a sneering twist. “It’s my daughter that is missing,” she snapped. “Because of your incompetence.” Spat out much as her father would.

  “Sorry, sir. But my orders—”

  She cut him off. “I don’t care about your orders. I have a tip on my daughter’s location, which means I am going to depart this planet and I am going to find her worthless carcass. I would not advise you get in my way or you will suffer diplomatic consequences.”

  A brash threat to make. But totally in character. She shut off communications and huffed. Hopefully they would buy it. She kept prepping as if they were.

  “Beginning our taxi.” The ship’s computer relayed every step of their journey in her soft monotone. Ghwenn had to wonder if she’d announce their impending doom in the same calm manner.

  “Elsa”—the ridiculous name given to the ship—“any weapons sighting on our ship?”

  “No armament is currently showing any signs of activity. However, the Rhomanii citadel did send a drone earlier to scan the vessel.”

  Nosy bunch, those space gypsies. Ever since they’d found their home world and lost their prince, they’d been scouring the universe for a sign of him. She didn’t grasp why they didn’t just elect another.

  The Bazzr port authority tower didn’t give her verbal permission to leave; however Elsa showed confirmation on the screen. They were cleared for planetary takeoff.

  The ship entered a runway. While some vessels took to the skies vertically, that kind of push required a lot of power. A horizontal run could give the same kind of boost for much less energy.

  The Emerald Spring hummed loudly as the engines spun, hurtling them down the cleared lane. Ghwenn stared on screen at the lights as they blinked past on either side.

  Her stomach dropped as the craft lifted and began angling away from the planet.

  I’m doing it. She was escaping.

  She didn’t let elation curve her lips into a smile. Not yet. She’d not even cleared the atmosphere. Plenty of time for something to go wrong.

  Sure enough, her screen flashed.

  “Incoming message from the port authority,” Elsa announced.

  “Play it.”

  She expected many things. A command to return at once. A warning they would shoot and disable her craft. Instead, she got her father’s voice.

  “You disgrace the family with your cowardice.”

  She didn’t reply. It wasn’t cowardice to flee what he planned. As a matter of fact, it was probably the bravest thing she’d ever done.

  “You won’t escape,” he hissed. “No matter where you go in this galaxy, I will find you.”

  Then she’d have to make sure she hid well. She shut off communication with the planet. No point in listening to threats. She’d made her choice. Now she had to survive it.

  The ship popped free of the shell of the planet, the shuddering of acceleration and the pull of the atmosphere giving way to the sudden calmness of space. Rather than apply any kind of brakes like most ships did given the rather crowded airspace, the Emerald Spring kept accelerating, dodging the various obstacles in its way.

  A good thing the vessel moved fast. The tractor beam that shot from the side of a giant spined ship jostled the tail of her craft, giving it a good rattle. Her fingers dug into the armrest of the chair as her small ship danced among the vessels crowding the area. Many of them turned, ready to converge on her.

  Had Father broadcasted a reward for her capture? Surprising given he valued the family’s privacy and wasn’t one to advertise scandal. Then again, what bigger scandal could there be than a daughter fleeing the fate her father had arranged?

 
; A pair of cruisers, big ones compared to hers, angled together, forming a wall in front of her, and yet the Emerald Spring kept speeding toward them.

  “Elsa?” She couldn’t help uttering the name of the ship’s AI.

  “Preparing to jump. In four, three…”

  Ghwenn closed her eyes as it counted down to two, then one.

  Zip.

  Her stomach bottomed out. Her insides sloshed, and her ship hurtled suddenly into the void, a fold of space and time that allowed travel between galaxies that would have otherwise taken lifetimes to complete.

  When her ship finally cruised to a normal pace five jumps later, Ghwenn unstrapped herself and ran for the nearest waste receptacle. She dumped the sparse contents of her stomach. That many jumps so quickly played havoc with the body, but it would ensure she’d lost anyone who tried to follow.

  She spent the next few sleep cycles anxiously watching. She had enough juice left for one more jump. Fueling became a priority.

  What she didn’t count on was the difficulty she’d have. For one, she couldn’t access her credits. Father would trace it. No credits meant she had to bargain with items on board. Which proved a mistake. Riches drew thieves. Thieves stole her ship, and she barely escaped with her life.

  The freedom she’d fought so hard to achieve?

  Short-lived.

  Chapter 3

  Thank fuck for the short layover at that shithole of a way station. Of late, it seemed every port they stopped into had some kind of commotion happening. Stricter inspection of cargo. Flaring tempers.

  It had all started a few weeks ago at La’zuun and followed them.

  The latest port had a stolen vessel being argued over by authorities and the pirates who claimed it. The entities with stern expressions were less concerned with the entrepreneurs who’d acquired the ship and more with where said pilot went. Someone wanted the thief of the slick, emerald-skinned craft.

  The rumor mill at the docks claimed a father was looking for his daughter. The reward was sizable. Seemed like an awful lot of expense to go through for a runaway kid.

  Crank stomped out onto the elevated platform that gave him a view of the entire engineering section, what some called the bowels of the ship. He knew it for what it truly was. The brains and heart.

  And they were beautiful.

  The energy cores had an ethereal appearance to them. The power—contained within clear, diamond cylinders—went several stories high. They glowed, their color not on the human spectrum. Whatever it was, it made his nanobots very happy. It wasn’t unusual to see those who’d truly gone ’borg stroking the exterior. Even leaning their faces against it.

  Much like the nanotechnology that adopted them, the origin of the energy cores was alien in nature—and expensive. Luckily the cost came out of Captain Jameson’s pocket, but Crank got to enjoy it.

  Taking the stairs down to the lower level three at a time, Crank didn’t bother greeting anyone. This was work time. Not a social event.

  The main control area for the engine room was within sight of the energy cores— a circular hub, ringed in consoles. He strode amidst the crew bent over their stations, eyes scanning, fingers flying. Always work to be done.

  “Chief!” Someone called for him overhead.

  He didn’t reply. He wasn’t a pet you hollered at.

  Ensign Zane trampled down the steps and ran to Crank. He then almost saluted. He tucked his hands behind his back before making that mistake. “There appears to be a problem with that last crate we ordered from La’zuun.” Which contained silicia, an organic material that resembled a fluffy pile of leaves. Purple ones with hair-like filaments that were valuable in the creation of holochips for a variety of items.

  “What the hell is wrong now?” Crank muttered as he stomped over. The La’zuun cargo should have been fine. They’d checked it at boarding.

  “There’s something alive in the crate.” The ensign indicated with a pointed finger. “Should we shoot it?”

  Alive after weeks of being in space? Probably a rodent. Pesky buggers were hard to kill. “Don’t shoot.” Firing into the silicia would destroy them. Given their cost, and the use he had for them, they couldn’t afford to lose even a single one. “Is it a rat? A bacoon?” Which resembled the raccoons of old Earth but with spiked tails and much sharper teeth. Funny how the universe might be vast but certain bottom feeders existed in every culture.

  “If it’s a rat, then it’s a big one,” the ensign said as he kept pace with Crank. “There’s a huge flat spot at the back. Didn’t see nothing, but the feathers were moving. Something is in there.”

  “Get the inoculation kit ready.” They kept a few in engineering at all times because of the rodent problem. Being in space didn’t make the rats immune to disease, and humans were highly susceptible.

  It didn’t take long to make it to the cargo bay. The large space showed various stacks of boxes and pallets. Strapped in so they wouldn’t shift. In the middle of the room, the open crate. And no one watching it.

  “Didn’t you set guards on it?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Zane looked around. “I wonder where they went.”

  Probably for a snack. Or a nap.

  A nap would be just perfect right about now.

  Crank frowned. Nap in the middle of the workday?

  “Check the cameras to see if your rodent escaped.”

  While Zane peeked at the logs, Crank stomped over to the open container, hands held loosely by his side. It wouldn’t be the first time he caught a lively bugger, although if he did, he’d have to make sure he crushed it without spilling any blood. Blood and silicia didn’t mix well.

  “Nothing exited the box, Chief.”

  “And those left to guard?” Crank asked, crouching down to see if he could spot anything. Not a single leaf quivered.

  Nothing to see. Move along.

  He shook his head. It was probably hiding at the back, under all the fluffy leaves filling the space. He began to dig them out, gently scooping them behind him into a pile on either side.

  Nothing there.

  The thought was in his head, and yet his eyes disagreed. As the last of the leaves dropped low enough for him to see the very back, he spotted a shape. Huddled in a cloak. Bigger than a pest. Wearing clothes, which meant it wasn’t a rodent.

  A stowaway. Worse kind of varmint there was.

  “You,” Crank barked. “Hiding in the crate. Get out here.”

  The hooded shape didn’t move, but it did waver from sight.

  Nothing to see. But you are getting very hungry.

  He blinked. He could go for an old-fashioned wiener on a bun with sloppy condiments.

  What a strange thought. “Let’s go, whoever you are. Don’t make me drag you out.”

  Slowly, the hood turned, and he saw straight through the shadows hiding the face to the giant, violet eyes inside.

  Eyes that widened upon seeing him.

  “Who are you?” he snapped.

  The figure in the cloak didn’t reply, and yet he could have sworn he heard someone whisper, Your destiny.

  No mistaking the voice inside his head this time. The kind meant to control his thoughts. If there was one thing Crank wouldn’t tolerate, it was mind games.

  “Don’t you fuck with my head. I said get your ass out here.” He reached in and grabbed hold of an arm, noticing how slight it was. He yanked the figure free from the box, dragging it through the remaining silicia. Only once they cleared the container did he remove his grip.

  Arms crossed, he stared down at the cloaked figure. “Who are you? How did you get on my ship?”

  Those enormous violet eyes met his gaze. The shadowy cowl of the cloak hid most of the features. Only a pointed chin and a pink bottom lip peeked. “I seek sanctuary.” Help me. The words were soft and fluttery. They curled around him, as if trying to bind his mind with cobwebs.

  He glowered. “Stop that shit right now, missy. You want help you ask for it. You don’t force it.�
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  Already wide eyes grew bigger. “A million apologies, Commander.”

  A sneer broke free. “I ain’t no commander. I work for a living. Name is Crank Abrams. Chief engineer on the Gypsy Moth.”

  “I am Ghwenn.”

  “Whatever. Don’t care. March your ass this way.”

  She began to walk in the direction he indicated, her slight figure enveloped by the voluminous cloak. “I seek asylum.”

  “I’m sure you do. And you might have gotten it if you’d asked the proper way. I don’t do favors for stowaways.”

  She whirled before the door that he opened with a slap of his hand. “I couldn’t come to you via normal channels. You don’t understand the danger I am in. Those who hunt me—”

  “Will stop once we present them with your body.” Maybe even claim a bounty if there was one out there.

  “Body? I don’t understand…” The words trailed as she glanced over her shoulder at the airlock he’d led her to. “You’re planning to kill me.” She said it with surprise.

  “Kill implies I’m physically laying a hand on you. This is more just getting rid of the trash.”

  “But I don’t want to die.”

  “Then you should have thought of that before stealing a berth on my ship.”

  “I told you I didn’t have a choice. And by your own admission, you are not in charge of this ship.” Her chin lifted, pointed and proud. “Take me to your captain.”

  “Captain’s busy. Besides, I got jurisdiction down here, and I have a rule about stowaways.”

  “This is ridiculous. I demand a fair hearing with the owner of this vessel.”

  “Stowaways don’t get to make demands.”

  She stomped her foot. “Then you leave me no choice.” Her hand flung from her robe, the fingers long and straight, the nails blunt and unpainted. “Kneel before me and obey my command.”

  The force of the demand hit Crank like a wrecking ball. Literally stole the breath from him, which was impressive considering he had one synthetic lung.

  It trembled through him, this need, this desire, to kneel. To bow his head and promise obeisance.