Imminent Danger: And How to Fly Straight Into It (8 page)

“Grew fins just yesterday,” Gook boomed proudly. “Within a few weeks they’ll be devouring each other to survive, and the fittest will become my heir!”

“Such a loving family,” Varrin quipped.

Gook blinked his protruding eyes, leaving a milky film of mucus over the exposed yellow membranes. “I’m sure you can relate,” he chortled. “Rakorsians being such family men and all …”

Varrin laughed dryly. “You’ve got that right, Minister. Now, what should I do with these miserable creatures I so gallantly rescued from the Ssrisk?”

Gook shifted slightly, allowing Varrin a glimpse into his office. Dark green slime coated every wall. Scraggly seaweed, mold, and mud covered all the horizontal surfaces. Varrin could spot at least three cockroaches that were larger than his torso.

“The IFTAP board of directors wishes to conduct some tests on the human,” Gook gurgled. “If they really are genetically similar to you Rakorsians as we suspect, they would be extremely valuable to many military and scientific groups. We must keep their existence secret. Bring the human and the Claktill to Orion headquarters.”

“We still need to talk payment,” Varrin said. “My ship sustained heavy damage during the getaway, and my plasma cannons need a new cooling unit.”

“I will make sure the damages are reimbursed.”

“What about payment for acquiring the human?”

“Ten thousand tetras, as promised.”

“And that bonus you mentioned for doing the job without the Tetrarchy noticing?”

Gook looked ill at ease. “Well, you see, after the recent Ssrisk raid on our regional headquarters at Procyon, most of our discretionary funds have gone into rebuilding, so there’s not a lot extra for bonuses.”

Varrin pulled out the knife he kept concealed in his boot, twirled it in his hand, and then tossed it nonchalantly in the air. “You don’t want me, hire someone else. I couldn’t care less either way. Rakorsian mercenaries are in high demand. Especially those of my caliber.” He paused. “Well, those
near
my caliber, anyway.”

Gook took a wheezy breath and then quickly expelled it. “I’ll speak with the board. That’s all I can promise.”

Varrin nodded and then flung his dagger at the camera beside the monitor. It missed the camera by less than an inch, and embedded in the wall.

“Kari!” the Frimbian yelped.

“No need to use our Lord’s name in vain.” Varrin reached up and dislodged the dagger with an easy tug. “You’re three hundred light-years away, Gook. Grow a spine. You were hardly in danger.”

“Not the point,” he mumbled.

“Get me my money, Gook.”

The froglike alien sighed. “I’ll do what I can. Ending transmission.”

Varrin leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile.

9

E
ris awoke the next morning in the ship’s guest quarters after ten hours of blissful, uninterrupted sleep. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be well rested. Clambering off the lower bunk, she yawned widely, looked around for her robe, and remembered it was fifty light-years away on Earth. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, smoothed down her wrinkled sweater and jeans, and sighed.

As Eris entered the rec room, she saw Miguri, his white hair spiky with annoyance, glaring at Varrin. Their pilot and liberator was sprawled appealingly across a hard plastic bench, looking perfectly at ease on the unforgiving surface. He seemed unconcerned by the verbal taunts being thrown at him by the Claktill.

“… and do not think for one minute that I believe your only goal is to gallantly escort us to the IFTAP headquarters on Orion,” Miguri trilled. “I have, unfortunately, met my share of Rakorsians, and despite your claims to the contrary, you are all the same.”

Varrin laughed casually and tossed a large, sharp knife up in the air. Eris paused in the doorway and watched as the blade windmilled gracefully, the throw so effortless that the knife all but floated back into its master’s waiting hand.

“Slept well?” Varrin called.

Eris nodded and quickly hurried to sit in one of the cushioned chairs. She tugged at the ends of her sleeves and avoided Varrin’s gaze.
I really want him to stop looking at me like that … but at the same time I don’t. Something is seriously wrong with me.
After a moment, she gathered her composure and said, “So where are we?”

“We are in limbo,” Miguri said, gesturing to the video monitor, which showed a view of clear, starry space.

“Limbo?” she asked.

“Limbo is the empty space between stars,” Varrin said. “We can cross thousands of light-years of space in a few seconds with ships’ lamri, but all that space is still there. And we’re in the middle of that empty space.”

“I see. But why even come here?”

“Because we were outnumbered, shields were down to 30 percent, and I didn’t have time to plan an elaborate escape. So, if you remember, I had your fuzzy little friend here engage the lamri and Pull.”

“Risking the collapse of the entire Sirius system in the process,” Miguri muttered. “I would have loved to see how the Psilosians reacted to
that
.”

Eris frowned. She understood why Miguri hated Rakorsians so much, but Varrin had been kind to them thus far. “Where were we trying to Pull to?” she pressed. “And why aren’t we there?”

“The rat latched us onto the first lamri he could find,” Varrin said. “It’s in the ship’s log, if you really want to know. I simply disengaged the Pull halfway there.”

“Why?”

“The Pull is very easy to track if you have the right equipment. How do you think I found
you?”
Varrin flashed Eris a charming smile.

“Luck?” she guessed. If she hadn’t known better—and if this devilishly attractive man hadn’t been from a different species—she’d have said he was flirting with her.
Although maybe this is just how he acts all the time.

“Skill,” he corrected. “Dropping out halfway makes it much harder for your scaly Ssrisk friends to find us.”

“Do all raiders do that? Drop out halfway?”

“No, only fantastically skilled pilots like me. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you run the risk of imploding your ship and scattering your molecules through the void.”

Eris leaped to her feet. “You mean you cut the Pull knowing very well it might have killed us?”

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Eris gaped in disbelief at the lack of concern in his voice.
Either he’s a reckless fool, or he’s so competent that the idea of failing never occurred to him.
She prayed it was the latter.

Laughing, Varrin rose from his seat with casual elegance.
He moves like a cat,
Eris thought.
A great big black cat.
She watched as he sauntered from the room.

As soon as their savior was gone, Eris turned to Miguri. “What’s
with
you?” she demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you said Claktills were pacifists. But you’re being outright hostile to Varrin.”

“We
are
supposed to be pacifists,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze. “But if my attitude has been disturbing you, I will do my best to tolerate the Rakorsian henceforth.”

Mollified, Eris said, “You really think we can’t trust him?”

“Do galea trees bear fruit?”

“My guess would be no.”

“It is a Claktilli proverb. Yes, I am firmly convinced that our rescuer is lying through his teeth and plans to do horrible things to us the first chance he gets.”

Eris sighed. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Miguri cast a dark look toward the cockpit. “Indeed.”

After Miguri departed for the guest cabin, Eris was left to entertain herself in the rec room. She decided to try a gaming unit she found in one of the storage lockers but couldn’t figure out how to turn it on. There were instructions written on the casing, but the lettering was alien to her, and her lamri apparently did not translate written language.

She spent a good half hour fiddling with a metal disc that, when the right sequence of buttons was pushed, emitted a hologram. But she could only get one thirty-second clip to play over and over. Finally, bored with the rec room, Eris decided to explore the rest of the ship.

Wandering into another small room off the central hallway, she found racks holding an array of weapons. “Hmm … to touch the alien weapons, or
not
to touch the alien weapons,” Eris mused. “That is the question.”

She reached her hand toward the rack. A metal panel slammed down, and the female computer voice announced, “Gi katryk va orma shto. Gi katryk va orma shto.”

Okay, do
not
touch the weapons,
Eris thought. Then she spotted a half-open hatch behind one of the racks. She could hear a strange whumping noise coming from beyond.
Hmm … I wonder what’s in there?

Stepping through the hatchway, Eris entered an area cluttered with huge, noisy machinery. Although the technology was unlike anything she had ever seen, she assumed this was the ship’s engine room. Eris wove her way through the room, pausing briefly at each machine to examine it.

Then she encountered something quite unexpected. In the center of the room, there was a cleared-out area with a large, metal pedestal. Atop the pedestal was an opaque dome. Unable to resist, Eris grasped the dome’s handle and lifted it. Under the dome was a milky-white lamri at least fourteen inches across and five high. The ovoid stone floated in electric-blue translucent liquid.

Eris was about to reach out and touch the lamri when she reconsidered.
How many sci-fi movies have you seen?
she berated herself.
Because touching glowing alien technology always ends well.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a masculine voice rumbled behind her. Eris spun to see Varrin leaning against one of the machines, one hand casually flipping an odd-looking wrench up and down.

Eris felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “That looks like a wrench,” she blurted. Cursing her dazed mind, she hoped the raider wouldn’t think her incredibly dim-witted.

Varrin tossed her the metal bar. “It
is
a wrench,” he said, “but not one you would recognize. I’m sure the nuts and bolts on this ship are a bit different from the kind you’d find on your planet.”

“I suppose,” she said, clutching the wrench. They stood in silence for a moment. “So … uh … this is a nice ship.”

The Rakorsian didn’t seem to mind her failed attempt at conversation. “Yeah,” he said, tracing a hand almost lovingly along one of the pieces of whumping machinery. “The
Rala’kamil
. She’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

“
Rala’kamil
,” Eris repeated, trying out the exotic name. “What does that mean in my language?”

“Roughly translated?
Nonconformity.”

Eris gaped at him. “That’s an awful name!”

Varrin frowned. “Well, what would you call it?”

“I don’t know. The
Millennium Falcon?
The
Enterprise?
Serenity?
Although I guess those would be copyright infringements.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I like my name.
Nonconformity
has a unique ring.”

“If you say so.”

Varrin stared at her silently. After a moment, Eris became uncomfortable and wracked her mind for something else to talk about. “So what got you into the Inter—uh, Terrestrial Saving …”

“The Intergalactic Federation of Terrestrial Admiration and Protection? Call it IFTAP,” he suggested. “It’s easier. Acronyms generally are. Hence, I believe, their invention.”

“Okay, IFTAP.”

“Why do you ask?”

Eris shrugged and then tried to toss the wrench casually in the air like Varrin had done earlier. She threw it so high that it clanged against the ceiling and rebounded for her head. Squeaking, Eris covered her head with her arms and ducked. Varrin caught it less than an inch before it struck her.

“Uh, thanks.” Eris felt her cheeks flush. Whether it was embarrassment or being so close to a handsome man, she could not say.

“You’re blushing,” Varrin noted.

Oh, God
. “It’s hot in here.”

He studied her with interest. “You weren’t blushing before.”

She stared intently at the floor. “It’s just … you keep rescuing me. You’re like my personal knight in shining armor.”

“Knight?”

Not wanting to get into an explanation of medieval warfare, Eris quickly changed the subject. “It’s a long story. But seriously, how did you get involved with IFTAP? I mean, as far as I can tell, you don’t take terrestrials very seriously. You’re like Miguri. You just seem to find us amusing.”

“Amusing but appealing,” Varrin corrected. “Most people think terrestrials are ignorant savages. But we at IFTAP like to think of them as unenlightened beings eagerly waiting to take their place in the galaxy.”

“Then you help terrestrials achieve space flight?”

Varrin shook his head. “The Tetrarchy—”

“What?”

“The galactic government. The Tetrarchy has decreed it illegal to introduce terrestrials to space flight before they are deemed ready or manage it on their own.”