Imminent Danger: And How to Fly Straight Into It (25 page)

“The rat’s right,” Varrin said. “Chakra will let the government do all the hard work of tracking you down and arresting you. Then they’ll use their undercover agents to sneak you out from under the Tetrarchy’s nose. Problem solved.”

Eris sighed. “Okay, I get it. We have to avoid the authorities. But you’re good at that, so what’s the problem?”

“I’ve been on the wanted list pretty much since I left Rakor,” Varrin said. “It’s not usually a problem for me. If I keep a low profile, my employers generally don’t care who I am. But with the Tetrarchy searching for you two as well … The bottom line is that I can’t take you to Psilos right now.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because there’s no way IGASA will take you now. You’re wanted criminals.” Varrin’s face dropped. “This means I won’t be getting my finder’s fee. Kari!”

“What are you going to do with us then?” Eris asked.

“I could contact IFTAP,” Varrin mused. “They’re usually more willing to negotiate than IGASA.”

“Will they not be angry with you for double-crossing them and selling us to the highest bidder?” Miguri asked.

“I double-cross IFTAP all the time. Gook’ll get over it.”

Eris blinked. “Gook?”

“My IFTAP contact,” Varrin said. “Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t choose the name. Anyway,” he continued, “I’ll go give him a call. If you want me, I’ll be in the cockpit.”

“Right,” Varrin announced, sauntering back into the rec room half an hour later. “We have another problem.”

“What now?” Eris sighed.

“Gook doesn’t want you.”

“Not to disparage your career as a mercenary,” Miguri trilled, “but you are rather incompetent at completing any job satisfactorily.”

Varrin shot the Claktill a scathing glance.

Eris felt her world crashing down. She knew what was going to happen next but didn’t know how to prepare herself to deal with another betrayal by the Rakorsian, especially after she had actually felt like they were beginning to understand each other. “So what?” she asked. “Now you cut your losses and dump us someplace, get better cargo, and continue on like nothing happened?”

“Don’t be daft,” Varrin said shortly. “Why would I do that?”

Eris was shocked. “You mean it?”

“People may not like my choices, but I usually don’t lie about them,” he replied, looking a little hurt. “If I’m going to break a promise, I tell them right up front. This does make things complicated, though, because—”

He stopped abruptly in midspeech, turned on his heel, and bolted toward the cockpit.

“Umm?” Eris said.

“That was strange,” Miguri observed, “even for him.”

A moment later, Varrin returned. “We have—”

“Don’t tell me,” Eris interrupted. “We have another problem?”

“Good guess.”

“So what is it this time? Someone stole the ship’s lamri while you weren’t looking?”

“No. We’re about to be attacked.”

Eris and Miguri gaped at him for several seconds. “You’re crazy,” Eris finally said. “I’m pretty sure we’d have noticed if someone was attacking us. Ship rocking, guns firing, and all that.”

“I said we’re
going
to be attacked,” Varrin explained. “They’re sneaking up on us, you see.”

“Then how do you know about it?” Miguri demanded.

“I’m just that good.” He smirked. “Look, they’re going to be on us in minutes, so you two need to strap yourselves in.”

“Who would want to attack us?” she asked, unconvinced.

“Anyone in the Tetrarchy,” Miguri said. “We
are
wanted criminals now.”

“Maybe Chakra Corp. tracked us down?” Eris suggested.

Varrin glowered at her. “My ship cannot be tracked.”

“Why not?” she challenged.

“No, he is right,” Miguri agreed unexpectedly. “This ship is of Rakorsian make, so it is equipped with stealth technology. As far as I know, unless someone knew our exact location or flight plan, only another Rakorsian vessel could track this ship with any degree of accuracy. But why would a Rakorsian want to …” He trailed off, staring at Varrin with a look of sudden understanding. “I cannot believe I did not realize this earlier! Why did you say you left Rakor?”

“Difference of opinion,” Varrin said shiftily.

“What is your surname?” Miguri pressed.

“None of your business.”

“Answer the question, Rakorsian!”

“Excuse me, but I am in charge here,” Varrin countered. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Eris vaguely recalled a conversation she had overheard in the hair salon on Vega Minor. “Madam Zhia mentioned his name! What was it? Something like
garage door.”

“Gara’dar!” Miguri trilled anxiously. “It was not Gara’dar, was it?”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Why? Does it matter?”

“Why did I not realize sooner?” Miguri moaned, ignoring her question. “Well, that is it. We are doomed.” He curled up into a ball on the chair and wrapped his tail around himself, hair drooping miserably.

“Miguri, what are you talking about?” Eris demanded.

An alarm suddenly blared through the ship, and the computer’s female voice intoned, “Va katryk ro imam grakta. Va katryk ro imam grakta.”

“That’s a proximity alert,” Varrin explained, seeing her confused expression. “Told you so.”

Eris rolled her eyes.

“Stay here,” Varrin ordered. “Don’t stray.” He took off toward the cockpit at a run.

“Don’t stray,” she muttered. “What am I, a dog?” She turned to her little friend. “Miguri, you want to explain to me why Varrin’s last name upset you so much?”

“Emperor Ka’zarel is the ruler of Rakor and therefore the entire Outer Arm of the galaxy,” Miguri said as he unrolled and strapped himself into the seat. “Before he became the emperor, he was known as Ka’zarel Gara’dar.”

Eris’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me that Varrin is a prince?”

“That is correct.”

I can’t believe I didn’t figure this out sooner! What did he say to me in the steam pool? “My family is pretty important on Rakor”? He might have mentioned they ruled the entire empire!

“Even if he is a prince,” she said, buckling her seat straps, “what’s so bad about that? I mean, if he’s Rakorsian royalty and Rakorsians are attacking us, can’t he just, you know, order them to go away?”

“Not quite,” Miguri said. “You see, back when I was living on the Claktilli colony ship, there was a scandal all over the news. The Rakorsian crown prince was engaged to be married to a princess from Kalaria, and—”

“Varrin was going to get married?”

“It was to be a strategic marriage. However, the prince of Rakor was rumored to have been opposed to the union. Apparently, his betrothed was rather unattractive by humanoid standards, with some … peculiar habits. But the marriage never took place.”

“Why not?”

“The night before the wedding, the prince stole one of the emperor’s ships and fled the system. The Rakorsians did not take it well.”

“So what, they’ve suddenly decided to come looking for him? You don’t think they’re planning to kill him, do you?” Eris was surprised by the sudden pang in her heart at the thought of Varrin dying. “I mean, he’s their prince.”

“Even if they do not plan to kill him, they will certainly kill us,” the Claktill said grimly. “We are of no value to them, and Rakorsians do not expend effort keeping alive beings for which they have no use.”

“Then we’d better make sure they don’t catch us,” she said, undoing her safety belt and rising to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“To help Varrin!”

Miguri watched her for a few seconds and then gave a heavy sigh and unclipped his flight straps. “As much as it pains me to assist the Rakorsian with anything,” Miguri said, “I believe that is our best course of action.”

Eris grabbed her friend’s tiny hand, and together they raced to the cockpit.

26

I
can’t believe he didn’t tell us—a prince! I’m sure that little fact just slipped his mind,
Eris thought as she and Miguri entered the cockpit. But before she could say anything to Varrin, the communication monitor flickered on. The image of a broad-shouldered, scar-faced man wearing blood-red armor appeared on the screen.

“Oruvno gi korkid dei Kra’Varrin,” the armored man sneered.

“What did he say?” Eris whispered to Miguri.

“I do not know. He is speaking Rakorsian,” Miguri replied as Varrin leaned casually back in the pilot’s chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “Wait,” the Claktill told her.

Approaching their pilot, Miguri pointed at the lamri on his belt. When Varrin glanced at him and gave a slight nod, Miguri took the stone.

“Var’Kratis,” Varrin said to the man on the monitor. Miguri pressed the lamri to Eris’s necklace just in time for her to hear Varrin taunt the armored man. “You’ve gotten uglier since we last spoke,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure? The great Admiral Kratis doesn’t usually go on joyrides in this part of the galaxy.”

Miguri updated his own lamri and then returned the glowing gem to its owner.

“Prince Varrin,” the admiral sneered. “I have orders from Rakorsian high command to capture you and return you to Rakor to answer for your desertion. The emperor himself gave the order to bring you in.”

“Does father miss me? How paternal of him.” Varrin flashed Kratis a mocking grin. He pulled his knife from its sheath and began to flip it up in the air.

The admiral scowled and clapped his hands once sharply. A uniformed aide rushed to his side. “Fleet status report,” Kratis barked.

“Fully armed and ready to attack, sir,” the aide reported.

“You hear that, little prince?” Kratis said. “I have an entire armada with me. You might as well just surrender now. There’s no way you can escape us with that scrap heap of yours.”

“Nonconformity,”
Varrin said.

“What?” Kratis demanded.

“My ship. It’s called the
Nonconformity.
That should give you some idea about how much I don’t give a damn about what you want.” Smirking, Varrin slid the knife back into its sheath.

“Then you are either a fool or insane.”

Varrin laughed. “Insult me all you want, but I’m a little too busy right now to make a side trip to Rakor. Ask me again in five years.”

“Then you will not surrender?”

“Very astute. Now run back to Rakor in your overpolished armada and tell my father to go to hell.” Varrin paused. “No, even better, tell him this—if he apologizes for my betrothal to that … creature and retracts his disinheritance of me, then I may come home for a visit on my next vacation. Oh, and while you’re there, also tell him to divorce that lunatic wife of his. Rakor would really be better off without her.”

“You dare insult your own mother?” Kratis bellowed.

“Watch your blood pressure, Admiral.” Varrin grinned. “The empress is my mother in name only. My father was a fool to marry her after my true mother’s assassination.” His eyes narrowed. “Just deliver my message and get out of my sight.”

“You can tell the emperor yourself when I toss your bleeding, broken body at his feet! You have no hope of defeating an entire armada! Once my ships open fire, you’ll just run away, tail between your legs.” Kratis smiled cruelly. “And we both know how good you are at running away, my prince.”

“She had scaly arms and slime oozing from every pore!” Varrin snapped. “You didn’t seriously expect I would marry her, did you?”

“That is neither here nor there. Prepare to be boarded, Prince Varrin!”

Varrin glanced at Miguri. “Activate the Pull, Claktill.”

“Are you insane?” Eris, Miguri, and Kratis demanded in unison.

“Why do people keep questioning my sanity?” Varrin sulked. “That was a perfectly reasonable order. Do it, rat, or I’ll knock you out and do it for you.”

Shaking his head, Miguri hopped up onto the copilot’s chair and pressed several buttons on the console.

Oh, yeah,
Eris thought.
This is going to end well.

“You cannot be serious!” Admiral Kratis spat. “You are too close to Vega. And you haven’t had time to calculate coordinates. Your ship will implode!”

“Just because you’re a pathetic pilot doesn’t mean we all are,” Varrin said loftily. “How’s that Pull coming, rat?”

“Still calculating.”

“Punch it,” Varrin ordered.

“But without coordinates—”

Varrin shoved Miguri’s hand aside and pushed a button. “Pull in ten … nine …”

“What are you doing?” Kratis hissed. “You are going to kill yourself!”

“… eight … seven …”

“Disable that ship!” Kratis bellowed, turning toward his own command deck. There was a scurry of activity behind him as his crew rushed to obey the order.

“… six … five …”

“Prepare the plasma cannons!”

“… four … three …”

“This is folly, Prince Varrin!”

“… two …”

“You’re worth nothing to me dead!”

“… one.”

Varrin directed a mocking bow at the admiral. “Give my regards to my father.”

SHWOOP.