Page 67 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

A Kertinal, which meant that he had a set of horns curling from the front of his skull much like a goat’s horns or maybe a gazelle’s.

They were straight and had that twisted, ridged look to them, but they were nowhere near as big as the set of horns that Ziame sported.

This particular Kertinal had black skin threaded with cracks and lines of deep, dark purple.

His hair was in the same color combination—a wild, shaggy mane of purple and black.

And of course, as all Kertinal were dual-colored, this one had vibrant purple eyes.

What stood out the most about this individual, however, was the fact that he had both hands wrapped in bandages, nearly all the way up to his elbows.

There were grooves around his eyes and the corners of his mouth that indicated he was in pain.

Nonetheless, his bearing was military-straight as he walked onto the bridge, and he gave a respectful nod to Abigail before focusing on Sunder, who’d watched his approach with a pleased look on his craggy face.

“You asked me to come?” this Da’vi said, and I shifted a little closer to Kitan at the console next to me. That voice was very gravelly and low, as if he barely ever spoke at all, and when he did, he only screamed in angry tones—like a drill sergeant or Captain Busar, maybe.

Sunder nodded. “Ziame and Jakar are suiting up and spacewalking to get the transponder we need. I think you are our man to talk them through the process since you’re our mech.

” He said it with such calm assurance that Da’vi’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.

“I can do that. Is that the wreck up on the viewscreen?”

I zoned out then; the tech talk was hard to follow, and I was more anxious to get back to plotting nav courses.

I assumed more of that was coming up in a moment, and as long as Diamed was not on the bridge, I would probably get to do it.

What I really wanted was to plug in—I felt anxious for not having done so in weeks.

I missed the rush, the feeling of being capable of anything.

But I understood Kitan’s warnings: to keep my nav ports stable as long as possible, I had to use them as little as I could.

At some point, Da’vi made an excited sound and pointed to something on the screen.

We were getting feeds from both Jakar’s and Ziame’s spacesuits, and they’d boarded the bottom part of the middle piece of wreckage.

They were on their way back from collecting the transponder, which was just a tiny box with hard-coded data identifying a ship.

The new transponder was turned off now that it was unhooked from its previous location and had no power.

“The engine room is right there—through the open door. I saw the shield generator on your feed, Ziame. It looked intact!”

Ours had been overloaded and burned out during a risky flight escaping planet Xio just days before Kitan had found me in the cargo bay.

Everyone had been expressing concern over not having shield capabilities during mealtime.

It was one of the main topics brought up, I’d noticed, since I’d actively started joining everyone in the mess hall.

There was a quick moment while they conferred on whether to grab it or not, resulting in a pretty resounding yes.

I noticed how Abigail’s mouth had pinched into a thin line, though, her eyebrows lowered.

Was she worried? The longer they were out there in the vacuum of space, the more risk they took, but the spacesuits were in good condition.

What was I supposed to do in this situation?

In the back of my mind, some instincts were niggling.

What did my mom do when I was scared or worried?

Standing up from the nav console, I went to her side, making sure to keep as much distance as I could between Da’vi, Sunder, and myself.

Once I got to her, I hesitated for a moment before grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“It’s going to be fine. A shield generator isn’t that difficult to remove—it won’t take long at all!

” Although I refrained from mentioning the size of the generator—in zero-g it wouldn’t be heavy, but it would be extremely unwieldy.

I think I did the right thing, though, because Abby gave me this soft smile and hung on tightly to my fingers.

We stayed standing together like that for the entire duration the guys worked on freeing that generator.

I was even getting used to Da’vi’s raspy voice as he calmly and expertly talked the two males through the process.

When the two former gladiators were at last making their way back to our ship, Abigail finally let go of my hand, and I hurried to make my way over to the nav station again, beaming when the look Kitan sent me could only be described as proud.

I was a little proud too, for stepping out of my shell and interacting with people.

I’d come a long way already since he’d found me.

My eye fell on some readings on the nav console, and I winced.

“Guys… I think we’ve got company!” My words had an immediate effect.

Abby rushed over to look at where I’d pointed, and Kitan started cursing as he eyed the three moving dots heading our way.

From the transponder data they were sending out, it appeared one was a Long Hauler, one a Star Class Cruiser like our own, and one some other type of cargo ship.

The viewscreen showed us three different types of battleships; only one of them had the correct identifying label on their transponder: the Star Class Cruiser.

I heard Sunder over comms urge the two males to hurry up and get back aboard, and Da’vi was cursing lowly, “I’ll bet those are mercenaries.

Someone must have seen Ziame in Strewn and tipped off Drameil…

”Abby was fervently denying this possibility, but I had no room to spare to pay attention to the conversation.

Instead, I focused on Kitan. “What was our planned heading? If we want to get away—and fast—I need to start plotting a course.” The look he shot me could only be described as extremely grim; he probably knew that I was going to have to plug in if we wanted to out-navigate and out-fly the three ships.

Our best bet was to navigate the scrapyard floating in front of us—a true test of our combined flying skills.

Only if we were better than the teams aboard those three ships, and if they didn’t work too well together, would we be able to outmaneuver them.

Kitan reached over and folded a warm hand around one of mine, which was hovering over the nav console.

“Promise me you’ll be careful. Do not overdo it, Chloe.

I refuse to let you burn out your implants.

” He was so serious, so fierce the way he spoke, that a shiver ran down my spine, and tingles spread across my cheeks.

Was I actually blushing? I wasn’t sure, but I rather liked this feeling.

Still, I couldn’t make the promise he wanted me to make, and when I met his golden eyes, I knew he knew I wouldn’t.

He looked sad—sad and even a little scared.

Reaching up with my free hand, I curled it around the side of his furry jaw, uncaring of the sharp fangs on display.

The hand holding his, I squeezed tightly around his fingers as I spoke what I knew he didn’t want me to say: “I have to do what is needed to get us all to safety. There’s no one here but me who can do what needs doing. ”

His snout pulled into an angry snarl that would have been scary if I hadn’t understood exactly what he was feeling at that moment.

Furious at being so powerless—it was a feeling I knew all too well.

“Diamed can do it! I’ll call her to the bridge; she’ll fly with me,” he growled, and I flinched when the verbal blow struck.

I knew why he said it—knew he said it to protect me—but it hurt all the same to think he’d rather fly with the arrogant and distant Sune female, a woman no one among the crew seemed to like much.

“Diamed is a portless-nav. She can’t move fast enough,” I told him, making my voice firm and cool to make it clear this wasn’t up for discussion.

I was flying this damn ship with him; I was the only one who could make the calculations quickly enough, who could make the FTL do what needed to be done.

Pulling my hands away from him, I gave him my shoulder and yanked my hair to the side so I could plug myself in.

Aware of the sudden silence on the bridge, I should have felt put on the spot when I realized everyone was staring at me.

I didn’t, though; this was where I was in my element and where I’d, on occasion, stood my ground against the merciless pirates that had owned this ship before the gladiators did.

“The planned heading after Strewn?” I demanded of no one in particular in the silence. “I need to know where to go if we want to avoid those mercs and get out of here.” As one, the two males on the bridge and Abby all gave Kitan a look, but I refused to see the expression on his face.

After another beat of silence, Sunder said, in a solemn tone of voice, “Gonavar, to drop off the Ferai beast.” Plugged in, I didn’t need my hands to control the nav-station.

Instead, I used my mind to set the computer to calculate the best route out of here and to Gonavar, while setting up a separate process to calculate the many ways we could fly through this debris field and avoid the still-approaching mercenary ships.

There was a snarl full of anger from Kitan, but he said not a word as he used his one available hand to start reviewing the options I was sending him.

We’d barely started plotting our plan of action when Sunder announced that Ziame and Jakar had safely made it into the airlock.

Immediately, both Abby and Da’vi departed from the bridge to meet them, Abby no doubt planning to check over her mate and make sure he was free of injury.

Kitan hit the ship-wide com. “Strap in, folks, this is going to be a rough ride.” Then, without preamble, he set the ship in motion, steering it with ease—even one-handed—through the narrow gaps I’d suggested we navigate.

The com station was immediately flashing, and Sunder answered a hail, trading words with a lizard-like mercenary who appeared to be in the lead, aboard a Star Class Cruiser.

I didn’t pay attention, hearing only the threat of them shooting out our engines, feeling the adrenaline roar through my body, and kicking all systems into higher gear.

“If you’re going to do this,” Kitan said in a growly voice, “give me something challenging. I can handle it. Let’s give these assholes something to work for. ”

I shifted my body to look at him for barely a second, diverting just enough of my attention from sifting through the vast array of probabilities to catch the feral, excited look on his face.

This gruffness wasn’t anger any longer; it was his excitement at doing some real flying—and doing it with me.

Our eyes met, and I felt that almost uncanny, magnetic connection zap through me, strengthening my focus.

Then I opened my mind all the way, guiding the computer and letting it use the faster processing power of my brain to do the calculations it needed for the best route through this field.

I felt the rush of the data, felt the endless possibilities, but didn’t lose myself in them.

For the first time, I had faith in my pilot, and that was the truest rush of all.

Then I started sending him data, rapid-fire, with last-minute alterations whenever one of our pursuers did something unexpected.

And Kitan? He kept up effortlessly, sending our Cruiser through the scrapyard as if it were a graceful ballerina.

I should have been scared out of my mind.

If those mercs caught up to us, we’d all end up being slaves again.

One mistake from Kitan or me, and we’d crash into the floating junk around us.

But I felt more alive than I ever had in that moment.

I felt like I could take on anything. Kitan was like an extension of my mind, controlling the ship the way I controlled the data.

It was everything I’d ever dreamed of experiencing with a good pilot. It was magic.