Chapter 17
That was her serious tone.
Torian frowned. “I can handle myself. You originally hired me as security, you know.”
Amelia sounded a touch exasperated. “After last time? No chance. Stay put, Scrap.”
She cut off the radio.
The hangar Amelia had paid for was big enough to dock both ships side by side, but with the Destitute unable to maneuver, bots were towing her the rest of the way. They flitted around the alien vessel, attaching hoverpads and gently pushing it beside Amelia’s.
Through one of the side windows in the flight deck, Torian got a clean view of this “welcoming committee.” It was only four people, but their expressions definitely looked hostile, and two had weapon holsters. The group’s leader appeared to be a stiff woman with muscles like solid steel.
Sweat prickled Torian’s neck, but even though every instinct was telling her to get out there and be security, she wasn’t in that career path anymore. Amelia had demoted her—because Torian had gotten shot the last time she’d tried that.
“You are registering signs of stress,” Moss said.
“Look at them. Of course I’m stressed,” Torian replied tightly. “I should be out there.”
“Amelia told you not to leave. After running various scenarios gauging your personality and combat ability, I can confirm that your not-romantic partner has sound advice.”
Torian grimaced. “Gee, thanks.” She watched as Amelia’s starship opened, as Amelia disembarked down the ramp of her own ship, followed by Opula and two others on her security team.
Amelia typically had four or five security officers at any given time, and based on Fleet protocol, the odds were slim that the rest of them weren’t poised just inside the ship, ready to attack if Amelia was threatened.
Amelia had this under control.
(Knowing that didn’t make Torian feel better.)
“Can you turn on the exterior microphone?” Torian whispered, as if these hostile newcomers could hear her through the Destitute’s hull.
Although maybe it wasn’t so stupid, because the second she uttered it, one looked her way.
Torian ducked out of sight, crouching beside the flight deck’s single chair, her heart pounding.
“Yes,” Moss replied. Then it added, almost slyly, “If you are concerned with your privacy again, rest assured that I dimmed our plenaria windows when we arrived.”
“Plenaria?” Torian breathed, pushing cautiously to her feet.
Moss sounded exasperated now. “Yes. Glass and other composites are poor visual aids in space. Plenaria has the same transparent qualities, but with the durability of steel. It is code for building requirements in both nylarian culture and the Confederation of Spacefaring Species. Plenaria can also act as your human two-way glass, but with far more efficiency.”
Torian waved, but none of the people outside looked at her. “So, they can’t see me?”
“That is what I just said.”
Without further ado, Moss turned on the exterior microphone, catching the tail end of Amelia’s statement to the group. “—here for anything profitable, trust me. We picked up a stray in space; couldn’t leave them stranded.”
Torian leaned closer to the windows, squinting at these people. Trying to ascertain if she should go outside, just to provide backup. But she was not good at security, so the backup she’d provide would probably suck ass. Torian stayed put, grudgingly.
“Always honorable, you Fleeters,” the lead woman drawled, crossing beefy arms. “At least when folks are looking.”
“We’re plenty dishonorable when they aren’t, it’s true. Not that you folks in the Luminas can boast more.” Amelia offered a charming smile, but to Torian, it seemed more like a predator’s grin.
The Luminas were one of two other smuggling cartels. If the Fleet operated with old-world honor swathed in crime, the Luminas were their high-tech cousin with shadier morals. If she looked closely, Torian could see the holographic visor over one thug’s eyes, the laser gun strapped to another’s hip.
The Luminas had an uneasy truce with the Fleet, maintained only through careful boundaries about jobs. Facing Amelia like this on Colony 4—which was neutral territory—was bold.
Or stupid.
Or both.
“All right, Fleeter.” The Luminas woman inclined her head at Torian’s ship. “Time to explain why a Fleet vessel towed an unregistered starship into our hangar. Better yet, give us a cut of the profits for this job, and we’ll go about our merry way.”
Amelia laughed, but one hand rested on her gun. “There’s no profits. We found a drifter in space, and because we’re ever so kind and thoughtful, we towed them here.”
“Ratshit. We know who you are, and you don’t do nothin’ for free,” Goon 1, a mustached man standing behind the Luminas leader, snapped. “Fucking Princess of the—”
He fell silent with one scathing look from the leader.
Amelia’s predatory smile grew. “I love when my reputation precedes me. It means we can cut the chatter and get right to the point.” She tugged a pistol out of her own holster.
It was big and intimidating, and Torian doubted it was loaded with jelly bullets.
“Let’s make sure your story is straight.
We’re on Colony 4, and a Luminas crew is claiming to own this hangar. Is that about right?”
“Torian,” Moss said.
Torian jumped, startled. She’d almost forgotten Moss was here, that she was sitting in her own starship while a potential war started on the nearby dock. “Not now, Moss,” she hissed.
The Luminas leader’s jaw clenched.
It was enough of a tell. Amelia tilted her head, raising her eyebrows. “And here I thought we’d agreed that Colony 4 was off-limits.”
“It was. Until you docked in our hangar.”
At Amelia’s side, Opula tensed, narrowing her eyes.
Amelia, meanwhile, smiled prettily. “I see. Look at my starship. How many crewmembers do you think I have?”
“Torian,” Moss said again.
She grimaced, spinning away from the window. “What, Moss?” What was more important than the events unfolding outside her ship?
“There is another human attempting to cut through the hull of our vessel,” Moss said simply.
“Just so you’re aware.” To emphasize, a recorded image of the Destitute’s exterior appeared, with a shady figure crouching by their starship, activating a welding torch.
It should be loud, but they’d also appeared to bring some kind of noise dampener.
Between that and the rumble of Amelia’s starship, the noise seemed imperceptible.
Someone was trying to break into her new ship.
Torian scowled. All right. If Amelia wanted to tackle a hostile situation without Torian, that was her prerogative. But Moss? The Destitute? Those were Torian’s to protect, and fuck anyone who thought they could act otherwise.
In an instant, Torian had left the flight deck. She paused to check for weapons. Zen had destroyed her gun, but there were knives in the kitchenette that might do in a pinch. She slid one into her boot, ensuring it was accessible, and strode for the cargo bay.
“You are leaving? Why don’t you simply alert Amelia and her security humans?” Moss said over the intercom.
Torian jogged down the stairs to the cargo bay.
“Amelia is in a standoff right now. If we interrupt, someone could start shooting. People might die.” She set her jaw.
“I have to handle this alone, discreetly.” She approached the holopanel to the cargo bay doors.
It was dark, and tapping the screen did nothing.
Torian scowled. “Moss. Unlock the doors.”
“I’m running scenarios.” Moss paused. A long pause, considering what was happening outside. “Confirmed. They are not favorable for you. As your life support system, I will inform you that approaching a hostile human with a blowtorch is not supportive of life.”
For the love of the Heavens. “You’re trapping me on this ship, Moss. I promised I’d always return to the Destitute … but if you keep this door locked, I won’t want to come back. Run a scenario to verify that.”
Silence.
Then, the holopanel illuminated, offering her the option to open the cargo bay doors.
“Be careful, Torian,” Moss said grudgingly.
“I will,” Torian replied, and discreetly opened the cargo bay doors enough to slip outside.
The cargo bay doors were angled away from Amelia’s standoff, and Torian didn’t hear shooting, so she assumed it was still in the “let’s talk this out” phase.
Hidden by her ship, Torian crept along the side of the Destitute, pulling out the knife.
She didn’t use a knife often—really more of a last resort—but she had enough training with it that it felt comfortable in her hand.
Her heart pounded. This was really stupid. But hell if some smuggling asshole was going to break into her ship and realize what, exactly, lay inside. She couldn’t trust Moss to keep quiet when it counted. And any decent smuggler would realize what Moss was worth.
Fuck this guy.
The Luminas infiltrator had his back to her approach, attempting to carve into the hull. The noise dampener around him made a high-pitched screeching that was nearly inaudible until she got close. She hated some of the technology the Luminas cartel used.
Instead of saying hello, giving up her surprise advantage for a peaceful option, Torian lunged.
Of course, she didn’t actually want to kill anyone—and the moment her blade got close to burying into the man’s back, she pulled up at the last second, slicing his arm instead. The blowtorch clattered to the ground, turning off instantly, but her battle was far from over.
“What the fuck,” the man snarled, spinning on her. He was a lot bigger standing up, and she backed up a few paces, giving herself space.
Stupid. Amelia told her to always go for a debilitating shot.
“You or them, Scrap.”
Well, too late now.
“Get the hell away from my ship,” Torian said, but her voice trembled.
The man plucked a gun from the small of his back, flicking off the safety. It wasn’t a laser weapon, which was a blessing—but Torian would bet money that it wasn’t loaded with jelly bullets. He cast a glance at his bleeding arm and snarled, “You’re dead, girl.”
“Unacceptable,” Moss said from the intercom, and a new screech echoed over the speakers.
If Torian thought the sound-dampening device was annoying, this was downright painful.
It rang at a frequency that nearly drew her to her knees, and it definitely incapacitated the man.
Gasping through the pain, she raised her knife to try again—
And Amelia rounded the corner and fired a single shot into the man’s kneecap.
Within a breath, she’d kicked the wound, driving the man to the ground, and tossed his gun to Torian.
Torian fumbled, catching it in a move that impressed even her.
Amelia pressed her gun to the man’s head, even as the earsplitting noise cut off abruptly.
In the ringing silence, Amelia snapped, “I told you to wait in your ship.”
“I—he was—”
Amelia seemed to realize that Torian was flustered, but there was no way that conversation was over. Still, she pivoted, kicking the blowtorch out of the man’s reach, even as he sobbed in pain under her gun. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Fuckin’ course I am,” the man whimpered.
“Not you.” Amelia glanced at Torian, her gaze softening. “Tor. You hurt?”
Torian shoved the knife back into her boot.
“No. No, I’m fine.” She stepped past Amelia, her whole body trembling, to examine the damage to the Destitute’s hull.
It was scuff marks at best—the nylarians clearly used an ultra-strong alloy for their starships, and the man hadn’t had time to do any damage.
“Captain,” Opula said, rounding the corner. She had a cut along her cheek, but otherwise appeared fine. Her eyes locked on Torian briefly, and then she moved on. “Situation under control. Do you know what that sound was?”
“It was my ship,” Torian said, before Moss could make itself known. “Security feature.”
Opula seemed unimpressed, casting a scathing look at the Destitute. “Hmm. Captain, what are your orders?”
“Secure the hangar. Call the authorities and tell them we were attacked.”
Opula quirked an eyebrow. “The authorities?”
“I’m not going to be responsible for breaking the truce and starting a war,” Amelia growled.
“Let the Luminas have their people back, with a warning that we’ll kill them all if they attack a Fleet ship again.
” At that, she shoved her gun roughly into the back of the blubbering man, who nodded vigorously.
“We won’t. We won’t,” he whined.
Business as usual.
Opula frowned, but dutifully hauled the man back to his friends. Despite his size, she muscled him around like he weighed nothing, shoving him as he hopped on his one good leg. Torian almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
The moment they were alone, Amelia rounded on Torian again.
Here we go.