I want to hear. “Just how much are we talking about?”
He holds up three fingers. I stare. “Million or hundred thousand?” Then I change my mind. “You know what? I don't want to know. We're going to need guns. Really, really big guns. What's in your armory?”
He pauses. At a really inopportune time, I might add. “You plan to fight?”
“ Of course I plan to fight! The only space pirates I want around me are my mom, my sisters, and my aunt Rosie. Maybe my cousin Jaxx, if he ever gives up the sauce. So you really need to point me to the armory.” A thought hits me and I hold up a finger. “Oh, hey, maybe it is my cousin Jaxx. But point me to the armory anyway.”
It's good to have a goal, to be able to turn my attention on something as immediate as, I don't know, staying alive . I'm surviving on little sleep and more than a little shock, but I sure as hell do not want to spend the next few minutes analyzing the almost-seduction scene that just came out of left field. I don't think I'd like the answers.
M'anu spends 3.5 seconds considering me before jerking his head in a single nod. “This way.”
Something that sounds like the distant roll of thunder echoes in the hall as I follow him. We're being boarded. That's the only explanation. How the hell did someone do that without the ship sounding an alarm sooner? Or rejecting the command of the other tub? Something is wonky here and the first thing I'm going to do when this is over is take a deeper look at M'anu's security. The last thing I want is to be boarded every twenty minutes by a jerkoff looking for a pay day.
I'm not a short woman, but I feel like a kid following a giant as I walk behind M'anu. Man's got a back as wide as Gibraltar.
We enter the armory in less than a minute. It's a room full of cases with locks on them that are, of course, keyed to M'anu's prints. He's thought of everything. He pulls out a blaster and only hesitates the briefest of moments before handing it to me. I know it goes against his grain to give me any kind of weapon, but part of me is also impressed that he's overcoming his reserve. I know what I'm doing, and he's smart enough to realize he could use all the help available. For the moment we're united in a cause. What happens after that will have to be discussed...well, after.
I don't even have trouble looking at him when he addresses me, the heated scene of a few minutes ago taking a backseat while we talk strategy.
Or, in other words, while M'anu tells me what to do.
“ Do not leave my side,” he instructs, loading himself up with a hell of a lot more than one blaster. What are the darts for, again? “Do not speak, especially not in any Earth languages. We will try to come out of this as peacefully as possible.”
That's surprising coming from a Ferissian, but really, it makes sense. There's two of us and who the hell knows many of them. It's a good move to talk first, shoot later. So I nod, raising my chin. “Lead the way.”
His space-blue eyes sweep over my face, looking for something I can't define, and then he turns on his heel to briskly stride in the direction of the airdock.
It's the logical entry point. No matter how cool M'anu wants to play this, though, I am keeping my blaster at the ready. No way am I getting taken by anybody else. M'anu is a strange, changeful, aggressive Ferissian, but he's the one I know and he's not trying to kill me.
I can't say the same for the other guys.
M'anu, the crazy bastard, does not check his speed before he goes into the hangar. Part of me wants to slap a hand on my forehead in consternation. Does the man know what self-preservation is? But the platform is empty except for a few cages that are more advanced than mine was. I glance around. I don't see anyone.
Suddenly there's a voice on the intercom. “Occupants of the ship, this is Captain Zarek of the Plunder. Your vessel has been disabled and our ports connected. You will use the gangplank to enter our
He holds up three fingers. I stare. “Million or hundred thousand?” Then I change my mind. “You know what? I don't want to know. We're going to need guns. Really, really big guns. What's in your armory?”
He pauses. At a really inopportune time, I might add. “You plan to fight?”
“ Of course I plan to fight! The only space pirates I want around me are my mom, my sisters, and my aunt Rosie. Maybe my cousin Jaxx, if he ever gives up the sauce. So you really need to point me to the armory.” A thought hits me and I hold up a finger. “Oh, hey, maybe it is my cousin Jaxx. But point me to the armory anyway.”
It's good to have a goal, to be able to turn my attention on something as immediate as, I don't know, staying alive . I'm surviving on little sleep and more than a little shock, but I sure as hell do not want to spend the next few minutes analyzing the almost-seduction scene that just came out of left field. I don't think I'd like the answers.
M'anu spends 3.5 seconds considering me before jerking his head in a single nod. “This way.”
Something that sounds like the distant roll of thunder echoes in the hall as I follow him. We're being boarded. That's the only explanation. How the hell did someone do that without the ship sounding an alarm sooner? Or rejecting the command of the other tub? Something is wonky here and the first thing I'm going to do when this is over is take a deeper look at M'anu's security. The last thing I want is to be boarded every twenty minutes by a jerkoff looking for a pay day.
I'm not a short woman, but I feel like a kid following a giant as I walk behind M'anu. Man's got a back as wide as Gibraltar.
We enter the armory in less than a minute. It's a room full of cases with locks on them that are, of course, keyed to M'anu's prints. He's thought of everything. He pulls out a blaster and only hesitates the briefest of moments before handing it to me. I know it goes against his grain to give me any kind of weapon, but part of me is also impressed that he's overcoming his reserve. I know what I'm doing, and he's smart enough to realize he could use all the help available. For the moment we're united in a cause. What happens after that will have to be discussed...well, after.
I don't even have trouble looking at him when he addresses me, the heated scene of a few minutes ago taking a backseat while we talk strategy.
Or, in other words, while M'anu tells me what to do.
“ Do not leave my side,” he instructs, loading himself up with a hell of a lot more than one blaster. What are the darts for, again? “Do not speak, especially not in any Earth languages. We will try to come out of this as peacefully as possible.”
That's surprising coming from a Ferissian, but really, it makes sense. There's two of us and who the hell knows many of them. It's a good move to talk first, shoot later. So I nod, raising my chin. “Lead the way.”
His space-blue eyes sweep over my face, looking for something I can't define, and then he turns on his heel to briskly stride in the direction of the airdock.
It's the logical entry point. No matter how cool M'anu wants to play this, though, I am keeping my blaster at the ready. No way am I getting taken by anybody else. M'anu is a strange, changeful, aggressive Ferissian, but he's the one I know and he's not trying to kill me.
I can't say the same for the other guys.
M'anu, the crazy bastard, does not check his speed before he goes into the hangar. Part of me wants to slap a hand on my forehead in consternation. Does the man know what self-preservation is? But the platform is empty except for a few cages that are more advanced than mine was. I glance around. I don't see anyone.
Suddenly there's a voice on the intercom. “Occupants of the ship, this is Captain Zarek of the Plunder. Your vessel has been disabled and our ports connected. You will use the gangplank to enter our
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