But…it's something to do. I've struggled ever since Zoey left our crew to go mate with Sentorr of the Jabberwock. I know she's ridiculously keffing happy and I want that for her, but…I miss having my mouthy little sister around. Feels like there's a hole in the crew and it's sucked all the joy in piracy right out of my system. I suspect it's the same for Kaspar and Mathiras. We're all looking for something to excite us again. The Buoyant Star—for all that it could be a wild chase leading nowhere—is our distraction for now.
I sigh, looking over at the mirror above the sink. If Zo were here, I'd write a stupid message in the mirror for her to find when she takes a shower. Usually I'd leave something like "Your feet smell" or "I stole your snacks" just to make her laugh. There's no one to write a message for anymore, and I feel stupidly empty. It's not the same without Zoey on board.
I miss her. I'm almost as miserable as I was back when I discovered the truth about the female I thought I loved. Shaalyn. I hope her new mate gave her a communicable disease. I hope they're both riddled with sores. Great, big, gross ones.
And then I check my junk, just to make sure the universe isn't going to punish me for wishing something like that on someone else. All's clear, though. I give my cock one last jiggle under the water and then turn the shower off.
The moment I start to towel off, the bridge clicks on over the comm. "Uh, hey…Mathiras?" It's Kaspar.
Mathiras chimes back from the engine room. "What?"
"Did you run into anyone we should know about back on V'tarr Station?"
A pause. "No, why?"
Kaspar sounds tense. "Because we're being approached by another corsair vessel…and I'm pretty sure this one is from Homeworld."
"Homeworld?!" Mathiras sounds puzzled. "What the kef are they doing out here in the Slatra system?"
"Great question. You should also be asking why they're hailing us and demanding we surrender."
"Surrender? I'm coming to the bridge."
Uh oh. I haul the towel around my hips and hit the intercom. "Hey…so uh, you guys will never guess what I heard back on the cantina."
"What?"
I'm not sure which brother it is, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter. I click over again. "I might know who that ship belongs to…"
"Get your ass in here, Adiron," Mathiras snaps. "Bridge. Now."
"On my way," I say cheerfully. I mean, if we die, I should go out with a smile. I'd make an ugly corpse with my face all snarled up. I tie the towel around my waist even tighter, then run a comb through my hair. Again, an ugly corpse is not how I want to be remembered. Zoey would be totally pissed to see me looking like shit at my own funeral.
Zoey.
I stare at the fogged mirror, think for a moment, and then soap up the tip of my finger and use it to write a message.
Lord Straik sa'Rin.
There. Even if we don't make it back to mesakkah-space and the Little Sister does, Zoey will know whose ass to kick.
3
ADIRON
"You…forgot." Mathiras's voice is flat. He scowls at me, his hands behind his head as we march through the ship-to-ship hatch over to the enemy vessel. "Are you keffing serious, Adiron?"
I shrug—not an easy task given that my hands are behind my head, too. "There was a lot going on."
"You forgot," he echoes, disgust in his voice. "Well that's just great."
It's not like I've had a moment to think straight since we left the cantina. First there was the bar fight, and then I had to pull Kaspar off of a particularly ugly szzt fellow who looked as if he wanted to remove Kaspar's head from his body. Which…I've been there. Anyone that's met Kaspar has wanted to choke him at least once or twice. But Kaspar's my brother and I've always got his back, so I waded into the fight instead of slipping away and got doused with a dozen drinks. I'm pretty sure I soaked up some of the alcohol through my skin, because by the time we raced back to the Little Sister, I was feeling good and loose. And then we had to race the ship out of V'tarrian airspace, and then there was my shower and then we got hailed by Lord Straik sa'Rin. Since they'd caught us by surprise, there was no time to escape.
Or put on pants.
It was either go in fighting or try diplomacy. Kaspar wanted to go in fighting, of course, but Mathiras wanted diplomacy. As the tiebreaker, I chose diplomacy. Much as I love a good fight, I remember what the females at the cantina said about the lord and his army of a'ani clones. We can take out a small crew easily. An army of clones is an entirely different matter—and sa'Rin's ship is three times larger than ours.
Unfortunately, we didn't even get the chance to try diplomacy. Once the larger ship locked onto the Little Sister, they sent a pulse through our ship, knocking us to the floor and freezing us in place. I don't know what kind of weapon that is—some kind of shock-collar for an entire ship—but I know we've gotta get one for ourselves.
Now we're here, aboard Lord Straik's massive ship, and captive. Not our finest moment. At least I left Zoey the message I did. Maybe she'll find it someday.
We keep our hands on our heads as the clone bodyguards lead us through the ship. I glance over at Kaspar, but he's not looking at me. He's looking around at anything and everything, clearly spoiling for a fight and just waiting for the right moment. Picking a fight with at least ten guards around us—all of them armed and us not—would be the height of stupidity, but Kaspar loves stupid odds. Even I know this isn't smart. Using my tail, I smack him on the ass to get his attention.
Kaspar turns and glares at me. "What?"
"Let's just see why we're here before we try staging a breakout, huh?"
One of the guards nudges me in the shoulders, a silent command to shut up.
"Isn't it obvious?" Kaspar hisses. "We're being robbed. Considering that we rob people for a living, you think you'd recognize the signs."
I scoff. "Look at this keffing ship, you noodle-brain. You think this guy needs our little ship? Think again."
"Will you two be quiet?" Mathiras snarls. "I can't think when you're arguing."
This time, the guard walking behind me gives me a shove, and Kaspar gets the same. "All of you keffing shut up or you get shock collars."
I shut up. Kaspar glares at me, but his gaze wanders to our surroundings, and I suspect what I told him is sinking in.
It's obvious to me that whatever Lord Straik wants, it isn't our “riches.” The Little Sister's a decent ship thanks to our constant work on her, but to the rest of the universe, she looks like a piece of junk. She's also a Class IV freighter, which is usually a passenger ship. No one's going to think we're hiding a ton of snazzy cargo somewhere on board. As far as robberies go, we'd be a shitty target. And this ship we've been dragged aboard is of a much finer make than ours.
Lord Straik's ship is cutting edge technology. The metal walls of the corridor are cool and pristine, without old scorch marks from blaster fights or dents from, say, getting into a noogie-fight with your brother. The endless hallways we've been dragged down are large and airy and well lit, the temperature comfortable, and to me, that says more than anything else that this is run by a male that doesn't care about credits. If he knew how much it'd cost to change out the air filters on a ship like this, he'd run something smaller. The Little Sister, for example, has tight, short hallways because the less living space that has to be climate-controlled, the better.