19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Nala

As Astra and I enter the bridge, all eyes turn to us. Well, to me. I swallow around the lump in my throat and bravely hide behind Astra. It doesn’t really work, though, because I’m several inches taller than she is.

Four pairs of eyes watch me with suspicion and one, belonging to my Zyderi “friend” Lyriana, with open hostility. “What’s she doing here?” she barks, looking like she’s about to drag me back to the cell, or shoot me. Or both.

“I called everyone here,” a bulky Lakhartan replies. “I’m Captain Zarkan,” he says, introducing himself. “The commander of this vessel and this merry group.”

Finally, the person I need to speak to, and he doesn’t seem to hate me on the spot. I’ll count that as a win. “I’m Nala and I, uh…” I clear my anxiety-constricted throat. “I’m not here to lure you into a trap or anything like that,” I say, jumping straight into the deep end. “Faelin snuck onto Drayth’s ship to rescue…” Astra’s encouraging smile helps me finish the sentence. “To rescue my daughter. Drayth has been using her to blackmail me for years and now he wants to sell her to a damned pedophile. That’s my story.”

I’ve been looking at Captain Zarkan as I spoke, but now I glance at Lyriana, looking straight into her eyes as if challenging her to say something. She doesn’t, her expression turning pensive.

“Your daughter?” Zarkan asks, his long tail swishing from side to side. His growl sends shivers up my spine even though it’s not directed at me. Nostrils flaring, he takes in a deep breath, his voice sounding calmer when he finally speaks again. “I assume she’s the reason you’ve never accepted UGC offers for help before?”

“I couldn’t risk it. If it was just me, then maybe, but Drayth has people everywhere. If he’d found out I’d been talking to the UGC…” I trail off, afraid to imagine the consequences.

To my relief, Zarkan nods. “Understandable. Does Drayth have any other slaves with him?”

“No. Just Mu and I’m not sure she’d even want to be rescued. She always seemed sort of…content with being a slave.” That was something I could never understand. “I’ve never seen another slave in his compound. I know he trades them, but he must be doing it somewhere else.”

I run my hand through my hair, straining my memory to think of something useful. “There’s usually about a dozen guards around him, sometimes more. Laser and projectile weapons weren’t allowed on the Farpoint Gateway, so they only carried stunners, shock sticks, and knives, but I bet they have an armory somewhere on the Crimson Serpent. I don’t know much about the ship. Drayth never allowed me anywhere near the docks.”

The crew listen attentively. When I stop talking, Astra’s Syndoran boyfriend jerks his brow, wanting me to continue. I wish I could. I wish I knew something they could use to defeat Drayth. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t think of anything more,” I stutter, on the verge of breaking down into tears yet again. Damn, I must be really exhausted. I’m normally not such a crybaby.

“It’s okay,” Astra assures me, squeezing my shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine. Right?” she questions Zarkan.

“Of course,” he calmly responds with a toothy grin. Being a Lakhartan, his teeth are all extremely sharp and pointy, but I feel reassured anyway.

“Exiting hyperspace in five seconds,” Cai announces. I tense up in preparation and grip the nearest railing, expecting to be thrown across the room. Nothing happens. I feel the slightest dip in movement, like when a car slows down, but nothing more.

I’m grateful my dark complexion hides the embarrassment I feel when I realize I’m the only one who tensed. “Sorry,” I mutter, my cheeks practically glowing. “I’ve never been on a ship before.”

It’s not entirely true. I was on the ship that took me away from Earth but I was only half conscious for most of that time. The few memories I should have from that ship have been blocked out. Thank God for trauma response!

“Yeah,” Astra chuckles, “I also expected something more…dramatic from going a thousand times faster than the speed of light to then breaking suddenly, but it’s just this. I guess we should be happy it’s nothing dramatic.”

“Oh, fuck,” one of the crew mutters, his antennae twitching. “Cai, immediately alter our course to stay out of sensor range.”

The AI sounds almost offended as she responds, “I am already keeping the necessary distance, D’Aakh. Any other instructions?”

I stifle my snort at her bratty behavior, bringing my attention back to why we’re here. “Is the Crimson Serpent here?”

D’Aakh taps on some buttons, bringing up an image of the system we’re in. I don’t understand half of the markings, but I can read the one written in orange. Crimson Serpent. And next to it…

“Is that another ship?” Lyriana asks, leaning closer to the projected image. “What in the darkest of black holes is that thing?”

“It appears to be a refurbished battleship. Dreadnought class,” Cai informs us. A schematic appears on another screen. It tells me nothing, but by the crew’s expressions, I know it’s very, very bad news. The Crimson Serpent is docked to this monstrosity and I can’t help but wonder how in the world I am going to find my little girl there.

Nikolai appears by my side, handing me a glass of a bluish liquid. I hesitate as my distrust rears its ugly head, reminding me that accepting drinks from strangers is a terrible idea regardless of the situation. Taking a deep breath, I remember where I am before accepting the drink graciously.

I finish the glass in a few big gulps. These people have been nothing but good to me, unless I’m counting Lyriana’s less than stellar welcome. They wouldn’t have to resort to trickery if they wanted me drugged. At some point in my life, I’m gonna have to start trusting someone, and this point feels as good as any.

I murmur a thank you as I return the glass, my eyes glued to the screen showing the Crimson Serpent alongside the unknown battleship.

D’Aakh, the tech guy with the two insect-like antennae, studies his datapad before cursing again. “It’s the Arcade,” he says. I’m not the only one who stares at him in confusion. Rolling his eyes, D’Aakh swipes a finger over his screen to transfer the information to the central projection. “Does anyone ever read my reports? It was mentioned in the data Faelin’s UGC contact shared with us. The Arcade is a traveling black market, focusing on illegal merchandise. Whether you want weapons, drugs, or exotic pets, the Arcade is the place to go.”

“Slaves?” I ask, my voice trembling.

D’Aakh gives a solemn nod. “Yes, it’s rumored to house the largest slave market in this part of the galaxy.”

“And it’s a fucking battleship,” Astra’s boyfriend growls. “Look at this. Point defense, missiles, multiple fighter bays, laser cannons. They’d give a UGC contingent a run for their money with just this one ship.”

Lyriana glares at him. “Faelin is there. We’re going in.”

“I never said we weren’t, Lyri. I’m just wondering how the fuck we’re going to pull this off. I mean, the Supernova is a good ship, especially with the alterations D’Aakh ordered, but still…” He waves his hand over the screen to point out the futility of our position.

My heart drops. They aren’t going to do it. The risks are too high, the odds impossible. They’d be insane to go forth with the plan.

Well, they can stay back. I can’t. “Do you have a shuttle I could take?” I ask, my voice surprisingly strong.

Lyriana cocks her brow. “What the fuck for?”

“What do you think for? I understand you don’t want to risk your lives on an impossible mission, but I’m going. Alone, if I have to.”

“And do what exactly?” she asks with derision. “Shut your mouth and stay out of our way.”

Before I can think it through, I’m grabbing the front of her shirt. “I. Am. Going,” I repeat, baring my teeth at her. I don’t have the right organs to growl, but I do my best impression. “My daughter is in there. My daughter! I will not sit on my ass while she’s in danger!”

Lyriana is an elite super soldier. There are probably two hundred objects in this room she could kill me with, including the room itself. Yet, she merely watches me as I yank on her shirt, her smirk morphing into a grin. “You’ve got fire,” she says, knocking my hands away in a motion faster than I can comprehend. “I like that. But touch me again and I’ll break both of your arms.”

“Lyri…” Astra’s boyfriend admonishes. “She’s a guest.”

“Tareq…?” Lyriana repeats mockingly. “I don’t give a shit. Captain, what’s the plan here? The thing we did on Porma 3? Or do we use the same tactic we used when we brought down the drug cartel fleet in sector L-8?”

Zarkan considers it before responding, “Porma 3. D’Aakh?”

I have no idea what they’re referring to, but I understand one thing—they’re not giving up. My tears overflow, streaming down my cheeks. I blink rapidly, wanting to keep my vision clear, but the tears keep coming.

“Getting us in won’t be a problem,” D’Aakh says lightly, his attention on his datapad.

“I thought it was an impenetrable fortress,” I note, wiping the tears and snot from my face with the back of my hand. I’m disgusting and I don’t even care.

D’Aakh’s antennae twitch as he shakes his head. “It’s more like a prison. Getting in isn’t the issue. Getting out is. I’ve already prepared fake credentials that will allow us to dock with the Arcade. Unless we draw attention to ourselves, the fake IDs will get us past the guards. However, I do not see a way to get out clean, Captain. The Supernova is a fine vessel, but we simply do not have the required firepower to hold out for long enough to make the jump to hyperspace.”

“Leave the exit strategy to me,” Zarkan replies thoughtfully before giving each of us a long look. “This will be a dangerous mission, regardless of whether you go in or stay back on the ship. Anyone who doesn’t want to take the risk can take the Dart. It has a small hyperdrive. A few short jumps will get you safely back to the Farpoint Gateway.”

Tareq looks at Nikolai. “You’d better stay back with Astra.”

“With who?!” she shouts, shoving at his chest. “If you think I’m staying behind, you’re mistaken, my dear tiger. I’m going with you. And,” she adds, her glare silencing his protests before they even leave his mouth, “think twice about what you’re going to say next or you won’t be getting any for a very, very long time.”

He heaves a sigh, closing his eyes in defeat. “I just want to keep you safe, my Myále.”

“I don’t want to be kept safe. I want to make my own decisions,” she replies, caressing his cheek. “You freed me once. Don’t put me back in a cage.”

A blonde Quintran laughs, his wings twitching. “Not a cage, no,” he says. “But he might have to collar you for this to work.”