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

  “Halt! Identify yourselves!” one of the guards commanded.

  “Duck,” Varrin suggested.

  Eris ducked and watched as he launched himself at the guards. Elbows to the head took out the first and second guards, but the third guard leaped back and blasted furiously. Varrin slipped underneath the shots, slapped the guard’s weapon away, and knocked him out with a kick to the chin.

  “Here,” he said, tossing one of the plasma rifles to Eris. “Take this.”

  Awkwardly catching the heavy weapon, she said, “You realize I have no idea how to use this, right?”

  “Same as the striker,” Varrin said sweetly. “Point and shoot.”

  He had already rounded the corner before Eris could get the rifle aimed at his smug face.

  31

  Beep.

  Miguri glanced toward the communications signal flashing on the Nonconformity’s control console. He fired off a few more shots toward the swarming Rakorsian fighters and then diverted all power to the shields. Adopting his calmest expression, he flicked on the comm.

  “Admiral Kratis,” he chirped. “How ever may I help you?”

  Kratis looked past Miguri and scanned the cockpit. “Remove yourself from my sight and fetch Prince Varrin,” he commanded.

  “I am afraid he is not available at the moment,” Miguri replied.

  Kratis’s attention locked on him. “What do you mean?”

  “He had a few drinks while preparing for battle. And when he got into the pharmaceutical locker, well, things took a turn for the worse.”

  Kratis’s face reddened. “You are wasting my time, Claktill. You are outnumbered and outgunned. Bring forth Prince Varrin, or I shall board your ship and forcibly extract him.”

  Miguri shrugged. “Be my guest. I shall go prepare a drink for your arrival—assuming there is anything left.”

  The screen went black.

  “That went well,” Miguri mumbled. “Perhaps I should have heeded the Rakorsian’s advice and practiced my bluffing technique.”

  The fighters’ plasma bolts continued pounding a fierce staccato on the Nonconformity’s hull. Miguri was impressed that the ship was still in one piece, but he knew that the shields would give out eventually.

  “I believe it is time to enact phase two of the plan,” he said, swinging the ship away from the battlefield. But his escape route was blocked by a wall of Rakorsian fighters. “It appears I am trapped,” he observed, dismayed. “Perhaps we should have taken the time to formulate a plan B.”

  Miguri fought them off as well as he could, but after several minutes, the Nonconformity’s shields finally collapsed. The Rakorsian fighters immediately ceased their barrage.

  “Well, that is that,” Miguri sighed. “I believe the admiral will soon try to pay me a visit. I had best prepare.”

  He activated the controls that would seal off the weapons room, the engine room, and the cockpit. Anyone who tried to enter without authorization would meet with a painful, shocking death. Miguri knew such a trick wouldn’t stop Kratis for long. But it will certainly slow him down, he thought.

  The comm signal flashed again, and Miguri turned on the screen, expecting to see Kratis. Instead, the screen displayed a familiar reptilian face.

  “Captain Hroshk,” Miguri squeaked. “This is a surprise.”

  The Ssrisk captain rat-tat-tat-ed, his forehead scales flaring. “You! I will speak to your Rakorsian captain.”

  “As I have already told Admiral Kratis,” Miguri said, “the captain is indisposed.”

  “Where is the human, then? Speak, Claktill, and I will show you mercy.”

  “She is also indisposed.”

  Hroshk appeared willing to let the fairly obvious lies slide. “You have already spoken with Admiral Kratis?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Yes,” Miguri said. “It is curious, though—he did not mention you. Why would that be? I had assumed you were working together.”

  The Ssrisk flicked his long, tri-forked tongue in agitation. “We agreed he would apprehend your vessel while I ensured we were not disturbed by the Psilosians.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “I hate Rakorsians as much as the next intelligent being,” Hroshk hissed. “I no sooner trust Kratis to keep his part of the bargain than I trust him to pledge allegiance to the Kras Pli’tas.”

  Nodding as if he understood what Hroshk was talking about, Miguri said, “I see. And am I correct in thinking that you may be looking for a new ally?”

  Hroshk’s purple eyes narrowed. “Kratis hunts the Rakorsian scum who attacked my ship. I have the same prey. No one steals from Hroshk and lives. Retrieving the human would be a bonus.”

  “Yes, but what do you want from me?”

  “You are of no real value to anyone. But I am willing to trade you your life in return for a small service.”

  Ignoring the insult, Miguri asked, “What do you propose?”

  “I cannot take my revenge on the Rakorsian if he is dead or locked up on that fancy star cruiser. Neither your captain nor the human are on your ship—I saw through your transparent lies the moment you spoke them. But I believe you know their true location. You will tell me where they are and what they are planning. Then I will retrieve them at my convenience.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “In return for this service, you will go free.”

  “In a ship?” Miguri pressed.

  “Yes, the one you sit in right now,” Hroshk promised. “I will bring it aboard my own vessel. Once we return to neutral space, you will have your freedom and be captain of your own ship. That is the deal.”

  Miguri pretended to consider the offer. “But I am fond of the human. She and I have become friends, and I do not feel comfortable betraying her.”

  “Then you may take her with you. There are many more humans where she came from. It is the Rakorsian scum that I am truly after.”

  Miguri knew the Ssrisk was lying through his fangs, but it appeared his only other option was to be boarded and captured by Kratis. “Deal,” he said.

  “Then divulge their location, Claktill, and your freedom is assured.”

  “They are on the Rakorsian cruiser.”

  Hroshk rat-tat-tat-ed.

  “Do not blame me,” Miguri protested. “It was not my idea.”

  “Why are they there?”

  “They are trying to take over the ship,” Miguri lied.

  Miguri heard a beep on Hroshk’s end.

  “Wait,” the Ssrisk snapped at Miguri. Looking to his left, he hissed, “What do you want, Rakorsian?”

  “Hroshk,” Miguri heard Kratis snap. “My sensors indicate you are in direct communication with Prince Varrin’s vessel. Why?”

  The Ssrisk’s eyes flared. “So, the thief is a prince, is he?” he hissed. “That is unexpected. Still, he paid me a great insult, and I intend to extract the revenge I am due. Capture him, if that is what your warrior’s honor requires, but then you will relinquish him to me.”

  Kratis sniffed arrogantly. “You must be joking, Hroshk. I would never hand a Rakorsian over to you, exiled or not.”

  “An exiled prince? Even better!” The Ssrisk captain phhh-ed. “Admiral, our alliance is now over.” Turning to his officers, he commanded, “Open fire on the flagship!”

  Miguri’s monitor went black.

  Gazing out the cockpit window, he watched in complete bewilderment as the huge, spherical Ssrisk ship barreled toward the Rakorsian cruiser, plasma cannons blasting. The Rakorsians returned fire with equal force, and their fighters streaked toward Hroshk’s ship. Ssrisk fighters zipped out to meet them. The Nonconformity, virtually defenseless with its shields completely drained, floated free in space.

  “Hmm,” the Claktill said to himself, hair spiking from stress. “This is unexpected.”

  32

  Eris and Varrin managed to get to the crew sleeping quarters without further encounters with any Rakorsians. Kratis really needs to hire a different in
terior decorator, Eris thought as they passed a series of doors, each painted a garish red and emblazoned with a golden imperial crest.

  After subduing the drowsy occupant of one of the cabins, Varrin pulled Eris over to the room’s computer terminal. “We need to access the ship schematics,” he told her.

  “I thought you knew exactly where the comm thingy was,” Eris said.

  Varrin arched an eyebrow. “If you’d prefer I didn’t double check …?”

  Holding her tongue, Eris joined him at the terminal. The keyboard was in Rakorsian, as was all the writing on the monitor. Varrin called up a complicated-looking diagram and then tapped the screen authoritatively. “The comm interrupter should be here, right below the navigation deck. Exactly where I thought it would be.”

  Eris stared at the image skeptically. “Wasn’t that a bit too easy? I can’t imagine ship schematics being so easily accessible to just anyone.”

  Her companion flashed her a grin and turned back to the monitor.

  “Typical,” she muttered.

  After transferring the blueprints onto his wrist communicator, Varrin flicked the terminal off and shooed Eris from the room.

  He led them along side passageways for ten minutes without any encounters with crew members. But just as Eris began to relax and believe that Varrin’s reckless plan might actually work, he tensed up in front of her and stopped.

  BOOM.

  “What was that?” Eris gasped as she felt the ship tremble.

  Without a word, Varrin pulled her down a side corridor. A moment later, a group of armed and armored Rakorsians sprinted past their hiding place.

  “Headed for the bridge, no doubt,” Varrin murmured, releasing her.

  As Eris rubbed her arm gingerly, another tremor rocked the ship.

  “I believe the tide has turned,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Eris demanded. “You think the Psilosians have come to rescue us?”

  “Not likely,” Varrin snorted. “You forget that Kratis recently acquired an ally—a certain Ssrisk by the name of Hroshk.”

  “So what? You think Hroshk turned on him?”

  Varrin shrugged. “Or the other way around. Theirs certainly wasn’t a match made in Argashen. In any case, this all works to our advantage. They’ll be so busy battling each other that they won’t have time to keep track of us.”

  “If you say so,” Eris said dubiously.

  He laughed. “Come on, girl, let’s go find the communication deck. Things are finally starting to get fun around here.”

  Now you have done it, Miguri Ma’ak’tilli, the Claktill thought to himself as he glanced up at his unlikely new allies. Towering above him were the members of a Ssrisk raiding party, their scaly forms decked out in high-tech armor and weaponry, every piece a shade of blue. Miguri was standing with them in the boarding tube of a Ssrisk fighter that had latched onto the hull of Admiral Kratis’s ship.

  As he waited nervously for them to blow the hatch, Miguri reflected on his recent misadventures. After Hroshk’s first mad attack upon the Rakorsian cruiser, the Ssrisk had pulled back long enough to haul the Nonconformity aboard their vessel via tractor beam. He had barely had time to strap on his wrist communicator before the Ssrisk arrived to escort him from Varrin’s ship.

  They had taken him to the strategy room on the Ssrisk ship, where a tactical officer had interrogated him about the Rakorsian flagship and the possible whereabouts of his companions. Miguri had tried to provide as little information as he could get away with.

  Then, to Miguri’s dismay, they had assigned him to one of the units preparing to board the enemy starship. “But I am only three feet tall!” he had protested to the tactical officer. “Moreover, I am a Claktill. My people do not believe in violence. I am of no possible use to you in a boarding party.” Miguri felt no qualms about playing the pacifist card if it would ensure his continued survival. But the officer had just sneered at him, saying the captain had commanded that if Miguri could not provide useful intelligence, then he might at least be of some value serving as bait.

  “Three … two …” announced Sak-tak, the leader of the boarding party.

  BOOM.

  As soon as the hatch blew, the boarding party rushed aboard the ship, pulling Miguri along with them. They hadn’t even reached the end of the first hallway when Sak-tak suddenly skidded to a halt.

  “Someone is coming,” he hissed to his troops.

  A Rakorsian security squad barreled into the hallway and spotted the intruders.

  “Intruders! Open fire!” one of the Rakorsians shouted.

  “Destroy them!” Sak-tak commanded.

  As the corridor blazed with striker fire, Miguri’s survival instinct kicked in. He dropped flat to the floor and scanned the hallway, looking for a safe haven. Maybe there is an alcove I can hide in, he thought. A barrage of striker fire flashed above his head. Sak-tak screamed and crumpled to the floor. Miguri scurried past the Ssrisk’s smoking body, through the nearest doorway, and under a large desk.

  Shouts, screams, and growled obscenities fouled the air, but the battle was over almost as soon as it started. Miguri waited a few minutes until he could no longer hear voices in the corridor and then emerged from his hiding place.

  Well, Miguri thought, I suppose it could be worse. At least I am not stuck with those sadistic reptiles anymore. Of course, now I am trapped all alone on a ship filled with hostile Rakorsians.

  Looking at the pile of bodies in the corridor, the Claktill weighed his options. If he found another Ssrisk squad to join, he would be at their mercy until they inevitably betrayed him. But they would at least offer him some protection. If he didn’t join them, he would probably die even sooner at Rakorsian hands. Pursing his lips unhappily, Miguri decided the Ssrisk were probably his best option. I will take eventual death over immediate death any day. But how will I find another boarding party?

  Then he noticed the voice hissing from Sak-tak’s belt.

  “Sak-tak?” the communicator crackled. “State your position.”

  Miguri walked over and pulled out the small communication device. There were twelve buttons, all blue. He decided that if he ever got out of this adventure alive, he would form a committee and force the Ssrisk to add a second color to their decorating scheme. Perhaps yellow, he mused. I like yellow.

  Shaking his head to refocus, Miguri peered at the device. When he couldn’t figure out how to operate it, he settled for pressing the biggest button. “Hello?” he said tentatively.

  “Sak-tak,” a voice hissed through the communicator. “What is your status?”

  “He is dead, actually.”

  There was a pause. “What? Who is this?”

  “This is Miguri Ma’ak’tilli—Captain Hroshk’s … ally?”

  “What is the status of Sak-tak and his squad?” the communicator bellowed. “Report!”

  “We ran into a Rakorsian patrol, and the entire squad was killed.”

  “Glory to the Ssrisk!”

  “No, you misunderstand. I mean, the Ssrisk squad was killed.”

  “Eternal pain and torment to the Rakorsian scum!”

  “Indeed,” Miguri agreed.

  “If Sak-tak is dead, you must join another boarding party. Captain Hroshk requires that you fulfill your obligation to him. Grashk’s party is two floors directly below you. I shall send him to retrieve you.”

  “Grashk? I know him!”

  “That is irrelevant. Remain at your location until Grashk arrives.”

  Miguri heard a click as the Ssrisk closed the channel.

  “Really not very friendly, the Ssrisk.” Miguri sighed.

  He glanced down at his own communicator. Knowing he had only a few minutes before Grashk arrived, he opened a channel to his actual allies. “Hello? Eris?” There was a pause, and then he heard Eris’s voice.

  “Miguri? You aren’t supposed to contact us! The Rakorsians will track the signal for sure and find out we’re on board.”

  Miguri
glanced at the Ssrisk and Rakorsian bodies scattered around him. “I do not think that is our biggest problem at the moment. Captain Hroshk has turned on Admiral Kratis.”

  Shouts and gunfire suddenly crackled through the communicator.

  “Eris?” Miguri squeaked.

  “Varrin! Behind you!” he heard her shout.

  “Are you all right?” Miguri asked.

  “Sorry, Miguri, we’re a bit busy. Varrin has decided to take on an entire room of Rakorsians, and it isn’t going well. I’ll call you back as soon as I can, all right?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Uh … somewhere near navigation? I don’t know. Varrin won’t let me near the map, and I’m miserable at directions anyway. I have to go. Stay on the Nonconformity and try to keep out of trouble!”

  Miguri sighed. “I have spent my life trying to stay out of trouble, and it has not worked out so far. And I am no longer on the Nonconformity. I am—”

  “What? I can’t hear you, Miguri. Oh, for Kari’s sake, Varrin! Use your striker! What are you—a soup ladle can’t possibly hurt anyone!” There was a brief pause followed by a metallic clanging sound and pained cries. Eris’s voice returned, sounding somewhat sheepish. “I stand corrected.”

  “Eris!” Miguri shouted, trying to get her attention.

  “Stay out of trouble, Miguri! Bye!”

  Once again, Miguri was abruptly disconnected. He ran a tired hand through his spiky hair. This is not going quite the way we planned, he thought.

  33

  At least Miguri is still safe on the Nonconformity, Eris thought, watching as Varrin neatly dispatched three Rakorsians with a large soup ladle. She honestly didn’t know how he did it—the man was hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, and yet they were no match for him. While Eris was impressed despite herself, she mostly wished she could possess a fraction of the grace that Varrin displayed in the heat of battle.

  “Death to Rakor!” Varrin cried, grabbing a stool and smashing it into an opponent. The outmatched guard flew backward and collided with the mess hall’s serving counter, producing a sickening crunch.

  “You idiot, you’re from Rakor!” Eris snapped.