The Jack's Story (BRIGAND Book 2) by Natalie French, Scot Bayless Page A

technologies the Confed had lifted from the Belt and blended with something they’d learned from the Irezi. I had no idea how it worked, but in the Technicians we’d had a briefing on a project called Crossover.
    Ninety-six percent of the energy in the universe is out of reach. Or at least it used to be. But there were things being learned, methods developed. Wraiths were part of that. Now, so were energy thieves. An energy thief could block a Wraith’s ability to slip into the spacetime pockets some of them used to move in impossible ways. Without the pockets, their most effective means of escape was closed to them. They wouldn’t be helpless, but they’d certainly be hampered.
    I took another look around the workshop. With that furnace and the amount of gear he had here, he was using a tremendous amount of power. Which made me wonder where all that energy was coming from. The guilds were notoriously stingy when it came to resources, so how was Trand paying for all this? Unless...
    Trand had been a friend to the Confed. I’d figured him for an independent, but Crossover depended on Belter tech and Mundus was the only free trade zone in the Belt.
    Which meant I’d just stepped us on the mother of all land mines.
    I slid my hand possessively down Trig’s hip where Trand wouldn’t be able to see it, tapping a quick sequence onto her buttock. Standard prisoner tap-code. The one we were all taught in SERE. Using my index finger, I spelled out ‘DANGER’.
    I could feel her body start to shift as my hand clasped her ass – and then she froze. Message received. I held what I hoped was an easy smile and pulled her closer. Trig exhaled silently and leaned into me, placing a possessive hand on my abdomen. "Yeah, just hanging with Roy as long as he’s not too boring."
    Trand smiled too. A shark’s smile.
    I tried simple deflection. "So, hey, we need a bot. Ship maintenance. Nothing fancy. Figured you might cut an old buddy a deal. You selling?"
    The Belter stood, moving slowly around his workbench. I couldn’t tell if he was just getting a better vantage point on his project or he had something else in mind. I noticed some of the little insect-looking bots clustering, their legs clicking together. Belters have lots of ways of communicating with bots. It felt like something was getting ready to happen.
    Probably nothing good.
    "Not today... old buddy." Trand grinned his shark grin and made a beckoning motion. The Belter scurried to his side, with a swarm of little bots at his heel.
    "Cruase," Trand looked directly at Trig, "You know what to do."
    The Belter took a half-step step towards Trig and I let go of her, dropping my right foot back and shifting my weight forward slightly. Combat stance. Trand would see it and hopefully concentrate on me.
    "You’ll be the first one down." I offered the warning like it was a pint of ale.
    The Belter hesitated in mid stride and Trand laughed.
    "Roy," Trand said in a patronizing tone, "Do you have any idea what you’ve got here?"
    The game was up, but I wasn’t quite ready to quit playing.
    "Like I said, just a slag." I used the same neutral tone, conveying an unspoken offer of truce. Stop now and we can all walk away. Even with his army of bug bots and his weird little Belter, Trand knew he’d pay a price . It didn’t matter if I had a weapon, I’d still exact payment. I motioned Trig behind me. Time could be bought with blood. No matter how fast or strong they were, I’d hold them long enough for her to escape. She’d make it to the ship. To safety.
    Except Trig had an altogether different plan in mind. Silently, she stepped up beside me, arms loose, her supple body flexed and ready. In her hands were two small, gleaming knives – scalpels maybe. For a second time, I found myself marveling at her ability to hide things.
    Trand’s mouth opened slightly. His good eye fixed on Trig with a mixture of lust and wariness. "We can share the bounty. The slag... long as she's not