Page 1

Chapter 1

Ruby

I paced back and forth behind the captain’s chair, my hands clasped tightly behind my back. “Status, Kip. Are they still on our tail?” I barked at my pilot. Five minutes ago, a ship had popped up on our radar, and it had been dogging our Long Hauler ever since.Finixwas an old ship, and she was barely limping along after one of our engines had blown a few days ago. We were late for our delivery on Rummicaron Planet Six—also known as Rumcas. All we carried were bales upon bales of boring gray fabric for delivery to a military base; they were going to be turned into uniforms. It was not a haul worth stealing by pirates, but I was pretty sure the ship chasing us fully intended to board us.

“Still closing in, Captain,” Kip responded. He was a young Sune male, and the excitement had caused him to shift into his hybridform. His narrow snout and pointed ears were much like those of a fox, as was the plume of a tail he flicked behind his back. In comparison, our navigator looked practically dead in his seat. The old Rummicaron male was slumped back, beady black eyes bleary and unfocused. He was barely looking at his screens. It would not surprise me if he’d been into the Roka again; the male always managed to stash some away, no matter how thoroughly I searched the ship.

I cursed out loud, resuming my pacing as I considered our options. Normally, I wouldn’t be so scared of pirates; we had nothing of value. When they saw that, they’d leave. But after what I had accidentally found this morning? I was screwed either way. The pirates would find the stuff, take it without harming us, and then the guy who actually owned itwouldkill us. Or the pirates would find it and kill us. I had no doubt they’d find it because if I had found it, they definitely would know where to look for it.

Kip sharply tilted his head to look my way, and his eyes were huge in his narrow face, the whites showing all around his bright blue irises. He could sense how scared I was, and the youngster was letting that feed his own worries. This was his first long trip on theFinix; he’d never had to deal with pirates before. The truth was, I had never dealt with pirates either. I always took safe cargos for exactly that reason. Playing it safe—that’s what I was all about. Except for one daring choice, I’d never taken a single risk in my life.

Immediately, my hands dropped to the gentle curve of my belly, and I added silently: And now I could take even fewer risks. I had another life depending on mine. If we couldn’t outrun them, the only way forward was to surrender quietly and hope for the best. I couldn’t worry about the owner of the drugs killing me when the more immediate worry was the pirates doing the same.

My eyes flashed from face to face on the bridge—a quick round to survey what anyone was thinking. One of these males was the traitor who had smuggled the Kanfray aboard theFinixand put all of us at risk. One of these bastards was on the payroll of a powerful druglord. I did not run in those circles—stayed as clear of them as I could—but even I knew which powerful bastard it probably was. We were heading into Rummicaron territory, and only one crimelord held reign there: Jalima.

TheFinixwas not a small ship, but it was run by a very small crew—me, the pilot, and the navigator required to get this rustbucket where she needed to go. And that was it. It was easy to discount Kip as the traitor, thanks to his youth, but at the same time, he was new for this trip… How well did I truly know him? Then there was Chawz, who, with his Roka habit, certainly had the criminal connections. It would not surprise me if he was in debt and had gotten in over his head. That would make for the right kind of pressure to smuggle drugs aboardmyship. Not just any drugs: Kanfray.

“Open a channel,” I said with a hiss, coming to a decision. The ship chasing us was flying dark, its transponder turned off so we could not read its call sign—unless it was painted on its hull and we got close enough. But I really wanted to avoid getting that close to the black menace. A Battle Class Cruiser, it was almost as big as theFinixbut made up entirely of armored panels and bristling weapons. To me, it looked like a shark—dark and sinister—as it cut through space with the blue glow of its powerful engines.

“Yes, Captain,” Kip murmured, his tail swishing even more wildly in agitation, his tufted ears trembling against his head. He was terrified, and now I was starting to read that terror as worry for his smuggled drugs. Pregnancy had made me even more aware than usual just how precarious my safety was. There was nobody I could truly trust, nobody except myself. I cupped my belly again, worry filling me for the unborn life. I should have never taken this risk, but the loneliness had been getting to me. It was selfish.

“Channel is open,” Chawz muttered. I realized that Kip had frozen, his hands trembling around the yoke of the ship. It had roused the navigator from his stupor just enough to take over, the tense atmosphere finally getting to him. That still did not mean he looked scared; but Rummicaron suppressed all their feelings, especially the good ones. He was not supposed to feel anything but cool rationality.

“Attention, approaching ship,” I said after clearing my voice and fisting my hands behind my back to stop their trembling. “This is CaptainGonzálezof theFinix. Please explain your intentions. We are a peaceful trading vessel; we carry nothing of value—unless your preferred fashion is gray.” I didn’t know why the lackadaisical comment slipped out; a joke was hardly going to fly with a bunch of greedy pirates. Humor was just the way I handled stress.

There was a long silence that followed my statement, and I held my breath the entire time I waited. I wasn’t the only one frozen in place; Kip had his tail straight out, ears pitched forward as he listened intently. Even Chawz looked alert, his maw of razor-sharp teeth open as if he wanted to intimidate whoever was listening. It was an open communications signal, meant to broadcast on all frequencies to ensure whoever was following us could hear. They had to be listening.

When an answer came, my legs trembled, and I was forced to rush to my seat and sit down before I collapsed. The voice was dark and mean and spoke in a language I recognized but that made absolutely no sense to me. It was an Alpha Quadrant tongue—one I hadn’t heard since I was a little girl growing up on one of the outer Earth colonies. He spoke Talac. What was a Talacan pirate doing in the Zeta Quadrant? That made about as little sense as my being here did.

“Hello, Captain González. Grayismy color, so you’re going to have to surrender your cargo—particularly the cargo you’re hauling for a certain crime lord. You know what I’m talking about. Don’t even bother to hide it.”Kip blanched. Chawz sank low in his seat, but that still didn’t prove guilt for either of them. It could simply be their fear of the pirates or the mention of a crimelord. Fuck, this was bad. How did this ship even know about the Kanfray I had found hidden in a section of vents that morning? What were the odds?

“I have no intention of resisting,” I said, my hands clutching my belly tightly as fear and adrenaline flooded my system. So far, the baby hadn’t been big enough yet for me to feel him kick, but I imagined the flutter of my nerves might be him now. Was he responding to my stress? “Will you let us go unharmed if we hand over everything of value?” I did not bother to explain to this sinister Talacan voice that I had no knowledge of, nor any connection to, the crimelord or the drugs. The authorities might care that I was simply an innocent bystander—but pirates? Doubtful.

There was another silence, and I felt my belly flutter, wondered if it was my son responding to my fear. Then the voice drawled, “Absolutely. Lower your shields and halt your ship. A boarding party will arrive shortly. Confine your crew to their quarters, then meet me at the airlock. Understood?” I understood, and so did my crew. Kip was a mess; Chawz was calm as a cucumber as he hauled the young Sune to his feet and dragged him to their bunks. I thought I saw a flicker of warning in the cool, sharkish eyes of the Rummicaron right before I closed and locked their door.

Then, with lead in my shoes, I went to face our doom at the airlock.

***

Brace

Pacing inside my galley, the fur on my back bristled with tension. These moods struck at random moments, capturing me in the past—in the battle rage,the pain,andthefear I’d felt when I was a gladiator. The need to strike something and pummel it into oblivion was all-consuming. This was why I kept myself locked away: for the safety of everyone else. I could not trust myself to control this around others;I could barely control the rage when I was alone.

I was alone. Very much alone. The mess hall was empty—novisitors, since we were on the hunt and theVarakartoomwas closing in.Varakartoom—the name was appropriate, coming from ourcaptain’s native Naga tongue. It meantShe Who Hunts, and that was exactly what we’d been doing for the last couple of weeks: striking one ship after another from Jalima’s fleet, based on intel Elyssa had brought us—me.

Elyssa’s name only made the rage simmer brighter in my veins. Not because I was mad at her, not because I wanted to harm her, but because she reminded me of the past. She was part of my past, and her being here had brought it all back—more vivid, more powerful than ever. It wasas ifthe lastfewyearsno longer existed, and I wasonce againthe young male Asmoded had scraped from the bottom of a cell, injuredanddying.

It was getting worse, and the loneliness was getting to me too. Now that Elyssa was trying to reach me,andblissfully happy with her youthful, always cheerful, and kind mate, I felt it even more.Envy was not an emotion I enjoyed; I hated it even more than the rage. I wasn’t envious of Tass, either. Thinking of Elyssa in any way other thansisterwas extremely distasteful. But I was jealous of the males—like Tass, like Aramon, and like the captain—who had found their mates. It wasn’t so easy to be alone when you had to observe blissfully happy couples at dinner, at breakfast, and at lunch. Or when you knew why they were absent, having requested a meal in their blazing quarters.

Turning to the counter, I forced myself to breathe deeply through my nose. There was a hunger in the pit of my stomach that came from what I was. The Hoxiam hunger was always present, just like my rage. It was too dangerous to step out of the galley and work off my aggression in the gym. The thought of the punching bag in my quarters made my stomach sour, so I took it out on the batch of dough I’d made earlier that morning.

Five minutes later, I’d punched all the air out of the previously fluffy dough,and with a growl of frustration, I threw it all in the bin. I didn’t think I felt any better, but when I started a fresh batch, mixing Harasflour with oil, salt, and my preferred rising agent, my hands moved calmly. Yeah, that was a little better, if not by much. Now,if only I could get rid of the pit of rage in my gut as easily as I could the failed dough. I didn’t think I’d be able to—not when the loneliness and the weight of my failures clung to my shoulders. Not when every day that we were hunting these ships was a reminder of the past.

The others were loving it, the stories that filled the mess hall rowdy and cheerful each night. The bragging, the tall tales—normally I’d listen in and enjoy every minute of it, feel like I was part of the crew, even if I couldn’t be. But now, those stories just felt sour, because they were all about Jalima’s ships, Jalima’s dented pride, Jalima’s downfall. You’d think I couldn’t wait for that to happen, but all I wanted was to forget he existed and bury the past.

This dough needed to rise again before I could shape it more carefully into loaves to bake. But there was always more to do in a galley that served close to a hundred males and females at any given time. Asmoded had taken extra crew aboard to handle the constant hunting of the ships, rotating them in and out for rest as needed—but always running, always hunting, until he’d gotten every single ship he could from the data Elyssa had provided.

I was cutting vegetables when I heard the voices, my ears swiveling in the direction the sound came from. Female voices—bright, warm, cheerful—very much the opposite of what was roiling inside my hollow gut. Those females were as distinct by their tone as they were by their scent, and I knew their drinks and food orders by heart. I was moving before they could reach the hatch and ask, sliding cups of tea and plates of the cake I’d made earlierthat morning out from under the hatch.