Star Raiders (12 page)

She had no idea where Damon and Silky were. She wasn’t worried, though.

Neither was critical to in-flight operations and the two were more than capable of looking out for themselves.

Damon had no interest in flying
Independence
. Though he was a competent pilot, his true talents lay in other directions. A slick negotiator, he always got them the best prices for their goods and made sure the right palms were greased so they could move smoothly through any interstel ar bureaucracy they encountered.

Silky real y served no real purpose on board. She came and went as she pleased and kept her own counsel. But since her arrival, the rodent population on the ship had taken a nosedive. Shy wasn’t sure if the kil s were Silky’s or those of the feline crew she’d assembled. To date, Shy had counted a dozen feral cats slinking through the ship’s corridors.

“Status?” she asked Able.

“The ELF fighter has powered down its weapons and moved off.

Communications are quiet,” came the answer. “We’re clear to leave.” Shy shivered. “Then get us the blazes out of here. Being this close to an ELF

outpost makes my skin crawl.”

“Aye-aye, Captain. Where to?”

Shy cocked an eyebrow at Greyson. He was the one with the plan.

Greyson nodded. “According to Commander Kincaid, Dempster’s last attack was three days ago, on the mining asteroid Nexis. He slaughtered the miners and seized their transport, which was fil ed with unrefined ore.” Able spoke up. “The right place to dump stolen ore would be Ramin Five. They have a refinery and al the right contacts to dispose of any finished product.”

“Like Verus, another fujerking garden spot,” Terle remarked.

On the far edge of the outer worlds, because of its inhospitable conditions and lack of usable resources, few worlds had any interest in adding the planet to their territory. Where Verus was dry, on Ramin Five it rained twenty out of every twenty-four hours. The temperature hovered around a hundred degrees. While Verus was devoid of life, Ramin Five teemed with flora and fauna: two-legged, four-legged or otherwise, feathered, furred and scaled, most everything hostile to humans.

The planet’s claim to fame was its large ore refinery and reputation for not cheating customers. There were credits to be made there, but humans didn’t fare wel in the mineral-laden air. In order to breathe on Ramin Five, humans needed to wear an oxygen filtration unit: an OFU. Otherwise, they’d drown. Those with the credits to do so lived in bio domes. Even with these precautions, though, after a few years the native bacteria caused skin to rot, and lungs got saturated and developed chronic pneumonia.

Able made some calculations. “It would take him at least four days to get from the Nexis system to Ramin Five.”

“Dempster’s unlikely to stil be there, but it’s a place to begin the hunt,” Greyson agreed. “Someone wil know where he headed next.”

“Yeah, that fujerking Ramin-fish Fiske wil know.” Fiske. Terle referred to the human in charge of the planet. He’d used il egal genetic research to have his DNA modified so he could exist there, but now he could never leave. Shy thought it seemed a poor choice, but then she didn’t have to live on Ramin Five.

Terle glanced at her. “He could tel us, but are you wil ing to pay his price?” She ignored him. “Set a course for Ramin Five. How long?”

“At FTL…three days,” Able said.

Greyson leaned over the man’s shoulder to study the console. “If you boost our power and take this route, we can cut it to thirty-six hours. Then we might catch Dempster stil on planet. He wouldn’t trust a transaction this large to an underling.”

“I don’t know,” Able said. “That’l put a strain on the old girl and take us right through the center of an area lousy with pirates, slavers and the flotsam and jetsam of a dozen different worlds. Using FTL, we can’t shield or use our weapons, either.

Anyone can take potshots at us. We’ve tweaked a few noses there, so we’re not the most popular kids.”

Greyson shook his head. “Even if they see us—which is unlikely, since they won’t be looking for us—it’d take pinpoint accuracy to hit something in the FTL

stream. I’m pretty sure we’l be fine.”

Though she wanted to disagree, his reasoning was sound. And any time they could make up was valuable. “Do it,” Shy said. “The sooner we catch up with Dempster, the sooner we can retire
Independence
and ourselves.”

“If we don’t get her blown up first,” Terle muttered.

Shy left Greyson, Able and Terle on the bridge, arguing the best way to program the FTL, Faster Than Light, drive, and she headed to the crew quarters deck to check on Brina. Letting the girl remain on board was a mistake, but faced with her pleas, she hadn’t been able to refuse. Shy knew what it was like to be hurting and alone with nowhere and no one to run to.

It bothered her how easily Greyson fit in with her crew. In a matter of days he’d become one of them, the one they looked to for direction. Even Terle acknowledged his innate authority. But what truly disturbed her was how quickly he’d disarmed her, eased her doubts, calmed her fears and worked his way back into her life. For the last ten years, suspicion and maintaining a distance between herself and others had kept her alive and free. She wasn’t the innocent young girl who’d trusted him with her heart. So why did she want to believe him now?

Was helping him track down Dempster worth the risk? To her crew? Her ship?

Herself? Her son’s future? How could she be sure Greyson wasn’t lying to her about the Consortium’s plans? Just because her body responded to his as it did with no other man didn’t mean she should trust him. Had she learned nothing from his first betrayal?

Yet, even if he was lying about the Consortium, she knew he wasn’t lying about what Dempster was up to. She’d seen the evidence. The man was a monster. He wanted to own her, body and soul. The few days she’d spent as his guest stil gave her nightmares. After her crew rescued her from Dempster’s prison, it had taken her weeks to shake off the effects of the drugs he’d forced her to take, drugs that had twisted her mind and body into knots. And drugs weren’t the only weapons in his vast arsenal.

No, she had no choice. No matter if Greyson lied, no matter the risk, she had to bring Dempster down. Greyson could only break her heart. Dempster intended to destroy her and everyone she loved.

Thirty-four hours later, Greyson stood by as Able slipped
Independence
unnoticed out of the FTL slipstream and hid her behind a smal moon. Traffic to and from Ramin Five was light, so they should be safe from detection for a few hours.

“Good girl.” Able patted the console and leaned back. “Told you she could do it.”

Terle snorted. “For al the good it did. I scanned the area. We’re too late.

Dempster’s ship isn’t in orbit. Not much other traffic, either. Must be a slow time.”

“It was a long shot that he’d stil be here,” Greyson admitted. “I’l go planet-side and find out where he was headed.”

“You?” Terle laughed. “They’d peg you as a snake in two seconds and skin you even quicker. Let us do a few scans first, see if he’s hiding like we are.” Greyson nodded his agreement, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Skinning. He couldn’t repress his instinctive shudder. After having had their cover blown, more than one ASP operative had met the gruesome fate of being skinned alive. It had been a constant fear during his early undercover work, and he winced, remembering the past.

He’d shown considerable skil at blending in with the dregs of the universe, of course. Back then, after he’d graduated from the academy, being undercover had provided him a sense of freedom: freedom to be someone—some
thing
—different than was expected of the foster son of a prominent businessman and former high-level politician. Freedom to release the beast he feared lived inside him. Freedom to exact revenge on the scum who’d torn his life apart.

Chalmer Dane had never blamed Greyson for his daughter’s death, but Greyson blamed himself. He’d spent years beating himself up over it. If he’d reacted quicker when the pirate snatched little Anna from his side, he might have saved her. Instead, he’d frozen in horror as his mother charged the man and was shot and kil ed. The bright-eyed four-year-old died in a subsequent explosion, her smal body vaporized. The little girl had idolized him; in return, he’d failed her.

Ten years ago, both Chalmer and Greyson had believed Kedar was behind that attack. That was why, years later, Greyson was practical y drooling over the assignment of infiltrating Shyanne’s school: He’d bring Kedar to justice. After the operation, however, Kedar was never charged with the murders of Greyson’s mother and little Anna. It was for that reason Greyson made it his mission to discover the truth about the attack. Though his superiors weren’t happy about it, Greyson had taken Kedar’s further testimony in prison. He’d come to the conclusion that, though Kedar was guilty of many crimes, he hadn’t orchestrated that attack. But he’d never indicated who had, despite al of Greyson’s questioning.

An even more surprising occurrence had come about, too: A strange friendship developed between the men. Without the promotion resulting from Kedar’s capture, Greyson probably would have continued to work as an undercover operative until he made a mistake and was kil ed, skinned just as Terle joked; ASP field agents general y didn’t live long. For that reason, the arrest of Kedar had in some ways saved Greyson’s life—just as his time with Shyanne had stolen it. He couldn’t help feeling grateful.

As wel , during those visits, despite his dislike of Kedar’s activities, Greyson found he legitimately liked the older man. Intel igent and thoughtful, always soft-spoken, Stewart Kedar seemed an unlikely sort to have control ed a massive smuggling empire. But he never spoke or acted in haste. At his trial, the government was unable to substantiate more than a few of the charges leveled against him because his col eagues were loyal to a man. Yet Kedar hadn’t fought al of the charges brought against him. He’d used the stand to make a statement, and after pleading guilty was sentenced to fifteen years.

Though Greyson rose in ASP rank, his visits to Kedar continued. It was then he’d learned of the man’s skil in ship design and made the deal to see his spacecraft put into production. Their meetings had become rare these days, but when the recent raids resulted in ELF’s attention being focused on Shyanne, Kedar had requested Greyson come see him. At the same time, Greyson had learned from his stepfather of what was to come with C.O.I.L. He’d learned almost more than his brain could assimilate.

During their last meeting Kedar seemed older, his calm demeanor shattered.

He’d insisted his daughter wasn’t behind the current attacks and final y named the true culprit: Simon Dempster. At the same time, he’d revealed that Dempster was behind the attack that kil ed Greyson’s mother.

Kedar had asked him to find and protect Shyanne from both ASP and Dempster, but now Greyson wondered if he was pursuing the man to save Shyanne and Earth, or to exact revenge. The latter was a distinct possibility.

Shy looked over as the door to Brina’s new quarters opened. Damon stood outside.

“Hel o, ladies. Miss Kitty,” he greeted them al , leaning against the doorjamb.

Silky was curled on the bunk, and she lifted her head and hissed. Her tail twitched in agitation. The cat had adopted the girl and hadn’t acted pleased at either Shy’s or Damon’s intrusion.

When he crossed his arms, the satiny material of Damon’s flight suit stretched taut over his broad chest. Brina glanced up, and he graced her with a heartmelting smile.

Considering him a brother didn’t stop Shy from appreciating Damon’s male beauty. But she knew his angelic features hid a darkness only those who crossed him truly saw. She made a mental note to warn Brina not to take Damon’s flirtations seriously. He loved the hunt and enjoyed the capture, but he never kept his catch.

Stil , from what she’d seen, he always managed to leave his prey happy.

Brina’s expression didn’t change, however. She showed no surprise or interest. If anything, her already cool gaze turned icy, and Shy suddenly realized Earth’s sun would go dark before the girl would let another man near her. Without a word, the blonde went back to making up her bunk and organizing the clothing and supplies Eldin had col ected for her use.

Damon straightened, his smile faltering, and Shy chuckled. The look on his face as Brina total y ignored him was almost worth the aggravation of letting the girl remain on board. “We’l leave you to get settled.” She tugged Damon into the corridor with her. “If you need anything else, let Eldin know.” Brina turned. “What I need is to keep busy. Put me to work.” Her words were brisk, but they revealed to Shy the lost, hurt little girl hiding behind the hard exterior. She understood the need for action, the need to bury the pain, fear and anger by working until you were too exhausted to think or feel. She wanted to tel Brina it wouldn’t work but knew the young woman had to find out for herself.

“Give yourself a few days to figure out what you want to do. Staying aboard
Independence
isn’t your only option,” she reminded the girl.

As if oblivious of what the girl had been through, Damon suggested, “I could keep you busy. I’d be al too happy to help.”

Silky growled. Shy jammed her elbow into his side, and he grunted. Liquid oxygen was warmer than Brina’s glare. She slammed the door in both of their faces.

“You’re a real ass, you know that, don’t you? That girl has been through hel .

The last thing she needs is some sleazy Lothario coming on to her.” Shy fol owed Damon down the corridor.

“I’m exactly what she needs!”

“You real y think she’s going to fal into your bed?” Shy snorted in disgust.

“Doesn’t matter.” Damon’s shoulders lifted, then dropped. “If everyone treats her like fragile, damaged goods, she’l explode. She needs a focus for al the rage brewing inside her.”

“So you decided to volunteer for the job?” This was a side of Damon Shy rarely saw: the sensitivity buried beneath his careful y crafted wild demeanor, the lost boy he’d been when her father first brought him home. He’d never spoken of his past, but she guessed he’d suffered as much as Brina, if not more. So perhaps he knew what he was talking about.