Starflight (36 page)

“You know those rocks I stole from your lab?” she asked Gage.

“Like I’d forget.”

“How combustible are they?”

He slanted her a glance. “
Very
. Why?”

“Because I think I know a way out of here.” She twisted her hip and brought both hands to the bag in her pocket. The act cost her a dozen electric shocks, but she was able to fish out a few bits of ore and hand them to the others. “Hold on to these. When I give the signal, we’ll make them go boom.”

Gage laughed. “And then what?” He raised an index finger and added, “Assuming we can ignite the ore and we don’t end up with a chest full of shrapnel.”

“Then we return here and steal a shuttle,” she said. “Look, I know it’s not an airtight plan, but unless you’ve got a better…” She trailed off when she noticed Demarkus break away from the men in his group and move in her direction.

The giant chief had never looked so content, grinning broadly as he approached the shuttle in the bouncing strides of a rich kid on Christmas morning. But his grin died when he hauled open the shuttle door and caught a glimpse of Gage.

Forehead wrinkled, Demarkus reached across the seat and grabbed Gage by the suit collar. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Where’s Daro the Red?”

From her position sandwiched between the two, Solara felt Gage’s muscles lock with terror. His breath hitched, and he said in a trembling voice, “Daro is dead. I’m his brother.”

While Demarkus pondered this news, Solara crept her fingers along his utility belt, feeling for anything she might use as a lock pick. She struck gold, her grip landing on a small key ring. She slipped it free and tucked it under her sleeve just in time to avoid Demarkus’s hand as he unsheathed his knife.

“Not anymore,” he said, and sliced off Gage’s ponytail. “You’ll have to do.” He tossed the hair aside and ordered the four of them to exit the shuttle. “I’ve assembled my men for a rematch.” Slapping Daro’s substitute on the back, he added, “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll make it quick.”

As they marched toward the air-lock, Gage elbowed Solara and whispered, “Feel free to work your magic. Preferably before I die.”

She covertly tried each key on the ring until one connected with a click. Keeping her hands inside the loosened cuffs, she calculated the risk of returning to the shuttle and locking themselves inside. She could probably hot-wire the ignition, but without anyone to open the hatch from the guard station, they’d be trapped inside the hangar like a bug in a jar. Seeing no other option, she was about to slip her cuffs when one of Demarkus’s men shouted, “A transmission just came in, Chief.”

Demarkus made a
so what?
gesture.

“From Daro the Red,” the man said. “He’s requesting permission to come aboard.”

Solara went numb as she watched Demarkus’s face transform with rapture. “Well, it seems our friend has been resurrected,” he said, sliding an amused glance at Gage. “Who am I to deny this miracle? Bring Daro to the great hall so I can return him to his maker.”

They made their way to the entrance of the great hall, where Solara received more than her share of dirty looks from the pirates she’d once held hostage there. The bald guard with eyes tattooed on his head seemed especially pleased to see her in cuffs. While he stood outside the boxing ring and puffed on his cigar, she took stock of her surroundings, particularly the number of men within lunging distance.

A dozen,
she thought.
All with pulse rifles at their hips.

She leaned into Gage and whispered, “I see one way to ignite the ore. Pulse pistols.”

He jerked his head toward a pig roasting over an open flame at the other side of the hall. “Make that two ways. If you’ve got a good arm, and even better aim.”

Footsteps sounded from behind her, and she spun around, instantly locking eyes with Doran while searching his expression for clues. The steadiness in his gaze told her he had a plan, but not much more. Seeing his face brought a flood of relief—but also fear, because she knew he had no weapons. The guards by his side would’ve made sure of that.

When he reached her, he took her face between both hands and kissed her like a man heading for his own execution. He was so convincing that for a moment she doubted it was an act, and dread gripped her heart. But then he whispered in her ear, “Do you have your oxygen helmet?”

She nodded, feeling its weight hooked to her suit.

“Does the crew?”

Another nod.

“Good,” he whispered. “Be ready to put them on and run back to the hangar. Renny’s waiting outside to catch you. Kane, too.”

“You’re coming with us,” she insisted, and pressed a chunk of ore into his palm. “When the time is right, throw this—”

A guard pried him away before she could say anything more.

While he strode into the room to meet Demarkus, Solara summoned false tears and rushed to Cassia and the others for “comfort.” Huddled around them, she quietly passed along the message and the handcuff key. She only hoped that Doran had understood what she’d put into his palm.

The crowd silenced their murmurings when Doran reached the center of the great hall. He stood tall in front of Demarkus and announced in a firm voice, “I’m here for my friends. If you let us leave, nobody has to die.”

Laughter broke out, Demarkus’s throaty chuckle rising above the rest. “I do like your spirit,” he said with a regretful shake of his head. “In another life, we might’ve been crewmates. But in this life, I’m going to break you in half.” He grinned in a way that contradicted his next words. “I hope you know this gives me no pleasure.”

“Last chance.” Doran rested a hand on the helmet hooked to his belt. When his warning was met with another round of laughter, he pressed his com-link and said, “Renny. Kane. Get ready for us.”

Demarkus sobered up enough to deliver a quizzical look. His lips formed a question that he never had a chance to ask, because Doran hurtled his rock into the fire with flawless precision, and an instant later, an explosion rocked the ship.

The floor shook beneath Solara’s feet, sending her stumbling for balance. Just when she’d righted herself, a second detonation thundered in her ears, twice as hard as the first. It seemed Gage had ignited one of his samples as well. Sirens blared and smoke filled the air as men scrambled toward the exits.

Solara slipped her cuffs and grabbed a pulse pistol from the nearest holster. When its owner spun on her, she fired off several rounds, none of which managed to hit him. He bolted in the other direction, and she paused to fasten her helmet. In the few seconds since the blast, the air had grown frigid and thin. It told her the hull was breached, and the ship had yet to seal off the damaged areas. The ore must be more powerful than she’d thought.

Cassia and Gage appeared on either side of the captain, helmets already secured.

“You know what to do,” the captain ordered through the com-link. “Everyone book it to the hangar.”

Solara motioned for them to go ahead while she stood on tiptoe and searched through the smoky haze for Doran. She spotted him sprinting her way, a group of men close on his heels. He caught up with her and snagged her hand, and they were off, tearing down the hallway so fast they passed the crew. They’d nearly reached the hangar when Solara glanced over her shoulder and realized they were a man short.

“The captain,” she said, squinting to bring his lumbering form into focus. He kept stumbling against the wall, pounding one fist against his chest. “Something’s wrong.”

They circled back and noticed Demarkus flanked by several guards, all running toward them from the other end of the hall. Solara raised her pistol and fired. The men ducked for a moment, and then, seeing she hadn’t hit any of them, continued in pursuit.

“I’m not saying you have bad aim,” the captain said with a pained smile. “But you couldn’t hit water if you fell out of a boat.” He took the pistol and squeezed off several shots, but Solara wasn’t paying attention to his targets. Her eyes moved over his face, which had grown waxen and sweaty beneath the glass. “I’m fine,” he said when he caught her staring. “The Beatmaster needs a recharge. Happens all the time. Let’s go.”

Doran and Gage each took one of the captain’s arms to help him move along, but they weren’t fast enough. Demarkus was closing the distance, plodding onward with his pistol raised, despite the lack of oxygen that clumsied his steps. A whirring noise from the overhead duct system said the ship was filling with heated air, which meant Demarkus and his men would soon get a second wind—literally.

A few moments later, the corridor twisted to the left, and Solara ran through the open air-lock doors into the hangar. Escape seemed so near, but she stopped short as soon as she crossed the threshold. There was a problem. Someone had to open the hangar hatch from the guard station, and the interior air-lock door had to be shut in order for that to happen. It was a safety mechanism, just as she’d told the pirate guard all those weeks ago. That meant one of them had to go back inside and face Demarkus.

The others must have realized it, too, because nobody said a word.

Tapping his com-link, Doran started to say, “I’ll do it,” but the slamming of the air-lock door cut him off, and they spun around to find the captain watching them from the other side of the thick windowpane. Doran grabbed the door handle and shook it with both hands, but the captain had already locked himself inside.

“Go,” Captain Rossi said. He held up his pistol along with a chunk of ore. “I’ll open the hatch and send a few pirates to hell while I’m at it.”

Solara’s breath caught when she understood his meaning.

“No!” Cassia yelled, banging both fists against the window. “We’ll wait for you!”

From behind the glass, Rossi delivered a stern look and thrust a finger toward the hangar door. “You’ll move your ass, Cassy Rose. That’s an order. I want you at that exit and ready for pickup when I hit the switch.”

“But…” she began, and choked on a sob.

“No
but
s.” The captain disappeared into the guard station. They couldn’t see him, but they heard his final words through the link. “Don’t you dare cry for me. I’ve lived twice as long as most men do, and I’ve finally found something worth dying for. That’s a blessing.” His voice turned soft. “Now, go, and take care of each other. It’s been an honor to have you as my crew.”

The next sound they heard was the synchronized click of a dozen shuttles releasing from their docking ports, followed by the hum of the hangar door opening. The pressure changed, sweeping Solara off her feet as her body drifted toward the exit. She thrashed her limbs, unprepared for zero gravity, until she caught hold of a rudder and used it to steady herself.

Shuttles floated into space, and beyond them hovered the
Banshee
, cargo ramp open and ready to welcome her inside. As Solara launched herself toward the exit, she listened for the captain’s voice, hoping more than anything that he would join them. But when a sharp
boom
rang out from the guard station, tears flooded her vision, and she had to hold her breath to keep her heart from cracking in half.

She forced herself to focus on the scene outside. It was an obstacle course of floating debris—everything from shuttlecraft and hull fragments to a few frozen bodies. Once a path cleared, she used both legs to push off into the icy chill of space and braced herself to collide with the
Banshee
’s cargo hold. She met the end ramp with a thud and grabbed on tight, hauling to the top as Gage and Cassia followed. When she turned around, the tail end of the pirate ship was practically torn off from the captain’s detonation, blowing even more debris outside. She scanned the carnage for Doran but couldn’t find him.

“Doran,” she called through the link. “Where are you?”

He didn’t answer.

She gripped the edge of the ramp while frantically searching for him. Part of her view was obstructed by a floating sheet of metal. Once she pushed it aside, she spotted him, and her stomach lurched so hard she nearly heaved inside her helmet. Because there, far below the ruined pirate ship, Doran was caught in the planet’s gravitational pull, tumbling out of control and free-falling to his death.

D
oran couldn’t scream. His fear was beyond that.

He flailed both arms to right himself, but stars and soil alternated in his field of vision until he couldn’t tell up from down. The spiraling images triggered his gag reflex, forcing hot bile up the back of his throat. He shut his eyes, swallowing hard as he curled into a ball and focused on filling his lungs. Each of his gasps seemed amplified, like breathing underwater through a snorkel. So he counted breaths—
one Mississippi, two Mississippi
—and tried to ignore the question burning at the edges of his mind.

When will I hit?

He reached twelve when voices invaded his helmet.

“Kane!” Solara shouted. “Do you see him out there? He’s falling!”

“I see him,” came the reply. “Doran, I’m on my way. The shuttle hatch is open. All you have to do is grab on and climb inside.”

Doran opened his eyes and tightened his core, extending all four limbs in an effort to provide enough wind resistance to keep from tumbling. It didn’t work right away, but after a few tries, he finally faced the planet below, then yelped when he noticed the surface rising up to meet him.