weapons. Half of them look like they’re going to fall off, but our one laser isn’t going to do much good,” Kis’eh’t said, still punching buttons.
Reese stared at the oncoming pirate: obviously jury-rigged, operating with only shoddy, low-level navigational shields, but with engines well a match for theirs and weapons all out of proportion to its size. It required effort to move her hand to the comm panel and twitch it.
“Lowerdeck.”
“Bryer, I want you to jettison the cargo. And make sure the clamps don’t go this time.”
The silence was eloquent.
“Just do it,” Reese said. She pressed a hand to her stomach, massaging it. “Damn rooderberries,” she said. “Last time I’m ever taking on any fruit. You guys are my witnesses.”
“Heard and witnessed,” Kis’eh’t said with a laugh.
“Here, here!” Irine added. Then said, “Does this mean we get to have rooderberry sorbet tonight?”
“This is not funny,” Reese said, glaring at the pirate ship. It seemed like a better idea than glaring at Hirianthial, who’d been the indirect cause of all this. Bad enough that he was responsible for the loss of her investment, but did he have to actually be on the bridge where he could remind her of just how much she didn’t want to be here?
The floor shivered and a muffled series of clunks followed as the bay doors opened. The loading collars sucking the pins from the spindles and ejecting the cargo bins resulted in much louder clangs, one for each bin. Reese counted them, flinching at each one, until the first bin tumbled end over end into view on the aft windows.
“Look at them go!” Sascha said.
Kis’eh’t said, “They’re gaining on us.”
“Do something about that, Sascha,” Reese said.
“Maximum power on all engines,” the tigraine said. “We’re opening the distance.”
“How long before we shake them loose entirely?” Reese asked.
“I don’t know. Ten, fifteen minutes maybe.”
Fifteen minutes of staring at each of those bins, trying not to count how many fin each represented as they fell down the drain of the planet’s gravity well. Reese rubbed her burning throat as the long minutes hobbled on. The tension was interminable, and yet she was as bored as she was edgy. Her stomach did not approve. Her throbbing temple agreed, reminding her that she hadn’t even stopped to look for any medicaments before rushing to the bridge. No chalk tablets, no headache elixir, nothing. She regretted the lack of both.
Hirianthial’s baritone interrupted her reverie. “Do they always burn that way?”
Reese straightened, stared at the windows where tiny flares of fire erupted like miniature bombs. “What...?”
Kis’eh’t was already checking the sensors. “I...” The Glaseahn’s head dropped onto the console, her shoulders shaking. Between her forelegs, Allacazam turned a lurid shade of plum purple.
“Kis’eh’t?” Reese asked.
“Yeah, manylegs, give us the score here,” Sascha said. “Some of us are too busy to look for ourselves.”
The Glaseahn lifted her head, her demi-muzzle parted in laughter so intense she couldn’t even squeak.
Irine unbuckled her harness and straddled Kis’eh’t’s second back in front of her wings. The tigraine looked over Kis’eh’t’s shoulders and choked on a laugh. “Captain, it’s the rooderberries.”
“I know it’s the rooderberries! What’s going on with them? Are they hitting atmosphere?”
“No... they’re hitting the slaver.”
With her mouth already open to speak, Reese found herself abruptly deprived of words to say.
“Do you mean to say that the bins are striking the pirate vessel?” Hirianthial asked Irine politely.
“That’s exactly it.”
“Like... say, a grenade. Or a torpedo.”
“Exactly like that,” Irine said around her giggle.
“And... the odds of this?”
Sascha interrupted, “Well, if they’re right on our tails, and the bins are falling along our trajectory—”
Reese
Reese stared at the oncoming pirate: obviously jury-rigged, operating with only shoddy, low-level navigational shields, but with engines well a match for theirs and weapons all out of proportion to its size. It required effort to move her hand to the comm panel and twitch it.
“Lowerdeck.”
“Bryer, I want you to jettison the cargo. And make sure the clamps don’t go this time.”
The silence was eloquent.
“Just do it,” Reese said. She pressed a hand to her stomach, massaging it. “Damn rooderberries,” she said. “Last time I’m ever taking on any fruit. You guys are my witnesses.”
“Heard and witnessed,” Kis’eh’t said with a laugh.
“Here, here!” Irine added. Then said, “Does this mean we get to have rooderberry sorbet tonight?”
“This is not funny,” Reese said, glaring at the pirate ship. It seemed like a better idea than glaring at Hirianthial, who’d been the indirect cause of all this. Bad enough that he was responsible for the loss of her investment, but did he have to actually be on the bridge where he could remind her of just how much she didn’t want to be here?
The floor shivered and a muffled series of clunks followed as the bay doors opened. The loading collars sucking the pins from the spindles and ejecting the cargo bins resulted in much louder clangs, one for each bin. Reese counted them, flinching at each one, until the first bin tumbled end over end into view on the aft windows.
“Look at them go!” Sascha said.
Kis’eh’t said, “They’re gaining on us.”
“Do something about that, Sascha,” Reese said.
“Maximum power on all engines,” the tigraine said. “We’re opening the distance.”
“How long before we shake them loose entirely?” Reese asked.
“I don’t know. Ten, fifteen minutes maybe.”
Fifteen minutes of staring at each of those bins, trying not to count how many fin each represented as they fell down the drain of the planet’s gravity well. Reese rubbed her burning throat as the long minutes hobbled on. The tension was interminable, and yet she was as bored as she was edgy. Her stomach did not approve. Her throbbing temple agreed, reminding her that she hadn’t even stopped to look for any medicaments before rushing to the bridge. No chalk tablets, no headache elixir, nothing. She regretted the lack of both.
Hirianthial’s baritone interrupted her reverie. “Do they always burn that way?”
Reese straightened, stared at the windows where tiny flares of fire erupted like miniature bombs. “What...?”
Kis’eh’t was already checking the sensors. “I...” The Glaseahn’s head dropped onto the console, her shoulders shaking. Between her forelegs, Allacazam turned a lurid shade of plum purple.
“Kis’eh’t?” Reese asked.
“Yeah, manylegs, give us the score here,” Sascha said. “Some of us are too busy to look for ourselves.”
The Glaseahn lifted her head, her demi-muzzle parted in laughter so intense she couldn’t even squeak.
Irine unbuckled her harness and straddled Kis’eh’t’s second back in front of her wings. The tigraine looked over Kis’eh’t’s shoulders and choked on a laugh. “Captain, it’s the rooderberries.”
“I know it’s the rooderberries! What’s going on with them? Are they hitting atmosphere?”
“No... they’re hitting the slaver.”
With her mouth already open to speak, Reese found herself abruptly deprived of words to say.
“Do you mean to say that the bins are striking the pirate vessel?” Hirianthial asked Irine politely.
“That’s exactly it.”
“Like... say, a grenade. Or a torpedo.”
“Exactly like that,” Irine said around her giggle.
“And... the odds of this?”
Sascha interrupted, “Well, if they’re right on our tails, and the bins are falling along our trajectory—”
Reese
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