“Ha ha.” Jelena headed for the hatch. If the woman was awake, she could already be planning some mischief. Or an escape. Which would be fine if she was medically fit enough to walk away. Maybe Jelena would go hold the door open for her.
“Take your staff,” Erick warned as she headed out, his hand straying to that impressive bruise on his stomach again. “And maybe some grenades.”
Chapter 5
Jelena passed through the cargo hold before heading to sickbay, in part to check on the animals, and in part to grab her staff. She grimaced at the idea of battling the cyborg woman again and hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. She was perfectly willing to let her go. But what if the woman felt compelled to try and arrest them—or kill them—on her employer’s behalf?
The forklift workers had finished unloading their cargo and closed the hatch behind them. The Snapper could take off any time. Even though Erick was supposed to meet friends, Jelena hoped he would forgive her if she left early. Those Stellacor people might have located her ship by now, and she didn’t need to get into a battle here. No, she needed to head to Arkadius to meet Mom and Leonidas.
The hatch to sickbay was closed and locked—symbolically, Jelena supposed. A cyborg wouldn’t have any more trouble thwarting a lock than Erick had. She’d probably just rip the entire hatch off the hinges.
Jelena pressed her palm to the control panel beside the hatch, and it thunked and swung open. The woman lying on one of the two exam tables lifted her head and glared at her, nothing welcoming in her gaze, certainly nothing thankful. Did she know they’d gone back for her when they could have left her? When she could have died, exposed to the vacuum of space?
“Hello,” Jelena said, forcing cheer. She lifted a hand in greeting. “How are you feeling? You’ve got some nanobots working on your skull and leg bones.” She waved toward a monitor attached to the side of the woman’s head and the injector on the counter behind her. Dare she get closer to check on the progress?
The woman continued to glare at her. She had dark brown eyes, brown skin, and curly black hair clipped close to her scalp. Erick had only removed her helmet, and Jelena hadn’t wanted to try to wrestle her out of the spacesuit, so she couldn’t see much of the rest of her figure. She definitely had a thickly muscled neck, so Jelena imagined burly arms and legs, the female version of Leonidas.
Jelena wondered how she had become a cyborg, if that was indeed the reason for her strength and speed. The imperial army had only ever created male cyborg soldiers, but this woman wouldn’t have been old enough to have been a soldier back then anyway. She appeared to be in her mid- to late-twenties. She could have been a part of the new Alliance cyborg program, though Jelena couldn’t remember hearing about any women going through that yet.
“My name is Jelena,” Jelena said. “What’s yours?”
The stony glare continued. Jelena would have wondered if she understood, but it was hard to find people in the system who didn’t speak Solis Lingua, the amalgam that had become common once the various colonies regained spaceflight and united.
“This isn’t an interrogation, by the way,” Jelena said. “And you’re not a prisoner.” She waved toward the open hatch. “You can go any time. We just picked you up because your helmet was cracked, and we didn’t think your people would get to you in time to save you.”
The cyborg’s gaze shifted, not toward the hatch but toward Jelena’s staff and the runes etched in the side.
“What are you?” she asked, her voice deep for a woman but not masculine.
“Me? I’m just Jelena.” She smiled, reluctant to divulge her Starseer abilities if the woman hadn’t figured that out yet. She was wearing normal clothes, brown trousers and a purple horse shirt with a few sparkles, rather than her black robe. Had she been in the robe, the puzzle pieces probably would have clicked into place for the woman. That was the image of Starseers that most of the system had, but sightings were rare, Jelena had always heard. Most of the Starseers were reclusive, keeping to their communities rather than mingling with the grubs, as they sometimes called normal people. “I’m a pilot,” she offered, as if that might assuage the woman’s suspicions.
“Do you work for Regen Sciences?” the cyborg asked.
“Uh, who?”
She squinted at Jelena. “They attacked the labs last month, destroying millions of tindarks worth of equipment. Stellacor responded decisively. We have been expecting another counterattack.”
“From . . . a competitor?” Jelena could only assume Regen Sciences was another corporation. Did corporations regularly make war on each other? She couldn’t imagine that being legal in the Alliance. But then, the Stellacor facility had been on the dark side of the moon, the non-Alliance side.
“They may have hired outsiders.” The squint deepened. “But you are practically a child.”
Jelena decided to agree instead of being affronted—hopefully, the cyborg wouldn’t strangle a child. “Yes, yes, I am.”
The woman grunted, possibly in disgust, then flopped back on the exam table with an exhalation that was almost a groan.
“Are you in pain? I can get you something for that. We don’t have a doctor on board, but I’ve had some medical training.”
“You don’t look old enough to have had potty training.”
Ah, she was going to be a grouchy guest. Jelena wished again that Leonidas were here, so he could deal with her. Also, if he were here, that would mean he was fine and in good health.
The comm panel dinged. “Jelena?” Erick asked.
“Yes?”
“Company is coming.”
The cyborg lifted her head, squinting again as she watched Jelena. She no doubt wanted the cavalry to come and rescue her. Or maybe just mow Jelena and Erick down and cut them into a thousand pieces.
“I’ll be right there.” Jelena pointed to the counter again. “There’s Painpro in the injector back there if you need it. And you can go any time.”
She left the hatch open when she walked out, willing the woman to disappear. Jelena hoped she wasn’t being naive—what if the cyborg decided to sabotage her ship instead of leaving? But even if Jelena locked the hatch, her guest could still get out and do that. Alas, she didn’t have any chains strong enough to hold a cyborg, nor had the freighter come with a brig. Maybe freighter operators weren’t supposed to take prisoners.
Her new dog friend joined her as Jelena was walking back into NavCom, wagging her tail and bumping against her leg.
“I’m quite sure you’re supposed to be safely in that pen,” Jelena said, pausing to ruffle her floppy ears. They might have to fly out of here quickly, and things could get rough if armed spaceships waited for them.
“I hope you’re not talking to me,” Erick said. He was standing in NavCom, eyeing the various holodisplays.
“Your pen is hardly safe with all that junk on the deck.” She waved in the direction of his cabin as she joined him.
“That’s not junk. That’s my clothing.”
“Some people store their clothing in closets and cabinets.”
“Short people. My clothing is too long for that tiny closet.” He made quotation marks in the air as he said the word.
“Some people also employ an obscure, little-known clothing storage technique called folding.”
“You can’t fold a Starseer robe. It misdirects the nap.”
“What does leaving it in a heap on the deck do?” Not waiting for an answer, Jelena pointed at the sensor display, which showed the same ships that had been parked at the freight docks for the last two hours. She didn’t see any new ones hovering in the air, weapons hot. “Where’s our company?”
“Here.” Erick stepped aside, revealing not a view of the sky above them but the display from the external camera next to the cargo hatch. No less than ten hulking men with blazer rifles were striding toward the Snapper. Men and women in overalls and mechanics’ smocks scurried out of their way. “They stopped to discuss things at the head of the dock there,�
� Erick said, pointing at the promenade behind the men. “It looks like they’re done.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance those are your gaming buddies coming to get you for that drink.”
“I’m fairly certain those people are coming for you. And not for breeding purposes.”
“No? How distressing.”
Jelena commed space traffic control. Technically, the Snapper could leave any time—she noticed that Erick had already detached the clamps and water and oxygen resupply hoses—but the dock authorities tended to get huffy if pilots didn’t make arrangements first. They would also need someone to open the dome gate so the ship could fly out.
“If I were you, I’d be concerned if they wanted to breed,” Erick said. “That one is missing an ear.”
“I doubt it’s a genetic mutation. It looks like someone chewed it off.”
“Well, that’s all right then. Uh oh.”
“What now?” Jelena, drumming her fingers as she waited for space traffic control to respond, looked where he was looking.
Erick had all six of the ship’s exterior cameras up, as well as several of the interior ones. He pointed at the one that monitored sickbay. Their cyborg had rolled off the exam table and was poking through drawers. Jelena couldn’t believe she was already walking. The nanobots shouldn’t have been able to heal her broken leg bones that quickly.
“I thought we should monitor her,” Erick said.
“That is most distinctly not where I told her the painkillers were.”
“She’s probably looking for things to help with an escape.”
“I left the hatch open and told her she could go any time.” Jelena might have to rescind that offer, though. The thugs had reached the Snapper’s cargo hatch. One was pointing at the control panel that would allow them to comm her. Another was waving a large tool that looked disturbingly like Erick’s plasmite torch.
“Maybe she’s looking for some valuables to steal, so she has something to barter for a ride back out to that lab.”
“Stealing from the people who saved your life seems rude.”
“Even if they were the people who endangered your life in the first place?”
“Semantics.” Space traffic control finally answered, and Jelena jumped on the comm. “This is the Snapper requesting permission to depart,” she said, not waiting for a greeting.
“Pull us away from the dock,” Erick whispered, nodding toward the thug with the torch, “so we can raise the shields.”
“Snapper, this is space traffic control.” No kidding. “The authorities have asked us to detain you until your ship can be searched. A prominent Alpha 17 resident has accused you of theft.”
Authorities? So much for the dark side of the moon not having ties to the law.
“Will the authorities who visit us be in uniform? Or is the brute squad knocking on my door part of an independent outfit?” Jelena powered up the thrusters and eased the freighter away from the dock.
The men drew back, some of them waving their weapons. One fired at the Snapper’s hatch. An alarm pinged on the console, letting Jelena know about it. She doubted the hand weapon would do anything to her heavily armored hull, but as soon as they had the clearance, she raised the shields.
“. . . in appropriate attire and will display identification,” the control officer was saying, not that Jelena was paying attention anymore. “If you do not cooperate, your future visitation privileges will be withdrawn.”
“I’m more worried about my exit privileges,” she muttered, noticing that the dog had curled up next to her feet under the console. She would have to name her at some point.
Erick sat down next to her, resting his palms on the control panel, and closed his eyes. “I’ll try to convince someone in space traffic control to lower the dome gate for us.” One eye opened to give her a pointed look. “Even though I haven’t received my deck of Striker Odyssey cards for the last time I helped you.”
“It could be worse. You could be a monkey waiting for bananas.”
“I don’t know what that means, but sometimes, I’m concerned for you.” His eye closed again.
“Only sometimes?”
Jelena flew them low over the towers and refineries of the sprawling industry hub that was Gizmoshi. Even though citizens could leave their buildings and walk outside, under the dome’s protective influence, few seemed inclined to do so. All of the streets and trains were covered by tunnels that connected the buildings to each other in a sprawling complex dominated by metal. If there were any trees or parks anywhere, she hadn’t noticed them. Her hopes for a greenhouse may have been idealistic.
I’ll get you fruit at the next stop, she silently promised the monkeys, and shared a few less defined assurances with the rest of the animals.
The Snapper rounded a tower, and the opaque forcefield that blocked the exit from the dome came into view up ahead.
“How are your Starseer charms working on the person controlling the gate?” Jelena asked, swooping around the tower for another loop, relieved the sensors didn’t show anyone pursing them. Not yet.
“Excellent. Unfortunately, that person was in the lavatory and is taking her time heading back.”
“We’ll have to ask Grandpa, but there may be a rule against speaking telepathically to people while they’re using the facilities.”
“I’m trying to find the button myself,” he said, ignoring the other comment.
Jelena kept an eye on the sensor display. Still no pursuit. But she couldn’t read what was happening on the outer side of the dome.
“Got it.”
The opaque field faded, revealing a rectangle of starry sky. Jelena zipped the Snapper straight toward it, hoping for an easy escape, but with the gate open, the sensors could get a read on the sky above the dome. And the three ships occupying it.
Grimacing, Jelena took them out of the dome and down to the ground rather than straight toward orbit. It was possible those ships had nothing to do with them, but she would hope to slip out undetected by blending in with the terrain.
One of the ships, a hulking mining vessel probably there to deliver ore to the refinery, ignored her. The other two were smaller civilian yachts and started moving toward the Snapper within seconds of its exit.
“Why do I have the feeling they were waiting for us?” Jelena asked, pushing the thrusters to top speed as they flew away from the dome.
“They may not be our only problem.” Erick was looking at the interior cameras again.
Their cyborg had moved from sickbay to the cargo hold. She stood with her fists on her hips, looking at the control panel that controlled the airlock hatch.
“She looks like someone who wants to leave,” he said.
“Then she shouldn’t have spent so much time rooting in our drawers. Keep an eye on her, please. I think I’m about to have all my eyes occupied.” She nodded to the holodisplays. Both the sensors and the rear camera showed their pursuers closing on them.
The Snapper wasn’t slow and pondering—for a freighter it had a lot of power—but those yachts were modern, streamlined, and fast. And armed. She kept most of her focus on the terrain ahead of them, seeking some inspiration, but had time to pick out e-cannons and blazers among their weaponry.
“Wonder if they have a grab beam,” she muttered. And if so, would they use it? Would they want to try to get their animals back? Or would they simply pulverize Jelena and her ship for her audacity?
“I don’t know, but the pilots on both are androids, so I can’t manipulate them.” Erick’s lips thinned into a line. “They seem to have learned from their last encounter with us.”
“You better get up in the weapons turret,” Jelena said reluctantly. “Unless you can find something important to break on their ship, we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
She hated the idea of firing on and possibly killing people—just because those ships had android pilots didn’t mean there weren’t human beings among the crew—especial
ly when she had started all this.
“I’m not familiar with those models,” Erick said. “Without schematics, it would take me a long time to study them and figure out where the important, breakable parts are.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” The sensors beeped a warning, and their enemies fired the first shot. A blazer beam splashed off the aft shields, and an alert flashed, the shield integrity graphs joining the other displays floating in the air. “Weapons,” she said, jerking her head toward the hatch.
Erick was already on his feet, but he hesitated. “What about the cyborg? I won’t be able to fire at our enemies and watch her at the same time.”
“We’ll hope she’ll be logical and won’t try to sabotage the ship she’s a passenger on.”
Erick grunted dubiously but jogged out of sight. Jelena could fire most of the ship’s weapons from NavCom, but the turret and the big star cannon had been a recent upgrade, made a couple of years earlier by the previous owner. It was possible they could blast through those yachts’ shields with it in only a few direct hits.
But the yachts had plenty of big weapons too. Jelena searched the landscape ahead, seeking something to give them an advantage. The yachts were breaking away from each other now and increasing speed. They meant to flank her.
There weren’t any canyons ahead, based on the map, and the moon was lacking in mountains and hills. Gizmoshi’s big orbital shipyard came up on her sensors. Jelena raised the Snapper’s nose, taking them toward it. If nothing else, it could be an obstacle to hide behind.
Angling upward exposed the top of the Snapper, and their pursuers unleashed their fire. Alarms flashed as the shields unhappily endured the attack. The bar showing the shields’ power started to dip. Jelena shifted them sideways, so their narrower side would be toward their pursuers.
Her hand slipped, her palm sweaty. She grimaced and dashed it against her trousers.
She’d been in battles on the Nomad before, but never when she was the pilot. The practice maneuvers her mother had made her cycle through hadn’t prepared her for this. But she found herself employing them now, fingers flying to take the Snapper through the evasive maneuvers that Jelena had balked at repeating over and over. They came automatically, and she was glad for Mom’s insistence on practice. The shipyard was still several minutes away, however, and she started to doubt her decision to head for it.
The Rogue Prince Page 8