Imminent Danger: And How to Fly Straight Into It Read online

  Varrin continued to argue his case, unaware that he had already won. “Come on, we need you for my plan to work. And as soon as the Psilosians come and save the day, I’ll swing back here and drop you off. My ship can’t outrun Kratis, but the Psilosians will be easy to escape.”

  “What about the supplies? What about the engines?”

  “We’ll make do with what we have. Besides, the repairs aren’t that complicated.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I thought you said they’d take weeks!”

  “I overestimated. We shouldn’t do any Pulls, but we can handle getting to Kratis’s ship and back. So are you going to help or not?”

  I could say no, Eris thought. I could say no and leave Varrin and Miguri to escape on their own. But the thought of never seeing the two aliens again was unbearable—Miguri because he was a true friend, and Varrin because he was … well, Varrin. When I put it that way …

  “Fine. I’m in,” she said, knowing she would probably come to regret these words before long. “Wait for me. I’m on my way.”

  Now that her choice was made, Eris considered just calling a taxi and hightailing it back to the Nonconformity. But she couldn’t quite shake her sense of scholarly duty—she had been summoned by her dean, and she couldn’t just not show because she had to go do something as trivial as saving mankind from an alien invasion. Anyway, she reasoned, an hour or two won’t make any difference.

  Eris arrived at the dean’s outer office and approached the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair and spectacles. The receptionist was sitting at her desk, scowling and yelling into the phone. “Fifty dollars for a used textbook? What … well, you have a wonderful day too, you smarmy excuse for an educational supplier!” The woman slammed down the receiver, resettled her spectacles, and then looked up at Eris. “Sorry, dear, you know how it is. Textbook prices skyrocket, and the school pays for it.”

  “Yeah,” Eris said awkwardly. “Um, I’m Eris Miller. I think the dean wants to see me?”

  “Miller … Miller …” The secretary bobbed her head and started shuffling through a pile of folders on her desk. “Yes, the dean has been expecting you.” She peered up at Eris. “I must say, after reading all those newspaper stories about your disappearance, I expected you to look a little more … Anyway, you certainly don’t look like you were kidnapped.”

  “Well, I’m better now,” Eris said.

  “That doesn’t—”

  The intercom on the desk crackled to life. “Mrs. Barker, I’m ready for my next appointment.”

  Shooting Eris an odd look, Mrs. Barker hit the reply button and said, “Eris Miller is here to see you, sir.”

  “Ah, excellent. Send her in.”

  Eris took a deep breath and then marched through the heavy oak doors.

  The dean’s office was large and spacious, with an air of sophistication and age. Huge windows with crimson drapery covered one wall, and bookshelves lined the others. Behind an antique mahogany desk sat an elderly man wearing a tweed jacket and bowtie. A small brass plaque on the desk read Albert Gresham, Dean of Admissions.

  “Ah, Miss Miller, come in,” the dean said, gesturing for Eris to take a seat across from him.

  Eris eased herself into the leather-backed chair and crossed her legs uncomfortably. She remembered the last time she had been in this office—receiving her scholarship and a letter of acceptance into the prestigious private school. Somehow I doubt things will go quite as smoothly this time.

  The dean leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, bushy gray eyebrows furrowed. “I just got a call from your residence secretary, Eris. She told me of your miraculous reappearance, and so I summoned you here to see for myself.”

  Eris was not sure what she was supposed to say, so she stayed silent.

  “The official police report suggested you were kidnapped,” the dean continued. He looked at her intently. “Is that what happened, Eris? Are you all right? Were you kidnapped?”

  “I, erm … sort of?” Does alien abduction count as kidnapping?

  “I see. Well, you appear to be healthy and unharmed. So that is a blessing. However, as dean of admissions, it falls on me to determine the reason for your lengthy absence. Any information you can divulge will only help your case.”

  I doubt that, Eris thought. If I tell the truth, I’ll either get expelled or thrown in an insane asylum. She suppressed a sigh and turned to look out the window. Rain had begun to fall again, and it pattered lightly against the thick panes of glass. “I don’t know what you want me to say, sir.”

  “Eris, you need to tell me what happened. The truth, now.” The dean favored her with a fatherly look. “Were you kidnapped? Did you run away? Was it all just a desperate plea for attention?”

  Eris didn’t know how to respond. Should I just lie? Make up some story that would convince him not to expel me? Or tell the truth, even though there’s no way he’ll possibly believe me? Oh, screw it. “All right,” she said. “It all started when I was walking to math class one morning …”

  29

  “And that’s pretty much what happened. We came back to Earth, and as soon as I leave your office, I’m going back to the ship, and we’re going to go intercept Kratis,” Eris concluded.

  The dean leaned back in his chair, hands steepled together, an expression of disbelief not quite concealed behind his façade of calm understanding.

  I knew he wouldn’t believe me, Eris thought, sighing. Why did I even bother? “I know it sounds insane, sir, but I swear I’m telling the truth.”

  “You don’t really expect me to believe such a far-fetched story, do you, my dear?” the dean asked in a condescending tone. “Aliens and laboratories and space hotels and whatnot?”

  “I suppose not,” Eris admitted. She glanced out the window again. I’m definitely going to have to take a taxi, she thought. No way I’m walking in that downpour.

  “You have clearly suffered some traumatic experience,” the dean said, his voice full of pity. “I think that perhaps you made up this fantastical story so you could distance yourself from whatever unpleasant situation you were in.”

  Eris found this hypothesis so ridiculous that she could barely restrain her laughter. “Sir, if I just made up a story to comfort myself, do you really think I’d choose to be abducted, imprisoned, betrayed, experimented on, and attacked by a monster?”

  “Of course not,” Gresham said soothingly. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this all straightened out in no time.” His hand moved slowly toward the intercom button. Eris eyed him warily, wondering who he was planning to call.

  Just as he was about to depress the button, there was a loud sound of rushing air outside, making the windowpanes rattle. Eris glanced outside and saw a large shadow shaped vaguely like a bird of prey. He didn’t!

  Eris jumped to her feet. Startled, the dean pulled his hand away from the intercom and looked at her. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Sit down, Miss Miller! You aren’t well!”

  What part of “wait for me” didn’t he understand? Eris thought furiously as she hurried to the window.

  “Miss Miller, sit down!”

  I am so sick of people telling me what to do! Turning to the dean, Eris demanded, “You want proof that I’m not crazy? Take a look out the window and see for yourself!”

  Sighing, the dean rose from his chair and peered outside. He clearly expected to see nothing but storm clouds churning above the forest that bordered this side of the campus. Instead, he saw a huge, sleek, black spaceship hovering in midair. The rear ramp was lowered, and a three-foot-tall monkeylike creature with poufy white hair was clinging to the railing at the top of the ramp waving excitedly at them.

  Dean Gresham stared at the creature that was clearly not of his world. “That is—that is an alien.”

  “Yes, sir, it is,” Eris said. “Do you believe me now?”

  The dean fainted.

  Holding her communicator up to her mouth, Eris hissed, “Varrin, you idiot,
you scared my dean half to death! What are you even doing here?”

  “Yell at me later,” Varrin advised. “Kratis just passed Neptune.”

  Eris crouched beside the dean and put two fingers on the side of his neck. “Thank God. He’s alive.”

  “Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Because he’s old, and he fainted!”

  “Well, if he’s okay, then get on board. This thunderstorm won’t last forever.”

  Turning back to the window, Eris twisted the crank. The pane swung open, and she clambered out. Bracing herself on the wide ledge of the old gothic building, Eris jumped forward and landed on the ramp.

  “She is on board!” Miguri called, tugging her inside the ship.

  The ramp lifted to seal the cargo bay. Hugging Eris, Miguri said, “Welcome back!”

  Eris smiled and squeezed him tightly.

  “So, did all go well?” Miguri asked.

  “I got into a fight with my mom,” Eris admitted. “It started out okay—she said she missed me and all that—but then she started bombarding me with advice and demanding all kinds of stuff, so I hung up. I’m a terrible daughter, aren’t I?”

  “She is your mother,” the Claktill said wisely. “Parents cannot help but care about their offspring and want the best for them.”

  “I know,” Eris said. “I’m sure your parents care a lot about you too.”

  “Parent, singular. And yes, it does.”

  Eris decided not to ask why his parent was an it. She was pretty sure the answer would be more complicated than she could handle just now.

  “And I know, should we ever meet again,” Miguri added, “we shall both feel great joy.”

  “Ladies and vermin,” blared the intercom, “if you would like to participate in the plan to outwit Kratis, you may want to come up to the bridge.”

  “I think the Rakorsian is feeling left out,” Miguri said, his large blue eyes glimmering in amusement.

  Eris scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’d be the day.”

  “May I also remind certain passengers that I can hear everything they are saying?”

  “We’re coming,” she said, exchanging a smile with her little friend.

  Feeling more at peace than she had for days, Eris walked with Miguri toward the cockpit. Yes, she thought. I definitely made the right choice.

  The Rakorsian battle cruiser cut through the blackness of space, the distant light of Sol gleaming off its gray and red metal hull. Small, birdlike fighters swarmed around the surface of the ship, darting to and fro as their scanners tried to track the Nonconformity’s passage.

  Inside, on the ship’s main bridge, Admiral Kratis sat enthroned in his ostentatious golden command chair, surveying his crew’s efforts with a grim expression. An aide scurried up to the admiral bearing a goblet containing red, foaming liquid. Kratis gulped from the chalice and then smacked his lips contentedly.

  “Admiral!” an officer called. “We are detecting a non-Rakorsian ship signature in the system.”

  “Psilosian?” Kratis snarled.

  The officer cast a bewildered look at his monitor. “No, sir. Ssrisk.”

  Admiral Kratis heaved himself to his feet and stalked over to look at the radar screen. “What is a Ssrisk battleship doing in this system?” he demanded. “Hail its captain.”

  Within seconds, the main view screen cut to an image of a Ssrisk sitting in a blue coral chair. Admiral Kratis clicked his boots together and said, “I am Admiral Kratis. What business do you have in this system?”

  “I am Captain Hroshk,” the Ssrisk said. “And I could ask you the same question, Rakorsian.”

  “I am tracking a traitor. And why are the Ssrisk flying so near a terrestrial world?”

  “We have come to replace goods stolen from us. Stolen by one of your species, in fact. A Rakorsian mercenary attacked my ship and kidnapped a terrestrial who we were … transporting.”

  “I see,” Kratis said. “Was your terrestrial a female with dark hair?”

  “Yes,” Hroshk hissed.

  Kratis smiled. “Then it appears we chase the same prey.”

  “Indeed,” Hroshk replied, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

  “Captain Hroshk, would you care to take a little revenge on our mutual enemy?”

  The Ssrisk flicked his tri-forked tongue. “I would like nothing better. Phhh!”

  “My mother is going to kill me,” Eris declared after hearing the details of Varrin’s plan for dealing with Kratis.

  “Unlikely,” Miguri disagreed, standing beside her in the cockpit of the Nonconformity as they left Earth’s orbit. “You will probably be dead long before she gets the chance.”

  “My estimate of a 23 percent chance of survival does not mean we’re going to die,” Varrin said. “It just means that some of our less competent crew members are going to have to be more careful.”

  “I am not incompetent!” Eris protested.

  “I never said you were,” Varrin drawled. “Stop taking things so personally, girl. Not everything is about you.”

  “And yet the entire plan hinges on my involvement,” she grumbled. “Oh, the irony. And since when did I become a crew member? Does this mean I have to call you Captain?”

  Varrin brightened. “I like that idea.”

  “Not happening.”

  He laughed. “Look, we can’t contact the Psilosians until we disable Kratis’s comm interrupter. In order to do that, the rat has to distract him by harassing his fighters from the Nonconformity—which he will not so much as dent—while we sneak on board.”

  “That’s stupid,” Eris told Varrin flatly. “There’s no possible way we’ll be able to sneak on board a fully armed warship and survive long enough to disable the comm thingy.”

  Miguri chimed in. “Not to mention that this warship will be entirely crewed by rapacious Rakorsians who will chop Eris to pieces!” Turning to Eris, he added, “No offense, my friend.”

  “None taken,” Eris said.

  “I am perfectly capable of keeping you alive,” Varrin informed her haughtily. “You’re alive right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes …”

  “Then I rest my case.”

  Two hours later, flying along at a brisk clip past Mars, Eris and Miguri had progressed from simple misgivings to sheer panic about Varrin’s plan.

  “This is never going to work!” Eris exclaimed. “We don’t even have a real plan for when we actually get on Kratis’s ship. Tell me you at least know where they keep the comm interrupter.”

  “I told you. I used to fly on Rakorsian warships all the time,” Varrin said calmly. “If nothing else, Rakorsians are predictable—”

  “Present company excepted,” Eris muttered.

  “—so the comm interrupter should be in its usual location,” he concluded. “See? I’ve got it all under control. By the way, before we leave the Nonconformity, remind me to show you how to recognize the interrupter controls. Just in case we get split up.”

  Yeah, Eris thought, because if I wind up alone on a ship swarming with people who are trying to kill me, remembering how to read Rakorsian is going to be my top priority.

  “We have a problem.”

  Varrin ducked the sandal that Eris flung furiously at his head.

  “Stop saying that!” she exclaimed as the shoe bounced off the cockpit window and tumbled to the floor.

  “Fine,” he laughed, retrieving the errant sandal and handing it to her. “We have a situation. Kratis isn’t alone.”

  “By your gleeful tone and considering your usual disdain for self-preservation, I am going to assume that is a bad thing,” Miguri chirped from the copilot’s seat. Eris steadied herself on the back of his chair as she strapped her sandal back on.

  “It appears that a Ssrisk cruiser has also managed to slip past the blockade,” Varrin said. “And the Psilosians wonder why no one takes them seriously.” He called up an image of the cruiser and peered at it intently. “Ah,” he said, “it’s that ship
. I see they haven’t had a chance to touch up the paint job.”

  Eris didn’t need to look at the screen to know exactly which Ssrisk ship he meant.

  “Well, that’s just great,” Eris groaned. “With our luck, Hroshk will team up with your buddy Kratis and help him obliterate us.”

  “Quite possibly,” Varrin agreed. “Not the obliterate part, of course, but the rest. The Ssrisk have incredible shields, but they’re hopeless at stealth. Kratis no doubt detected them, contacted them, and suggested they team up to take me out.”

  “I don’t know,” Eris said. “Kratis and Hroshk don’t strike me as team players. Why would they work together?”

  “Because, girl, they have one thing in common.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Varrin flashed her a roguish grin. “They’re both utterly obsessed with me.”

  Eyeing the shaggy-haired, smoky-eyed, entirely appealing Rakorsian, Eris couldn’t help saying softly, “I know the feeling.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing!”

  Feeling a blush spreading across her cheeks, Eris leaped from her seat and fled the cockpit.

  Miguri cast the pilot a disbelieving look. “You heard exactly what she said, Rakorsian. Do not deny it.”

  Varrin smirked. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

  “And yet you do not see me drooling over you.”

  “It’s simply a matter of time. You’ll come around.”

  Miguri clasped his tiny hands behind his head and waited for the Rakorsian to realize the implications of what he had just said.

  After a moment, Varrin grimaced and shot the Claktill a warning glare. “You’ll keep your hands to yourself if you know what’s good for you,” he scowled. “If I wake up and find you sneaking around my bedroom, so help me, rat, I will end you.”