CHAPTER 53
lf you’ve never tried hauling
straight space in a skiff, you don’t know what you’re
missing.
I don’t mean that in
a good way, of course. It feels like I’ve driven in mudside
vehicles that go faster than this. I can still see the jewel-bright
hues of Venice Minor behind us, and even though we’ve been flying
for a while, it would only take a real cutter an hour to catch up
with us.
Dina sabotaged a
couple of their ships, but she didn’t have time to be thoroughly
destructive. Just cut a few wires, here and there, remove a few
parts. They’ll get one up and running soon, and then—
The comm crackles,
and Hit’s voice fills the tiny hub. “Two ships incoming, different
trajectories. Both on intercept course.”
“Good to know,” I
mutter.
But it’s not like we
have weapons or shields or anything to ready us for an attack. A
larger ship will just nail us with magnetic tow cables and haul us
into its hold. That’s how tiny this box is.
“Hope for the best.”
Dina shifts in her seat to glare over her shoulder at me. “Does
that work for you a lot?”
I lift a shoulder.
“Never tried it before. We usually have a half-assed plan.”
“Life in your
vicinity seldom lacks excitement,” Vel observes.
Was that a
compliment? Or more like the ancient curse: May you live in interesting times? Ignoring that, I
call the cockpit to respond, “I’d say take evasive action until we
find out who it is and what they want, but I don’t know how well
this thing handles.”
“I’ll see what I can
do,” Hit comes back.
“How long before
intercept?” I ask.
There’s a pause while
she presumably checks the data. And then Constance replies,
“Approximately twenty minutes.”
“Stay strapped in,”
the pilot adds.
My shoulders feel
knotted, a thread of tension wrapping around my spine. I hate that
I can’t just jump us away from here. We’re so close to
grimspace—the place where I began—that I can almost sense the
beacons, pulsing in echo to my heartbeat. What will my next jump be
like? Returning to my place of origin.
No wonder each jump
always felt like coming home.
Whether those two
ships intend to help or harm us, there’s nothing I can do about it.
I hate feeling helpless, and I’ve had that sensation too much
lately. Unless they intend to destroy us,
they won’t waste power on weapons, though. This vessel is simply
too small and fragile.
Jael sits beside me,
silent and distant. I think he regrets that moment where he showed
a hint of vulnerability, where he leaned his head against my hand.
He won’t look at me, but I have other things to worry about. Like
those two ships.
We sit in tense
silence, wondering about the outcome. Wondering who else is hunting
us. Let me just say, that gets old. I’m afraid to hope that Tarn’s
come through, sent someone to the rescue, but I’ll guarantee one of
those ships belongs to dear old Mum. She doesn’t strike me as a
good loser.
“They have arrived,”
Constance advises us over the comm.
The tiny skiff
shakes, and something clunks against the side. Tow cables? I wish I
were in the nav chair where I could see what’s going on. But this
thing doesn’t have a nav chair, and Constance is doubtless more
help to Hit, analyzing numbers and probabilities with lightning
speed.
“Warning shots over
our bow,” Hit reports. “We’ve got one set of tow cables on us, but
the smaller ship appears to be powering up weapons.” Another pause.
“Shots fired. They’re engaging.”
I tap the comm. “Can
you make out ship names or numbers?”
After a brief pause,
Constance answers, “I recognize the larger vessel from the docking
bay on Venice Minor. They are attempting to pull us in.”
“Oh no, we’re not
going back there. Can we break those cables somehow?” I sit forward
and look at Vel, my resident answer man.
He replies by calling
the cockpit. “A localized electrical surge might short out their
magnet. But it might also damage our vessel and leave us dead in
space.”
My mother intends to
kill everyone aboard, maybe even me at this point. “Better dead in
space than dead on Venice Minor.”
Hit evidently shares
the sentiment because she says, “I’ll have Constance see what she
can do. If anyone can manage the calculations without blowing us
all to shit, it’s her. Now hang on, I’m going to spiral, see if I
can tangle up those tow wires.”
Shit.
Every time the ship
rolls, my stomach does a slow spin as well. I imagine us like fish
on a line, struggling with all our strength to break free. I hope
we don’t get blown up in some dispute we have nothing to do with.
Since we’re attached to the Syndicate ship, if it goes up, we’re
likely close enough to take damage as well. And with no shields, no
armor plating, we just aren’t sturdy enough to soak it.
I say a prayer to the
gods of luck.
“Report,” I demand,
tapping the button again.
At this rate, Hit
will cut off communications from the cabin to the cockpit. But she
doesn’t sound irked. Rather, excitement infuses her voice.
“I’ve never seen
anybody fly like this,” she answers. “Whoever’s handling the small
ship has magic in his hands. He fires, hits, slings sideways, dives
underneath the bigger ship, just daring a collision . . . it’s
beautiful to watch. So far they haven’t landed a single shot on
him.”
March. Stupid, I know, but my heart leaps in purely
emotional response. Intellectually, I know it can’t be him. He’s on
Lachion, and at this point, I don’t know whether he’s alive or
dead.
“Get that cable off
us,” Dina barks into the comm. “Or they’ll take us with them when
they blow.”
“Working,” Constance
responds. “I must be sure of my calculations, or I will damage this
vessel beyond repair.”
Bad choice, no choice. Either way, we wind up dead.
Someone’s got to make the call, and they seem to think I’m in
charge, most days.
“Do it,” I tell her.
“If the battle’s going south out there, we’ll wind up as collateral
damage. Welcome to my world.”
A jolt rocks the
skiff as she complies with my order. The lights flicker, giving the
cabin a surreal air. Jael shifts and gazes at me in the weird,
stuttering light. I glimpse his eyes in staccato flashes, see his
lips moving, but I hear no sound.
Red lights come on
along the ceiling, lending everything a bloody glow. Then the
onboard computer chimes a warning. “Warning. Electrical fault.
Please seek safe landing facilities immediately. Life-support
failure imminent.”
And then we go
careening through space. I can tell the difference between a guided
roll and the way we’re spinning. Hit has limited control, if any,
and I don’t think the comm’s working anymore.
I’ve always hated
tiny vessels, for good reason as it turns out. There’s only a thin
barrier between merciless vacuum and us. What the hell’s going on?
I’m tempted to unstrap and fight my way up front to see, but maybe
I’m better off not knowing. I’d probably get myself hurt, too,
slamming into walls.
Dina swears steadily
in front of me, creative curses that I’d be memorizing with great
interest at any other time. The bounty hunter remains silent,
still, and I can’t tell if he’s injured or praying to some strange
Ithtorian god. We haven’t had a chance to go over religion or
mythology yet, dammit.
Jael touches my arm.
His fingers feel warm and strong, and I consciously check the urge
to reach for him. I tell myself it’s not personal; at a time like
this, it’s natural to want to hold on to someone. Nobody wants to
die alone.
This time I can make
out the words beneath the strident alarm as the ship’s computer
counts down. “I’m sorry.”
I lean over as best I
can. “What for?”
He can’t possibly
blame himself. That’s ridiculous. Too many factors converged to
land us in this mess, nothing he could’ve prevented. But his eyes
beg for forgiveness just the same.
“Because—”
Before he finishes
the thought, I feel another thunk on our side. Tow cable? At this
point I can only guess, and try not to toss up.
I hope that means the
smaller ship has won and that it’s someone we want to see, once we
get inside. More to the point, someone with a jumper, and a
functional phase drive who will take us far away from here.
We roll, end over
end, until something snaps taut. The skiff shudders. My head flies
back, my mouth fills with a coppery tang, and I see a red field
full of stars that winks to black.
Then I know nothing
at all.
