“They’re cutting their way in,” Alisa said. “You might want to finish there quickly, so we can, ah…” She had no idea. Get caught?
Another shelf flew across the cabin, knocking over a display device on the bedside table rotating through holo photos.
Alisa rooted into pockets and sleeves in the sides of the armor case, patting around the indentations built to fit the specific pieces. “Come on, Malik,” she whispered. “You’re a soldier. You must have some—” Her fingers brushed over some hard lumps in a pouch. “Yes, what’s this?”
A screech sounded as metal warped. Stronger light from the corridor flowed in around the armoire. Alisa pulled out two compact canisters. Rust bangs. And not the homemade version Mica had made, but legitimate ordnance from an imperial armory.
“This’ll do,” she said at the same time as Alejandro jumped back, a familiar box in his hands. He flicked open the lid, and golden light shone out.
“Got it.”
“Great. Now get back here, because we’re about to be invaded.”
Alisa had no sooner finished the words than something slammed into the armoire. It skidded forward a foot, wobbling precariously. Using her teeth, Alisa tugged free the tab that armed one of the rust bangs. She forced herself to hold it, recalling that the imperial ones had a five-second delay. The armoire tipped forward, revealing three robots and at least ten pirates crowding around the doorway.
Alisa threw the rust bang as they started to charge inside. The men’s eyes widened, and they stumbled back. One reached out, as if to grab it, but he must have recognized it, because he yanked his hand back and disappeared around the doorjamb. The robots did not sense their impending doom.
“Get down,” Alisa barked, shoving Alejandro toward the corner of the room behind the bed.
An explosion boomed, drowning out the warnings and imprecations of the pirates. Alisa and Alejandro tumbled into the corner, throwing their arms over their heads as corrosive ichor flew out in the corridor and also into the cabin.
The photo display toppled off the bedside table, landing on the floor in front of Alisa. She watched it out of the corner of her eye as shouts and cries of pain came from the corridor, and smoke wafted in through the doorway. The pictures continued to cycle, and she had glimpses of burly men in T-shirts lounging around a table and sharing drinks. Leonidas and Malik were both in the picture, glasses raised. The next photograph was a formal one, rows of men lined up in their army dress garb. She spotted Leonidas in that one, too, standing at the top left and wearing a crisp black imperial uniform bedecked with medals and ribbons, his face cool as he gazed at the photographer from beneath a black hat gilded with gold braids and insignia. Even though she knew what he was, what he had been, seeing that made her insides clench with discomfort.
Or maybe that was the damned orb. She and Alejandro were tangled on the floor, and it had ended up pressed against Alisa’s shoulders. A strange, numbing power coursed through her. Even through the box, it seemed to vibrate with energy.
“What is that thing?” She shifted away from it, half wondering if it was some super weapon despite Alejandro’s earlier slip when he had called it a map.
A spatter of corrosive goo dropped off the ceiling and landed on the picture displayer. The case sizzled, smoke wafting up, then hissed and died. The photos disappeared.
“Something very old,” Alejandro said, lifting his head and looking warily toward the doorway.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t hold it close to my balls, not if you ever want to have kids.”
“I already have children—they’re grown.”
“Ah, then maybe you’re safe, so long as your wife no longer expects you to perform husbandly duties.”
“We’re divorced—she didn’t understand my dedication to my work. Or my pathological obsession, as she called it.”
Alisa crawled out of the corner, the second rust bang in her hand. “Then by all means, cuddle that orb in your lap. Just don’t touch me with it.”
It had grown quiet in the corridor, and she risked peeking around the doorjamb—most of the door was gone, a giant hole torn out of the middle. The remains lay in the corridor along with the three robots. They weren’t floating anymore. The goo that was designed to eat through combat armor had corroded holes in their carapaces, revealing smoking wiring and gears. The decking also smoked, the acidic substance eating into it too.
Most of the pirates, their skin not as vulnerable as metal in this case, had made it to safety, though a couple lay stunned from the shockwave. She spotted several faces peering in her direction from the intersection. Someone poked a gun around the corner, and she jerked her head back into the cabin. She grabbed her own gun and, using her teeth, armed the second rust bang.
Without risking her head, Alisa hurled it into the corridor, bouncing it off the wall in the hope that it would angle toward the shooters. Blazer rifles squealed and red bolts streaked past the doorway, but the attack was short-lived.
“Move, move,” someone shouted.
“Now’s our chance,” Alisa whispered, waving for Alejandro to join her. He crouched behind her, ready to spring out.
As soon as the corrosive goo stopped flying, she peeked into the corridor. Nobody had a head around the corner now.
“This way,” she whispered and clambered out over the fallen armoire, trying not to make any noise. One of the robots twitched feebly, but none of them looked like they would be smelting ore—or intruders—again.
Alisa waited for Alejandro before turning to run. Unfortunately, they could not head back the way they’d come, not if she wanted to avoid angry pirates. At the first intersection, she let Alejandro choose the way. She had lost all sense of direction and hoped they would come to a sign that proclaimed the way to engineering.
The sounds of a firefight came from somewhere ahead of them, perhaps pointing the way better than a sign. It might be something to do with the escaped miners—some of them could have acquired weapons by now—but she did not think they were close to the landing bay yet.
“You know we’re running toward trouble, right?” Alejandro asked, his pace slowing. He had lost some of his intensity since recovering the orb. He carried the box tucked under his arm, his fingers curled possessively around it.
Alisa did not slow down, well aware that pursuers were after them. “I hate to tell you this, but on this ship, we are the trouble.”
“Maybe that’s part of our problem.”
“Just part?”
She paused before running into an intersection to make sure nobody was coming, robot, human, or otherwise. The way was empty, only the peals of the alarm filling the passage. A plaque pointed the way to engineering. That would have been excellent, except that the sounds of gunfire and ricocheting bullets were coming from that direction. She feared that was Beck, Mica, and Yumi, and that they were at the heart of more trouble.
Alisa picked up the pace. Up ahead, the corridor opened into a larger chamber. A red beam burst past the doorway. A second later, something was hurled from the other direction, a long cylinder, twirling end over end. As Alisa and Alejandro neared the chamber, an explosion ripped through the air.
The decking shuddered under their feet, and Alisa thought of the inadvisability of hurling bombs within a spaceship. Even though this behemoth of a vessel seemed too large to be vulnerable to anything, she knew that was an illusion. A hull breach was a hull breach, no matter what the size of the ship.
At the end of the corridor, Alisa paused to scan the large chamber. A sign said engineering was to the left, but an open space lay in the way. Running out there with people shooting and blowing things up would not be healthy. To her right, she could make out a tangle of mining equipment, towering pumps and holding tanks, some warped and bullet ridden. Smoke hung in the air, and a couple of unmoving men sprawled on the deck. Voices came from her left, familiar voices.
“Now?”
“Now.”
Beck, Yumi, Mica, and Sparky,
the engineering miner from the other cell, raced out from behind one of several piles of dirt and rock that appeared to have been freshly acquired from an asteroid. They sprinted for the corridor where Alisa and Alejandro waited. She stepped out and started to wave them in, but a pirate rolled out from behind the smoking equipment to fire at them.
Alisa fired first, shooting him in the shoulder. An instant later, Beck’s blazer bolt hammered the man in the chest. The pirate flew backward, his weapon falling from his fingers.
Sparky reached the corridor first, nearly crashing into Alejandro. Alisa covered the rest of her comrades as they ran over. Beck fired again, a half second before a blue blazer beam streaked out from behind an equipment stack. It struck him in the side, and he grunted and staggered, but kept running, his armor protecting him. He returned fire as he ran, then threw something from his other hand. Another cylinder—was that a pipe?—flew across the chamber.
People shouted and ran away from the equipment stack. Another explosion poured smoke into the air and launched shrapnel in a thousand directions. Some of it pelted Beck in the back as he ran into the corridor, waving for them to hurry ahead of him. It clanged off his armor and the back of his helmet.
“Good to see you, Captain,” he said brightly, ignoring the shrapnel. “I found Mica. She made me bombs.”
“I saw. She’s very useful.” Alisa patted Mica on the back.
“I don’t suppose there’s a ship waiting for my useful backside?” she asked.
“We’re heading there now. Anything we need to know about?” Alisa pointed back the way they had come. Beck was jogging backward, guarding their rear.
“That it would be wise to leave sooner rather than later.”
“You have a diversion coming?” Alisa asked as they ran toward the nearest intersection.
“This ship is going to have some trouble in about fifteen minutes.” Mica glanced at Sparky. “I talked our new friend here into helping instead of reporting that I was arranging a small explosion. Unfortunately, one of the pirates watching over us had a few brain cells and figured out what I was doing. We had an exchange. Beck had good timing in showing up to help.”
While continuing to watch behind them, Beck tossed a salute toward her, revealing a scorched armpit from where that bolt had struck him. It didn’t seem to bother him.
“Landing bay this way,” Alejandro said, pointing at a sign.
For the first time since the day had started, Alisa felt excitement instead of dread and apprehension. Might they actually reach the ship and get out of this?
“Any chance you destroyed the grab beam?” she asked.
Mica shook her head. “The generator isn’t in engineering. But I looked at a map, and it’s accessible from the landing bay.”
“Good, good. Things are going our way.” Alisa thumped Mica on the back. “This is excellent.”
Mica made a dour face. “Don’t get prematurely excited, Captain Optimism.”
“Who, me?”
They turned a corner, following another sign pointing the way. Eventually, the cavernous landing bay appeared at the end of their corridor. Alisa listened for sounds of gunfire or miners being captured, but she did not hear anything other than a few bangs and clunks. Only automated equipment being operated, she hoped.
Alisa picked up her pace, taking the lead, but before she reached the entrance, a tiny light flashed on a wall panel to its left. Three quick beeps sounded, and the thick door swung shut with an ominous thump.
“No,” she blurted, sprinting forward to stop it.
Had someone on the bridge figured out where their prisoners were going? Were they being tracked right now? Halted just before they could reach their destination?
Alisa peeked through a tiny rectangular window, the surface so scratched she could barely see through it. There was the Nomad, right where she had left it, except someone had raised the ramp, and red light throbbed in the bay, reflecting off her hull.
It took her a moment to realize what that light and the closed door signified. Feeling numb, she looked at the panel on the wall.
“Landing bay depressurizing,” a computer voice warned. Coming from inside the bay, the sound was muted.
A row of blue lights that ringed the large rectangular exit at the end of the bay flashed, the stars of open space visible through the forcefield. The Nomad lifted from the deck, thrusters flaring orange. Alisa banged on the door, as if that would help.
“They’re taking my ship,” she groaned. “Those ungrateful bastard miners.”
“Uh,” Mica said. “That’s inconvenient timing.”
“Inconvenient timing?” Alisa whirled toward her. “When is it good timing to steal someone’s ship?”
“When there’s not a bomb ticking down in engineering that could take out life support and several other systems on the ship one’s currently on.”
“Might blow up the whole ship with what you did,” Sparky said, poking Mica in the shoulder.
Alisa’s head thunked back against the wall. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”
“Sorry, Captain,” Mica said.
“Got some more bad news,” Beck said from the back of their little group. “I hear pirates coming.”
Chapter 20
Alisa spun back toward the door and looked through the window. The Nomad was gliding toward the hangar exit, but there were other ships in there, including a couple that the Alliance had used and that she was familiar with. They were not long-range craft, but if she could use one of them to catch up to the Nomad before it escaped the asteroid field, and if whoever was piloting her freighter wasn’t an asshole, she could connect to the airlock and go aboard. She could not run out there until the landing bay pressurized again and she could open the door, but that should happen as soon as the Nomad was gone.
“New plan,” Alisa announced.
Beck fired his blazer. Alisa spun in time to see two men leaping back around the corner of the closest intersection.
“Does it involve opening that door?” Beck asked. “Because you may have noticed this is a dead end with nothing to hide behind.”
“Eventually,” Alisa said. “Keep them off us, please.”
“Stay behind me.” Beck took a wide stance in the middle of the corridor, using his armored body to provide shelter.
Alisa grimaced. She appreciated the gesture, but even armor would not hold up indefinitely under fire. She thumped on the “open” button on the control panel, even though she knew it would not do anything, that the door would remained locked until there was air and gravity in the landing bay. As she drew her Etcher to help Beck, she looked through the window again, now wishing her ship would fly away more quickly.
As the Nomad closed on the exit, another vessel flew into view, angling in from outside. A four-man craft with a bubble top zipped toward the landing bay. It had to bank sharply to avoid the unexpected freighter ambling toward the exit.
Alisa groaned. “Tell me that isn’t Malik returning already.”
The four-man craft zoomed into the bay, and the flashing lights rimming the exit turned from blue to red.
“Landing bay exit is secured,” the computerized voice announced.
“Don’t ram my ship into that forcefield, you fools,” Alisa grumbled.
But they did, the freighter hitting the invisible barrier with a jolt. The idiotic pilot bumped against it several more times before accepting that he wasn’t going to get out.
Beck fired toward the intersection, and Alisa yanked her attention back to the knot of men trying to kill them. Heads and guns popped around the corner, energy bolts spraying the corridor. Yumi squeaked as one nearly grazed her, and she scooted closer to Beck’s broad back.
“I knew we weren’t going to escape this hell,” Mica growled, pulling a blazer pistol from Beck’s belt and using him as a shield as she joined in the exchange of fire.
Alisa did not have any optimistic words to counter her pessimism, not this time. She also leaned around B
eck, firing at the first head that came into view. Her bullets skipped uselessly off the bulkheads. She was distracted, checking the controls and hoping the door would unlock, and they could escape into the landing bay. At least there would be more hiding places in there.
Another of her bullets ricocheted off the corner, not hurting anyone. Beck was more focused and caught a shooter in the forehead as the man leaned out. The pirate flopped to the floor, one arm extended.
The shooting paused after that. Alisa checked the control panel again. The red light flashed to blue.
“It’s unlocking,” she blurted.
She peered through the window, hoping they could run out and get to the grab beam generator, hopefully while the pirates in the other ship were busy trying to apprehend their escaped prisoners. Alisa did not want anyone apprehended, but the distraction could be helpful for her team.
“Look out,” Beck said, shooting at an object hurtling down the corridor.
A bomb? Cursing, Alisa yanked open the door.
Beck struck the spherical object flying toward them. It exploded in yellowish smoke.
“Hold your breath,” he ordered.
“This way,” Alisa whispered before obeying him.
She eased through the doorway, an eye on the two ships near the exit. The Nomad had settled down—she had no choice. The clear bubble in the top of the second ship was opening.
“This way,” Alisa repeated, hustling her people along the wall, hoping the pilot and passengers in the bubbletop craft were too busy glowering at the Nomad to notice them.
“How do I lock this?” Beck growled, as he closed the door.
Mica fired at the locking mechanism, melting metal with a stench that made them all step back.
“Guess that works,” Beck said.
Alisa led them behind a row of mismatched fighters along the back wall. The parked ships could hide them from view from the rest of the landing bay if they hadn’t already been seen. She crouched so she could see under the belly of one of the craft. Crimson boots came into view as someone jumped down from the cockpit of the newly landed ship. She recognized those boots—and the rest of the red combat armor as well.