Stolen Stars (Fortune’s Favor #1)

Chapter 1

Lacy

The airlock finished its cycle and pinged, the door to the dock opening.

For a long moment, no one moved. I shifted to the balls of my feet and held my breath.

The drunk spacer leaned past me, so close I could smell the alcohol. He sneered and pointed over my shoulder. “That piece of shit?”

We were still pretty far away, but I knew what he saw.

Sure, she was smaller than most of the others in the dock.

A sleek, mid-bulk transport ship, not a huge cargo ship.

Room for cargo, crew, and maybe a shuttle, depending on her internal configuration.

Maybe she was a little rough around the edges, but I’d bet that was mostly cosmetic.

Her vibe wasn’t that of a down-on-her-luck ship.

“Hey! Don’t talk crap about my ship!” I defended Fortuna the same way I would’ve defended Mako.

The spacers chuckled and the tension in the small space eased a smidge.

The big guy snorted and stepped back, out of my personal space. “Good luck out there in that tin can.” He shook his head and took off, followed by his friends.

And then it was just me in the airlock. I braced my hands on my knees and sucked in the first deep breath I’d taken since they’d noticed me.

Then, despite the pain that was getting worse the more the adrenaline wore off, I straightened and stepped back onto the dock.

In case the spacer and his friends were still suspicious of me, I ambled over toward the Fortuna.

My brain raced as I tried to sort out what I knew. I was in the middle of the spaceport with basically the clothes on my back, my tool bag, my hopefully still-edible dinner, and whatever credits I had in my bag. And the data disc that Bob had delivered.

I patted my pocket. The small packet was still there. Was that what they’d been looking for?

I had no idea who’d sent it, much less what was on it. A map of . . . something?

Time and a safe space. That’s what I needed. That was the only way I could figure out what was happening. A place where no one would think to look for me.

Stopping in front of the Fortuna, I studied the ship.

Though the Cyclones were designed with a full crew in mind, they could be piloted by a single person. The ships had capacity for a dozen crew, maybe a few more if they doubled up. Their size made them perfect for running smaller cargo loads.

I bit my lip and stared at the ship. What I was thinking was crazy, right?

The final dregs of my adrenaline rush chose that moment to wear off and a wave of exhaustion rolled over me. That decided it—I’d sleep on the ship tonight. I knew that model inside and out; there were plenty of hidden nooks and crannies I could tuck myself into.

Tomorrow, after I’d gotten some sleep, I’d come up with a better plan.

The freighter next to Fortuna cast an immense shadow over the smaller ship. Hopefully my dark coveralls and dark hair—and my I-belong-here attitude—would prevent anyone else from questioning my presence.

From the darkness, I studied my surroundings. The docks were never truly silent, never really empty. Repairs, loading and unloading cargo, arrivals and departures, the docks were a source of constant activity. Fortunately for me tonight, none of that was happening around Fortuna.

The lights at the end of the docking station indicated she was there for cargo, not repairs. She wasn’t waiting for crew either.

I swallowed hard. If the ship was carrying a full complement, this could be the dumbest thing I’d ever done. But to me, this ship—this style of ship—represented safety.

That was what I needed right now.

With my reserves fading and that safety a guiding light in my mind, I steeled my resolve and stepped out of the shadows.

Right up to the main entry hatch. As far as I was aware, Fortuna didn’t have external security sensors.

They weren’t standard on the Cyclones and anyway, my presence would have already set them off.

Setting my shoulders, I placed my hand on the right side of the hatch, then measured two palm widths further to the right. There was an easy way to break into a Cyclone and a hard way. This was the easy way.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered. I slammed the base of my palm against the hull. Pain radiated up my arm from the impact, but it was worth it when the hidden panel popped open.

The access panel was an open secret. Originally designed to allow military pilots quick access to any ship with a single access code, all Cyclones had been built with them. I knew the original military code. I’d always assumed that was how my dad had acquired Mako.

Sometimes private owners changed the codes. Sometimes they didn’t. Frequently that depended on whether they were dealing with an honest ship broker or not. I was about to find out how much Fortuna’s owner knew about his or her ship.

Angling my body toward the door, I entered the access code. The hatch opened with a faint whisper and a puff of air. Every muscle tensed and ready to run, I stood to the side of the entrance, waiting for someone on the ship to come investigate.

No one appeared.

I exhaled slowly.

Now or never.

Stepping through the hatch, I held my bag close to my body and pressed the inner latch to close the door.

Dim lighting illuminated the corridor. The ship was probably set to station standard time, which changed the interior lighting with the time of day.

If I followed this corridor to the rear of the ship, I’d pass the crew cabins, then the cargo hold, and shuttle bay. The engine room was down a level. The bridge was forward. I went that direction.

As I walked, I kept my steps light and my body loose. What would I do if I encountered any of Fortuna’s crew?

My best chance would be a version of the truth: I’d been attacked and was looking for a safe place. I saw the open hatch and ran in here for safety.

Certainly, my clothes would support that.

They were ripped and covered with dirt and grime from my window exit.

That was on top of the grease and grime from a day spent in the engine room.

Believable. Except for the last bit. I tried not to think about how my dad would respond to a stowaway.

He’d either keep them as crew or drop them at the next habitable planet. Usually.

The corridor was empty as I approached the bridge, so I didn’t have to test my story. The lights flickered as I neared my destination, reminding me of every haunted derelict ship movie I’d ever seen. I shuddered. Dammit, that was the last thing I needed to think about.

The bridge stood open and empty. I stepped inside and another pang of longing swept over me. It looked so much like my beloved Mako. And yet . . . it didn’t.

The stations were tidy, while the equipment showed signs of wear.

Nothing drastic, just the wear that came from regular use.

Nothing indicated that the ship hadn’t been well taken care of.

Taken care of, but not loved. There were no tchotchkes placed lovingly on the dash, like my bobblehead shark or the air freshener my sister had stuck to the console as a joke.

I moved closer and studied the setup. None of the standard equipment—radar, comms, and holo table—was missing, but I didn’t see any of the fancy add-ons I’d expect if the ship had seen better, more prosperous days. The captain’s chair was the most modern piece of equipment in the small space.

I smiled. The military-standard seats had been so uncomfortable, I’d upgraded Mako’s pilot chair within a week of receiving her.

Turning slowly, I scanned the rest of the bridge.

A quartet of small video screens near the auxiliary pilot station caught my attention.

I drifted closer to get a better look. “Tricky tricky,” I murmured.

Each screen captured a wide angle of the space around the ship, one for each direction. Including the main hatch.

The ship had to be empty because my entrance surely had been captured on the video feeds. If the captain or a crew member wasn’t on the bridge, where were they?

Movement on one of the screens caught my eye and I leaned closer. Another group of spacers, wobblier than the pack I’d attached myself to, made their way down the docks. I released a ragged breath when they turned in the opposite direction of Fortuna.

As I was about to leave the bridge, more movement onscreen caught my eye. Two figures staggered around the dock, though without the boneless grace too much alcohol gave you. I peered closer. Were those my pursuers?

Crap. The only way I’d know for sure would be to come face-to-face with them again. No way in hell was I risking that by leaving the ship.

My heartbeat quickened and the not-quite-formed bruises from my window exit begged me not to get in another fight.

If fight was out, what about flight? I bit my lip and looked at the console in front of me, then at the captain’s chair. Everything was the same as my Mako.

I considered my options.

The ship was empty.

I knew how to fly it.

Ignoring the tiny voice that warned that doing this would make me just like my father, I placed my bag on the navigator’s seat. Pliers in hand, I sank to my knees and wriggled beneath the master console.

Seconds later, it opened, revealing the mechanical heart of the bridge. Motor memory guided my hands as I bypassed the security and initiated engine start.

After I closed up the system I’d just performed delicate surgery on, I dropped into the captain’s chair and called up the command screen.

I took a deep breath and flipped the communications switch.

“Elegium stationmaster, this is Fortuna. Requesting immediate clearance for liftoff.”

The comms crackled to life. “Fortuna, this is Elegium stationmaster. You’re not scheduled for departure for two days.”

No way was I waiting around two more days.

“Stationmaster, we have a coolant leak and request immediate departure.” Even as I said the words, I winced.

Coolant leaks were the worst, especially when you were docked.

Elegium Station was equipped to handle leaks, but every mechanic I knew—including me—hated them.

Coolant failure could lead to explosive results and it was much easier to replace coolant—or clean up debris—in the vacuum of space.

“Stand by, Fortuna.”

Tense seconds passed while I waited for clearance. Antsy, I swiveled in my chair, my attention bouncing from the comms to the video screens. The two indistinct figures hadn’t moved.

Maybe I was overreacting. But, a tiny voice whispered, they hadn’t left yet either, so could I really take that chance?

“Fortuna, this is Elegium stationmaster. You are cleared for immediate departure through Zone 4. Good luck.”

“Thanks, stationmaster. Fortuna signing off.” I turned off the outbound communications. My stomach rolled and I blamed it on fear from the earlier attack rather than lying to the stationmaster and what I was about to do.

I ran through takeoff procedures quickly and efficiently. Then, with a wish and a prayer, I stole the Fortuna.