Chapter 5
LYK
Rigellus’s vessel glided along its path past the outer reaches of the asteroid belt—which was where the Raven’s sleek battle cruiser lay in wait, ready to pounce.
“You know for a fact that we can disable his weapons?”
Celdrake nodded. “I’ve got an inside man, Captain. He wants to join us. He did it for the promise of the tattoo alone.”
Lyk wanted to scowl but he kept his expression neutral.
Years ago, his men had started tattooing a little black bird on themselves as a way of marking themselves as members of the crew he led.
Lyk considered it foolish. After all, he’d left his home world because he wasn’t interested in ruling over others.
How ironic that men now wanted to wear his mark and heed his orders of their own volition, without a title or a royal lineage to back him up. Just because they wanted to follow his lead.
Fools.
The viewscreen showed their tasty target, close enough to gobble up in a flash. “Everyone to their stations. Let’s do this.”
He trusted his men to carry out their duties. To a man, they were brave, ambitious, and ruthless when it was called for. He’d cobbled together a crew from his former conquests, offering them a spot with him, perhaps as a means of assuaging his guilt at taking away their livelihoods.
Lyk stood at the navigation panel, waiting for the exact right moment to strike.
He turned to Celdrake and nodded, watching as the cyborg brought the weapons array online.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, the Raven laid his hand on the thrusters, causing the cruiser to shoot out of its hiding place, rocketing toward Rigellus’s cargo ship.
Lyk knew they’d be showing up on proximity sensors as soon as they cleared the asteroid field, but by then, they wouldn’t have much time to get weapons online and aimed before they took damage.
Celdrake was brutally efficient, his precision strikes aimed to take out their shields before they could get their weapons aimed and ready.
Thanks to the information the cyborg got from Rigellus’s crew member, Celdrake knew exactly which areas to target.
“We’re almost in range,” the cyborg announced. “Just get me a little closer.”
Lyk increased the thrust, and they hurtled even faster toward the other vessel. “They’ve seen us,” he muttered when the white lights on the ship’s hull flashed red.
“Won’t matter,” Celdrake replied, engaging the weapons system. Beams of hot light shot toward their targets, their impact causing a chain of explosions. “Got it!”
With no shields, Rigellus’s vessel could not withstand the Raven’s full-on onslaught. Lyk smiled. “Make contact with that ship.”
The image on the viewscreen shifted, revealing the bridge of the other vessel. His bulk settled into a large chair, Rigellus blew out the ends of his aquamarine mustache in anger. “What in the seven-known galaxies do you think you’re doing?”
Lyk ignored his question, looking the man over.
He was an Ivorian, his gray skin waddled in rolls over his body.
Beady black eyes sat over a broad nose with wide nostrils, beneath which the tendrils of his mustache moved of their own accord.
His vast form was covered in expensive fabrics, and he had the air of a man who was used to getting his own way.
Not today.
“Your shields are down, and I’ve got an array of weapons just waiting to tear your ship apart. Don’t give me a reason.”
Rigellus frowned at Lyk’s cold tone. “You don’t know who you’re playing with, Territhian. If I were you, I’d turn my ship around and drag my carcass to some unknown colony in the Outer Rim. I’m a powerful man, and you will regret this.”
Lyk laughed. “I know exactly who I’m playing with.
Rigel Rigellus, the Slaver. You might line enough pockets to keep your little side business flourishing, but I’m not afraid of your political connections.
Whatever authority you think you can throw at me, I’m confident I can thwart.
Now, if you’re done blubbering, you can unlock your docking port and let my men inside, or we can see how long your crew can last without life support.
Your luxury goods don’t require oxygen. Only you do. ”
His mustache was squirming like crazy, as if the tendrils would uproot themselves and crawl off his face if possible. “You insolent rat. If you don’t—”
“Mister Celdrake, target that ship’s life-support systems.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” the cyborg responded, his grin excited.
“Wait!” Rigellus held a chubby hand up. “Let’s make a deal. You can have my cargo. My men will even load it onto your ship for you.”
“How kind. That means you’re unlocking the docking port?”
“Yes. But I ask you not to board my ship. As I said, my men will bring you the cargo.”
Lyk laughed, a big belly laugh that was taken up by Celdrake and the other men on the bridge. Rigellus sank lower in his seat and the Raven stared him down. “I wonder what you’re hiding, fat man. You must have something really good stashed if you don’t want me on your ship.”
Rigellus licked his lips and looked away. “It’s nothing.”
Lyk leaned in, intrigued. It was obvious Rigellus was hiding something. Too obvious. He didn’t trust the slaver, even less now. If Rigellus didn’t want him on the ship, why would he as much as say so? Something smelled rotten, even worse than the giant centipede plant.
Putting in coordinates to dock the ship against the slaver’s, Lyk cut the communications feed. “Something’s up.”
Celdrake glanced at him. “Yeah. He’s hiding something on that ship and he doesn’t want us to find it.”
“Then why would he be so obvious about it? He’s laying a trap for us.”
Scoffing, Celdrake shook his head. “Rigellus isn’t that smart. And he’s got zero time to lay any traps. You’re being paranoid.”
Lyk had learned to trust his gut. A pirate who didn’t follow his instincts didn’t last long. “I hope I am being paranoid, but I want everyone on high alert. I’m on lead.”
Celdrake’s eyes widened. “You’re lead? But I usually—”
“This isn’t a comment on your abilities. You’ll run point for me. But something sketchy is going on and I’m going to find out what it is myself.”
Lyk stepped away from his console, signaling one of his most trusted men to take his place and ordering him to mind the ship in his absence. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the exit, waiting for the cyborg to fall in step behind him.
The boarding party was already assembled at the airlock, ready to invade the slaver’s ship.
“Keep your eyes open. Rigellus is setting some kind of trap for us, and I’m not in the business of casually risking lives.
Everyone stays alert. Everyone keeps their comms on.
If you see something strange, say something. Don’t hesitate. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain!” Their response echoed in the tight quarters.
Lyk nodded and took the lead position, opening the hatch and approaching the outer door of the other ship. He knocked hard, wondering if Rigellus would open his hatch or if Lyk would have to order his men to rain more fire down on the vessel.
It seemed Rigellus wasn’t prepared to risk his life support as the hatch opened quickly. There were several men standing there in bright red livery. Lyk thought they looked like dandies, not at all like his own rough and tumble crew.
“Three of you are with me. Celdrake, you keep the others with you.” He turned to the lead dandy. “I want you to take my men to the cargo hold.” Addressing another man in red livery, Lyk packed his voice with authority. “Take me to Rigellus.”
The walk to the bridge showed Lyk exactly what kind of man he was dealing with.
Rigellus was clearly obsessed with showcasing his wealth.
For a cargo vessel, the ship was decked out in high-end furnishings made from the most expensive materials.
Why outfit a practical vehicle with such luxurious trappings?
Was Rigellus that wealthy or just status-obsessed?
They reached the bridge, his men brandishing their weapons more than enough to cow the assembled crew. Rigellus didn’t bother to stand, and Lyk wondered if he could even lift his bulk out of his chair if he wanted to. “Nice ship you got here.”
The fat Ivorian scowled. “Just take the goods and go. I want your men off this ship as quickly as possible.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be out of your mustache hair before you know it.” Lyk stepped up to one of the consoles. “What’s the access code?”
Rigellus blew out a huge breath, agitating his mustache tendrils. “What do you need that for?”
Lyk looked over his shoulder, a half-smile on his face. He jerked his head in Rigellus’s direction, and one of his men held a weapon to the fat Ivorian’s head.
“Okay, okay!” Rigellus said, holding his hands up. He rattled off a series of letters and numbers that Lyk typed into the console pad. The screen unlocked, and Lyk quickly pulled up the manifest.
“You’ve got quite a list of luxury items here. I’m sure those entitled suckers in the Rings are just dying to get their hands on wooden armoires from Killian and sculptures from Orion’s Belt. They should fetch a pretty penny.”
Rigellus said nothing as Lyk scrolled through the list. It was a good haul, but it wasn’t everything. Lyk could sense it. “What else have you got?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything is in the cargo manifest.”
“Sure it is,” Lyk said, bringing up a schematic of the ship. He looked for likely hiding places, for spaces that seemed not to fit the actual dimensions of the ship. He’d gotten his start in smuggling, so he knew exactly what to look for.
“Keep him here,” Lyk said to his men. “I’m going to check something out.”
Although he required his men to remain in pairs, Lyk didn’t hold himself to the same standard. He was fearless and independent. At least that was what he told himself. In point of fact, some would say Lyk had a death wish.
He’d never been afraid to throw himself headlong into danger. After he’d left Vartik, he’d taken on any job, no matter how perilous. His courage had earned him respect and a following. His men thought he was brave or crazy. They never would have guessed that deep down, he was lonely.
He was tired of living an empty life. Going from score to score, growing his fortune and his crew.
But it was all meaningless without someone to share it with.
His family had meant everything to him when he was younger.
Now, he only spoke to Kara and only in his mind.
It had been decades since he’d seen any of the Vartik royal line in person.
Maybe it was regret that drove him. Or maybe it was the expanse that yawned inside him, never filled, always aching.
Whatever it was, it made Lyk feel invincible.
Which was why he strode confidently down the corridor of Rigellus’s ship, his eyes on the junction in front of him.
Behind the wall, he was certain there was a small hold hidden.
He knew he’d find some means of opening the panel and revealing it.
Lyk walked closer, already smiling at his own cleverness.
He didn’t hear the noises behind him until it was too late. Lyk pivoted, swinging out with a kick, ready to sweep the legs out from under whoever was creeping up on him.
The problem was, the creature didn’t have legs. It had wings. Without hesitating, it opened its mouth and spit out a cloud of gas that dropped Lyk to the floor with a groan.
His body lay there motionless, even as his mind started to panic. Above him, the creature with veiny, miniscule wings hovered, its bulbous face inspecting him. The damn thing shouldn’t even be able to fly, yet it had managed to incapacitate the Raven.
“Celdrake,” Lyk tried to cry into his comm, but his lips refused to move. His throat wouldn’t work. No words came from his mouth.
It wouldn’t be long before the dandies found him, if this creature didn’t do something else to him in the meantime.
It looks like this time, the emptiness might win.