Imminent Danger: And How to Fly Straight Into It (31 page)

“Fighters coming in on all vectors,” Miguri interrupted. “Do you want me to target them or keep blasting at the hull?”

“It’ll look a little suspicious if you ignore them,” Eris said.

“Divert your weaponry between the two,” Varrin commanded. “You’re no good to us if you’re captured. I don’t expect you to actually hit anything, but try to give them a good show.”

“I will certainly try,” Miguri promised.

“One more thing. We’re about to dock. Make sure you do
not
hit the pod.”

“I am not stupid, Rakorsian,” the Claktill said and then clicked off the comm.

“Will he be all right?” Eris asked. “I mean, isn’t Kratis going to try to destroy your ship?”

“The rat will be fine. Kratis talks big, but even he wouldn’t dare kill the emperor’s son, exiled or not. He’ll simply batter at my ship until the engines and weapons systems fail. Then he’ll board, arrest me, and drag me back to Rakor. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Except you aren’t on the ship,” Eris snapped. “Miguri is. They’ll kill him, Varrin!”

“He knew what he was getting into when he volunteered.”

Eris glared at him.

Varrin sighed. “Oh, for Kari’s sake, girl, stop moping. The rat’s going to run for it as soon as we’re on board Kratis’s ship. And even if they do catch him, they’ll interrogate him before they kill him, which leaves us plenty of time to rescue him.”

“You’d better be right.”

The pod finally reached the Rakorsian flagship, stopping a few yards from a hatch near the starboard engine. “Why haven’t they noticed us?” Eris wondered. “You’d think they’d have security cameras or something to watch for this kind of thing.”

Varrin nudged the controls, and the pod inched forward until it was level with the hatch. “They do have cameras,” he said. “But this pod has a device that feeds them a continual loop on their monitors and scrambles their proximity sensors. Cost me a fortune, but worth every tetra.”

THUD.

“The docking arm is attached to the cruiser’s hull,” Varrin said. “Time for weapons.”

He unbuckled from his seat and floated up to open the overhead storage compartment. Reaching inside, he pulled out a sheathed knife and began to offer it to Eris but then stopped. Looking her up and down, he shook his head.

“What?” she demanded.

“I don’t think you’re exactly built for fighting with blades in close quarters,” he said, tucking the knife into the back of his belt. He reached up again, pulled a striker from the compartment, and handed it to Eris. “You’re better off with this. But don’t use it unless absolutely necessary.” He extracted a belt with a holster and gave it to her as well.

Eris stared at the striker blankly. She’d never even held a weapon before, let alone fired one.
Well, except for laser tag. I wonder if the skills are transferable?
“What do I do with it?”

Varrin raised his eyebrows. “What do you think?”

Eris scowled. “Well, shoot people, obviously. I mean, how does it work?”

“Blue button turns it on, triangle releases the safety, and trigger shoots. Flip the switch for wound or stun. Aim for the torso, because your aim is probably too terrible to hit the head.”

“Any other useful instructions?” she said sarcastically.

“Yeah. Don’t shoot me.”

Eris rolled her eyes.

As Varrin donned his helmet, she unbuckled from her seat. Then she slipped her helmet over her head and locked it in place.

“I’m going out first,” Varrin radioed, gesturing with two fingers toward the pod hatch. “Follow when I tell you. Keep radio comm to a minimum outside.” When he released the safety latch and opened the hatch, the air in the pod was sucked out into the vacuum of space.

Varrin floated up through the opening and disappeared from view.

While she waited for Varrin’s signal, Eris shoved the striker into its holster and looped the belt around her waist.
Should I go with the gunslinger look?
she wondered, pushing the belt down to her hips.
Eris Miller, rebel without a cause. No,
she thought, cinching the belt tightly around her waist.
With my luck it’ll slip right down to my toes. Varrin would never let me live that down.

“Now,” Varrin radioed.

Eris floated up to the hatch, grabbed one of the exterior handholds, and pulled herself through the opening. Clinging to the handhold, she hit the button that closed the pod door. She saw Varrin a few yards away holding on to a metallic strut on the side of the huge cruiser. He waved her toward him.

Eyeing the flimsy-looking docking arm that connected the pod to the Rakorsian ship, Eris thought,
You’ve got to be kidding!

Mustering what was left of her courage, she slowly pulled herself along the pod’s handholds and then inched across the docking arm.
This thing had better not break loose,
she thought nervously.
I don’t want to end up floating off through space for eternity.

When she was close enough to reach out and grab the strut beside Varrin, he nodded approvingly and gave her a thumbs-up.

Eris whacked his arm.
If he ever makes me do something like this again, so help me …

Varrin shot her a hurt look and then grinned again. He pulled himself over to the engine hatch, where he extracted a small device from a pouch on his belt and attached it to the hatch. The small screen on the device displayed a series of flashing green symbols.
Is that—is that a bomb?

Varrin returned to her side, positioning himself between her and the hatch. He reached around her and grabbed a strut. “Brace yourself,” he said.

Eris tightened her grip on the strut and closed her eyes. Seconds later, she felt it vibrate. When she tentatively cracked her eyes open, she saw the hatch had disappeared. All that remained was a ragged, black-rimmed hole.
But I didn’t hear an explosion,
she thought.
Oh, right—there’s no sound in space.

Varrin pulled himself over to the opening. He gestured for her to follow and then disappeared inside the ship.

Eris followed carefully after him. As soon as she entered the airlock, her feet were gently pulled down to the floor.
Thank God for artificial gravity,
she thought.

Varrin pulled a tube from his belt, pointed it at the blown hatchway, and pressed the button on the bottom. Gooey, stringy material sprayed from the tube and formed a sheet across the hole.

Curious, Eris reached out and tentatively touched the weblike seal. It felt as solid as steel.
Cool,
she thought
.

Varrin punched some buttons on the wall console near the inner door. Air hissed into the chamber.

“Impressed?” he asked, dropping his helmet on the floor and running a hand through his thick, black hair.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, trying to act nonchalant as she removed her own helmet. “Let’s just go get ourselves killed already.”

Varrin shot her a serious look. “Remember, the Rakorsians on this ship have no mercy for intruders. Don’t hesitate to kill anyone in your way.”

Kill or be killed,
she thought, nodding.
Check.

They exited the airlock and headed for the communications deck. No sooner had they stepped out of the elevator on one of the upper levels than three security guards armed with plasma rifles rounded the corner.

“Halt! Identify yourselves!” one of the guards commanded.

“Duck,” Varrin suggested.

Eris ducked and watched as he launched himself at the guards. Elbows to the head took out the first and second guards, but the third guard leaped back and blasted furiously. Varrin slipped underneath the shots, slapped the guard’s weapon away, and knocked him out with a kick to the chin.

“Here,” he said, tossing one of the plasma rifles to Eris. “Take this.”

Awkwardly catching the heavy weapon, she said, “You realize I have no idea how to use this, right?”

“Same as the striker,” Varrin said sweetly. “Point and shoot.”

He had already rounded the corner before Eris could get the rifle aimed at his smug face.

31

B
eep
.

Miguri glanced toward the communications signal flashing on the
Nonconformity
’s control console. He fired off a few more shots toward the swarming Rakorsian fighters and then diverted all power to the shields. Adopting his calmest expression, he flicked on the comm.

“Admiral Kratis,” he chirped. “How ever may I help you?”

Kratis looked past Miguri and scanned the cockpit. “Remove yourself from my sight and fetch Prince Varrin,” he commanded.

“I am afraid he is not available at the moment,” Miguri replied.

Kratis’s attention locked on him. “What do you mean?”

“He had a few drinks while preparing for battle. And when he got into the pharmaceutical locker, well, things took a turn for the worse.”

Kratis’s face reddened. “You are wasting my time, Claktill. You are outnumbered and outgunned. Bring forth Prince Varrin, or I shall board your ship and forcibly extract him.”

Miguri shrugged. “Be my guest. I shall go prepare a drink for your arrival—assuming there is anything left.”

The screen went black.

“That went well,” Miguri mumbled. “Perhaps I should have heeded the Rakorsian’s advice and practiced my bluffing technique.”

The fighters’ plasma bolts continued pounding a fierce staccato on the
Nonconformity
’s hull. Miguri was impressed that the ship was still in one piece, but he knew that the shields would give out eventually.

“I believe it is time to enact phase two of the plan,” he said, swinging the ship away from the battlefield. But his escape route was blocked by a wall of Rakorsian fighters. “It appears I am trapped,” he observed, dismayed. “Perhaps we should have taken the time to formulate a plan B.”

Miguri fought them off as well as he could, but after several minutes, the Nonconformity’s shields finally collapsed. The Rakorsian fighters immediately ceased their barrage.

“Well, that is that,” Miguri sighed. “I believe the admiral will soon try to pay me a visit. I had best prepare.”

He activated the controls that would seal off the weapons room, the engine room, and the cockpit. Anyone who tried to enter without authorization would meet with a painful, shocking death. Miguri knew such a trick wouldn’t stop Kratis for long.
But it will certainly slow him down,
he thought.

The comm signal flashed again, and Miguri turned on the screen, expecting to see Kratis. Instead, the screen displayed a familiar reptilian face.

“Captain Hroshk,” Miguri squeaked. “This is a surprise.”

The Ssrisk captain
rat-tat-tat-
ed, his forehead scales flaring. “You! I will speak to your Rakorsian captain.”

“As I have already told Admiral Kratis,” Miguri said, “the captain is indisposed.”

“Where is the human, then? Speak, Claktill, and I will show you mercy.”

“She is also indisposed.”

Hroshk appeared willing to let the fairly obvious lies slide. “You have already spoken with Admiral Kratis?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Miguri said. “It is curious, though—he did not mention you. Why would that be? I had assumed you were working together.”

The Ssrisk flicked his long, tri-forked tongue in agitation. “We agreed he would apprehend your vessel while I ensured we were not disturbed by the Psilosians.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I hate Rakorsians as much as the next intelligent being,” Hroshk hissed. “I no sooner trust Kratis to keep his part of the bargain than I trust him to pledge allegiance to the
Kras Pli’tas
.”

Nodding as if he understood what Hroshk was talking about, Miguri said, “I see. And am I correct in thinking that you may be looking for a new ally?”

Hroshk’s purple eyes narrowed. “Kratis hunts the Rakorsian scum who attacked my ship. I have the same prey. No one steals from Hroshk and lives. Retrieving the human would be a bonus.”

“Yes, but what do you want from
me
?”