by Eve Langlais
“I know. I saw.” No surprise the first mate kept a close eye on their prisoner.
“Ready the ship for streaking.”
“Again?” Dara asked. “They obviously have a beacon somewhere on board. Until you find it, they’ll just keep coming.”
“I know, which is why we need to remove what they’re seeking from the Moth.”
“Meaning?” Surely, he wouldn’t sacrifice Dara and his daughter for this crew?
“Meaning we have to go.”
“Where?”
“Stop asking questions. Especially since we don’t know if someone is listening.”
“Then engage the FOZ protocol.” A friends-only-zone, which meant only those within it could be heard or understood.
“It’s already on, and yet those drones still found us.”
“You mean they were drawn to Karo.”
“There is no technology that can track a biological entity.”
“That you know of.”
“Have they ever been this persistent before?”
Dara’s brow wrinkled. “No.”
“Then that means something’s changed. Or you’ve been marked somehow. Strip.”
“Excuse me?”
“Strip. Everything. I know it’s not Karolyne. Michonne already took care of her. But you’re still in your original stuff. We need to get rid of all your clothes and then run you through a scanner.”
“You think they tagged me?” Dara’s eyes widened. The idea had merit. Especially given their scuffle before boarding the Moth. Quickly, she stripped. Kobrah left the cell, only to return a moment later, his gaze quickly scanning her before his head turned to the side. He held out a pile of soft fabric.
“I don’t know if it will fit, but we don’t have time. Hand me your old garments.” They made the swap. She dressed as he dumped her stuff down a recycling chute.
“Now stand still. You, too, Karo.” Kobrah also joined them before ordering the ship. “Run a full range spectrum.”
It took less than a minute. “Scan complete. Unidentified material located on adult female subject.”
“What?” She blinked.
“Where is it?” Kobrah asked.
A red light lasered in on Dara’s chest, and she clued in. “My amulet.” She pulled it free. “But it’s not a beacon. I swear. It’s more like a cloaking device.”
The computer wasn’t done. “Captain, you are also in possession of two foreign objects that are not recognized in my database.” He glanced down at the sheaths on his hips.
“The knives. I assume they form some sort of set.”
Dara shrugged. “Maybe. My teacher gave them to me when I insisted on leaving.”
“Given they’re the only thing we have to fight with, we’ll have to hope they’re not tagged and that the problem was in your clothes.”
“Let’s move. We have to get out of here before the Rhomanii make their next move.”
“Where are we going?”
“You said you needed to go to the Jerminian system, and I need to draw the drones away from the Moth and my crew.”
“So what’s the plan?” she asked as she trotted to keep pace with him, Karo skipping at her side.
“We are going to pull a bait and switch.”
She caught on to his plan once they reached the docking bay. A big ship like the Moth couldn’t always get into the tighter places, so they had smaller vessels. Some were only jumpers, good for quick trips from ship to a station or planet’s surface. But Kobrah believed in being prepared, which was why he always had at least one vessel capable of longer galactic trips.
Entering the docking bay, he barely paid any mind to the crew who saluted and shouted out, “Captain,” as he strode by. Dara kept her head ducked and held Karo’s hand tucked tight. Would any of them try and stop him?
No one said a word as he ushered them toward a ship that seemed familiar. Relinquishing Karo’s hand, she paused at the bottom of the gangplank and eyeballed the craft.
“Why don’t you find yourself a spot in the bridge, Sprout. Your mom and I will be aboard in a second.” Karo skipped up the gangway while Dara gaped.
“Is that the Yellow Spacemachine?” The last ship she’d commanded before her life changed.
“It is. I hunted it down after the ambush, but of course you were long gone.”
She’d sold that ship after the ambush she’d helped engineer. She couldn’t bear to look at it and remember what she’d done. Plus, she’d needed the credits.
“I can’t believe you found it.”
“It wasn’t easy. They’d started to dismantle it for parts, but I bought it, fixed it, then had it painted and renamed.”
The yellow of its hull was now a deep red, nearing on black, and the name, Widowmaker, stenciled on its side dripped in bright red letters.
She shook her head. “Really?”
“Seemed apt. And besides, it needed the help after that emasculating yellow you tortured it with.”
“The color was as fierce as a Vrka wasp.”
“The Vrka are fierce only when they read poetry.” For weeks at a time. Those who survived considered it a badge of honor.
“I guess I shouldn’t complain. At least now Karo and I have a chance and your precious Moth will be safe.”
“It will. So long as Damon doesn’t fuck up.”
She blinked before she replied. “Aren’t you going to be commanding?”
“I’ll be commanding a ship, just not the Moth. I’m coming with you.”
“Why? I can fly this ship on my own.”
“I know you can. This is more about making sure I get my investment back.”
“Seriously, is that all you’re worried about?” She couldn’t help a note of irritation.
“There is also the fact I don’t have my divorce yet.”
“I’ve been a little busy,” she snarled.
“And eager to run away again before fulfilling your part of the bargain.”
“What part? I’m not safe yet, am I?” She stood toe to toe with him.
“True, which is yet another reason I have to come with you. I am a man of my word. Shall we?”
She wanted to argue more, but truth was she preferred having him with her. Someone that would, if not have her back, at least have Karo’s.
“Fine. You want to come, come. But I’m driving,” she insisted.
“Over my dead, non-reanimated body. You seem to forget I’m captain.”
“Think you can give me orders?” she snorted. “As I recall, that never worked for you before.”
“Only because I was being nice. That won’t be a problem anymore. From now on, I am going to be giving the orders and you will obey.”
“Ha. You and what army will make me?” she sassed, the banter familiar, making her nostalgic for a happier time.
“I don’t need an army. I know your weak spots.” Said with a smoldering look.
A look that made her remember how he used to explore her body with his lips and fingers. She almost declared him a winner then and there as her knees turned weak.
He stepped closer, and she held still. Stared at him. At his full lips. That firm chin.
He leaned near and…palmed the console beside the ramp hatch, and the hum of machinery filled the silence.
It proved enough to snap the spell. “I should find Karo.”
“And I will let Damon know I’m going on an extended mission.”
One that hopefully wouldn’t cost him his life.
Chapter 7
Navigating the Widowmaker was like reconnecting with an old friend. It reminded Kobrah a lot of his first real ship, which he’d inherited from an uncle who used to run security for cargo between the Gaia Federation headquarters and the Milky Way.
He’d sold it in order to purchase the Gypsy Moth. But he missed it. Missed the days when he used to surf the galaxies with only one or two people as crew.
When he’d met Dara, they’d done a few trips on the Yellow Space
machine, him mocking it for its color, her retaliating by giving him head until he recanted. Those moments alone, just the two of them…much as it pained to admit, were some of the best times of his life. He’d never felt so close to someone. Truly believed in love.
Believed in a lie.
With the memories of the fun they used to have assailing him, it proved hard to remember the perfidy. He wanted to hate her, and yet she’d smile a certain way, speak in that soft and confident tone of hers, and his cock would harden.
How to distance himself? Such as now, with the pair of them sitting side by side in the ship’s bridge, prepping for takeoff.
Over the communication system, Damon harangued him still. “What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving with her? She’s a bloody traitor!”
“I am fully aware of what she is. And quiet on the language.”
“The entire ship is in FOZ and ZL mode.” The Z standing for zipped and the L for lips. Created by Kobrah for times they had to be in super stealth mode. Not a single person was supposed to speak aloud, and if they did, a sound shield took shape around them, so no one could hear.
“I assumed you had us private, but you seem to forget, I have a young passenger.” Look at him, being conscious his daughter listened to every word being spoken. It didn’t take a glance over his shoulder to know that wise gaze of hers missed nothing and would judge him on his actions.
Ugh. Already being a father changed his whole way of thinking. Worse, he didn’t hate it.
“You’re killing me here, Captain. You can’t expect me to streak and leave you out here alone.”
“That’s exactly what I expect. It’s the best chance we all have.” The Moth would lead off the citadel, who would need time to realize they’d followed the wrong craft. Kobrah figured they’d get wise to the trick after the second or third streak, but by then, too late. The Widowmaker and its passengers would be long gone.
“What if things get feisty?” Damon asked. A polite way of phrasing, what if it came down to a fight?
“You’ll handle it.” Kobrah knew better than to hamstring his second-in-command by giving him restrictive orders. Let the man judge for himself. Damon would make the right decision.
“You know my wife might plan a coup if you take too long to come back.”
Damon’s wife, Michonne, was the daughter of a high-powered galactic crime lord. Only natural she’d want to see her husband advance. “If I’m gone long enough for that to happen, then I deserve to lose the Moth. But don’t worry.” Kobrah’s voice deepened. “I’ll be back.” No matter where the Moth flew, he’d find her.
“I’m counting on it.” The channel shut, the bubble around him dropped, and Dara cast him curious glances as he guided the ship out of the hangar.
“Well?”
“Well what?” It must have driven her nuts to know he’d spoken but she’d not heard a word of what was said.
“What did Damon say?”
“Nothing.”
“Fine. Be that way. I don’t care.” She stood. “Since you’ve got this, I’m going to get Karo settled.”
Good. The distraction known as his wife left, and Kobrah concentrated on the controls and screen before him. He’d maneuvered the small ship to sit right behind the hangar door. The Widowmaker was a sleek vessel. Three cabins—a large one for the owner, then two smaller guest ones—a cargo hold, and a common area. Those from Earth called them galactic yachts. Luxury travel that also happened to be armed to the teeth. But Kobrah had one extra thing installed.
A cloaking device. He could hide in plain sight. So long as he didn’t use his engines for more than gentle propulsion.
In order for his plan to work, he needed a little help. First of all, the cameras on the Moth went offline. Once they realized the drones had infiltrated, every single one was shut off to hide their movements.
But that wasn’t all they did. Earlier they’d sent out remote-controlled robots to do repairs. Those machines were now being called back in. The hangar alarm went off, and people evacuated the space. The pressurization commenced, and the large hangar doors opened. By then, he was already cloaked and ready to go. The moment he had clearance, he eased out, dropping immediately under the ship, thus avoiding the returning robots.
The moment he was under the Moth, he cut the engines and let himself drift. There was enough interference from the big ship that he didn’t worry. Even if the Rhomanii had eyes on them, they’d see nothing.
The bots boarded the Moth. Once the last one was stowed, the ship battened down its hatches—an old nautical term he’d always liked to describe them prepping for a streak.
The Moth began to glide away from the Widowmaker, the displacement of its size causing Kobrah’s own craft to drift. Perfect.
The gap between them widened, widened some more, and he spotted no blips on his scans.
He watched as the Moth streaked. It never failed to amaze him, the rainbow stream of lights gone in a blink. His expression turned grim as a citadel suddenly appeared.
“The fuckers were cloaked.” He’d not known the giant orbs were capable of such a feat. He kept watching the citadel, fingers itching to touch the controls and send them speeding out of there. Yet if he did, he was certain to be noticed. He could only pray to whatever spirit might listen that they escaped the attention of the Rhomanii.
The citadel kept moving away from them, past the point of the Moth’s last location, a bit farther still then…
It blinked out of sight, the energy signature indicating they’d jumped, and he couldn’t help but whoop. “Fucking aye!”
The plan had worked, which meant going to the next step. Warping their carcasses out of that star system before the Rhomanii realized they followed the wrong ship.
His vessel was only equipped with a warp drive. Still pretty freaking fast compared to many out there, but not like a streak drive. If the citadel did retrace their steps and managed to find a trail, they’d catch up. So he had to employ every wily tactic he knew.
He scrambled their exhaust as much as he could. Had all communication channels shut down, not emitting any signals, nor receiving any that would pinpoint their location.
During all his maneuvering, not once did Dara come check on him.
Which was for the best. The two of them alone in a room they’d fucked in too many times to count probably wouldn’t help his obsession issue.
An obsession that urged him to check the cameras for her. What was she doing? Did she plot? Get naked? Masturbate in the shower…
His hand was on the controls before he realized it. Snatching it away from the video feeds, he cursed.
Idiot. What have I done? Now he was stuck with her on a small ship for who the fuck knew how long. He was screwed. So screwed. But the good news? The fucking he was about to endure would be naked. Because they would have sex.
It was just a matter of when.
Don’t be so eager. He hated Dara. Sleeping with her was tantamount to forgiving. He couldn’t do that. He had to try. He had to stay away from the temptation. He wasted as much time as he could arguing with himself and muddying their escape before rubbing a hand over gritty, tired eyes.
He’d done everything he could think of to get them away from danger and in the direction Dara thought might offer safety.
Best get some rest while things remained quiet. The detection system would warn him if they had company.
He made his way to the captain’s quarters, the door swishing open at his approach. Darkness cloaked the space.
“Lights.”
“Dark,” hissed a voice.
In the brief moment of illumination, he managed a glimpse of his bed. The occupied bed. Then he was blind as everything shut off. He blinked and stood there long enough a hand shoved him in the chest back out into the dim hall.
The door swished shut behind Dara, who, in the sparse lighting of the corridor, showed herself tousled, her features soft with sleep.
“You idiot. Are you trying
to wake her up?”
“Who?” he asked with a frown.
“Who do you think?” Dara rolled her eyes.
“Sprout is in my bed? Why?”
“It’s where she fell asleep after the story I read her.”
“And you chose my bed to read to her in?”
Dara shrugged. “Last time I was on this ship, the bed belonged to me.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Some days it feels like yesterday. I miss it.”
The words hurt him, especially since her expression softened. “Miss what? The lying?” The bitterness hung between them. “If you’ve stolen my bed, then where am I supposed to sleep?”
“Anywhere you like.”
“Leaving you alone to do whatever you want.” Would she betray him again? Perhaps shove him out an airlock.
She read his thoughts. “I am not going to do anything to jeopardize us.”
“Says you. I believed the old Dara, and that turned out to be a lie.”
“Not all of it was a lie.”
“And I don’t believe you.” But he wanted to. Wanted to think he wasn’t that stupid, that when he thrust into her and they stared into each other’s eyes, that she meant her claim, “I love you.”
“The thing I did only happened later. Everything else was real.”
“And what happened? What happened to make you think it was okay to participate in an ambush that hurt and killed people? People you fucking knew.”
Her lips turned down. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“What was supposed to happen then? You gave out the secret coordinates for that meeting to assassins.” She’d known how precarious the peace talks were. How tenuous the ceasefire they’d brokered. “What did you expect? That they’d bring confetti and flowers?” he barked.
“Doesn’t matter what I thought or believed. I was lied to and paid the price.”
“Was it worth the cost?” he snapped. He knew it wasn’t. People had died that day. Good people like Abrams’ wife. Dara’s fault. She’d stomped on the bond he thought existed between them. There were no riches big enough to justify that.
“If you are asking if I would do it again, then the answer is yes,” she yelled, her features twisted, angry, and yet she cried. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lips trembled, and she tried to hide it, biting it, turning away from him. Her arm lifted and as he moved close, he saw her wipe at her wet face.