Janwar’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a trick. They must know we’re here.”
“How?” Krigara countered. “We have the best cloaking system in the galaxy.”
Which wasn’t an exaggeration. “The life forms didn’t start disappearing until we came within shooting range of them. They must know we’re here.“ It was odd, though, that they would conceal their life forms—and in such a ragged fashion—instead of the ship itself. Perhaps they hoped anyone approaching would think it a ghost ship bereft of life and become complacent? Or maybe they hoped other vessels would see the life forms disappearing, one by one, and fear contagion? Gathendiens did, after all, make a habit of genetically engineering deadly viruses in their labs.
“What do you want to do?” his cousin asked.
“Get close enough to board them,” Janwar ordered.
Before Kova could navigate them closer, Elchan shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m detecting heat signatures that weren’t there a minute ago.”
“More life forms?” Their bizarre cloaking device must be failing.
“No.”
“What kind of heat signatures?”
“The kind that usually accompanies explosions.”
Silence.
What the srul was happening on that ship?
“Maybe their cloaking array is malfunctioning?” Srok’a suggested, his tone indicating his doubt.
But Elchan shook his head again. “Not unless by malfunctioning you mean blowing them all up because—if my scanner is correct—Gathendiens are dropping like tikluns.“ The fuzzy mammals on Segonia were known for keeling over as though dead anytime something startled them.
Janwar refused to let the rather amusing image of Gathendiens doing the same thing distract him. “Whatever is happening, we need the information those grunarks can provide.” Time was running out for the survivors of the Kandovar’s destruction. “Soval, pull up beside them and extend the docking tube. Kova, run a full diagnostic on all systems. If our life-form scan is malfunctioning, I want to know what else might be, too.”
Kova refocused on his console and went to work.
Soval began to ease the Tangata closer to the Gathendien ship.
“Wait,” Srok’a said.
Janwar sighed. “Now what?”
“One of the docking bay doors is rising.”
“Then it is a trap.” Janwar relaxed back in his seat, happy to be back on normal footing. “Arm weapons. Reinforce shields and cloaking.”
“Weapons armed,” Soval announced.
“Shields and cloaking at full power,” Elchan said.
Janwar turned to his cousin. “Krigara, get in a fighter and prepare to chase whatever leaves that bay. Wait for my command.”
Krigara strode from the bridge.
Janwar stared at the Gathendien ship as a crack of light appeared along the bottom of the docking bay door.
Air and debris shot out as it rose.
“Their atmospheric shield must be down,” he murmured. Had it been in place, it would’ve maintained proper atmosphere and pressure in the bay so crewmembers could continue to perform their duties while craft came and went.
Soval grunted. “I hope they evacuated the bay before—”
Several Gathendiens tumbled out, limbs flailing, reptilian tails flicking, and mouths opening in screams no one could hear in the vacuum of space.
None wore protective suits. All died.
Had Janwar not sorely needed information, he would’ve cheered. As far as he was concerned, the only good Gathendien was a dead Gathendien.
A figure in a white protective suit was nearly sucked out after them but managed to grab hold of the edge of the bay’s opening and jerked to a halt.
Janwar grunted. At least they’d found someone they could interrogate.
A small transport zoomed out of the bay, nearly dislodging the man who clung to the edge.
Janwar tapped the ship-wide comm button on his command chair. “Krigara, are you ready?”
“Almost there.”
“Get your ass in the seat now. A transport just left the ship.”
Curses carried over the line, accompanied by the thuds of boots hitting the deck at a brisk pace.
Janwar scrutinized the transport. It was Akseli in design and created more for fleeing enemies than finding refuge during an emergency, so it would be faster than most transports. He didn’t worry though. The Tangata could easily catch it, as could their fighter craft.
“What the srul?” Elchan muttered.
Janwar returned his gaze to the Gathendiens’ docking bay.
The figure clinging to the bay’s frame wore a helmet that hid his features and a baggy white suit that lacked any noticeable accommodation for the long tail every Gathendien sported.
“That’s not a Gathendien,” Elchan stated.
Janwar contemplated the figure. “Perhaps he lost his tail in an accident.” The grunarks were prone to violence.
Drawing his knees almost to his chest, the figure in white shifted until his feet were braced on the bay’s edge. But he didn’t make his way inside as they all expected. Instead, he looked out at the transport for a long moment, then pushed off. Hard.
“What the drek?“ Elchan muttered.
CHAPTER TWO
“Are you drekking seeing this?” Soval exclaimed.
Janwar ignored his friends’ comments and focused on the figure.
Was he trying to catch up with his shipmates?
To what end? Even if he miraculously managed to utilize precisely the right speed and trajectory, it wasn’t as though the shuttle could just open the hatch and let him in. That wasn’t how transports worked. Once in space, the only way a shuttle could safely open its hatch was if a ship locked a docking tube to it capable of pressurization and—if they were wise—decontamination.
But the likelihood of the figure who currently cut through space with the speed of a morilium missile even coming close enough to the shuttle to—
“Drek!” Elchan blurted. “I think he’s going to make it.”
Janwar stared. Vuan, if it didn’t look like it. And yet… “He’s going too fast to find a handhold.”
Srok’a’s face lit with excitement. “I’ll wager fifty credits that he makes it.”
“Done,” Soval responded, leaning forward.
Bets began to fly as swiftly as the figure in white did.
“Ha!” Srok’a crowed as the figure grabbed hold of one of the transport’s exterior ladder rungs and held on tight. “He did it!”
Those who had bet against him all groaned.
Soval shook his head. “What does he intend to do now—cling to the exterior until the pilot finds a place to land?”
If so, the atmosphere of any habitable planet they sought to land upon would burn him up.
“Where exactly is the craft going?” Elchan asked, his expression baffled.
Janwar leaned back in his chair. “He’s fleeing us. They know we’re here.”
“How?” Elchan countered. “I see nothing that indicates our systems aren’t fully functional. We’re still cloaked. They can’t know we’re here.”