Chapter 14
Ellard cast out his feline senses as he led them down the corridor, possibly into danger.
Not that he could do anything else. None of them wanted the outcome portrayed by the reivers or Malasses, the Kiraxes male.
As he approached the intersection where the gray corridor split into two, he slowed.
They’d gone right last time. A metallic thump reverberated throughout the ship, and an instant later, the vessel shuddered.
Hope rose in him. He prayed the sound truly was the big grappling hooks that bound ships together in deep space.
Shouts sounded to their right, and after a brief hesitation, Ellard headed in that direction.
The reivers would be busy repelling the attack and wouldn’t expect a sneaky rear strike.
He padded cautiously along the gray corridor, blaster extended in his hand.
The shouts increased, the captain barking out orders.
“Aye, hold her steady. Wait, wait…fire weapons!”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The ship quaked, groaned.
“Bank,” the captain ordered. “Come ye around and be readyin’ weapons again.”
“You assured me your ship came equipped with enough firepower to withstand an attack,” Malasses snarled.
“Aye, one opponent in a fair dogfight, not two ships,” the captain snapped, not cowed by the Kiraxes male, despite his ferocious appearance. “These be experienced pilots. They be knowin’ our every move before we make the evasion.”
“Outsmart them. That’s what I’m paying you for,” Malasses said.
The Kiraxes male’s voice emerged quiet and even, and Ellard thought the captain should pay attention. This was a dangerous man. Unpredictable.
“I will go and check on my property. Make sure it is unharmed.”
Grata!
Gweneth glided up beside him, blaster at the ready.
Footsteps sounded, coming closer. Hard. Confident.
Malasses appeared in the doorway of the bridge. His eyes widened, and he charged, head down, horns in the perfect position to gore an opponent.
Ellard fired.
Gweneth fired.
And Malasses kept coming, his enraged bellow roaring through the corridor. At the last sec, Ellard dodged and pushed Gweneth out of the way. Malasses caught Ellard’s ribs on his right side and bellowed in triumph.
Something hit the ship, and Malasses lost his footing. He crashed to the floor and skidded into the wall, his horns and skull hitting the solid surface with a sickening thud. He groaned and shook his head.
Ellard struggled to get to his feet, scrabbling on the floor.
Grata, his damn arm would be the death of him.
He pushed up onto his knees, but Malasses kicked him in the gut before he got to his feet.
He fell back with a curse. The bull man laughed and lowered his head, the light catching on his black curled horns.
A siren started to wail somewhere close, the piercing sound shredding Ellard’s thoughts. Get up. Get up! Before the gratason gores you.
Ellard scrambled along the deck of the ship. It tilted without warning, knocking them all off their feet. He slid against the wall, his arm stump slamming hard against the solid surface. Pain rippled to phantom fingertips, and he grunted but managed to retain his blaster.
Malasses gave a roar of triumph.
Had he grabbed one of the Incorporeals?
Got to stop. Keep safe.
One of the women screamed. Gweneth? Panic roared through Ellard, his feline pushing past his control so fast he couldn’t control the change.
His tunic split with the force of the morph from humanoid to feline, and he wriggled free of the remnants.
Experience had taught him, it would get in the way and hinder a fight.
Tunic free, he struggled to right himself, a snarl of feline fury blasting free.
Gweneth had her weapon pointed at Malasses, but he advanced on her, his arrogant expression telling Ellard he thought he could best her.
He thought she wouldn’t shoot.
Idiot gratason.
The ship listed in the opposite direction, flinging everyone off their feet, just as she fired her blaster. Malasses bellowed in pain. Gweneth struck the wall but retained her weapon.
His stomach. Good shot, kitten.
Malasses didn’t try to stand again. Instead, the massive beast fumbled for something in his pocket.
A small control, it fit in the center of his palm.
He rolled, giving a pained snort. His jaw set in a determined line and pointed it at Sheera and Leeam.
“Shimmer us to the ship’s tender. In the hold. ”
“No,” Leeam said, his voice defiant.
Immediately, his collar sparked a fiery blue. Leeam screamed, the sound high and freaky. A chill rippled over Ellard’s fur. Where was Niran? Why couldn’t he grab the control?
“Shimmer us now,” Malasses bellowed as the ship leveled.
Ellard skidded into Malasses and swiped him with his claws.
Malasses bellowed like a male bull-deer in rut. He lowered his head and shoved his horns against Ellard’s ribs. Without room to move, he didn’t do much damage, but it still phrullin’ hurt, the force enough to separate their straining bodies.
Gweneth fired at Malasses, the shot so close that Ellard smelled the charge.
Malasses pushed on the control clutched in his hand. Blue sparks shot from Sheera’s and Leeam’s collars.
“Shimmer,” Malasses ordered.
Gweneth fired a third time, and Malasses groaned, his big body slumping against the wall while Leeam and Sheera shuddered, blue sparks spitting from their collars, pain racking their bodies.
“Not…going…to…lose.” His trembling hand rose, still grasping the control. “Shimmer.”
Sheera collapsed against a wall while Leeam fell to his hands and knees, his breath coming in hoarse pants.
“Can’t,” Sheera pushed out. “No power.”
Malasses pressed his free hand against his belly, and Ellard saw fluid seeping from his wounds. Malasses’s big shoulders drooped, but a crafty expression filled his eyes. He lifted the hand with the control to his mouth, shoved it inside, and swallowed it.
“No!” Gweneth shouted.
Malasses grunted, struggling to keep his head upright, his eyes open. “Not lose.”
Ellard snarled and leaped at him, claws swiping, but it was too late.
“Ellard,” Gweneth said. “Ellard! I think he’s dead.”
Some of his fury subsided, and Ellard backed away from the Kiraxes male.
“Leeam.” Gweneth crouched beside the Incorporeals. “Are you all right?”
“Not dead,” Leeam said in a faint voice.
“Sheera?” Gweneth checked on her next.
Sheera lifted her weighty head, her face shaded a delicate blue. “Hurts. Everything hurts.”
“Where is Niran?”
“F-floor.” Sheera had difficulty pushing the word out. “Hit head.” Her chest rose and fell. “Not m-moving.”
Ellard turned and couldn’t see a thing.
“We need to get these collars off them,” Gweneth said.
Voices shouted. “Ellard!”
Shiloh? Ellard gave a feline shriek, and running footsteps headed in their direction.
Ellard stared at his younger brother as he raced toward them, expression fierce, blaster at the ready. Ransom, ran behind him, equally ferocious.
“Everyone all right?” Shiloh demanded. “Who is that?” He kept advancing and tripped without warning, catching himself on his hands before he struck the floor. “What the phrull?”
“I think you found Niran,” Gweneth said. “The ship has been moving around. Sheera said he hit his head. How can we check on him if we can’t see him?”
“Me,” Leeam said and attempted to move toward Shiloh. He groaned, the half a step he took taking more power than he had. He slumped.
“Let me help.” Gweneth slipped her hand around his waist and supported most of his weight.
“Stop,” Sheera said. “Niran is right in front of you.”
Gweneth released Leeam, and he dropped to his knees, his trembling hands reaching for his invisible uncle. “He’s alive,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll look after him.”
“Good,” Shiloh said. “Who is that?”
“That’s Malasses, a wealthy trader from Kiraxes,” Ransom said with distaste. “Where is the control for the collar? He must have it on him somewhere.”
Ellard shifted and fingered his side where Malasses had got him with his horns. “He swallowed it. Need to secure the bridge.”
“Ry has weapons locked on them.” Shiloh felt the deck around him and carefully climbed to his feet. “They’re not going anywhere.”
“We need that control,” Ransom said. “It’s impossible to remove the collars without it.”
Ellard grimaced. “Who is going to retrieve it?”
“Not me,” Gweneth said. “I blasted him.”
“You?” Shiloh glanced at Ellard and noticed the absence of his Stores for the first time. “Where is your arm?”
“Long story,” Ellard said. “The bridge. I don’t trust those Scothage reivers. The captain is crafty.”
Ransom pulled out a knife. “I’ll retrieve the control and guard the Incorporeals. The three of you should be able to secure the bridge.”
“Which way?” Shiloh demanded.
Ellard scooped up his blaster. “This way.”
He set a brisk pace down the corridor, aware of his brother and Gweneth trailing him.
He wanted to tell her to stay with Ransom because it would be safer if the Scothage males attempted to resist. Yet, she had saved them from Malasses and kept her wits in a difficult situation.
Gweneth had earned her place at his side, even if the feline part of him hated the idea of her in danger.
Ellard burst onto the bridge. The captain sat at the ship controls, his features grim, his attention on the Indy, visible through the viewport. The rest of his crew stood behind him.
“I’ll check them for weapons,” Shiloh said and rapidly conducted a search. He retrieved four blasters, two short swords, and six knives. “Here. Com Ry.”
Gweneth accepted Shiloh’s com unit and contacted the Indy. “Ry, it’s Gweneth. We have control of the ship.”
“Is Niran with you?”
With his feline hearing, Ellard could hear the conversation.
“Yes.”
“Tell the captain to set course for Narenda,” Ry said. “Lynx will disengage Ransom’s ship and fly it back to Narenda. Tell Shiloh and Ransom to stay on board.”
“Aye, Captain,” Gweneth said.