Captive of Pleasure; the Space Pirate's Woman (The LodeStar Series)

by Cathryn Cade

  As they slipped past, the other craft exploded. Joran grunted in satisfaction, and Haro whooped.

  Joran looked to the rear holovid display. Laser fire shot out from the rear weapons ports of the Hawk, and the second craft lit up in a fiery torch that tumbled toward the plains below.

  “Got ‘im,” Var said.

  “My kill shot,” Ilya retorted.

  “I know, baby. Proud of you.”

  “And the shields worked.” Haro pumped his fist. “Yee-hah!”

  “Nice shooting, both of you,” Joran called. “Everyone, eyes out for more pursuit.”

  Their immediate danger eliminated, Joran manipulated his com to bring up a new hololink. A small, three-dimensional image sprang up before him.

  Another cruiser perched below the edge of the bluff, behind the caves. A huge man with a plum cast to his skin and long ebony braids stood beside the loading hatch, watching as a man and a woman hustled a group off of the foot of a steep path and onto the craft.

  “Mako.”

  Half-Mau, half-human, Mako had a ferocious smile and a voice as deep and rough as stones over wood. “Seventeen rescues, boss.”

  “Good man. Take them straight to F City.”

  “On our way.”

  “What about the girl?” Qala asked.

  Joran considered briefly, then shook his head. “No, don’t want Mako to have to land. The girl stays with us. She can go to F City on a supply transport—we’ve three coming in soon.”

  Qala didn’t argue, but he could feel her disapproval beating at the back of his head. Too quarking bad.

  “Any pursuit, shoot ‘em,” he told Mako.

  Mako cocked his shaggy head, multitude of ebony braids swinging. “You think you need to remind me of this?”

  “Sorry. By the way, no eating the passengers, either.”

  “Ha, ha,” Mako muttered. “It was just that one time.” He leapt up the ramp into the craft. The hatch closed, locking him and the other two in with their passengers, who huddled in the passageway beside massive shipping containers. Every one of them looked terrified of their rescuers.

  “You might let them know they’re safe now,” Qala said.

  The holovid split as Mako swung into the cockpit without looking around. “Why? They’re less trouble when they’re concentrating on not shitting themselves. And we’re not away yet.”

  “We got this, Storm,” called another woman from the passageway of the transport. A lean human, she had short gray hair and a sweet smile. Her utility vest bore no weapons, instead a large cross hung from a chain around her throat. She held a pack of water bottles, which she was busy passing out. “We’re going to hop into our safe pod, and settle down for the flight, disguised as a container of protein bars.”

  “Of course you are, Sister Lettie,” Joran said with a nod. He broke the link and turned to Haro. “All right. Let’s go home.”

  There was a short silence.

  “And where is that today, exactly?” Haro asked. “I presume you had them break camp and move while we were gone.”

  “I did,” Joran agreed. “Which is why we’re headed to...” he consulted a readout on the console before him. “North 5-5, east 0-9.”

  “Ah, home sweet home.” Haro grimaced. “Hope it’s not on the north face of one of those peaks this time. I did not enjoy that.”

  “That was chilly,” Joran agreed. “No, this one’s alongside a new stretch of the same river we’ve been camped on.”

  “The ‘same’ river.” Haro shook his head. “Somebody needs to name the waters here. How about calling it the Snake River for those big quarking serpents with all the teeth that leap out of the water when a guy goes for a peaceful evening dip? Nearly shat in the water.”

  Joran snorted. “Nice of you to show the rest of us they were in there. Hate to lose a hand or foot to one of ‘em.”

  “Yeah, Draz swears they only eat fish, but I don’t how the hells he’d know. He hasn’t been here any longer than I have.”

  This was true. “Anyway,” Joran said, “the Snake River valley has plenty of sweet grass for the ponies and room for us to move about.”

  “You’ve been watching those old Earth I holovids again. Last time I checked, catamount ponies don’t eat grass.”

  “More’s the pity. It’d make them smell better.”

  “True. Speaking of which, you ever gonna let up on Mako about the ‘eating passengers’ bit? He only took a bite of the dude’s arm.”

  “Probably not.” Joran watched the monitors, tracking the progress of the other cruiser westward through a mountain canyon. “Looks like they’re away safely.”

  “And here come the IGSF cruisers.” Haro indicated a series of bright gold dots entering the readout from the north-east, and headed straight for the caves and the live dots that signified other ships, still clustered around the area.

  “And with that, let’s skedaddle,” Joran said. “Wouldn’t do to ruin our shiny new rep as simple nomads.”

  “Hope that new tech works onboard the transport,” Ilya said quietly.

  “It will, baby,” Var assured her. “Came straight from LodeStar security. Anyone scans it, nothing will show on that old scow but a bunch of containers of protein bars.”

  She snickered. “Wonder what Stark would say if he knew his shiny tech was being used to smuggle?”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Var said. “Probably does know. The man is eerie.”

  Joran smiled wryly. His older brother did know more about what went down in his empire than most realized. He’d no doubt be hearing from Logan in the next several hours, wanting a status report.

  “We’re away,” Haro said with satisfaction. He and Joran slapped palms, but Joran frowned as he turned back to watch the monitor.

  “Haro, scan. I want a full-ship readout.”

  His pilot’s easy grin slid away. With a nod, he quietly instituted the commands and watched the monitors. “Our exit too easy for you, boss?”

  “Yup. While Qala was planting her trackers, someone may have doing the same to us.”

  “You think?” Ilya asked, leaning forward. She sounded more intrigued than worried.

  “I woulda seen them,” Haro said instantly. “Monitors on full, entire time we were on the ground.”

  “I don’t doubt you,” Joran assured him. “But say the slavers have their own system in place. They tag every craft incoming, when we’re busy getting down safely in a crowd, with all kinds of interference from other com systems. Tracking devices are cheap, compared to a slave...at least one valuable enough to want back.”

  The words had no sooner left his mouth than a red light began to flash on the readout of the cruiser’s schematics. “Unknown device found,” a calm voice stated. “Rear port side, location three-niner-zed.”

  “Skrog shit.” Haro slapped his hand on the arm of his seat. “You were right.”

  “Yeah, you think as dirty as a slaver,” Ilya said admiringly. “Let’s get rid of it.”

  “We’ll have to land to do that,” Var said.

  “No, we won’t,” Haro said. “Watch while the Hawk plucks that space louse off her lovely belly.”

  He tapped the red light on the readout. “Remote crawler, activate.”

  A holovid popped up, showing the belly of the ship. A small, nearly flat device appeared from an aperture in the cruiser’s gleaming shell and began to scoot back along the ship. Below, the earth shot past.

  “I can’t see the tracker device,” Haro pointed out. “That means it’s tiny. Hope your crawler is sensitive, Ilya.”

  “Yeah, so how’s that thing going to find it?” Var added.

  “Sensors,” Ilya said. “The schematics of the ship are in its memory banks so it knows what should be there, and what shouldn’t. It can remove anything the cruiser hits in flight. At the speeds we fly, even something small can throw off her aerodynamics, and thus flight. The device has blades and scrubbers for, er, feathers and stuff. Should work just as well on a tra
cker. It will use the readout to find its prey.”

  They watched the device slid along the shell. It stopped beside a rear exhaust port, and in a few secs the red light winked out.

  “Unknown device removed,” the calm voice said. “Ship secure.”

  “What did it do with the tracker?” Var asked.

  “Dropped it,” Joran said. “If it’s still working, it’ll show we landed down there, by that bluff.”

  “Boss,” Ilya said quietly. “If we had one on us...”

  “I know,” he said grimly. “That means they’re tracking every ship in and out. They likely have eyes on the transport too.” And the transport didn’t have the high-tech remote crawler. “Haro, head after Mako.”

  “On it.” The cruiser veered sharply to the left, and they sped up, headed north toward a rugged range of mountains.

  “Mako?” Joran called. “Come in. Do you read me?”

  Qala appeared in the hatch leading from the cabin. “Where are we going?”

  “Rendezvous,” Var said briefly.

  A holovid appeared over the console, the cockpit of the transport, Mako scowling fearsomely at the controls.

  “I’m here,” he rumbled. “But we got company. Ship on our tail. Someone saw us leave, I reckon. And maybe they’re not buying our play that we’re just food service.”

  “Quark,” Joran muttered. Sometimes he hated when he was right.

  “You should be okay,” Haro said, but his voice revealed his concern. “They won’t see any warm bodies.”

  Mako shook his head once. “They’re coming in and doing it fast. Not asking any questions. How far out are you?”

  “Ten minutes,” Haro replied, gaze on his instruments. “Eight if I ram her for all she’s worth.”

  “Do it,” Joran ordered. “Mako, we’re on the way. Qala, get everyone down. Tell ‘em to hang on.”

  She disappeared and a few seconds later, the ship leapt beneath them and sprang forward, racing over the dark jagged bulk of the mountains below. The g-forces pulled at Joran, forcing him back in his seat. He looked from the instruments to the holovid.

  “Head down, closer to the ground,” he told Mako, straining to speak against the force pushing at him. “But if you have to land, do not open any hatches.”

  “I have to land, I’m gonna kill someone,” Mako swore. “They’re not getting these rescues back.”

  “Agreed. For now, tell Sister Lettie to make sure everyone is contained. Do you have a visual on the other ship?”

  “Aye.” Mako brought up a holovid of his own, showing the rear of the big transport and a cruiser approaching from behind.

  “Unmarked,” Joran noted aloud. “Which means they’re not even pretending to be legit. Surprised they haven’t hailed you with a demand to set down so they can search.”

  “Opening forward weapons ports!” Var pointed at the holovid of the other cruiser.

  “Okay, they’re getting ready to make their demands. Wait to be hailed,” Joran ordered. “Give us time to get there.”

  “They’re not hailing,” Mako called.

  “I noticed that.” Joran’s gut tightened with dread. “Shit. They may’ve decided to demo what happens to anyone trying a rescue.”

  “Faster,” Qala urged.

  “We’re going fast as we can,” Haro said, his voice strained.

  They were, the G-forces already shoving them all back hard in their seats.

  “Have epaulets in the vicinity,” Joran decided, opening a new link. ”Might as well make use of them.”

  “Alert, alert,” he called. “All IGSF craft in vicinity of South 5-3, East 3-3, headed north-northeast. We have a peaceful supply transport, being pursued. Pursuers opening weapons ports. Pursuit ship is a Solar Wars surplus vessel, O’gren make, no identifiers. Request assistance immediately. ”

  His comlink beeped with the official tone of the IGSF. “Identify yourselves,” a voice said in the preternaturally calm tones of military and law enforcement.

  “Joran Stark, aboard the Hawk, a Firebird class cruiser, LStar74590. I’m the owner of the transport, am enroute to intercept. We’re three minutes out.”

  “We read you, Hawk. Approaching from south east, four point two minutes out. Do not initiate aggressive action. Repeat, do not initiate.”

  Joran snorted. “If I get there first and find another ship firing on one of mine, you damn well better believe I’m taking action.”

  “Repeat, Hawk, stand clear. That’s an order.”

  Joran exchanged a look with Var and Ilya. They nodded, and turned to their weapons. Joran cut the link—not that he didn’t know the IGSF had the tech to force it to remain open if they wished.

  “I’ve got ‘em,” Haro said. “Just over this ridge. Mako, we’re nearly—”

  His words were cut off by a dull whump. In the holovid, the huge Mau man jerked, flying forward and then back in his seat as if some unseen foot had kicked the back of it. Dark blood sprang from a wound on his forehead.

  “We’re hit,” Mako roared. “We’re hit!”

  The Hawk swept over the ridge, to a horrific sight. The transport lumbered along below them, smoke and flames billowing from the rear of the long body. Another explosion rocked the ship and for an instant it seemed to pause. Then it began to sink toward the dark earth, listing heavily to starboard.

  “Enemy sighted,” Haro yelled. “We’re coming, Mako.”

  The attacking cruiser burst from the cloud of smoke, rolling directly in the path of the Hawk. Haro pulled up sharply on the controls, and Joran was shoved into his safety harness. Haro took them up and around in a steep arc.

  “Destroy the bastards,” Joran ordered. His hands fisted on the controls. “If anyone gets a shot, take it.”

  “With pleasure,” Ilya shrieked behind him. “Those quarking bastards—they’ve probably injured everyone in the transport.”

  Haro dove at the other ship, and as the Hawk veered past, Joran fired. Red laser fire streaked through the dusk. The other cruiser wobbled, and a large chunk flew off one side, smoke flaring through the ragged aperture.

  “Got him!” Ilya yelled. “My turn.”

  “Hang on!” The Hawk dipped around, yanking them all back in their seats, and screamed past the other ship again. Ilya fired.

  “Think you missed—” Haro began. His words were muffled by a boom. The other ship exploded in a shower of flame and sparks, the concussion rocking the Hawk like a top. “No, guess not.”

  Ilya growled like a catamount after a kill.

  “Got him,” Var exulted. “That’s my baby.”

  “The transport,” Joran snapped. “There it is, just below the ridge.”

  “We’re there.” Haro slowed and turned, heading for the downed transport ship, which lay crookedly on the slope of the ridge, the front still intact, but the back nearly obscured. Thick, black smoke roiled upward like some foul excrescence against the light on the horizon.

  As they set down below the smoke, Joran saw that the entire back half of the transport was on fire.

  Chapter 5

  “Great God beyond,” Haro whispered as he landed gently a few yards away. “Please ...”

  A fighter screamed overhead, another on its tail. They circled and came back in hard, brilliant blue and gold lights flickering.

  “Epaulets finally showed.”

  Joran was already out of his seat and running back through the cabin. The others waited, faces grim, as the hatch opened.

  As the ramp neared the ground, Joran leapt out, his crew close behind him.

  Ironically, the night was warm and still, the air perfumed with the sweetness of dew rising from the cured grasses. Their thick mat was a springy pad under Joran’s boots.

  “I’ll get the hazard suit,” Haro shouted. “Don’t go in there.”

  “Get the retardant tubes!” Qala added.

  The cry echoed in Joran’s ears, along with the thin scream of decelerators as the IGSF ships hovered, and one descended vert
ically to land near the Hawk. Ahead, the hiss and crackle of the fire burned in time to the pounding of his heart as he dashed up the hillside.

  As he neared the bulk of the crippled transport, her back end lit eerily with yellow and red flames, heat slapped him like a hot blanket, burning his face, heating his torso and arms through his clothing. The stench of hot cerametal and burning materials filled his nostrils.

  “Mako!” he roared as he reached the cockpit. He grabbed the hatch and yanked, peering through the windshield. But when he wrestled the hatch open, the cockpit was empty.

  “Stay back!” someone shouted behind him. Joran ignored them, vaulting into the cockpit and back toward the cargo bay.

  The huge pilot loomed in the passageway, head bowed against the intense heat of the fire burning in the cargo bay behind him. Limned in yellow flames and smoke, he was wrestling his way into a hazard suit. His dark face was streaked with blood.

  “Get back!” Joran yanked at his arm. “This heat will fry your lungs! Help is on the way.”

  “Gotta ... get ‘em out,” Mako croaked. “They’ll fry.”

  “So will you. Move your ass!”

  The massive Mau man could’ve tossed Joran away with one shove of his mighty hand. But such was the force of Joran’s will that instead he staggered after Joran back into the cockpit.

  Joran slammed the hatch behind them.

  “Get off the ship,” he ordered, already opening another cubby to yank out a survival suit. “You’re injured, barely on your feet. I’ll search for survivors.”

  “Joe and Sister Lettie.” Mako leaned against the edge of the open hatch, eyes nearly closed, wide mouth a rictus of pain. “And all the little females...”

  “I know. It’s not your fault. Go!”

  Joran thrust his legs into the black suit, yanked it up over his torso and fastened it, then drew the helmet on, and slapped his hand on the control to start the oxygen and cooling flow.

  He leaned out the open hatch. “Keep everyone away,” he called. “I’m going back.”

  “Advise you to evacuate immediately,” called the IGSF officer who ran to him, weapon drawn, flight helmet still in place.