Chapter 3
THREE
Taron
Taron gazed down at the unconscious female slowly sinking to the floor.
The gravity on his ship was artificially generated, so things didn’t work exactly how they did on a planet.
The closest thing to the floor stuck well enough, but anything not touching the floor—like the screen he’d been watching—floated, weightless.
The female, whose upper body was farther from the floor than her feet, and who was no longer using her muscles to keep herself upright, would sink slowly as the rest of her caught up to her grounded feet.
Fake gravity wasn’t perfect. Nothing was.
Except, maybe, this female’s beauty. Rich auburn hair spilled over his arm.
It was as soft as the finest spun silk. Dark brows arched over hazel eyes, which were closed now.
Thick lashes fanned over her pale—too pale—cheeks, where freckles spattered over her nose and high cheekbones.
Stars, she had the most delicious-looking lips—rosy and lush, with the bottom fuller than the top.
It was a shame she was a few bricks short of a load—that was an interesting expression.
Her body was going to hit the floor, so he took her wrist and guided her onto his lap.
The gravity field he’d installed in this ship caused some first-time guests to pass out.
Blood didn’t travel up through the body to the head as quickly as it used to, or something like that.
Kimberly’s body would adjust. His had. Every passenger who had had this happen to them had woken up quickly.
In the meantime…he had a beautiful female in his lap.
Thanks to his heavily booked transport schedule, it had been quite a while since he’d held any female, beautiful or not.
He kept his grip light. Her head rested in his palm.
He rested his other arm over her shins. Her eyelids twitched. He felt her muscles contract.
“Hello,” he said as she came awake.
She frowned up at him. “What happened?”
“The ship’s gravity field can take some getting used to,” he replied. “You were only out for a few moments.”
Frown firmly in place, she climbed off his lap and he released her, palms out. “I still feel woozy.”
“That’s probably the aftereffects of the sedative.” Would she resume her crazy talk about not being Kimberly Humphries? He had to admit, she had a convincing delivery. Perhaps she was an actress. Time to find out. “Are you hungry, Kimberly? Thirsty?”
“Don’t call me Kimberly.”
Ah, the crazy was still in place. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “I deliver you. I get paid. Whatever you want to call yourself in the meantime is your business.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Will you please take me back to Earth?”
“No.” Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. “Sorry. You signed a contract. Take it up with your Virilian match when you meet him.”
The female closed her eyes and went quiet.
She didn’t look angry anymore, just…resigned.
Sad. He mentally shrugged it off. None of his business.
This odd female could be as upset as she wanted.
She made this arrangement herself, and it wasn’t a simple process, from what he’d heard.
There were lots of physical tests and psychological evaluations—which clearly weren’t accurate—before they were trotted out in a white dress to be chosen by Ferias, the blind Virilian sage.
The time to back out was long before now.
“Let’s get you back to the passenger deck,” he told her. “You’ll be more comfortable there. There’s food, a bathroom, anything you need.”
She plucked at the white dress. “What about a change of clothes?”
He bit his tongue on a rebuttal. “I’ll see what I can find.”
They went back up the stairs to the large, open chamber.
“Stay here,” he instructed her, and continued up another flight of stairs to his personal quarters.
Here, he rummaged through a storage trunk where he stored several flight suits, just in case a passenger needed one.
He would not part with one of his T-shirts.
He chose the smallest suit and brought it down to her.
“Try this,” he said. “It’s the only thing I have that may fit you. ”
“Thanks.” She took it and sat down. “How long until we get to…wherever we’re going?”
He rubbed his chin and did a rough mental calculation. “At our current speed and route, a little over twelve Earth hours. We’re two thirds of the way there.”
She nodded, but he saw her blanch, caught the swallow that constricted her throat. If this female was acting, she was a star performer.
“There’s food, beverages, and other supplies in those compartments.” He pointed to a built-in portion of the wall with many sections. “Take whatever you need.”
“Thanks,” she said distantly. Her eyes glazed over and her gaze fixed to the floor. The flight suit hung limply from her fingers.
“If you need anything, you know where to find me.” He turned toward the control deck. There wasn’t anything else he could do for her. Like he said, he was there to deliver her. Not be her friend.
His senses pricked at the sound of the ship’s proximity alert. It was a low, extended ping that he could recognize from anywhere in the ship. It meant another vessel was close by. Not a big deal. It was the higher-pitched beep that accompanied it that made him frown.
“What is that noise?” Kimberly asked. She’d heard it too, and she’d seen his expression change.
“Nothing to worry about.” He pointed a finger at her delicate nose.
“Just. Stay here.” He turned and went directly to the control room, tossing himself in his chair.
Sure enough, they were being followed by a ship that was not broadcasting an identification signal. That was strange. And also not good.
They were in a barren stretch of space with no valuable land masses—no nothing, really—an area that wasn’t heavily trafficked. His vessel was sending a clear identification signal, declaring it an unarmed passenger courier ship. There was no reason for any ship to take an interest in him. Unless…
“What’s going on?” Kimberly appeared behind him. She was wearing the flight suit he’d given her. It fit, except for it being tight across the chest. The material stretched over large, firm breasts. One slim hand gripped the back of his chair, beside his shoulder.
“I told you to stay upstairs,” he growled at her. That damn vessel was still tracking them and it had a complete cloak over its transmitters, so even a scan wasn’t telling him what type of ship it was.
She completely ignored him. “What’s happening?”
“We’re being followed by an unknown vessel with a lock on us.
I don’t know who they are or why they’re on us.
” He sent out a generic hail to the other ship.
It was a pre-recorded greeting transmitted in all four universal languages, informing his pursuer that his was a courier ship and not banned in any of the four sectors of the galaxy.
There was no reply. He couldn’t say he was shocked by that.
She leaned forward, sending nicely scented hair brushing his cheek. “Can you get away from them?”
“I intend to try.” He waved her back. “Will you move? You’re in my space.”
She did lean away, thankfully, clearing the air of that distracting scent of hers. “In your space,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t even be in space.”
He could fly his ship or he could argue with her.
He wasn’t multitalented enough to do both, so he grabbed the screen dedicated to manual flying from its dock and snapped it to one of the open spots on his console.
There were already three screens in front of him, attached to the curved rack just over his lap.
One monitored the other vessel, another read out the systems on his ship, and a third worked to decrypt the transmission cloaking on the shadow locked on to him.
The last one he wasn’t technically supposed to have, but it often paid to hack into the communications of other ships, when he had hot passengers or cargo.
This time, he thought he had neither, unless Kimberly was something other than she seemed. Or maybe, he thought queasily, she was exactly what she claimed to be.
He inputted several maneuver codes, which he’d designed himself, and hit “execute.” The S-4 Cruiser corked into a horizontal spin, came out and made a ninety-degree turn.
“Whoa,” said Kimberly, grabbing his chair again. “I feel like I should be flying around the cabin.”
“Space,” he said, inputting another set of maneuver codes, “works differently.”
They arched high over where the rogue ship was.
Taron’s stomach dropped at what he saw. “Shit. It’s a Stealth Battleshot.
” Black and sleek, they were designed to sneak up on and obliterate enemies.
He knew his vessel stood no chance against this.
Worse, the ship had been able to follow each move as though it anticipated them.
As if they had the exact codes he’d entered.
“Did we lose them?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Can we shoot them?”
He shook his head. “Courier ships aren’t permitted to have weapons.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“We agree on something, at last.” He heard her snort out a laugh, but didn’t have time to see the smile that went with it.
Dread was increasing in his gut by the second. Stealth Battleshots had weapons, and his sensors had noted that they were hot and locked on him. Once more, he tried hailing the other ship, but as before, there was no reply.