Time to strike.
Moving so swiftly she blurred, Simone leapt to the ground, drew a katana, and swung.
The Gathendien soldiers gaped as their commander’s head fell from his shoulders, toppled to the ground, and rolled away. Taking advantage of their shock, Simone drew her other katana and attacked.
Chaos erupted.
Reptilian blood splattered her.
For Valok and my friends.
Janwar stared at the endless array of stars that stretched before them. Silence reigned on the bridge of the Tangata, a ship so technologically advanced that no other currently in existence could match it. An absolute beauty, it boasted engines that made Aldebarian Alliance ships appear to plod along like ancient navoxi pulling wagonloads of alavinin ore in comparison.
A good thing since Janwar and his crew were pirates and often benefitted from their ability to outmaneuver law-abiding folk.
He glanced around.
His crew was oddly quiet tonight. Did they share the same peculiar feeling of unrest that had plagued him of late?
He frowned, unable to pinpoint the source of it.
“I miss Lisa,” Soval announced. The hulking Domaran warrior slumped in his seat, face more somber than usual.
“And Abby.” Elchan, the Segonian in their midst, added.
The rest nodded.
Janwar smiled, thinking of Lasaran Prince Taelon and the Earth female he’d taken as his lifemate. Janwar considered Taelon a friend, as implausible as that seemed to others. Lasarans were well known for being stringent rule followers. So a Lasaran Prince befriending a consummate lawbreaker like Janwar…
He grinned. Both men rather enjoyed the bafflement their friendship inspired. When Srok’a had recently been stricken with a vision that compelled them to race to the outer reaches of explored space, Janwar had been shocked to discover that Prince Taelon’s ship had been attacked and destroyed.
Fortunately, Taelon’s Yona guard had shoved him and his new family into a royal transport and launched it in time to save their lives. Then Janwar had swept in and rescued them.
He’d enjoyed Lisa’s company during the weeks it had taken them to ferry the royal couple to Lasara. No other woman had stepped foot on their ship since its creation. And he had to admit her tinkling laughter had breathed new life into it. The Earthling had not experienced the lofty upbringing Prince Taelon had. Quite the opposite, actually. And she was delightfully uncomfortable with being treated like royalty, something that had amused his hardened, cynical crew and swiftly won them over.
None of them, of course, had been able to resist the plump-cheeked grins and high-pitched giggles of Abby, Taelon and Lisa’s infant daughter.
“Hopefully, our usual methods of investigation will enable us to locate some of her friends,” Janwar commented.
At last count, only three of the women from Earth who’d been aboard the Kandovar had been rescued. The rest, some presumed, were either dead or soon would be when the provisions in their escape pods ran out. Taelon had disclosed in their latest communication that one of the rescued women—Janwar believed her name was Ava—had been captured by the Gathendiens and tortured, confirming their suspicions that the Gathendiens had risked everything and attacked the Kandovar solely to get their hands on the Earthlings.
Apparently, they believed the women were the key to discovering why a bioengineered virus the Gathendiens released on Earth long ago hadn’t succeeded in eradicating all Earthlings and leaving the planet and all its resources ripe for claiming.
“Grunarks,“ he grumbled.
His cousin Krigara glanced over at him. “Who?”
“The Gathendiens.”
All nodded.
Janwar looked at Soval. “How much longer?”
“We should be able to see them without radar within minutes.”
Good. Most pirates’ strengths lay in their numbers, weaponry, and lack of a moral compass.
Janwar and his small crew’s strength, however, lay in the intelligence they gathered and how they chose to use it.
A primary source of his intel had located a Gathendien warship that had gone undetected by the Aldebarian Alliance’s various fleets, which—lacking the Tangata’s more powerful engines—still struggled to reach these distances without the benefit of the damaged quov’rum.
The Gathendien ship was close enough to the wreckage of the Kandovar to draw suspicion and spark speculation that it had either taken part in the attack or was searching for survivors to slay or capture.
Janwar leaned forward in his seat as a spec appeared amid the stars visible beyond the large, indestructible crystal window that stretched before them. “There it is,” he murmured.
“In all its drekking glory,“ Krigara muttered. “I don’t know how they manage to travel such distances in those pathetic boxes of bura.”
Janwar nodded. The Gathendien ship that gradually grew in size as they approached it looked as if a boy not quite old enough to grow a beard had constructed it out of spare parts scavenged from a refuse heap. Even the color—a dark, putrid yellow that reminded him of vomit—lacked appeal.
“Any indication they know we’re coming?” he asked.
“None,” Srok’a‘s scarred brother Kova mumbled.
Any other answer would’ve shocked Janwar. His ship’s cloaking ability was without equal, so ships only saw the Tangata coming if he wanted them to see it coming.
In very little time, the Gathendien battleship filled the window.
“Perform a life-form scan and see how many are on board,” he ordered.
Elchan studied his console. “Looks like they have a full contingent aboard.”
Janwar rubbed his hands together with glee. “This should be fun then.”
Every face lit with a smile of anticipation. All loved a good battle. It got the blood flowing and distracted them from the loneliness their status as rebels and outcasts sometimes spawned.
“That’s odd,” Elchan said, his brow puckering.
Janwar glanced at him. “What is?”
“I think the life-form scanner may be malfunctioning.”
“Why?”
Elchan looked up from his console. “The Gathendiens’ numbers appear to be dwindling.”
Janwar stared at him. “What?”
“Their numbers are dwindling.” Elchan again consulted his screen, then pointed at it. “There! It just did it again. Two more disappeared. And a third.”
Krigara crossed to stand beside Elchan and studied the screen. His eyebrows shot up. “It’s true. The lights that indicate life forms are vanishing, one or two at a time.” He nudged Elchan. “Run a diagnostic.”
A hush descended.
After a moment, Elchan shook his head. “Nothing. The scan appears to be performing as intended.”
“It can’t be,” Soval grumbled.
Janwar regarded the Gathendien warship with suspicion.
“Could they have obtained some sort of new cloaking mechanism?” Elchan asked hesitantly.
Srok’a scowled. “To borrow one of Lisa’s phrases, what kind of backwards-ass cloaking mechanism would cloak the life forms but not the ship?”
“Good point,” Kova added. “The ship is still visible.”
Krigara motioned to Elchan’s screen. “But according to the scan, it will soon be bereft of life.”