Relaunch Mission
By Robyn Bachar

Firefly meets James Bond in this action-adventure romance set in an alternate future where the Cold War never ended...

Living mission to mission on the fringes of civilized space, Captain Lindana Nyota has managed to keep her crew paid and her ship in one piece. Barely. The privateer’s life of stealing Soviet supplies for the Alliance is taking its toll on everyone. Down a crewmember, she now has to take on a new intel officer and hope it’s someone she can trust.

Lieutenant Gabriel Steele knew Lindy wasn’t expecting him to walk out of the air lock and back into her life, but he didn’t think he’d get his nose broken. As an intelligence agent for the Alliance, Gabriel has spent his career in deep cover, his sense of self crushed under layers of deceit—starting with the lies he had to tell Lindy years ago when he left her. A fresh start is all he wants, but the Alliance and his secret orders have already jeopardized that.

When an infamous pirate and friend of Lindy and her crew is reported alive and in possession of knowledge of a powerful Soviet weapon, finding her before the enemy does is paramount. But Gabriel can’t do it without regaining Lindy’s trust—and hopefully rekindling what he once sacrificed in the name of duty.

This book is approximately 50,000 words

One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise! Find out more at CarinaPress.com/RomancePromise

Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Deborah Nemeth

Dear Reader,

It’s hard to write about April when it’s the day before New Year’s Eve as I’m writing this. I’m still full of good intentions and big plans for 2017, with my head full of ideas and goals. One thing I’m excited about is my new 2017 reading journal that I’ve created in a 4x6 planner I was gifted. I decided to try tracking my reading a little differently this year and go old-school tracking it on paper versus electronically. I’ve completely decorated it and tricked it out with a reading challenge, TBR lists and so much more. I wonder if I’ll still be using it when you’re reading this! Hit me up on Twitter or Instagram (links at the bottom of this letter) and ask me how that’s going—I’ll show you pictures, too, if you want!

This April, there are plenty of good reads to go in your own reading journal, starting with bestselling author duo Alexa Riley’s next full-length novel, His Alone, which features secondary characters from reader-favorite Everything for Her. A seemingly perfect hero has secrets only Paige can uncover, and his obsession with her becomes her greatest weakness. This sexy, romantic read is available in ebook, audio and print!

Rhenna Morgan’s first book in the Haven Brotherhood series, Rough & Tumble, received many reviews like this one: “Holy Hell what a great book this is! My first read from Rhenna Morgan and won’t be the last.” And now it’s time for Zeke’s story in Wild & Sweet. He doesn’t always play by the rules, and he’ll do anything for the woman he loves. Available in digital, audio and print at online retailers.

We have four fantastic male/male contemporary romance titles this month. Author K.A. Mitchell concludes the sweet but sexy story of Ethan & Wyatt in Relationship Status. As a couple, Ethan and Wyatt have faced jealous exes and disapproving parents, but now they face one of the scariest relationship tests ever: living together. Unfortunately, there’s no syllabus for real life. The first two novellas in this trilogy, Getting Him Back and Boyfriend Material, are now available. You can also buy the trilogy as one bundle in audio and print formats in June 2017.

Sidney Bell, author of Bad Judgment, begins a new series, The Woodbury Boys. In Loose Cannon, Edgar-Allen Church’s violent past is about to catch up with him, and it’s going to put his best friend—aka the man he’s secretly in love with—squarely in the crosshairs.

When a hard-nosed SEAL lieutenant and widower relies on his best friend’s little brother for child-care help, unexpected sparks fly—but will passion be enough to keep them together after the summer? Pick up At Attention by Annabeth Albert, the follow-up to the book readers raved about, Off Base. Both are available in digital and print at online retailers.

For fans of romance author Mariana Zapata comes a long-lasting male/male tale of slow-burn romance from debut author M.K. York. In the high-intensity hospital world, there’s no room for romance between surgical resident Neil and his gorgeous superior, cardiologist Eli, but when a near-tragedy strikes, a new question arises: Is a life without love a greater risk than laying their hearts on the line? Necessary Medicine will captivate you from first word to last.

Science fiction romance fans will be glad to see the start of a new series from Robyn Bachar. In Relaunch Mission, the first in The Galactic Cold War series, Privateer Captain Lindana Nyota faces her most dangerous mission yet, but to succeed she must rely on the one agent in the galaxy she trusts the least—Lieutenant Gabriel Steele, the man who betrayed her and broke her heart. This is a stand-alone romance, but look for the next book featuring secondary characters later in the year!

Maybe you’re craving something a little more kinky and erotic. Debut author Brianna Hale’s Little Dancer can help with that. Abby thought attracting the ire of the theater owner was going to get her fired, but Mr. Kingsolver has other ideas—he wants to be her dom, wants her to call him daddy and will bring her face-to-face with her darkest fears.

Last but not least is the rerelease of paranormal romance Bonded Pair from award-winning author Lauren Dane’s much beloved Cascadia Wolves series. Cade would do anything for his pack family, but his life isn’t complete without someone to share it with—only, he didn’t expect to find his reason for being in the heart and soul of the sister of his greatest enemy. Previously rereleased titles in this series include Wolves’ Triad, Wolf Unbound and Alpha’s Challenge, all now available in digital and print at online retailers.

That’s all for this month, but we’ve given you quite the lineup of romance genres for your April reading! If you’re interested in hearing more about my 2017 reading journal (now I’ll feel like I have to keep it up so I don’t embarrass myself!) you can Tweet me @angelajames or find me on Instagram @angelajameseditor.

Coming next month: two anthologies of paranormal romance, plus much, much more.

Once again, until next month, my fellow book lovers, here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you’ll love, remember and recommend.

Happy reading!

Angela James
Editorial Director, Carina Press

Dedication

To Diana, Devin, Sasha and Karrin, who are all made of awesome. Thank you.

Chapter One

“Do you want the bad news or the worse news?”

Lindana pinched the bridge of her nose, willing away a throbbing headache, and risked a wary glance at her chief engineer. “Why is there never good news?”

“The good news is that I haven’t killed your idiot brother. Yet.” Maria stabbed a slender, grease-smudged finger in Lindana’s direction. “Tell him the engine rats have voted, and it’s unanimous that one of us will shank him the next time he comes down here. We’re drawing lots to see who gets the honor.”

“No one is shanking anyone.” With a grimace Lindana ran a hand over her hair—she was overdue for a trim and was getting positively woolly. She mentally marked a haircut down as item number one hundred and thirteen on her To Do list. “You can’t stab the chief medical officer.”

“Of course we can. It was unanimous.”

“As the captain, I’m overruling you. Now give me the news. All of it.”

Maria snorted but gamely squared her shoulders. “We lost another power coupling to the starboard engine. The remaining ones are compensating, but the added strain is eating up fuel like a motherfucking feral hog. We’re going to need to do a full refuel at Tortue.”

Damn it. A full refuel was bloody expensive, and their finances were stretched thinner than usual. Missions had been sparse, and their past few jobs had gone pear-shaped almost as soon as they started. “Let me guess. You’re going to need a new power coupling?”

“No, we need a half dozen new power couplings. Mike and I were refurbishing some back on New Nairobi, but we ran out of time and—”

“Is that what the kids call it these days?” Lindana asked, just to see the chief blush.

Maria cleared her throat. “My point is, we absolutely need at least one now. Two would be better. Three would be fabulous.”

“I’ll see what I can do. And I’ll talk to Tomas about staying out of the engine room.”

“Do you know what he did?” Maria placed her hands on her hips and her scowl deepened. The expression would have been more effective if her face wasn’t smudged with engine grease, or her short brunette mane wasn’t as wild and tangled as though she’d just stepped out from behind a wind machine. Though perhaps she had—Lindana didn’t understand the workings behind most of the ship’s machinery. She didn’t have to, because that was Maria’s job. Maria and the engine rats crawled through cramped ductwork and access tubes to make repairs, squeezing into spots that would send Lindana into claustrophobic panic attacks.

“No. What?”

“Tomas tripped over a power conduit and pulled the cables loose from the junction, and the housing fried. It took us three hours to fix it. Three fucking hours, Captain. And he wasn’t even supposed to be in the engine room in the first place! He just smarmed down here to ogle Becky’s ass again. Why can’t he just watch porn in his quarters like a normal person?”

Horrified by that mental image, Lindana held her hands up in defeat. “Okay. I’ll talk to him. Anything else?”

Maria pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up on her nose. Her glasses always seemed to be attempting escape. Lindana had once asked why she didn’t have her vision surgically repaired, and Maria had looked aghast at the suggestion that she let some hack med tech operate on her eyes. “The engine rats also voted on who we want as a new intel officer. We decided that we need a hot guy.”

Lindana laughed, but the sound was hollow. “You know the rules. We get whoever Command sends us.”

Their previous intel officer, Erik, had guided Lindana through her first steps as a privateer. Erik had been only a few months away from a well-deserved, cushy retirement when their last mission had gone horribly wrong and he was killed in the line of duty. His loss left a hole in the heart of the Mombasa, and Erik had also left big shoes for the new intel officer to fill. She doubted that Command had anyone in their ranks up to the task. Life was rough at the ends of civilized space, where pirates and privateers walked on the knife’s edge between three angry superpowers, and Lindana needed someone she could trust at her back.

“I know,” Maria said. “We also have votes for a tough-yet-vulnerable lesbian and for an adventurous bisexual of any gender identity.”

“Noted. All you can do is keep your fingers crossed.” Lindana retreated before any of Maria’s minions appeared and voted on anything else. Maria was the undisputed queen of the Mombasa’s engine room, and some battles weren’t worth fighting. Maria was a technical genius—essential for keeping the ship running. A modified freighter like the Mombasa required constant upkeep because the ship’s additions were far from factory standard. Things overheated on a regular basis, and one fried life support wire and the crew could freeze to death, or asphyxiate. There were worse ways for a privateer to die, like what had happened to Raiya...

Lindana’s gut twisted, and she paused in an empty corridor to take a steadying breath. Don’t think about Raiya. Don’t think about Erik. Old spacers warned that death came in threes, and Lindana was braced for the next disaster. She pressed her hand against the bulkhead and the familiar thrum of the engines vibrated beneath her palm, like a heartbeat beneath the ship’s metal skin. Hold together, Mama Mo. This run of bad luck couldn’t last. A few good missions and they’d be back on top again.

The ship didn’t answer, and Lindana continued on to the familiar chaos of the cockpit. She scowled as she bumped into the sharp corner of a data terminal—that was going to bruise—and maneuvered into the captain’s chair. The cockpit was a claustrophobic cluster of acceleration chairs and monitoring stations, each available surface crowded with switches, buttons and readout screens displaying stats for the Mombasa’s systems. She made “remember to finally pad the damn corners” item number one hundred and fourteen on her To Do list.

“Status?” she asked.

“Two minutes to hyperdrive disengage,” Lieutenant Jiang Chen said. She insisted on keeping everything by the book, which cut the cockpit chatter and kept drama to a minimum.

Lindana buckled in and tightened the straps to a snug fit. Rookie spacers often neglected to adjust their rigging and ended up with broken bones as a result. A snapped wrist had taught Lindana that lesson the hard way during her first year out. The injury still ached when the ship’s humidity controls were offline.

“Thirty seconds,” Jiang said.

“All hands prepare for real space entry,” Lindana announced over the ship’s comm. “Count it down, Lieutenant Chen.”

Jiang nodded and switched to inter-ship communication. “Twenty-five, twenty-four...”

Lindana closed her eyes and breathed slow, focused on the comforting drone of Jiang’s voice. Before they docked at the station Lindana needed to chastise Tomas. God knew why he kept straying into the engine room like a street dog sniffing after a meal. The engine rats had banned him from entry after he broke the heart of one of their brethren last year. Lindana suspected he bothered them out of a perverse desire to be contrary. Her brother needed a new hobby before he got stabbed, or worse.

“Three, two, one. Hyperdrive disengaging.”

A boom like cannon fire shook the Mombasa, the ship shuddering to its foundations, and rattled Lindana’s teeth. For a moment she was pressed back into her chair, and then flung forward like a stone from a slingshot. She fought the urge to tense—tensed muscles tore, and braced bones snapped. She let the rigging do its job as she rag-dolled, and then the moment was over.

Lindana took a steadying breath. “Status report.”

Jiang’s subordinates called out from their stations and reported that everything was green.

“Retracting the visors now,” Jiang said. The protective screens covering the cockpit’s viewports smoothly slid from view, offering a glimpse of Tortue Station.

Ugly bastard. Deep space stations bulged at the seams because they constantly added new docking levels and habitat modules to the original structure. Swiss space stations were particularly bizarre, built from scrapped technology that originated from multiple nations, creating a hodgepodge even more temperamental than the Mombasa’s custom modifications. Ships clustered around Tortue Station like bloated ticks clinging to a stray dog. The corners of Lindana’s mouth twitched—that was the Mombasa, just another tick looking for a host to suck dry. Their Alliance marque granted them a pale veneer of legitimacy, but they still stole for a living, and the fact that they were arriving at a Swiss station only confirmed it. The Swiss were proud of their centuries-long neutrality, and did business with anyone who could pay.

“See anyone we know?” Lindana asked.

“Scanning now.” Jiang’s hands danced over her console. “Looks like the Sydney, the Cardiff, and the Quebec.”

“Interesting. Give Ryder a heads-up that the Sydney is in port, and tell him and Tomas to meet me at the airlock.”

Ryder Kalani, her chief of security, had an ongoing rugby dispute with the Sydney’s security chief, and it was best to nip any potential conflict in the bud before a bar fight broke out. Ryder was still paying off the damages from the last brawl he’d ended. It was like the man’s face was a magnet for fists and flying beer bottles.

“Aye, Captain,” Jiang said. “We are cleared for Berth 11. Initiating docking sequence. Oh, and Captain—?”

“Green tea and shortbread biscuits,” Lindana said. Jiang rarely left the ship—or even the cockpit for that matter—during stops like this. She preferred to be alert in case they needed to make a fast escape, and Lindana appreciated that. In return, she made sure to bring Jiang whatever she asked for from the station. Happy pilot, happy crew.

“Thanks, Cap.” Jiang smiled—a semi-rare occurrence from the stoic woman. Lindana hoped it was a good sign that the rest of the day was going to go well.

* * *

Ryder Kalani was a mountain of a man, both taller and broader than Lindana’s older brother Tomas, who waited beside Ryder at the airlock. Ryder appeared to be once again attempting to convince Tomas to grow his hair out into dreadlocks. The look worked well on Ryder, but Lindana just couldn’t picture it on her brother. She was too used to his military buzz cut, much like her own efficient hairstyle. To Lindana long hair was a vanity, though she supposed Ryder had reason to be vain, considering how handsome the man was.

Lindana blinked at Ryder’s full arms and armor. “Expecting trouble?”

Ryder beamed a roguish grin. “We’re meeting the new intel officer. I want to make a good first impression.”

“Meaning he wants to scare the poor bastard shitless,” Tomas said. “Look at him. He’s his own armored vehicle.”

“That’s what we pay him for. And you—” Lindana poked Tomas in the chest “—better stay out of the damn engine room. That’s an order.”

Tomas held up both hands in surrender, his expression the perfect picture of innocence. “It’s not my fault...”

“Stow it. Let’s go before Maria and the rats get here. I don’t want Ryder to have to shoot you.”

“Me?” Tomas said. “What did I do?” Lindana ignored his indignation and pulled the lever. A hiss escaped as the inner door whooshed open, followed by the groan of the outer door cycling.

“Please step forward and enter the decontamination area.” The automated greeting repeated the request in Russian over the crackling, cheap speakers as the trio entered the decontam area and sealed the lock behind them. “Decontamination will commence in ten seconds. Please stand by.”

“I hope the intel officer is a hot chick,” Ryder murmured to Tomas. Lindana rolled her eyes.

“Seconded,” Tomas said. “It’s about time we get some hot a—”

Lindana whipped around and glared at her brother. “Tomas Barack Nyota! Do not finish that sentence!”

“Just because you have no love life doesn’t mean the rest of the crew can’t have one. Captain.” Tomas added her title with vinegar, as though the word was a pungent insult.

Lindana unclenched her fists as she stomped down the urge to strangle him. She reminded herself that she loved her big brother, even when he was being an absolute jackass. “You need to update your definition of love life. If there’s a transfer of funds after the fact, love wasn’t involved in the transaction.”

Tomas groaned. “Trust me, marriage is all about financial transactions. Misha still gets a damn percentage of my pay.”

Lindana’s lips pressed in a stoic line as she turned back to the station airlock. She didn’t blame Misha for leaving Tomas, but Lindana would never abandon her brother—she couldn’t afford to leave him, even if she wanted to. Their entire combined savings was invested in the ship, and they funneled most of their profit back into the ship in fuel and repairs.

“Decontamination complete. Welcome to Tortue Station. Use of energy and ballistic projectile weapons is prohibited. Our terms of service have been recently updated. Please refer to the station information file to view these updates. Enjoy your stay.”

Ryder snorted and muttered something about updates and grenades that Lindana chose to ignore. She tugged at the hem of her uniform jacket and dusted her palms against the legs of her khaki cargo pants. She had a few knives secreted on her person but no firearms. She left heavy weaponry up to Ryder—it was what she paid him for, after all.

The station airlocks opened and Lindana wrinkled her nose at the stale, nicotine-scented air. If only humanity had left their bad habits behind on Earth. Swiss stations like Tortue offered all manner of vice at a price. The entire place could stand a good decontamination itself, judging by the rank smell—not just smoke, but stale sweat and old vomit. Disgusting. Even the floors were slightly sticky, and Lindana made a mental note to bleach the soles of her boots after they left. Item one hundred and fifteen...

“Drinks first or work first?” Tomas asked.

Lindana sighed. “No work, no drinks. Let’s meet our new crew member.”

Tortue was packed. Spacers crammed into corridors that were filled to capacity—probably past legal capacity, to be honest, but who was going to enforce it? Tortue fell into a neutral zone where the United Alliance of Democratic Nations, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and Core Colony Collective held no jurisdiction, and justice went to the highest bidder. It reminded Lindana a bit too much of area she’d grown up in on Earth, but at least the paranoia and furtive glances of suspicion were familiar.

The trio shoved their way through the teeming crowds, located the nearest lift and headed for the admin level, following the faded signage directing them toward the United Alliance of Democratic Nations diplomatic office. It wasn’t technically an office, more like a closet with delusions of grandeur. Ryder gave the room a brief glance before Lindana entered, followed by Tomas. A bored administrative assistant manning the front desk barely bothered to look up from the puzzle game on the screen of his data terminal. “Please place your palm on the pad for identification and look into the camera for retinal scan. One at a time,” he added, as though an afterthought. Did other officers elbow each other out of the way for the privilege of being identified first?

When the computer confirmed their identities they were ushered through to the rest of the suite. The hum of machinery and the whispering drone of hushed conversations filled the room. People frowned at data screens and made notes on their tablets. Boring as hell. Lindana doubted that any of them had seen combat during the war, but they had to have done something wrong to have been shipped out to serve here. Pushing paperwork on a Swiss station was one step above being sent to perform hard labor at a mining colony.

“Captain Nyota, you are late.”

Lindana squared her shoulders and turned her cool regard to Commander Scott, their UADN contact. He was a thin, waspish man whose face had frozen into a perpetually sour expression, and said expression was hardened by the addition of a nonregulation goatee. Commander Scott seemed like precisely the sort of asshole who bucked the rules he demanded that his subordinates follow.

“We had engine problems,” she said. “Is our new officer here?”

Commander Scott leveled a disapproving glare at her that deepened when Lindana refused to quail beneath it. “Yes. Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Steele.”

The commander gestured toward a tall, slender figure who was leaning over a terminal across the room. The man was dressed in a fitted black duster—a garment that was fine and fashionable and not at all functional for life aboard a privateer ship. Or anywhere, really. In Lindana’s opinion the only reason a spacer needed a long coat was to conceal weapons, and you couldn’t conceal anything in a garment that tight. Lindana was immediately skeptical about this lieutenant’s abilities, and then he turned, and her heart stopped as their eyes locked.

Lieutenant Steele. Gabriel Steele.

“Son of a bitch,” she blurted out.

The bastard had the gall to smile at her. “Lindy. You look well.”

That voice. Just four words in his silken purr sent shivers down her spine, and her nerves sizzled to life like a malfunctioning computer system suddenly brought back online. His pale blue gaze flicked over her form, leaving heat in its wake as though his focus was a passionate, physical caress. Lindana shivered and swallowed hard, then gulped a deep breath and focused on fury instead.

“No.” Lindana turned her ire on Commander Scott. “Absolutely not. He doesn’t set foot on my ship. Ever. Period.”

Commander Scott gaped like a trout out of water. “Is there a problem here?”

“If I may—” Gabriel began. Lindana cut him off with a slash of her hand, and irritation flashed through his pale blue eyes. Bastard. It was entirely unfair that he still looked like an ancient god carved from marble and noble privilege.

“No you fucking may not. I don’t want to hear another word out of you. You—” Lindana pointed at Commander Scott. “Get me another intel officer. Stat.”

She turned to storm out, but Tomas blocked her way, his expression bewildered. Ryder seemed equally confused, though more willing to follow his captain’s lead. Good soldier. She ought to give the man a raise.

“Lindana, what the hell?” Tomas asked.

For a moment she debated ordering him out of the way, but this was her big brother. Tomas was the only one who would understand the pain that spidered through her chest, as though a cargo ship had landed on top of her and was slowly crushing her to death.

“That’s him,” she muttered.

“Him who?” Tomas asked.

“Academy. Senior year.” Lindana ground the words out like broken glass, and Tomas’s eyes widened. She watched the shock play out across his face, followed by the same anger that clenched Lindana’s hands into fists.

“Son of a bitch,” Tomas echoed. He leaped across the room and punched Gabriel square in the face.

Chapter Two

“Bar fight?” The station medic’s face was set in weary lines as she glanced up at Gabriel. Instead of reaching for a scanner, she picked up a cup of coffee, and Gabriel wondered for the thousandth time why he had ever traveled to this godforsaken place.

Lindy. That’s why. He’d come here for the woman who had refused to speak with him, and whose brother had likely broken his nose.

“Not as such.” Gabriel spoke each word cautiously, concerned that too much force would rekindle the bleeding. The gushing had stopped—or at least he was fairly certain it had stopped, for it was difficult to tell considering the frightful degree to which his handkerchief was soaked with blood. He had suffered stab wounds that bled less than this. Karma, his mentor would have intoned gravely if she could see him now.

“Jealous husband?” The medic set her mug aside and rose. She was an older woman, perhaps near retirement, experienced enough to not be perturbed by any injury short of a gunshot wound. Gabriel wasn’t perturbed by his wound, either, but he was grateful that it wasn’t a gunshot. He wouldn’t have blamed Lindy for shooting him.

“Angry brother,” Gabriel corrected.

“Nice. I’m Doctor Redford. Let’s get you patched up.”

Doctor Redford led him to an exam station and positioned him under the scanner. The readout screen blinked to life and began streaming all manner of information about his pulse, respiration rate, oxygenation levels and so forth. Most of the indicators blinked green, which was comforting; only Soviets found solace in the color red.

“Haven’t had an angry brother in a while.” The doctor eased his hand away from his face and tutted over his injury. “He got you good. It’s broken. I can mend it, but you’ll have quite the bruise for a few days.”

“Please do. A bruise is not a problem. I deserved it, and more.” He grimaced, and the expression sent waves of agony shuddering through his face.

“Is she pregnant?”

“Good Lord, no!” Gabriel instantly regretted his indignant tone. Perhaps he should type out his responses. He had been injured far worse—he had been a hairsbreadth away from death on more than a few assignments—but Gabriel was a vain creature. His appearance was the most efficient weapon in his arsenal.

“Well that’s something, at least. Hold still. The more you move, the more crooked your nose will be.”

Gabriel sat perfectly still as the doctor worked, and pondered his next move. He had expected a negative response; he would have been surprised if she hadn’t attacked him on sight. Though technically Lindy hadn’t attacked him—her brother had. Lindana had merely sacked him before he had even had an opportunity to start his new position.

Command wouldn’t approve her request for a different intel officer, but it would take a few days for the request to be sent, received, and then denied, which hopefully would give Lindana’s temper time to cool. All reports indicated that Lindana remained a reasonable woman—a good soldier, stalwart and loyal—and Gabriel trusted that she would accept his assignment once the initial sting faded.

“There. Mended.” Doctor Redford stepped back. “I’d avoid the brother from now on.”

“I can’t. I’m assigned to his ship.”

“Request reassignment.”

“I requested this posting. I needed to see her again, though she despises me. Rightly so. I was beyond awful to her.” Break her heart, his mentor had ordered. Hating you will keep her safe from what you’re about to do. And Gabriel had wanted her safe, convinced that he loved her enough to let her go.

“Trying to win her back?” the doctor guessed.

“Yes. No.” Gabriel sighed. “Right now I simply want to make peace with her.”

“Good. You’re all set. Alliance, Soviet, or C3 cash?”

“Alliance.” Gabriel resisted the urge to grimace. Medical treatment was expensive regardless of the setting, and this would put a dent in his money on hand. Nothing to be done about it. He counted out the Alliance tender and handed it over, plus gratuity. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Try to avoid any further fistfights until the bruising heals.”

Gabriel nodded and retreated. He ought to return to the UADN office, though there was nothing there for him except another tedious lecture from Commander Scott. Instead, Gabriel sought a weak cup of tea from a food vendor and found a corner to watch the crowd. There were three obvious intelligence agents in the marketplace—four if Gabriel counted himself, for he was hardly traveling incognito. He had dressed the part of a wealthy man dabbling in spycraft—the sort who would naively consider life aboard a privateer ship a great adventure instead of a dangerous undertaking behind enemy lines. It was a simple enough ruse. Gabriel’s core colonist pedigree had granted him a privileged childhood, but now he was one more tool of the Alliance who had outlived his usefulness. Gabriel was perilously close to becoming a liability instead of an asset.

He wrapped his hands around his tea and let the warmth seep into his fingers as he continued his perusal of the crowd. There were two less-than-obvious agents, though he couldn’t pin down who they worked for. Before the core colonist rebellion the options were Alliance, Soviet, or freelance, but the formation of the C3 seven years ago had changed that. What began on Earth as a battle of wills between two superpowers—the capitalists of the west and the communists of the east—spread into space. The Soviets were first to launch a satellite, launch a man into orbit, and first to walk on the moon. The Americans and their NATO allies feared being left behind in the space race, and vowed that they would be the first to reach Mars, and so on. Each side was determined to one-up the other by planting their respective flags across the solar system, and then farther through the galaxy until humanity’s corner of the Milky Way was splashed red or blue.

The core colonies were the oldest and wealthiest, and were ultimately tired of being pawns in the UADN and USSR’s galactic chess game. Ten years ago they declared their independence, and no side emerged clean from the war that followed. Most core colonists had shifted their allegiance to the new C3 government. Gabriel had chosen to stay with the Alliance, and the decision earned him scorn and mistrust from every side. His loyalty had been tested constantly, and over the past few years his missions had become increasingly dangerous. Few of the other former core colonist agents he knew still survived, and Gabriel had no intention of joining them in the afterlife.

Gabriel closed his eyes and listened to the ebb and flow of the conversations around him; thousands of intrigues passed through Swiss stations. Everything here was monitored, recorded and analyzed for actionable information by some poor sod stuck behind an Intelligence desk.

“I can get you three for four fifty, but you gotta pay for ’em up front. Cash only.”

“My family needs transport papers, no questions asked, and they have to be cleared before the end of the week.”

“—and I can’t pay that! Nobody’s got that kind of money. Not on Tortue, anyway. Might as well book myself a drawer in the morgue.”

Poor bastard. Gabriel hoped he wasn’t going to end up beside him. Foolish sentiment had brought him here—Gabriel had leaped at the opportunity to serve aboard the Mombasa. The chance to see Lindana again almost seemed like fate—a divine opportunity to right a past wrong. Now all he had to do was convince Lindana to forgive him.

He had faced more difficult tasks. He simply couldn’t remember any at the moment.

Gabriel sipped his tea and nearly dropped it as the liquid activated a mission notification. Bloody hell. He struggled to keep his face impassive as the chemicals in the doctored drink interacted with his sensory implant, displaying images and playing audio that only he could see and hear. Bold red font overlaid his view of the milling crowd.

NEW MISSION NOTIFICATION, PRIORITY ONE, CLASSIFIED A-1 LEVEL ONLY. INITIATING DATA UPLOAD.

A migraine formed behind his left eye as though said data was being delivered via the jab of an icepick. Design specs for a Soviet cargo ship flashed before his eyes, along with a short list of its known crew and recent shipping manifests. Two sets of mission parameters floated into view—one for himself, and one he was instructed to share with the Mombasa’s crew. Gabriel cursed under his breath, because the two were completely different. Intel Command was ordering him to begin his new position aboard the Mombasa by lying to his shipmates.

CREW COMPROMISED. UNKNOWN AGENT RESPONSIBLE FOR LEAKING INFORMATION TO SOVIET TARGETS. LOCATE SOURCE AND ELIMINATE. CREW DOSSIERS WILL BE UPLOADED TO YOUR PERSONAL DATA TABLET.

Lovely. Gabriel grimaced and considered chucking the rest of the tea into the trash. This day just kept getting better and better. He swirled the liquid and studied the dark flecks of stray grounds floating within it. A leak aboard the Mombasa would explain their recent mission failures. Privateer ships tended to attract crew with dubious backgrounds—people who washed out of the military but were unwilling to become complete criminals.

Gabriel took a cautious drink, but no further warnings blared to life. Just as well. Things were complicated enough without additional mission parameters. He doubted that one of the ship’s officers was responsible for the leak, but anything was possible. The Mombasa had a small crew—less than fifty altogether—and information would travel quickly through the ranks. It could be anyone.

Not Lindy.

Fifteen years was a long time and the war had left no one untouched, but Gabriel couldn’t envision Lindana informing on her own crew. Nor Tomas, for that matter, though his freshly mended nose twinged in pain at the thought of the man. The Nyotas would do anything to protect their ship—it was their sole source of livelihood.

No, there was a traitor in Lindana’s ranks, and Gabriel couldn’t warn her about it.

* * *

“Okay, boss. Spill.”

Ryder studied her across the booth’s dented table. His burly frame barely fit in the seat opposite from Lindana and Tomas; space was at a premium on stations like Tortue, and the pub’s owner made every square inch count. The result was cramped, loud and reeked of cheap booze and sweaty, unwashed spacers. Tomas kept elbowing Lindana in her ribs, but she was too upset to protest.

Lindana pounded a shot of rotgut whiskey that burned a ragged path down her throat. She was grateful for the pub’s dim lighting. Supposedly the darkness was meant to create a casual atmosphere and not to hide suspicious activities—or stains on the floor—but Lindana also suspected that the poor lighting kept the power bills manageable.

“Are you sure you want to tell him about this?” Tomas asked. “It’s kind of a girl talk thing, isn’t it?” Ever the protective big brother. Lindana patted Tomas’s shoulder.

“Heartbreak is universal and has no gender.” Lindana fed another credit into the table’s draft system and the spout spat amber liquid into her empty glass. She swirled the drink and frowned at it. Was that a bug? There weren’t bugs on space stations, were there? Hmm. Someone could’ve brought them in with an organic cargo like foodstuffs...

Tomas shifted beside her and fidgeted with his bottle of cola. He had been sober for nearly five years now. Serving in the military during the war had cost Tomas his sanity for a time, and nearly his life. If Ryder hadn’t contacted Lindana when he did... She slugged down another slap of whiskey.

“Do I need to take care of this Steele character?” Ryder asked. “Because I can, just say the word. I know a guy who works Tortue sanitation who can help disappear the body.”

“Tempting, but no. I don’t want him dead, per se. Just suffering. Maybe a swift kick in the nuts.”

Tomas and Ryder shuddered in unison. “Geez, Lindana,” Tomas said, “death would be kinder. Though if you want him surgically gelded, I could do that. There’s probably a market for eunuchs somewhere on the edge.”

Lindana swallowed the reply that she wanted Gabriel’s heart cut out and not his balls chopped off. She sighed. There was no point in wishing him ill. It wouldn’t change anything; no amount of cursing his name had eased the pain Gabriel Steele left in his wake. Seeing him again, especially without warning, had ripped open every old emotional scar, but she would manage. Her head was bloody but unbowed.

“I met Gabriel during my senior year at the Academy. It was...like a fairy tale, I guess. He was wealthy and handsome and completely swept me off my feet. I’d never met anyone like him before. Or at least not anyone like him who was polite to me. Most wealthy people...”

“They don’t see you.” Ryder nodded in sympathy. “It’s like they look through you, or past you. Like you’re part of the scenery. Or worse, like you’re something in a zoo. My home town got a lot of tourists looking for local culture.” Ryder rolled his eyes.

“Or someone to save. We had missionaries set on saving our souls.” Lindana snorted. “We grew up poor, on Earth.”

Ryder nodded—according to his personnel file he’d grown up in similar conditions, though on the other side of the planet. Lindana and Tomas were Kenyan, but Ryder was mainly Maori with a dash of Hawaiian.

“The Alliance navy was our way out. We both tested in the top five percent on the entrance exams so they paid for everything. Housing, schooling. It was like winning the lottery... Anyway, I thought Gabriel loved me. He didn’t.” Lindana rubbed her face as though trying to scrub the memories from her mind. “I was young and stupid. I’d never been in love before. I’d barely dated.”

Tomas refilled his cola. “Good thing you don’t have a love life. You obviously have crap taste.”

Lindana barked a watery laugh. “Thanks.”

Ryder frowned, his dark brow furrowed like a disapproving mountain. “This man deflowered you?”

She blinked at the delicate word being used by a muscled, tattooed giant with flowing dreadlocks.

“Yeah,” Tomas answered for her.

“Hey, I’m not a Victorian heroine in a white lace nightgown. I was a virgin before I met him, then I wasn’t one. You don’t refer to your first time as a deflowering, do you?” Lindana quirked a brow, and Ryder chuckled.

“More like a comedy of errors. Sex on the beach is not as romantic as you’d think. I had sand everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.”

Tomas winced. “Ouch.”

Lindana traced her finger around the rim of her glass and it whined in protest. “He promised me all sorts of happily-ever-after fluff and nonsense to get me into bed, but it was all lies. He’d strung me along for some sick bet with his rich friends. They counted how many Earth girls they could bang before graduation, because apparently core colony girls are for marrying, but Earthers are for fucking.”

“Assholes.” Ryder scowled. “I hate core colonists. Selfish pricks all got sticks up their asses.”

“Don’t let Jiang hear you say that,” Tomas warned.

Ryder shrugged and looked away. “She’s different, she wouldn’t care. She’d probably agree with me.”

True enough. Jiang’s home world had been a Soviet colony before the rebellion, but now it was part of the Core Colony Collective—or at least what was left of it. Jiang had lost everything when New Hong Kong was razed. Gabriel’s home world was one of the founding core colonies and had weathered the war fairly well, which begged the question of why he was serving Alliance intelligence instead of the C3.

“I can’t work with him,” Lindana said. “Even if you ignore our personal history, which would be damn hard, I can’t have an intel officer I don’t trust.”

“Yeah,” Ryder agreed. “They’re usually lying bastards, but they’re supposed to lie to the enemy, not to us. I’m not sure I’d trust him on the Mama Mo. He’s too damn pretty. The engine rats would swoon over him, and there’d be chaos.”

“I’m sorry, did you just use swoon and deflower in the same conversation?” Tomas asked. “You have unexpected depth.”

“I’m a mystery, wrapped in an enigma,” Ryder said, and Lindana laughed.

“And pretty? Really?” Tomas shook his head.

“What? I like pretty men.” Ryder shrugged. “But there’s a line. It’s never good to date someone hotter than you, of any gender.”

“Am I pretty?” Tomas asked.

“Hell, no. You’ve got a face like a Rottweiler.”

“I’ve always thought it was more like a horse’s ass,” Lindana teased. “Well that’s three officers in agreement that we’re not accepting Lieutenant Steele. I’m going back to the ship. I’ll send a message to Command that we need a new officer.” She tossed her empty glass into the receptacle and nudged Tomas out of the way. “Don’t let Ryder drink too much.”

Tomas grinned. “I’m not sure that’s physically possible.”

“Anything’s possible,” Ryder said.

Lindana’s smile faded as she walked away. She’d believed that once—that anything was possible, and an orphan from the streets of Mombasa could marry a handsome prince from the core colonies. Now she knew better. Wishing for happiness was a waste of time. If you wanted something done, you damn well did it yourself.

* * *

The ship was quiet while docked, with only the whisper of the ventilation systems and the slight buzz of the lights as they flicked on and off around her. A skeleton crew remained on board to monitor the Mombasa’s systems, and Lindana’s footsteps echoed through the empty corridors. Lindana hated the quiet. The absence of life and noise made the ship feel like a cramped metal tomb, haunted by the ghosts of crew members killed in the line of duty. It didn’t happen often, but it happened.

Like Erik. Lindana’s stomach twisted and rolled. God, she missed him. Even now she still caught stray thoughts of I should ask Erik about that, only to be reminded again that she wouldn’t be receiving any more advice from her mentor. Erik had been the glue that held the Mombasa’s crew together. Lindana could never trust the lives of her people with a lying bastard like Gabriel Steele. People were pawns to him. She had been nothing more to him than points scored in a sick game. She refused to work with anyone who valued lives so cheaply.

Her comm beeped and she tapped her earpiece. “Go for Captain.”

“Cap?” Maria said. “We have a problem.”

Lindana sighed and leaned against the bulkhead. Cold seeped through the shoulders of her uniform jacket and she shivered. “Is it a cheap problem?”

“Is it ever?”

No. Lindana grimaced. “Spit it out, Chief Watson.”

“The Tortue mechanic has only one coupling left that is compatible with Mama Mo. And he’s charging an arm and a leg for it because he knows he’s got us over a barrel. And he is clearly an asshole.” Maria’s voice rose with her temper, no doubt making sure that the mechanic in question overheard her opinion of him.

“How much is it?” Lindana asked. Maria named a number, and Lindana banged her head against the wall. “Right. Have him put it on our tab.”

“That’s the problem. He wants it in cash, up front.”

The whiskey that sloshed in Lindana’s gut roiled and threatened to make a return appearance. They didn’t have that much cash on hand. She’d have to liquidate...something. Damn it all. Word spread fast on a deep space station. By the time she liberated an item from the Mombasa’s storage to sell at the market, the vendor would know she was desperate and offer her a shitty price for it. If there was even anything left in their coffers that would cover that tab.

What they needed was a nice, juicy job with a fat deposit, but no intel officer meant no jobs.

“We don’t have it,” Lindana said. “We’ll work on it. Maybe you can barter with one of the other ships in dock. The Quebec is the same model as Mama Mo.”

“Yeah, but their engineer is even more annoying than your brother. The rats don’t like him.”

“They don’t have to like him, just barter with him. Come home when you’re ready. Captain out.”

“But what about the new int—” Maria started, but Lindana cut the call. She was in no mood to retell the tale of Gabriel Steele.

Jiang remained at her station in the cockpit, as reliable as the Rock of Gibraltar. Lindana set offerings of tea and cookies in front of her pilot and plopped into the seat beside her.

“You’re back early,” Jiang said.

“Everything went to hell.” Lindana stared out into the black beyond the cockpit. Not much to see from this angle, just the void of empty space. “Turns out I have history with the new intel officer.”

Jiang quirked a brow. “Personal history?”

Lindana nodded. “Tomas punched him in the face.”

Jiang blinked. She was motionless for a moment, then she opened the tin of shortbread and offered Lindana a cookie.

“Thanks.” Lindana smiled weakly and took the pale, sugared twist, turning it over with her fingers until they were sticky. She was afraid to eat it, worried that it would disagree with her already sensitive stomach, but she couldn’t refuse a gift.

“This is the one?” Jiang asked. Lindana frowned. “The lover who taught you not to trust?”

Lindana nodded slowly. Brutal but accurate. “Never thought I’d see him again. It’s been... God, fifteen years. When did I get so old?”

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Jiang warned. She was turning forty this year, though it was hard to tell. Jiang’s unflappable calm made her seem almost ageless. “It’s been fifteen years for him, too. He must have changed in that time.”

“More likely he’s finally hit rock bottom. Gabriel must’ve royally fucked up to be banished out here. He’s from a New Britain founding family. His father could buy a fleet of Mombasas. No idea what he’s doing working for UADN instead of the C3.”

“You’re sure he’s a no-go?” Jiang asked.

“Positive. Can’t have an officer I don’t trust.”

“Trust is earned. It’s been fifteen years. He may have learned his lesson. You could put him on probation until you’re certain he won’t work out.”

“I can barely stand looking at him, even on a probationary basis. This is my damn ship, and I don’t want him on it.”

God, she sounded petty, like a scorned woman—which she was—but damn it, Command wasn’t going to torture her this way. They’d already done enough to her family with the way they’d mishandled Tomas’s illness. When the C3 left they took their resources with them, which hobbled the economies of their former nations. The UADN thanked the veterans who had fought for them by cutting their benefits and leaving them high and dry, especially ones like Tomas who had seen the worst of the war and cracked under the relentless pressure. Cheaper to abandon them than to treat them.

“Better call Command now,” Jiang said. “It’ll take at least a week to get a replacement shipped out.”

“Well, we’ve got the time. We’re grounded until we scrounge the funding for the power coupling Maria needs.”

“Can we afford to wait?”

“A week won’t matter.”

“Are you sure?”

Lindana paused in her harassment of the shortbread cookie. Every day without work sucked away their meager savings. The hold was nearly empty—they had a few things to barter. It wouldn’t buy power couplings, but it would keep the ship running for now.

“We’ll manage,” Lindana said. “I’ll ask Tomas to freelance for the next few days. Station med centers can always use a few extra hands.”

“Good idea.”

Lindana rose. “Well, I’m off to make that call.”

Chapter Three

REQUEST DENIED.

Lindana gaped at the message, then unleashed a string of expletives in Swahili so blistering that the screen should have melted. Instead it remained intact, and the text continued to mock her pain with its emotionless font.

How could those bastards deny her request? After all she had done for them? Her military service record had been fucking spotless, shining with commendations and praise. So what if her last few missions had tanked? Besides, it wasn’t like there was a shortage of operatives—Intel was the largest UADN agency, and had been since before the war. There had to be a qualified replacement reasonably close by. She ought to sue them for the emotional distress she had been in for the past three days. Gabriel Steele was somewhere on Tortue Station, and Lindana was a virtual prisoner, trapped aboard her ship, avoiding him.

“I guess that means no.” Tomas stood in the doorway of her quarters, watching her warily.

Lindana waved him in before anyone else in the corridor heard her tirade. “Yeah.” She tossed her data tablet to him, and he perused the message. “They threatened to pull our marque if we don’t take him.”

Tomas scowled. “That’s dirty pool.”

“I know!” She scrubbed her eyes. She was so damn tired, but despite her exhaustion she hadn’t been able to sleep. Lindana had tossed and turned in her bunk until the sheets were tangled around her like a boa constrictor, and her sleep was haunted by nightmares where she screamed all the things she’d wanted to say to Gabriel but hadn’t. There hadn’t seemed a point to it at the time—nothing would have eased the pain of his betrayal, and she hadn’t meant a damn thing to him. Eventually she’d found the strength to move on, and was better for it.

She never thought she’d see him again, much less have to work with the asshole. What the hell was wrong with Command?

“We could go back to trading.” Tomas sat beside her on her bunk and handed her the tablet. “Take on passengers. Freight.”

Lindana wrinkled her nose. “That didn’t work before. Our situation hasn’t improved enough that it would work now.”

“We understand the business better now,” he pointed out. “The good trade routes, the locations with reliable contacts.”

When they first purchased the Mombasa five years ago it had been a trade ship, and they’d transported supplies to struggling young colonies. But after two years of honest work their skyrocketing debts had forced them to accept that there was little profit in foodstuffs and farm equipment. Privateering had solved that—more or less. It was state-sanctioned piracy, for a good cause. The C3 rebellion had left the UADN navy spread thin, and to compensate they granted letters of marque to privateer ships like the Mombasa to patrol the borders, raid ships of interest and provide backup in the occasional territory skirmish. Privateers played a vital role in strengthening the UADN while weakening the USSR and the C3.

“We’re not specced for basic trade anymore. Freighters don’t need cannons.”

“We could go full pirate. New Nairobi loves us, so we have a consistent home port. We’d make it work.” Tomas grinned, but it was an empty smile.

“No. They’re still getting the colony off the ground. They don’t need that kind of trouble.”

New Nairobi had become a haven of sorts for the Mombasa’s crew—the closest thing to a dirtside home that Tomas and Lindana had known since they left Earth. The Kenyan colonists felt like family, and Lindana refused to jeopardize that. Lindana was still a naval officer at heart, as though the importance of duty had been tattooed onto her very soul. She remembered the position of each component of her station from her first UADN assignment, and even now she would bolt from a sound sleep reaching for that control panel as though it was a part of her. Piracy was vicious and too violent. Most ships that they boarded understood that the Mombasa was a privateer, after goods and not blood, and the crews surrendered after only a token resistance. But they fought like hell against pirates, who often spaced the crew or sold them into slavery on colonies too desperate for labor to care about the legality of the subject.

“We could let Ryder kill him.”

“No, Tomas.”

“At least take Ryder with you when you go.”

“Fuck that, I’m taking Jiang,” Lindana said. “She’s our secret weapon. And she could use time off the ship.”

Tomas grinned. “Make him meet you at the strip club.”

“That’s just evil.”

“I prefer devious, thank you.” Tomas elbowed her, and she laughed. Tomas had been an expert at getting under her skin since they were children, but he was also the best at making her smile. “It’s a great idea. You and Jiang can enjoy the view, and it shows him that you don’t give a rat’s ass about your past with him. You’re an independent woman.”

Lindana sighed. “It would be easier if I didn’t care.”

Tomas wrapped an arm around her in a brotherly hug. “That’s my little sister, worried about everyone, all the time.”

“Especially you. Stay out of the engine room.”

“They love me in there! I’m charming,” he insisted.

“You are very charming,” Lindana agreed, “but the engine rats have voted, and you’re persona non grata until further notice.”

“I’d like a recount, because it’s really just Her Highness who can’t stand me. But all right, I get it.” His smile faded as he studied her, his arm still around her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were going through things with Gabriel.”

Lindana blinked. “You were on your first assignment. It’s not like you could’ve caught a shuttle home to punch him in the nose then.”

“No, but you needed me, and I wasn’t there. It bothered me. You’ve always been there for me, and I’m grateful for that. You’d still be in the navy if not for me. Probably have your own warship.”

“And miss all of this?” Lindana waved a hand at her quarters. She’d plastered the walls of her cabin with images of scenic landscapes and tourist attractions—places she had been, and places she wanted to visit one day. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good. Now go put some fear into our new intel officer so we can get off this station.”

* * *

Lindana pitched the idea of meeting in a strip club to Jiang, who then asked if the club served noodles. Lindana had no idea if the club had any food whatsoever, and so they had chosen a small ramen stall instead. Jiang calmly slurped noodles while Lindana’s stomach rolled in nauseous waves. This was a terrible idea. No good would come from this.

A soft snort from Jiang warned Lindana that Gabriel was approaching. Lindana wondered what was funny, but then she spotted the mirrored sunglasses failing to conceal the fading bruise that Tomas’s fist had left. Even without the glasses, Gabriel Steele stuck out from the crowd like a sore thumb. Again his fashionable outfit broadcast money and privilege; money traveled through Tortue, but it never stayed for long.

Gabriel Steele was the worst intel officer she had ever seen.

He took the seat across from them. “Lindy,” he began, but Jiang interrupted.

“Captain Nyota. And I’m Lieutenant Chen.”

“Of course, my apologies. I’m Lieutenant Steele.”

Lindana was fairly certain that Jiang muttered “Of course you are” in Cantonese as she returned to her noodles. It was hard to tell, however, because Lindana’s libido was purring over Gabriel’s silken voice. Maybe they should have opted for the strip club. She could have distracted herself with the scenery, and her fingers wouldn’t be itching to inspect the tailoring of Gabriel’s tight pants. Her instant lust irritated her; she never reacted like this with anyone else, and that was part of the problem. No one affected her as madly and deeply as Gabriel Steele. Damn him.

“Command says we have to take you or they’ll pull our marque, so we’re taking you,” Lindana said. “That doesn’t mean we’re happy about it, or that I won’t space your sorry ass out an airlock if you do anything irritating.”

“What are your qualifications?” Jiang asked.

“Yes, I...pardon?”

“Have you served on a privateer ship before?” Jiang wound an impossibly long length of noodles around her chopsticks. “Do you have contacts in our sector? Fences? Brokers?”

“I—well, no. I have extensive field experience, but nothing that I can discuss. It’s classified.”

Lindana and Jiang exchanged a dry look. “Do you have a mission for us?” Lindana asked. “A paying mission?”

“Yes. I have intel on a Soviet cargo ship carrying atmosphere generators, though the timeline is a bit tight due to our delay.”

A vein twitched in Lindana’s jaw. “How much is the down payment?” Gabriel named a decent number—enough to cover one power coupling and enough fuel to get them off this godforsaken station. “It’ll do. Grab your gear. Ryder is waiting for you at the ship. He’ll give you the grand tour and get you settled in.”

He nodded politely and left, and Lindana and Jiang sat in contemplative silence as they watched him walk away. Lindana scowled; that damned jacket concealed the view of his butt.

“Atmo generators? With our recent record? Sounds too good to be true. You think he’s setting us up?” Jiang speared more noodles.

“Maybe. Command could be using him to stick it to me, but I have no idea why. We haven’t pissed off anyone important lately, and you’d think that they’d be sympathetic since we lost a crew member.”

“Well, we haven’t pissed anyone off that we know of. If someone’s trying to take us out it would explain why our last few runs went bad.”

Lindana smiled dryly. “Some days I feel like everyone is out to get us.” There had been some grumbling among the crew about the ship being cursed. Lindana didn’t believe in curses, but there was no denying that something had turned their luck for the worse. It was possible they’d accidentally pissed off someone in UADN Command, someone who didn’t care that the Mombasa was in mourning. “Well, if we don’t get that down payment we’ll be going nowhere fast.”

“We should sell Steele’s suit. That would probably cover a power coupling.”

Lindana chuckled. “Don’t tempt me.”

“You sure you’re going to be good with him on board?”

“Good, no, but I’ll manage. Why?”

Jiang poked at her noodles. “Because if you oozed any more sexual tension just now your ovaries would’ve exploded. Are you sure this is about him, and not about Raiya?”

The question doused Lindana’s lingering interest with ice water. She drummed her fingers on the metal tabletop. “I don’t see what she has to do with it.”

“Yes, you do.” Jiang stabbed the chopsticks in her direction. “It gets in your head when you lose someone like that. Someone who was important to you, close to you. Someone who was just like you, and could’ve been you on a bad day. We’ve had enough runs go south lately that it makes you think. And then there’s Erik—”

“Erik definitely has nothing to do with this.”

“Of course he does. He was your mentor. He was our mentor, and he was almost out of the game. Another few missions and we would’ve thrown him a going away party, and he’d be sending us virtual postcards from someplace warm and tropical. But we lost him, and we didn’t get to say goodbye, and that...” Jiang trailed off and tossed her chopsticks into her bowl.

Lindana swallowed hard. Shit. Jiang had never said goodbye to the family she lost on New Hong Kong, and Lindana knew that ate at her. She reached over and squeezed Jiang’s hand.

“I know. Hey, we don’t have time to ponder life’s what ifs,” Lindana said gently.

“True, but losing a loved one makes you ponder the roads not taken, and we don’t have time for romance, either. We’re on the clock.” Jiang downed the broth from her bowl in one long guzzle, and then she set it aside. “Just think on it, Captain. Don’t let ghosts push you into something you’ll regret.”

“Noted, Lieutenant. Let’s move out.”

* * *

The airlock doors opened to reveal the Mombasa’s scowling chief of security. Gabriel recognized the giant from the brief scene in the UADN office.

“Lieutenant Steele. Welcome aboard the Mombasa.”

“Thank you, Chief Kalani.”

“Step forward and I’ll add your comm to our system.” He waved Gabriel closer and raised a scanner to Gabriel’s earpiece. The gadget beeped and flashed, and then the chief nodded. “You’re online now. The lifts and lights are keyed to your cuff. Lights are programmed to illuminate twenty meters around your current location. Most of us carry handlamps for extra light. Get used to climbing ladders between levels. We conserve as much power as possible.” He peered at the rolling equipment case behind Gabriel. “Would you prefer to store your weapons in the armory or in your quarters?”

“Which do you recommend?” Gabriel asked. The chief’s bushy eyebrows rose at the question, as if surprised Gabriel had bothered with his opinion.

Kalani straightened. “Heavy weapons and armor in the armory, light equipment in your quarters. I advise wearing a sidearm and a blade while on duty. We haven’t been boarded in a long time, but it can happen.”

“Very well. After you.”

“This way.”

Gabriel followed Chief Kalani through the cramped corridors, marveling that the man fit at all. Gabriel had spent most of his adult life in space on ships and stations, and he was well used to ducking under low-hanging conduits and through small doorframes, but the chief had about two inches more of height and far more breadth than Gabriel.

“Crew quarters are up, engine room is down. Stay out of the engine room. The queen doesn’t take kindly to invaders.”

“The queen?” Gabriel asked.

“The Rat Queen. Chief Watson. She and the rest of the engine room rats only answer to the captain, and she usually sides with them.” Kalani drew to a halt and punched a button to summon a lift. “We’ll take the easy route to the armory so we don’t have to haul your gear up and down the ladders.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he puzzled over the idea of a “rat queen,” and Chief Kalani snorted.

“You never served on a ship before?” Kalani asked.

“Not as such.” Gabriel had traveled on a variety of ships, everything from luxurious civilian transports to stripped-down military troop carriers so dilapidated that he feared the ships would rattle apart at any moment, but had never served aboard one. Space travel had always been a means to an end.

“Figured. Your file is locked up tighter than a virgin’s ass.” The lift doors opened, but Chief Kalani barred Gabriel from entering by jamming one burly arm across the entrance. The man’s muscles were so well defined he could practically be used to teach an anatomy lesson. “I don’t like mysteries aboard my ship. Leads to drama. I don’t like drama either. It’s bad for business, and we’re here to do business. I know you have history with the captain. I’m not going to give you a ‘don’t hurt her’ speech, because her personal life is not my business and she can take care of herself. But I will tell you that I always follow orders, and if she tells me to shove your pasty ass out an airlock, I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.”

Gabriel tensed. “Is threatening new crew members standard operating procedure on your ship?”

“It’s not a threat. A threat would include me rebreaking your pretty nose to punctuate how seriously I take my orders.” He grinned, though the expression was less like a smile and more like a wolf baring its teeth. “This is a polite warning.”

“Understood, Chief.”

Kalani inclined his head and then stepped aside to allow Gabriel inside the lift.

“Pretty?” Gabriel said after the doors closed.

The security chief turned and gave Gabriel’s form a lingering look. “Yeah. But you’re obviously high maintenance. I don’t like high maintenance.”

Gabriel barked a quick laugh. “So noted.”

The remainder of the tour was quick and quiet, culminating in Chief Kalani leaving Gabriel alone in his new quarters. Gabriel set his equipment case on his bunk and surveyed the dull gray confines. The segmented walls were made of matte steel and the floor was comprised of rough grates that could be pulled up to access the conduits beneath. Pipes of varying widths crisscrossed the ceiling—part of the coolant system for the engines, judging by the cabin’s position. One crack and the space would be filled with toxic chemicals. Maybe Lindy hoped to “accidentally” gas him to death.

It could be worse. Some ships had no space to spare and assigned their personnel to sleeper units stacked side by side like peas in a pod. At least these quarters provided him a place to escape from the glares and whispers that were doubtless to happen whenever he entered a room.

“Home, sweet home,” Gabriel murmured.

He hadn’t had quarters to himself in some time. His recent missions had been short—jobs that would have been in-and-outs had they gone as planned, which of course they hadn’t. Gabriel’s last few missions had failed spectacularly, so much so that he had nearly died on his last job. His brush with mortality had resulted in one new scar and two important realizations: first, that he needed to right his wrongs, starting with Lindana, and second, there was likely a mole in Alliance Intelligence, and that mole wanted him dead. Though it was possible that the mole’s grudge wasn’t personal, for three other core colonist agents had been killed within the past six months. It’s a dangerous job, his handler had shrugged as he tsked in disapproval. Gabriel wasn’t so willing to blithely brush the deaths aside. One lost agent could be blamed on bad luck or poor intel, but three? Command could be purging agents like himself from the Intelligence ranks by sending them on missions that were certain death...

Or perhaps he was simply becoming paranoid in his old age. Espionage was a young man’s game, for spies rarely lived to retirement. The walls of Command headquarters were filled with memorials to fallen agents, and the names and dates reached back to the twentieth century. When Gabriel had been recruited, his mentor had dazzled him with tales of agents who had made the ultimate sacrifice to protect the Alliance, but now those stories seemed more tragic than heroic. Gabriel smiled grimly as he retrieved his data tablet from his bag. It was an odd thing to be past your prime before the age of forty.

Gabriel pressed his palm against the cold black tablet screen to initiate logging into Intel’s data network. The gadget’s security features were too complicated in some ways and not sophisticated enough in others; a blood sample and DNA scan were necessary to access classified files, but there was no method to ensure that the donor was living at the moment of blood donation. The transmission was encrypted but it bounced through several relays on its journey from Command to Gabriel’s tablet; given time and skill, anyone could decrypt it.

Perhaps the KGB had cracked the encryption again, and that was the source of the recent deaths. KGB agents had been breaking into their files for over two hundred years, before the UADN was even formed. The core colonist rebellion had shifted the Soviet focus to the C3 instead of concentrating solely on the Alliance. Perhaps—

SYSTEM READY. INITIATE FILE TRANSFER, Y/N?

Gabriel flinched at sudden appearance of the bright green text, then he tapped in his reply—text commands were considered more secure than voice commands, considering that anywhere could be bugged with listening devices. There was likely more than one bug already online in his new quarters. Anxiety twisted his stomach and he drummed his fingers as he glanced at the closed door. Would Lindy learn to trust him? Would she welcome him aboard with her own polite warning? Preferably hers would also be issued without bloodshed, but he would not begrudge her a few good hits after the way he had treated her.

Before arriving at Tortue, Gabriel had familiarized himself with the personnel records of the Mombasa’s crew—or at least with what little unclassified information that had been available to him then. His handler must have unearthed new information since. Lindana and her brother Tomas had extensive military records, but less data on file after they entered “civilian” life. Ryder Kalani’s file had been filled with impressive military achievements until his injury, and his career ended with a dishonorable discharge after punching his commanding officer in the face. At the moment it seemed far more likely that the man would punch Gabriel than he would his captain.

There was little data on Jiang Chen and Maria Watson other than names and dates of birth. Like most of those who had survived the razing of New Hong Kong, Lieutenant Chen’s files had been destroyed along with her home and family. The colony had suffered some of the worst devastation during the rebellion, and that had spurred the other core colonies into greater action. It turned the tide of the war in their favor, though Gabriel doubted that the survivors of New Hong Kong found much comfort in that knowledge. A few pieces of Lieutenant Chen’s financial data that had been stored off-world had been recovered, and that information supported her claims of a quiet life lived as a cargo pilot.

Maria Watson, on the other hand, was hiding something. The records Gabriel had been unable to locate before now showed as having been deleted. Notes on the file indicated that Intel’s data recovery detail had found traces of a computer worm that had chewed through Alliance and C3 files with impressive proficiency. Not surprising for an engineer of Watson’s skill, Gabriel mused as he attempted to decipher the excited notes of an eager programmer. But why delete the records? What was Watson trying to hide?

Maybe nothing. The notes continued, and mentioned that the worm had originated after the peace accords. Many core colonists preferred to keep their pasts secret—himself included, though there was little data left on the man he had been before joining Alliance Intelligence’s special ops. Most of Gabriel’s records had been scrubbed and sanitized until the files virtually gleamed from electronic overload. The rest of the data about him that floated through the information ether was fabricated for various covers—doctored photos of families that never existed, tax records for jobs he had never worked, academic accolades from schools he had never attended. His relationship with Lindy had been one of the few truths in his life until he shattered it—his first successful assignment, as it were—and here he was about to lie to her again.

With a sour grimace he sat back on his bunk. The mission was set; all he could do was go forward. A quick scan of the files on the rest of the Mombasa’s crew revealed updated annotations from his handler that speculated on threat levels, risk percentages, and ideas on who would be easiest to break. Gabriel’s most recent handler was an off-putting fellow who seemed to stare through everyone he spoke with, and Gabriel decided to make his own assessment of the crew. In the ship’s mess perhaps; the Mombasa didn’t have separate mess halls for crew and officers, so taking his meals with his new shipmates would allow him to get a better feel for them. Provided, of course, that no one poisoned his food or attempted to stab him with a fork.

But for now, he had a great deal of reading to do. It was going to be a long, lonely night.

Chapter Four

Lindana stood at the end of the corridor outside of the officers’ quarters and scrambled for the courage to take the final few steps to Gabriel’s door. This is stupid. You’re the damn captain of this ship. You can check in on him. You’re supposed to check in on him. He’s your new damn intel officer. Just do it already and then you can check on Maria’s progress.

Lindana took a deep breath and soldiered on. She tapped the announcer next to the door and waited until he bid her entry. Her heart thudded as she stepped into the room, and she folded her hands behind her back.

“How are you settling in?” she asked. Ugh. Really? Could you be more cliché?

Gabriel looked up from the book he had been reading—an honest to God antique book, leather bound with yellowing pages. Well damn, they probably could have sold that to refuel the engines. Lindana made a mental note in case of future financial distress. His mirrored glasses were folded atop his desk, giving her a clear view of the sickly yellowish bruise left by Tomas’s fist. She should have felt bad about that, but she didn’t. She wished she’d hit the bastard herself.

“Quite well, thank you.”

“I tried to access your personnel file but Command has most of it classified. Where was your last assignment?”

“It’s classified,” he reminded her sheepishly.

“So you can’t tell me where you’ve been the past few years?” Great, Lindy. Let’s keep going down the cliché path. Why don’t you ask him if he ever loved again while you’re at it? Or if he ever thinks about you?

“I can tell you that it is no longer where I want to be.” Gabriel paused to study her. “Are you willing to speak with me now? Should I be prepared for another trip to the medical bay? Though I’m not entirely certain that your brother will mend my nose if you rebreak it.”

“Tomas understands his duty. You’re a member of this crew, and he has a responsibility to heal you.” Lindana glanced around for a spot to sit, and decided to take the offensive by perching on the edge of his bunk. See? I can sit on your bed and not think about the mind-blowing sex we used to have. She folded her hands in her lap. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. I want you to know that I have regretted my words every day since.”

Lindana placed a hand over her heart as though experiencing palpitations. “Wow. You fixed it! Everything is better now! Allahu akbar! It’s a miracle!”

Gabriel scowled, his pale brow pinched with irritation. “You don’t believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter if I believe you. You could be the most sincere person in the history of sincerity, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. You hurt me. And not a broken nose hurt that can be mended with a bone knitter. You destroyed me. You scarred me in ways that never healed, that fundamentally changed me as a person and altered the course of my life. I never trusted anyone the way I trusted you. So if you’re looking for forgiveness, I don’t have it.”

“I lied. Not in the way that you believe. I betrayed your trust, but I lied to you about how and why.”

“And...? Isn’t that just splitting hairs? You lied either way.”

“The truth doesn’t excuse my actions, but it’s important to me that you know it. That you understand my motive.”

“To what end?” she asked. How could he be so calm? He was as placid as a life insurance salesman about to discuss her coverage options, not a former lover about to reveal a terrible sin. Maybe she should rebreak his nose. “And why do you think I’d believe you? You don’t have a good track record with being honest with me. Or anyone, really. Intelligence officers aren’t known for their candor. You lie for a living.”

Gabriel nodded slowly. “I don’t expect you to believe me.”

“So this is, what? To help you sleep better at night? I’m not exactly invested in that.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Well, you are my captain. It is in your best interest to have a well-rested intel officer.”

Lindana laughed, though there was little mirth in the sound. It was obvious that he was determined to vomit forth his lame apology, so she might as well let him.

“Point,” she said. “Go on.”

“I never participated in the contest,” he said.

Lindana’s stomach dropped as her blood drained, leaving her cold and lightheaded. That was not what she expected to hear—she was prepared for a “I learned my lesson” or “I’ll never do it again,” but not that.

Gabriel took a deep breath and continued. “There was a contest, of course. There’s always been a contest. It’s a sick tradition of the fraternity that goes back centuries. I never approved of it. I thought it was barbaric to reduce an encounter with another person to a points value. But the contest provided the perfect cover story for...” He trailed off and cleared his throat.

Lindana knew she was supposed to say something—a question, words in English, something coherent. Instead she waited for him to continue.

“They approached me after my father died. Do you recall when I attended his funeral?” Gabriel asked.

“Your father?” she blurted, confused. Lindana had met him once. She had a vague recollection of a heavyset man with salt-and-pepper hair and a constant scowl. Gabriel had left for two weeks to attend the funeral. “Yes, I remember. What of it?”

“He was a rotten bastard. He’d driven the family fortune into the ground. Bad investments at first, then a drug addiction devoured the rest. All that was left was the land and our title, as well as several large debts. Father owed money to dangerous people, and I...” Gabriel scowled and looked away, holding his face in his hands as though the weight of the memories pulled him down. “I let the fear of it get to me, and they used that fear against me.”

“Who is they?” It sounded unnecessarily ominous.

“Intelligence Special Tasks Force.”

“Oh.” Lindana swallowed. Well damn. As an intel officer he obviously worked for the UADN Intelligence Agency, but Special Tasks was serious shit. Assassinations, espionage, all the dirty deeds that Alliance Command disavowed official knowledge of. Classified was an understatement.

“I was perfect for them,” Gabriel said. “I had a prestigious core colonist pedigree that would open many political doors that they were eager to peer behind, and I had a weakness to exploit. STF promised to pay off the debts in return for my service.”

“Bastards. They blackmailed you.”

“It didn’t seem like it at the time. It seemed like salvation. I was drowning beneath that debt, and I was afraid of living poor.”

“I’ve lived poor. A lot of people survive it just fine. I’d rather live poor and have love than be rich and an asshole. But that’s just me.” Lindana shrugged, though her eyes burned and her voice dropped a rough octave thanks to the emotion knotting her throat.

“You’re right. I knew you would say that, and I was too cowardly to risk hearing it. Instead I took the STF’s bargain. I thought...well, I was naïve. It seemed like a great adventure—joining Intelligence was a chance to do real, hands-on work to protect the Alliance. Generations of my family served without firing a single shot. We just glared at the enemy through viewports, across the black—”

Lindana snorted. “Until the war.”

“Until the war. As a result of which I lost the estate I was attempting to save. Irony.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“Indeed.” Gabriel grimaced. “I signed on to protect the Alliance from the Soviets, not to fight our own colonists. I’m not...proud of my service during the rebellion, but wanted to honor my commitment to the Alliance, so I stayed with them.”

“I don’t think anyone’s proud of what they did in the war.” She knew Tomas still had nightmares about the horrors he witnessed—of all the people he couldn’t save. It was terrible, but the core colonist rebellion was a smaller-scale example of the horrors that would be unleashed if the Alliance and the Soviets truly clashed in an all-out war.

Gabriel waved the topic away. “My point is I had no idea what sort of danger I was getting into by joining special tasks, but my mentor did. She ordered me to cut ties with you. Completely. Otherwise you would never be safe from the things I did. That is why I lied to you. To protect you.”

“To protect me?” Lindana rose and shoved his chest, and Gabriel flinched, eyes wide as she loomed over him. “Do I look like I need your damn protection? Like I’m some soft-handed damsel who needs rescuing? No. You chose money over love, and then you were a complete prick to me out of some macho need to ensure my safety. Congratulations. Your evil plan worked. Heart broken, mission accomplished. Do you want a fucking achievement medal?”

“Of course not.” He stood and faced her. Why did he have to be so bloody tall? He had at least six inches on her. She should start wearing her high-heeled boots again. They were impractical but badass.

“Are we done here?” Lindana asked. “I have shit to do. Everyone works on this ship. Including you.”

“Please, hear me out. I don’t know if she was right, that breaking it off kept you safe. All I know is that I did things. Terrible things, Lindy. Things no one should ever do, but I followed orders and did what the STF deemed necessary for the good of the Alliance. Perhaps I was successful in making things better, I don’t know. There was a time when I was sure that I was doing the right thing, but lately it feels as though my time with the STF only netted me scars, nightmares, regrets and more lies than I could ever hope to keep straight. I needed to break away from that, and I needed to tell you the truth. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you were the one good thing that ever happened to me. I never found anyone who made me feel as you did.”

“Sucks to be you, then.”

He blinked. Damn those long lashes. Why did he have to be so pretty? Lindana had fallen for those soulful blue eyes hook, line and sinker. It hadn’t helped that Gabriel looked like every fairy tale prince in every story she had read—tall, dark and handsome, with sculpted cheekbones and a regal posture. Gabriel Steele was born to wear a crown. Lindana Nyota was born to be a thief.

“You said your piece,” Lindana said. “Unless you have other sins to confess, I’m leaving now.”

“Wait!” Gabriel reached for her, but Lindana snatched her hand away.

“Why? Did you think you’d tell your sad story and I’d swoon and fall into your arms?” She placed a hand against her forehead. “Oh, Gabriel! You broke my heart for noble reasons, so now I must forgive you. No. Fuck you. I am the captain of this goddamn ship and I don’t need you.”

“You’re right, you don’t. You are the strongest, bravest, most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

Heat zinged through her body down to her curling toes, and Lindana licked her lips as her heart raced. She thought of all the nights she’d dreamt of Gabriel begging for her forgiveness. Of him groveling on his knees like a worm, reduced to a hollow shell of a man because of what he had done to her. Now he was here, flesh and blood—fifteen years late, but apologetic. The scene didn’t have the triumphant satisfaction of her dreams; instead, the moment was filled with twisted, conflicting emotions.

“Why are you here?” she asked softly. “Was this Command’s decision, or yours?”

“Mine. I requested this transfer.”

“So you’re staying.”

“Yes. Provided, of course, that you don’t space me out an airlock.” Gabriel took her hands in his. He was warm and solid, and she swayed slightly. Then she glared at him and set her jaw in a stern line. Lindana poked him in the chest.

“Don’t tempt me. You’re still an asshole. This doesn’t mean I believe you, or that I—”

He interrupted her with a hungry kiss that stole her ability to think. Gabriel took her face in his hands and kissed her as though he was dying of thirst and Lindy was the last drink of water in existence. For a moment she whimpered, caught in a wave of oh God yes, but when reality reasserted itself she pushed him back against the desk.

“This is my ship,” she snarled. “I’m not a starry-eyed virgin anymore. You don’t get to sweep in here with your killer cheekbones and your soulful eyes and charm my panties off.”

“Soulful eyes?” Gabriel’s mouth twitched in a suppressed smile.

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean.” Lindana scowled. Gabriel wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “I can rebreak your nose.”

“You won’t.”

“No?”

“No.” His hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, his fingers cold as they slid up the bare skin of her back. Her breath caught as her heart pounded. “You won’t. My heart perhaps.”

“Assuming you have one,” Lindana muttered. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

Gritting her teeth, Lindana took a sharp step back, out of reach. “I don’t trust you. Trust is earned, and you’re sure as hell not earning it on your back.” Gabriel smirked, and she cut him off before he could comment. “You’re not earning it in any sexual position, no matter how creative. Nor will any amount of heated kisses or screaming orgasms erase your past misconduct, so get that out of your mind right now.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

Lindana scowled. “Just do your job. We literally can’t afford to screw this mission up.”

Something shadowed Gabriel’s gaze for a moment, but then he nodded. “Of course, Captain.”

* * *

Lindana’s shoulders hunched as she stalked back to her quarters. Gabriel was up to something, she was sure of it. Much as she’d like to believe that he’d come here just for her, there had to be another reason Gabriel had traveled all the way out to the ragged edge to serve on a privateer ship. No one simply walked away from the Special Tasks Force—if you left, it was in a body bag.

Lindana rounded a corner and collided with Tomas. “Ow! What are you—?” She paused and studied her brother with suspicious eyes. “Are you going to the engine room?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

She poked him in the chest. “You are banned from the engine room. Is there a medical emergency there?”

“No.”

“Were you invited?”

“No...” Tomas winced, looking sheepish.

“Go back to the med bay. Now.”

“Why do you hate fun?”

“That’s why they pay me the big money. Because I am the enemy of fun. In fact, I have work for you.”

Tomas faked a pout. “Peeling potatoes?”

“Don’t tempt me. I want you to break into Command’s database and access Gabriel’s service record. The whole damn thing is classified except for his name and date of birth. I need to know what he’s hiding. And check his financials. He says he’s broke, but I want more than his word.”

“Wait, where were you coming from?” he asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the cockpit?”

Lindy quirked a brow—had he memorized her schedule? Was Tomas trying to sneak into the engine room when she wasn’t around to stop him? “I’m the captain. I go wherever I want. Right now I’m going to the engine room, and you’re going back to the med bay and do that research. That’s an order.”

“Were you just with him?”

Lindana sighed. “We spoke. He apologized, which isn’t worth a rat’s ass. That’s it.” Except for the kiss, which left her lips tingling as though she had slammed a shot of hot sauce. Tomas’s fists clenched, and Lindana hugged her brother until he relaxed. “It’s okay. I’m okay. But you’re not going to be okay if you set foot in the engine room.”

* * *

Gabriel banged his head against the closed door until the pain in his skull outweighed the ache in his groin. Idiot. He knew better. Months—no, years—of training and experience on the most efficient ways to win an argument, to seduce a target to your side, and all of that had vanished from his mind after two minutes alone with Lindy. He took a steadying breath and cursed at the lingering scent of her that still perfumed the air. Just one kiss from Lindana unraveled him; he was undone, helpless like a green recruit set against a foe far beyond his reckoning.

God, he had missed her.

Gabriel paced the abbreviated length of his quarters. He would do better. He would convince her of his sincerity, of his dedication, of his—

His data tablet beeped insistently and he cursed at the screen.

MISSION UPDATE AVAILABLE. INITIATE DATA TRANSFER, Y/N?

“Most certainly no, you infuriating piece of junk.” Gabriel scowled as he snatched the tablet from his desk and pressed his palm against it. His skin stung as it sampled his blood, but it was nothing compared to the continued smarting of his pride.

“Idiot,” he muttered.

TARGET CONFIRMED. PERMISSION TO ACQUIRE/QUESTION/ELIMINATE IS GRANTED. TARGET IDENTITY CLASSIFIED A-1 LEVEL ONLY.

Shit. Gabriel had been hoping that a mission update would at least allow for him to share the details with Lindana. She needed to know this, but her security clearance was nowhere near A-1. She served the Alliance as a privateer, but as far as Intel Command was concerned she was little better than a civilian.

He tapped out a quick reply asking for permission to share mission details with key personnel and sent it, then tossed the tablet onto his bunk with more force than was necessary. The gadget bounced across the stiff mattress and banged into the wall with a beep of protest. It would take some time for the message to travel out, be pondered over by his handler and a few other paper-pushers. The Mombasa was still in transit to the nearest slingshot—it was simpler and cheaper to let a slingshot hurl a ship into hyperspace than to spin up to it on one’s own—and Gabriel might not receive a reply before communications went dark.

The tablet beeped again and Gabriel frowned at it. REQUEST DENIED.

He blinked. He couldn’t remember receiving a reply so quickly, not even during high-priority missions where a timely response would have meant the difference between life and death. Someone was monitoring this situation closely. Too closely—were they being followed?

“Please explain,” he said. His hands shook a bit too much to trust a text response.

INFORMATION LEAK CONFIRMED. SOURCE IDENTITY UNKNOWN. SIGNAL ANALYSIS UNDERWAY. INITIATE LOCAL MONITORING PROGRAMS TO INVESTIGATE FURTHER.

Gabriel frowned. Technical work was not his strongest suit. Several sweeper programs were built into his tablet, but the traitor might detect them if the programs were activated—probably would detect them if the person was skilled at manipulating data signals. An engineer of Chief Watson’s expertise could easily bury transmissions within the Mombasa’s standard communications, or likewise dig signals out. It would be a simple thing to detect his communications with Command, though that was to be expected from a privateer’s Intelligence agent lining up missions for his ship. He wasn’t doing anything out of character yet, but the situation was sure to sour as soon as the mission’s true parameters became apparent.

Gabriel activated the programs and set his tablet aside. Then again, if Chief Watson wasn’t the leak, she could be a useful ally in finding out who was. She would be the best judge of the crew’s technical ability—the tablet pinged, and Gabriel arched a brow at it. A signal detection so soon? Either his tablet’s programs were suddenly functioning at a superior level, or someone was overconfident about not being discovered.

Gabriel drummed his fingers atop his desk, the noise loud in the cramped room. He could let the signal alone and monitor it, gathering data to decrypt, or he could track the source of the signal. With the critical nature of this mission he could hardly afford to leave a lead alone. With a sigh he removed his ear cuff, then picked up his tablet, tool kit and a handlamp. The cuff tracked his movements aboard the ship so it was best to leave it behind, but unfortunately it also keyed open doors and activated lights and he would need to light his own path.

The black corridors were freezing—in space heat was as much a luxury as light. Most ships he had traveled on kept things warm and well lit, because the comfort of the environment was directly related to crew morale. The Mombasa must have truly hit rock bottom to sacrifice such basic creature comforts. Gabriel’s handlamp illuminated a small circle, accentuated by the green glow of the text filling his screen as he tracked the signal, and his breath puffed in eerie, misty clouds in the weak light. His boots echoed dully, the sound devoured by the endless hum and hiss of the ship’s machinery.

Gabriel chased the signal deep into the ship, away from the crew quarters and close to the heat and noise of the engines. He possessed only the most basic engineering knowledge of how the engines functioned, enough to know better than to fiddle with their workings. Damn things could be just as lethal and destructive as a bomb if the wrong wires were crossed. The signal pinged stronger as the temperature increased, until finally Gabriel chased the source down a rabbit hole into a darkened access tube so tight he could barely breathe.

Bloody hell. He was too tall and broad of shoulder to be crawling around in the Mombasa’s innards. Gabriel doubted that someone the size of Chief Kalani could fit into this particular spot, so that narrowed down the list of suspects. It was being buried alive, standing.

“There you are, you little bastard.” Gabriel spotted the transmitter shoved between two lengths of coolant pipes. The gadget appeared innocent enough, camouflaged among the surrounding equipment as though it was just another regulator or monitor, but the tablet confirmed that it was the source of the suspicious signal.

Gabriel grimaced. Under normal circumstances he would install a monitor to record the data transmissions and track who accessed it, but he couldn’t risk the possibility of their mission being leaked to the enemy. Current intelligence predicted that the Mombasa would face a reasonable target—a decommissioned warship that was now being used as a cargo transport—but if the Soviets were warned and had time to prepare, the Mombasa would be bombarded by a fleet of enemy cruisers. It was a risk Gabriel couldn’t take, so he snipped the wires and disconnected it.

The tiny piece of equipment was little more than a receiver, recorder and transmitter. Not particularly helpful—agents who possessed little technical knowledge were issued standard equipment that was easy to identify, but this appeared to be constructed from scavenged parts. He would analyze it as best he could using the limited tools at his disposal, but he knew from experience that it was irritating to identify the source of homemade bugs. If the parts originated from the Mombasa’s innards, any crew member could have touched them. Clever agents were quick to use wires that many hands had touched, or scrapped parts that had endured many repairs before finally ending up on the junk pile, because if discovered a DNA analysis would shift blame to another person.

The sound of footsteps approached, and Gabriel cursed silently. There was no room to maneuver, jammed inside the access shaft like a feral cat trapped inside a cage. Had he been discovered so quickly? It seemed unlikely that the device was sophisticated enough to send an alert if tampered with.

Gabriel could either move farther up the cramped corridor to lie in wait, or he could confront his attacker in the hallway, where he would have more room to fight. Observation was a higher priority than attack at the moment, so he killed the light, stowed the bug and his equipment, and hustled up the ladder. He wrenched open an overhead hatch and heaved himself up into another tight space. He shut the hatch behind him and waited in the dark.

His breath rasped in the close quarters, impossibly loud like gusts of wind beating against a windowpane. Adrenaline rushed through him, quickening his pulse as his muscles tensed in anticipation. The footsteps drew closer, accompanied by muffled speech—not English, nor one of the languages that he was fluent in. Swahili, perhaps. Due to Lindy and Tomas’s fondness for their countrymen, several of the Mombasa’s crew hailed from Kenya on Earth and from the New Nairobi colony.

A trickle of sweat pooled between his shoulder blades as the volume of the voices swelled, and then receded. Gabriel remained at the ready until silence settled again—or as silent as the inner workings of a ship could be. Here the constant hum of the engines was nearly as noisy as the rapid pounding of his pulse. He took several calming breaths before emerging from his hiding space, and then he straightened his clothes and ran a hand over his hair.

Too close. An unwelcome reminder that this ship was not so large, and they were hurtling through space in a metal box with a traitor on board.

Getting jumpy in your old age, chap, Smythe had teased on their last mission together. His friend had died two missions later, just shy of his thirtieth birthday. Smythe had been the first of the core colonist Intel agents to die an unfortunate death in the line of duty after the war. Each death had seemed coincidence, spread over the past few years as though someone waited for the grief of one death to fade before killing again. Gabriel was certain that these deaths were not accidents—he felt it in his bones. The suspicion went marrow-deep, filling him with certainty that someone was eliminating his comrades. But why?

He frowned at the spot where the transmitter had been, and then turned and began the stealthy journey back to his quarters. Taking the position aboard the Mombasa was supposed to keep him safe from the fate that had befallen his fellow core colonists, but it seemed that he had simply put himself in different danger.

* * *

“Okay, Jiang. Run it down for us.” Lindana ceded the floor. Only the brave or foolish dared to interrupt Jiang, and allowing Jiang to run meetings made Lindana’s life easier.

Jiang rose and activated the holographic display table. A three-dimensional schematic of the Novosibirsk swirled to life from a blizzard of rainbow pixels. “This is the Soviet ship Novosibirsk. She started life as a military cruiser, but her design was phased out in favor of a heavier hitter. She’s been retrofitted for intercolony equipment transport, mainly atmosphere enhancers.”

Tomas raised his hand and waited for Jiang to acknowledge him with a nod. “Are they carrying industrial oxygen tanks?”

“Possible. We’re limiting the strike teams to hand-to-hand weapons, just in case. No tasers, no rifles, and no grenades.” Jiang cast a stern look at Ryder, who scowled in frustration. Grenades were Ryder’s weapon of choice, but he was skilled in hand-to-hand and should do fine.

“Not even smoke grenades?” Gabriel asked.

The room inhaled a collective gasp and waited for Jiang’s reaction to the interruption. Lindana hoped she threw something at him; Jiang had once nailed Tomas between the eyes with a powdered donut, and Lindana later rigged every screen in the med bay to play a loop of the footage in slow motion.

Jiang turned toward Gabriel, her brow furrowed with a thin line of irritation. “Smoke grenades are ignited by a spark, and a single spark is all it would take to roast our people if an oxygen tank ruptured. So no, not even smoke grenades.” She turned away without giving him an opportunity to respond. Jiang shifted the view of the Novosibirsk to a wide angle. “The Mombasa will board the Novosibirsk after it arrives in the Dektan System, but before it reaches its destination. We’ll approach from the aft, using its exhaust trail to hide from its sensors. Once we’re within range we’ll hard dock here.” Jiang zoomed in on a section of the hull on the ship’s belly. “Ryder has point on the away team. Tomas and Maria will make their way to the data node here.” Another shift in the schematic brought up a small room with a rat’s nest of wires routed through it. “They will access the Novosibirsk’s systems and take control of the ship.”

Jiang continued the plans from there, standard procedure for their group. Atmospheric equipment wasn’t particularly glamorous, but it was worth a small fortune. She answered a few questions, and then the briefing was over. Most of the crew filed out, except for Gabriel, who continued to frown at the floating schematic.

“Something on your mind?” Lindana asked. Tomas stood at her side, unwilling to leave his baby sister alone with the man who had broken her heart.

“What role do I have during the mission?” Gabriel asked.

“You’re on comms, with me,” Lindana said. “Why?”

“Is that usual for your intel officer?”

“Yes,” Tomas said. “Erik didn’t like to get his hands dirty, being near retirement and all. He was part of the boarding party on our last mission because it was supposed to be low-risk, and we needed all hands on deck to handle cargo transfer.”

“And you were ambushed. I read the report.” Gabriel straightened, his hands neatly folded. “I prefer the boots-on-the-ground approach instead of watching the mission on a vid screen.”

“I understand that, but you don’t do fieldwork until I’m familiar with your skill set,” Lindana said. “Unless classified is an actual skill.”

“I have field experience.”

“Not that we know of. You’re going to sit this one out, end of story. There’ll be other missions.” Unless she kicked his sorry ass out the airlock into space, but he had been well behaved since coming aboard. Quiet, kept to himself. He seemed to spend most of his time reading. There wasn’t a lot for an intel officer to do during downtime other than check his messages and make calls to his contacts, neither of which he could do while the comms were dark when the ship was in hyperspace.

Gabriel nodded and retreated, and Lindana turned to Tomas. “Well?”

“No luck with his military record so far.” Tomas grimaced. “His file has an encryption I can’t crack. I tried talking to Maria about it, but the rats chased me out of the engine room.”

“I’ll talk to her. Are you two going to be okay together on this mission?”

“We’re great during missions because they’re in neutral territory. She’s pissy at everyone who invades her engine room, except for you, because you’re the captain. The real question is: are you going to be okay working with him?”

“I can taser him if he gets out of line.”

Tomas grinned and chuckled. “Good point. He was telling the truth about his finances. New Britain granted his land, the house and its contents to a neighboring lord. Gabriel has saved his Alliance wages, but you know how that is.”

“Yeah.” Military wages were decent, but by no means extravagant. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Tomas left, and Lindana stared at the schematic. A cargo ship with colonizing equipment seemed like easy money. So why did it tie her stomach into anxious knots? Gabriel’s nearness must’ve contributed to her uneasiness. He really did have nothing left—from prince to pauper. Did that change things?

Lindana scowled and killed the slowly rotating image of the Novosibirsk. She didn’t have time for complications now. She’d worry about Gabriel Steele and his indecently tight pants after the mission. For now she had a pre-mission checklist to run through and anxiety to blow off.

She visited each officer and area of the ship in turn to determine their readiness for the mission and discover if they needed anything. As always Maria had a long wish list of parts she’d like to scrounge if the opportunity presented itself, and Tomas had an equally long list of medical equipment. Lindana doubted that the team would have time to scrounge on this mission, not if they wanted to remain undetected. They once had a mission unravel when Maria insisted on stopping to grab a giant spool of copper wire, which slowed the team down until they were discovered by a very surprised security patrolman.

This mission had them all spooked. What if their bad luck continued? They lost a crew member last time. How much worse could things get?

Lindana’s shoulders were pinched with tension by the time she arrived in the armory, where Ryder was finishing the weapons check.

“Everything’s green here, Cap,” he said. “Are you sure we can’t bring any grenades? Because I’d really rather have them and not need them—”

“Than need them and not have them,” she completed. “I know, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. If things get bad enough that we need them, we’re already fucked.”

Ryder snapped the weapons case shut and stowed it in his locker. He approached Lindana, frowned down at her for a moment, then enveloped her in a bear hug. “We’re going to be okay. Our luck’s due to turn.”

A fraction of her tension eased—as Tomas’s best friend, Ryder was like a second big brother. “I know. Get out of here and get some sleep.”

Ryder grinned and stepped back. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Oh, the light over the heavy bag is still on the fritz.” He nodded toward the overhead illumination panel, and Lindana sighed. The armory doubled as the Mombasa’s fitness center. Lindana had been initially wary about keeping weapons in the same area as exercise equipment, worried that someone might decide to put a few rounds into the treadmill as revenge for an overtaxing workout, but so far the most amount of damage had been caused by Tomas and Ryder’s epic sparring matches.

“I thought Maria fixed that,” she said.

“She refuses to fix it because Tomas broke it. I tried to talk her into it by arguing that technically it was Tomas’s shoe that broke the light, and she shouldn’t blame the shoe because it was an innocent accomplice. She didn’t buy it.”

“I appreciate the effort.”

Ryder tossed a jaunty salute in her direction as he retreated from the room. Ryder was one of the few crewmembers who could sleep before a mission—really the man could sleep through just about anything. Lindana envied him for that. Tension crept back into her muscles and knotted her stomach as she taped up her hands and donned a set of boxing gloves.

Lindana glared at the heavy bag hanging ponderously from its chain. Easy mission. She set her feet and swung with a sharp right. She was tired of promises of easy missions that turned sour right out of the gate. Bam! Of scraping to cover the ship’s bills. Left, then right, then left again. Of pouring her heart and soul into this ship, only to have it fall apart around her.

She fell into a rhythm of a punch for every frustration. Sweat beaded her brow and stinging jabs shot up her arms with each contact, but the pain was manageable. Familiar. And dull in comparison to the gnawing in her gut. How could she do this without Erik? She’d never run a mission aboard the Mombasa without her mentor. Worse, how could she do this with Lieutenant Gabriel Fucking Steele? He was the last person in the galaxy she’d trust to watch her back.

Why couldn’t something just go right for once?

“Are you picturing my face, Captain?”

Lindana jumped and whirled to spot the asshole in question standing in the armory doorway. She flexed her fingers within her gloves and imagined delivering one good right hook.

“Not everything’s about you, Lieutenant,” she said. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“As are you.” His gaze traveled over her like a slow caress, and the cold knot in her belly heated. Lindana hated how he could warm her blood with a simple look.

“I never sleep before a mission,” he said.

“No? I suppose you read instead. How many of those old books do you have?”

Gabriel smiled. “Not nearly enough.”

“What were you reading? When you first came on board?” And then kissed my brains out, she added silently.

“Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. It is somewhat...applicable to our current situation.” He smiled, and Lindana shivered. Damn him and his perfect teeth.

“Oh? Full of pirates and privateers?”

“Not as such, no. I’m willing to lend it if you wish to read it.”

Lindana pondered the decadence of reading a print book and feeling the pages beneath her fingers as she turned them. Tempting...

“I had intended to go for a run,” he said, “but since you’re here, perhaps we could work together?”

Work. Yeah, right. Lindana’s eyes narrowed. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“Not everything’s about sex, Captain. I thought sparring might be more appropriate.”

She laughed, and it was a high, nervous sound. “I’m not rebreaking your nose before a mission.”

Gabriel took a few cautious steps into the room as though measuring whether she would attack him. “I’m not advocating for that, because I prefer my nose unbroken. However, since you’re unconvinced of my combat abilities, perhaps a demonstration would help. Besides, we’re not leaving the ship on this mission, so should you injure me it won’t affect the outcome.”

Lindana weighed the dangers of sweaty grappling with a man who set every inch of her body to high alert versus the long delayed satisfaction of finally wiping that smarmy grin from his face with her fist. They had gone to target practice together a few times when they were in the Academy—he was a better shot, damn him—but had never tested their hand-to-hand skills against each other, unless sex counted. Not everything is about sex. Right.

“All right. What sort of sparring did you have in mind? We have additional boxing gloves somewhere.” She glanced around and realized that Ryder had cleaned up the room’s usual clutter.

“I was thinking blunted blades might be safer.”

Lindana chuckled darkly. “You think I can’t punch you in the face while wielding a blade?”

“I’m fairly certain that is not a standard fencing move.”

“We’re not a standard ship.” Lindana tugged her gloves off and grabbed two practice swords from an equipment rack. She handed one to Gabriel, and he studied it with a furrowed brow before finding it acceptable.

“I had noticed,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lindana frowned as she took her place across from him. She tried a few practice swings—this model was a saber, and it differed slightly in length, width and heft from her machete, but the theory was the same.

“The Mombasa has numerous complex modifications.” Gabriel raised his blade and settled into a guard position. “They must keep Chief Watson busy, and the upkeep must be expensive.”

“Understatement.” Lindana raised her sword and then lunged without warning. Gabriel’s eyes widened but he blocked in reflex. Good. Most civilians would have been slow to react. She pressed him back, venting her frustration into the attack, and the sharp clangs of striking metal filled the room. “Going to fix us? Make it all better?”

Backed into a corner, Gabriel’s expression darkened. “You do need my help.”

“What I need is someone I can trust, not some—” she began. Gabriel interrupted her intended insult by launching an attack, raining blows fast and furious as Lindana lost all the ground she had previously gained. She circled left and looked for weak points, but he was fast. She was grudgingly forced to admit that he was good at this, and that only added to her irritation. Damn it all—did he have to be good at everything? It wasn’t fair. It also wasn’t fair that he looked gorgeous doing it, all lean lines and graceful form. Her blood stirred and her body heated in ways that had nothing to do with sparring.

“You can trust me,” Gabriel said.

“Because you have such a fabulous track record at honesty.”

“I am trying to help you, Lindy.”

She opened her mouth, about to tell him exactly where he could shove his help, but the light above her fizzled, sparked and died, followed by a cascading electrical failure that shorted out everything in the overhead fixture. She cursed under her breath as the room was plunged into darkness.

“Should I call Engineering?” Gabriel asked.

“No.” Lindana crossed to where her jacket was folded atop a bench. She set her saber down, pulled the handlamp out of her pocket and clicked it on. “Maria won’t fix it because Tomas broke it.”

“That seems...” Gabriel trailed off, his tone puzzled. Lindana turned to find him standing closer, but his attention was fixed on the panel.

“Seems what?” she asked.

“Odd for a chief engineer. Why should it matter who broke it? It still needs repair, and that is her duty.”

“Said like a man who’s good at breaking shit and expecting others to fix his mess.”

“Is there history between them?”

“Not in the way you think. Maria has a boyfriend on New Nairobi. The problem with Maria and Tomas is a territorial dispute. Tomas is pissed at the idea that the Mombasa is anyone else’s kingdom, because he and I own the ship. The two of them are always butting heads, with me in the middle playing peacemaker.”

“Has this dispute been going on long?” Gabriel asked.

“Pretty much since the day Maria joined the crew.” Lindana nudged Gabriel out of the way. “I’m going to repair the lights. I can fix the fuse and get the other lights back online. A new bulb can wait until after the mission.”

Lindana tried to open the access panel to the room’s electrical system, but it was stuck shut. She growled in frustration, clamped the lamp between her teeth and used both hands to pry the panel open. It gave suddenly with a metallic screech that unbalanced her, and she stumbled back into Gabriel’s chest as her lamp clattered to the floor.

“So she was queen of the engine room from day one?” Gabriel retrieved the light and held the lamp above her shoulder, beaming light on to the mess of wires and switches.

She peered up at him—was he smirking at her? She scowled and turned back to the panel. Her jaw clenched as she tried to ignore the heat from his body as he stood close behind her, and the light brush of his breath against her hair. Beneath the stinging ozone scent of shorted circuits she caught a hint of Gabriel’s scent—not cologne or aftershave, but a clean, crisp scent that was uniquely his.

“Yes, she was. It was one of the conditions of her contract. Maria doesn’t like being micromanaged, especially by people who have no idea how the engines work.” She flipped a switch that did nothing, and then a second unsuccessful attempt.

“Try the one in the upper right,” he said.

Lindana rolled her eyes but reached for it, and a snap of electricity singed her. She hissed and drew her hand back, and Gabriel gently took her wrist and held her hand under the lamplight.

“It’s fine.” Lindana tried to tug her hand free, but Gabriel held it fast. Her pulse leaped at his touch, and an eager shiver tingled down her spine. She was suddenly grateful for the darkness, because it hid the blush that heated her face. She hated this attraction—if only she could turn it off as simply as shorting a light.

“You have an electrical burn.”

“A small one,” she said. “It’s fine. Let go.”

Gabriel sighed. “I just want to help you.”

“Why?” she asked, exasperated.

“Perhaps I’ve grown tired of expecting others to clean up my messes.” Gabriel released her, then reached past her and flipped a circuit breaker. The lights flickered on above them—save for the blown bulb—and Lindana took a cautious step back as Gabriel studied her. His brow was furrowed, and something shadowed moved behind his eyes, like a beast prowling the edges of its cage.

Gabriel took a step forward and her heart stopped—for a moment she imagined him closing the space between them, taking her into his arms and kissing her breathless. Then reality reasserted itself and she cleared her throat politely.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the light.”

“You’re welcome.” Gabriel tilted his head. “Have you considered asking Maria to become a co-owner of the Mombasa?”

“What? No. Why?” She retrieved the lamp and turned on her heel, retreating to the bench that held her jacket.

“It would solve the problem of the power struggle if Maria owned a percentage of the ship. That way she could be the queen of the engine room in more than name only. You and Tomas would still own the majority of the Mombasa.”

Lindana paused, jacket in hand, as she pondered his suggestion. It was brilliant—she wished she’d thought of it herself. Maria loved the Mombasa as much as Lindana and Tomas did, so if she had the money to invest she was sure to approve of the idea. Maria probably had enough credits banked to manage a down payment. It would be easier for her to banish Tomas from the engine room if she literally owned it. This could solve several of her ongoing headaches.

“It’s a good idea. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, shall we continue?”

Lindana weighed the safety of retreating to her quarters against the satisfaction of kicking Gabriel Steele’s ass. She set her jacket down and picked up her blade with a wicked grin.

“En garde!”

Chapter Five

The trick to intercepting another spaceship was catching it in real space. Once a ship entered hyperspace it was safe from harm—or at least harm from another ship. Hyperspace held its own unique set of problems. Old spacers told tales of ships that entered hyperspace and vanished, or of ghost ships that were trapped half in and out of real space, doomed to wander the shipping lanes forever.

The Mombasa lay in wait, hiding in high orbit of the outermost planet of the Dektan System. If the Novosibirsk was on schedule it should appear in the next few minutes, but if it was late it could be hours.

“Ten credits says it’s late,” the copilot said. Kala was one of Jiang’s newer recruits—talented, but young and still jittery about life as a privateer. Lindana was sure that Kala would be a solid crew member after she got a few successful missions under her belt.

“That’s a sucker bet,” Lindana said.

“Soviet freighters are only late if they’ve undergone mechanical failures,” Jiang explained to Kala. “The Novosibirsk may be decommissioned, but her class was built to last. She’ll be on time.”

As if on cue the massive former warship popped into normal space at the edge of the solar system. Lindana whistled low. “She’s a big girl.”

“Built to last,” Jiang repeated.

The Novosibirsk had started life as a heavy cruiser, and her military purpose was evident in the thick armor plating that comprised the ship’s hull. Many of her guns were missing—not all, but enough to qualify the ship as a civilian-grade vessel. She looked slow—it took a lot of propulsion to move a monster like that. Mama Mo could outrun her if necessary. It shouldn’t be necessary, but it was best to be prepared.

“All right. We’re on the clock,” Lindana announced. “She’s all yours, Lieutenant Chen.”

Jiang nodded and began barking orders. The Mombasa slid out of hiding and stalked its prey like a lioness zeroing in on an unsuspecting impala.

“Careful,” Jiang said. “If she has a nervous captain she may pull an Ivan.”

“An Ivan?” Gabriel asked.

“Crazy Ivan,” Lindana explained to him. “A holdover from Soviet submarine days. Soviet captains order their ships to turn around to see if anyone’s following them. It still applies with spaceships. Sensors can malfunction, but viewports don’t.”

“Ah.”

Lindana peered at him. “Does any of your classified experience really include fieldwork?”

“Yes, but I’m no pilot.”

“She’s holding course. We’re clear for approach,” Jiang said.

“Acknowledged.” Lindana tapped her cuff and set it to intership broadcast. “Alpha team, report to the airlock.”

Jiang maneuvered the Mombasa into place with skill and precision, just as she had dozens of times before on other missions. Lindana held her breath as her ship eased alongside the Novosibirsk, the final inches slow and agonizing.

“Extending magnetic docking clamps now,” Jiang said. The ship shuddered as if sighing, and Lindana exhaled in relief.

“Hard dock completed. Seal is pressurized. Alpha team, you’re go,” Lindana said. “Lieutenant Steele, you’re with me.”

* * *

The vid screen on the conference room wall was divided into the head cams of each team member, their name and vitals stamped on the bottom. At the moment the screens displayed boring views of the Mombasa’s airlock as the plasma cutters finished slicing through the Novosibirsk’s armored hull. Ryder’s resting heart rate continued to impress—he was the most physically fit person Lindana had ever met, yet he ate like a horse with a sweet tooth. Good genes, she supposed.

“The hole is punched.” Ryder opened the airlock and placed magnetic handles against the newly sliced circle of metal. He shoved, and with a metallic groan that made the speakers squeal the piece gave way and Ryder stepped onto the other ship. “Knock, knock, motherfuckers.”

Lindana rolled her eyes. “Cut the chatter, Chief.”

“Sorry, Cap,” he said. “Alpha team is moving out.”

Lindana leaned forward, focused on their progress as the team proceeded. The path was clear—too clear? The ship was supposed to have a minimal crew, and she doubted that they bothered with security patrols. The corridors were as boring and cramped as any other deep spaceship that Lindana had seen; the only obvious difference was the Cyrillic lettering and Chinese characters labeling hatchways and pointing directions. Alpha team reached their mission goal point without incident, and Lindana and Gabriel exchanged a glance of relief.

“This is not a room,” Maria said as the door to the data node opened. “This is a closet.”

Lindana silently agreed. Whoever designed this access point had an odd definition of access; maybe the builders had gotten the measurements wrong. Pipes and wires tangled and crisscrossed in a space so tight that it likely featured a starring role in some poor claustrophobe’s nightmares.

“You’re the only one who can fit,” Tomas said.

“You’re the one with the magic fingers.” Maria’s heart rate spiked. “That’s not what I meant!”

Tomas grinned. “You got that, right? That’s recorded? I’m gonna send it with my holiday cards.”

“Tomas, stop bothering Chief Watson,” Lindana said. “Watson, it’s your turn to climb into the ductwork. The boys will watch your back.”

Tomas muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “and your ass,” and Maria punched him hard in the shoulder and cursed him in Spanish. Ryder grabbed Tomas by the collar of his uniform jacket and hauled him back into the hallway.

“We’re on guard duty,” Ryder reminded him.

“Aye, Chief.” Tomas drew his machete. Lindana had never seen him use the weapon—usually the threat of it alone was enough to scare people into line.

Maria continued to mutter threats in Spanish as she crawled into the conduit. She was petite and skinny as a rail, which made her an ideal duct rat. Maria’s camera feed switched to night vision and bathed her screen in a pale green glow.

“Here we go,” she said. “I’m splicing in now. Tomas, check the readout on your handheld, tell me when we’re green.”

“Got it...you’re green now.”

“Good,” Lindana said. “Watson, stay at the access point. You’re on monitor and modify duty. The rest of alpha team is clear to proceed to the cargo bay.”

The group headed out, but Ryder stopped and raised a closed fist, signaling for alpha team to freeze behind him. Lindana swallowed hard and her own pulse leaped as she watched—this was the part she hated most about being the captain. Captains didn’t participate in missions unless something went wrong, because a ship’s captain was a valuable hostage. Everyone else was considered expendable—not that Lindana thought of any of her crew as expendable, but it was the principle of the thing.

The audio feed picked up approaching footfalls and murmured conversation. Ryder motioned for Diesel, his second-in-command, to follow while the rest of the group held position. Ryder and Diesel waited at the end of the corridor, and each man grabbed his target and dropped them into sleeper holds, squeezing them into unconsciousness.

“Impressive,” Gabriel murmured.

“They’re the best,” Lindana agreed.

With the enemy crew unconscious, alpha team secured them in a utility room and continued on. Maria unlocked doors and disabled alarms along the way through the quiet ship until the team reached its destination.

“Opening the cargo bay door now,” Maria said. “Remember to tag everything this time. I don’t want another tractor incident.”

“What happened?” Gabriel asked Lindana.

“Ryder’s team dropped the ball. They forgot to radio tag a tractor, and we didn’t pick it up. It banged into our hull and left a few big dents. Mainly cosmetic damage, but Maria was furious.”

Gabriel winced and nodded in sympathy. There was an art to shepherding equipment through zero gravity, especially doing it unnoticed by the crew of the ship you were raiding. Lindana preferred to leave as little damage and evidence as possible, though other privateer groups tended toward smash and grab.

“Entering cargo bay n—oh, shit,” Ryder said.

Lindana sat bolt upright in her seat. “Status...oh shit.”

Ryder’s camera revealed the problem more vividly than words alone could. Instead of atmosphere generators and other colonial building equipment, the Novosibirsk’s cargo bay was filled with people. Corralled people, to be precise, clustered into groups and dressed in matching drab olive coveralls with scan bars and Cyrillic letters across their backs.

“Stinks in here,” Diesel muttered.

“Cap, I smell decomp,” Tomas said. He would know—as a medic he had a long history with the stench of death.

“They’re political dissidents.” Gabriel leaned forward in his chair as he peered at the screens. “Prisoners being relocated to a gulag. Probably a mining colony.”

Passengers—paying or otherwise—wouldn’t be treated like cattle. Officially no one dealt in slaves, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. In order to claim a territory, the governing entity had to establish a permanent population, and not everyone was thrilled about being pioneers on a new world. The first few generations of colonists suffered the most deaths and injuries; in the early days of space settlements a few colonies were wiped out completely, with only their equipment left to tell the stories of their demise. The Soviet Union was notorious for forcefully relocating entire communities to new colonies.

Lindana blinked. Prisoners? There were families clustered together within the holding pens. Children. How could anyone treat a child that way? She licked her lips, her mouth gone dry. “How many are there?”

“Let me get a better vantage point.” Ryder climbed atop a crate and scanned the crowd. Lindana used the Mombasa’s computer to analyze the video and get an accurate head count.

“One hundred and forty nine,” she announced once the computer spit the number out. “Tomas?”

His camera tilted as he pondered his answer. “Seven days. Eight if they don’t like their kids very much.”

“Jiang?”

“We can get to New Nairobi in four with our current fuel reserves. Provided we don’t blow another power coupling,” Jiang said.

“Maria? I don’t suppose the Novosibirsk has power couplings compatible with Mama Mo?”

“Nope. Soviet tech doesn’t play nice with Alliance designs, especially military models,” Maria said.

“Noted.” Lindana sighed. Things were never that simple.

“The fuel cells might be compatible,” Maria said, “or at least we could drain them and use the fuel itself. Not sure we have that kind of time if we’re continuing to fly under the radar. Besides, you can’t trust the Russians. Damn ship probably runs on vodka and cigarettes.”

“Right. Let’s keep this quick. Ryder, you’re in charge of the logistics of the transfer.”

“Aye, Captain. I’m going to need to tap Bravo and Charlie teams for help.”

“Do it.”

“Chief Kalani, I need you to locate a specific prisoner,” Gabriel said. Silence reigned over the comm as everyone gaped at the comment.

“How...?” Lindana began, then shook her head. First things first. “Okay. Who?”

“Red Raiya.”

Lindana scoffed. “Raiya died three months ago.”

“No, she was captured while attempting to defect,” Gabriel said.

Lindana slapped the mute on the comm as her temper boiled over. “How the hell do you know that? Did you know there were prisoners on this ship?”

“It was a possibility,” Gabriel admitted. “There were several ships she could have been on. Other Alliance forces are investigating those ships as we speak.”

She rose and glared at him. “I don’t fucking care about other Alliance ships, I care about my ship. If you had additional intel—any intel—you should have shared it. You sent my people in blind. I ought to throw your ass in the brig.”

“I’m fairly certain you don’t have a brig.” Gabriel rose to face her, seeming immune to her temper. Lindana growled and he caught her arm as she drew back to slap him. “I wasn’t authorized to tell you because this information is classified and extremely sensitive. If it leaked—”

“My ship doesn’t leak.”

“Yes, it does,” he snapped back. “I pulled a transmitter out of it the first day I got here.”

“Bullshit.” A wave of numb cold replaced the heat of her fury. A traitor? Aboard the Mombasa? “You’re lying. This is some sort of intel trick.”

“I’m telling the truth. I have the transmitter in my quarters if you want to see it yourself. Think, Lindy. Did you really believe that bad luck ruined those missions? Someone betrayed you. Your officers might be trustworthy, but are the rest of your crew? Do you know all of their histories? Who could be swayed by a fat bribe? Who could be blackmailed? Even if the bug was planted by a foreign agent while the ship was docked, there’s always a possibility that your computers have been compromised. All it takes is one worm in the system and the C3 or the Soviets would know our mission. They have spies everywhere.”

“Then you should have told me. Me!” Her hands flexed as she fought the urge to deck him, or strangle him. “I could have taken precautions to protect my crew. We were expecting atmo generators, so they’re not carrying firearms. If I’d known there might be enemy combatants instead I could have ordered them to bring backup weapons. You’d better pray that nothing goes wrong, because if any of my people are harmed on this mission it will be your damn fault.”

“They’re my people too, Captain.”

“No. You’re done here. After this mission I’m dropping your ass at the nearest Alliance station. I don’t care if they pull our marque. I’d rather be a pirate than put up with this shit.”

“You’re firing me?” Gabriel gaped at her. “I was following orders.”

“Fuck your orders!”

“Captain?” Maria interrupted over the comm. “I think I know where Raiya is.”

Lindana took a deep, steadying breath and unmuted her microphone. “Go ahead, Watson.”

“I scanned the Novosibirsk’s recent logs and there’s mention of a high-priority prisoner in a different area of the ship—a detention area. Apparently they’ve been regularly transporting prisoners since their retrofit. Do you want to divert Bravo or Charlie team?”

“No,” Lindana said. Gabriel made a sound of protest and Lindana held up a silencing hand. “Ryder’s in charge of the personnel transfer. Lieutenant Steele and I are going to find Raiya. If she’s there. Rescuing a dead woman sounds like a wild goose chase to me.”

“Got it, Captain,” Maria said.

“Jiang, you have command of the Mombasa.” Lindana glared at Gabriel. “You’re right. We don’t have a brig. But if we did, I’d be dragging your ass to it right now. Lucky for you we’re shorthanded, so this is your one chance to prove to me that I shouldn’t ship you back to the Alliance in a damn express cargo box. Gear up and meet me at the airlock. Bring a gun.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Chapter Six

Gabriel punched the door of his weapons locker and pain flashed up his arm.

Idiot. He should have told her. He should have told her the moment after the tea touched his tongue and triggered his mission briefing. He should have told her the moment after he stepped on board and became an official member of her crew. He should have told her the moment after he received confirmation that there was a mole aboard the Mombasa. After he cut the transmitter out of the ship’s innards and confirmed that someone had been sending critical mission information to the Soviets. That there was a traitor in their midst—but instead he had betrayed her. Again.

Idiot!

Gabriel allowed himself one more punch, the jarring impact hard enough to scrape his knuckles. The second sharp stab of pain focused him and turned his frustration into purpose. He yanked the weapons locker open and geared himself for the mission ahead.

Why didn’t you tell her?

The question—the self-doubt—wormed through his thoughts as he fell into the familiar pattern of donning the pieces of his set of light armor. He shouldn’t need heavy armor for a mission like this, and the light armor would do against blades and simple firearms. The crew members of the Novosibirsk weren’t likely to be wielding the sorts of heavy weaponry that necessitated wearing the clunky, bulky set. They crewed a cargo transport—though admittedly the prisoners in the ship’s hold were a complete surprise. Had that information slipped past Command? Or had they simply not thought it important enough to include? What secret could Raiya be hiding that was more important than mentioning the existence of several dozen political prisoners? Command had already made it clear that Raiya was expendable. Were they all expendable in the eyes of the Alliance?

Unanswered questions churned in his gut as he finished with the armor and strapped on his weapons, followed by another round of self-deprecation.

He should have trusted Lindy, orders be damned, but he hadn’t. In the end, he always followed orders. It was what had driven him to join the Alliance navy in the first place. He’d never wanted to be a military man, but his father had insisted. In fact, Father had insisted so strongly that he had threatened to disinherit Gabriel if he disobeyed.

Gabriel barked a bitter laugh that echoed dully in the empty armory. Disinherit, indeed. Gabriel had abandoned the land and title when he turned his back on the newly formed Core Colony Collective and remained loyal to the Alliance.

Fat lot of good that had done him and his fellow core colonist agents, like Smythe. The Alliance had turned on them in the end; the Alliance, or someone within the Intelligence ranks. Gabriel might never know. He squared his shoulders, turned on his heel and marched out of the room. His boots rapped a sharp staccato tune as he hurried to the ship’s main airlock. He hadn’t wanted to be a military man at first, but once at the Academy he had thrown himself into the life, as was his way. If Gabriel Steele was going to do something, by God he was going to do it right. Be the best—first in his class, always with the highest honors and glowing praise.

He doubted that his conduct on this mission was going to win him any honors or praise, despite his pigheaded adherence to mission parameters. He’d never been dismissed from an assignment before...

Why? Each step seemed to echo the question back at him, as though even the deck of the ship considered him a traitor unworthy to tread upon it.

Perhaps he had always followed orders out of some stoic sense of duty bred into his very bones. That doing what one was told was the responsible thing to do—the right thing to do, for God and country—and it implied some sense of order and justice.

Gabriel had long ago lost count of the number of times he doubted his orders, had silently questioned why a seemingly innocent person was targeted for elimination. He had always trusted that Command knew best. That there was some higher purpose guiding his orders, and ultimately he was doing the right thing.

Lying to Lindy could not possibly have been the right thing, and yet he had done it anyway. Now Gabriel was going to pay the price, and pray that somehow he could convince her to forgive him.

* * *

Lindana donned her gear in record time, which was impressive considering she hadn’t done it in ages and was distracted by the thoughts buzzing through her head. Raiya was alive? And held prisoner somewhere aboard the Novosibirsk? Bullshit. But, if it was true, what did this mean? Did it even mean anything? Lindana and Raiya had been...well, lovers wasn’t the right word. Raiya had once laughingly referred to their relationship as “cunnilingus comrades.” Enemies on the battlefield, but friends in bed. And now Lindana was on the way to rescue Red Raiya with Lieutenant Gabriel Hotpants in tow.

This mission was a disaster.

Gabriel somehow managed to arrive at the airlock first, and worse still was how distractingly dashing the lying bastard looked. He’d tied his hair back for the occasion, likely to contain it beneath his armor, but it added to his ensemble. Gabriel looked like a gentleman pirate. Lindana looked like a soldier about to go to war.

“I give an order, you follow it. Period. Understood?” she asked.

“Aye, Captain.”

Lindana donned her helmet and activated her comm.

“Your feed is live, Captain,” Jiang said.

“Who’s flying the ship?” Lindana asked as the airlock cycled.

“No one while we’re docked,” Jiang said, her tone amused. “Kala is in the driver’s seat.”

“Good to know.” Lindana pulled her energy sidearm and set it to stun. “Shoot to stun or wound, not to kill. These people are just here for the paycheck. No one needs to die today.”

“Aye, Captain,” Gabriel repeated.

She switched her channel from team communication, connecting her to a private link with Gabriel. “Have you been in combat recently?”

“Not within the past few weeks. I was severely injured during my last mission and was recovering until I received this assignment.”

Weeks? What the hell had he been doing that he saw combat just a few weeks ago? Lindana squared her shoulders. “You’ll be fine. I’ve got your six.”

“Thank you, Lindy,” he said softly.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” she reminded him. “Or that you’re not fired. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, and if I hear the word classified out of you again I will shoot you. And Allah help you if you’re hiding anything else about this mission because I will tan your sorry hide myself.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re into spanking now?”

Lindana’s stomach fluttered and she swallowed a frustrated growl. “Don’t tempt me, pretty boy. I know how you boarding school Brits enjoy being punished when you’re naughty.”

Gabriel chuckled, and Lindana switched back to the general channel. “We’re entering the Novosibirsk now. Ryder, I want running progress updates.”

“Got it, Cap,” Ryder said. “First group of guests is incoming to the airlock now. ETA in two minutes.”

Lindana raised her pistol and moved out. Her heads-up display loaded a ship schematic thanks to Maria, who was also live tracking the Novosibirsk’s personnel via their ear cuffs, each crew member a red blip on the map. Gabriel and Lindana were headed away from their incoming guests, and she hurried to get out of sight to avoid scaring any of the children. She looked pretty damn intimidating in her combat gear.

They moved without incident through the deck and paused at a lift. “I’m giving you elevator access now, Captain,” Maria said. “Be advised there are active guards outside the lift on the level you need to access.”

“Acknowledged, Chief.” Lindana looked to Gabriel and he nodded, his rifle at the ready. Of course he had a fancier weapon, an expensive piece of equipment that fired energy or physical projectiles, depending on the setting. It even had the option to launch grenades, though she hoped he wasn’t carrying any. Grenades, even stun grenades, were better suited to ground combat. Too many things could go wrong with a grenade detonating on a spaceship.

The elevator doors shut, and a timer began counting down in the corner of her HUD. Thirty seconds. Lindana braced and breathed evenly—twenty seconds. She planted her feet and steadied her grip to fight the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven...then the lift lurched around them as metal screeched and an explosion rattled her teeth. The lift froze and plunged into darkness, then harsh, yellow emergency lighting kicked on as alarms began to wail.

“Status report!” Lindana barked. Static answered her as the live feed on her HUD blinked out.

Another explosion shook the lift, and Lindana stumbled into Gabriel. She holstered her weapon before she accidentally shot something, and he did the same.

“—repeat, the Novosibirsk is under attack,” Jiang said.

“Acknowledged. Who’s attacking?” Lindana asked.

“It’s the Blackjack,” Jiang said. “Orders?”

Lindana cursed. The Mombasa had a long, angry history with the Blackjack. The Blackjack was an independent pirate ship—loyal to none, out to attack any target that presented itself as long as the money was good. Their captain, Kowalczyk, was a pure sociopath, and Lindana would love nothing more than to see him and the Blackjack blown out of the sky.

“Detach now,” Lindana ordered. “Hit him hard, Chen.”

“Aye, Captain. See you on the other side.”

The comm sputtered and died, and Lindana raised her helmet’s visor as Gabriel did the same. “He’s got the jammers up. Kowalczyk likes to jam all communications, though it keeps him blind as well as us. Might be able to use that later. Can you reach the overhead emergency access?”

“I think so. And then?” Gabriel slung his rifle over his back and stretched for the access panel. He wrenched a lever sideways and the door fell open.

“We take the ship and send Kowalczyk packing.”

“We take the ship with only two strike teams?” Gabriel sounded skeptical, and Lindana chuckled darkly.

“No, Red Raiya is going to take the ship with only two strike teams. Stealing ships is her specialty. You better hope you’re right about her wanting to defect. And being alive.”

“I am right about her being alive. The file said she wished to defect.” Gabriel put his hands on Lindana’s waist and boosted her toward the open hatch. “After you, Captain.”

“Why thank you, Lieutenant.” Lindana climbed atop the stalled lift and then helped Gabriel do the same. She hustled up the emergency access ladder.

“Only two levels to go,” she said.

“The view is quite lovely,” Gabriel commented from below. Lindana snorted—of course he was checking out her ass.

“Careful. I could shoot you and claim that the pirates did it.”

“That hardly seems sporting of you.”

“I’m not in a sporting mood right now.”

They reached the detention level and paused outside the sealed door. “You hit the manual override. I’ll cover you.” Lindana pressed herself against the wall with her weapon drawn, refusing to look up or down. The ledge they perched on was narrow, and an attack of vertigo would send her tumbling in a bone-breaking fall.

“Got it. In three, two, one.”

Gabriel pulled the release and the door groaned open. Lindana peeked around the corner and fired on a startled guard. The stun blast hit the man in the chest and dropped him. His partner was faster and a bullet zinged between Lindana and Gabriel. Lindana fired and hit the second guard, and then she and Gabriel stepped into the room and cleared the area. Lindana covered Gabriel as he checked the data terminal the guards had been working at.

“The Mombasa is engaging the Blackjack,” he said. “But the Blackjack has launched a boarding shuttle. They should be docking shortly.”

“Then we better move fast. What cell is Raiya in?”

“Number ten. Second corridor on the right.”

“Let’s go.”

The area was eerily abandoned; the rest of the guards must have been ordered to the docking bay to fight the pirate incursion. Kowalczyk’s men were vicious, known for only sparing those they could ransom. Aside from Raiya, Lindana doubted that anyone on the Novosibirsk would be worth Kowalczyk’s time.

“Could Kowalczyk be here for Raiya?” Lindana asked. “Who else knows she’s alive?”

“A few people in Alliance Intelligence. Presumably the same is true for the KGB and the C3’s intel agency.”

Lindana cursed long and loud. “Damn it, Gabriel. If the Alliance is interested in her defection, there must be Soviets invested in her death. Just as the Alliance sent privateers to find her, the Soviets probably hired pirates to kill her to prevent that from happening.”

Gabriel paused, his weapon wavering. “You may be right.”

“You are so very fired, and I am kicking your ass after this,” Lindana grumbled. “It will be painful. You will not enjoy it.”

“Understood.”

They reached the cell and tried to key it open, but it remained locked. “I can splice the lock. Keep me covered.”

Lindana yanked her gloves off and pulled the multitool from her belt. She pried open the access panel and cursed at the tangle of wires within, like a bowlful of rainbow ramen noodles. She cursed in nonstop Swahili as she pulled wires free and stripped the ends, looking for the right combination to short the lock. She sparked a red and blue wire, and the lights went out overhead.

“Try another one,” Gabriel advised.

“Not helping,” she growled between gritted teeth. A dozen combinations later and the door finally whooshed open. “Got it!” Lindana crowed.

A blur of bald fury streaked from the room and barreled into Gabriel. He crashed to the deck with the prisoner straddled atop him like a schoolyard bully about to unleash a world of pain.

“Raiya?” Lindana asked.

The bruised, battered form before her was a shadow of the Raiya she had known, but the woman paused midswing. She glanced back warily. “Lindana?”

Gabriel wisely remained still and silent.

“In the flesh,” Lindana said. Relief and astonishment warred within her, and she shoved them aside as she struggled to refocus on the mission. “Stand down. You can pummel him later. Right now I need your help.”

“Why are you here?” Raiya asked.

“I thought you were an atmosphere generator. Boy, was I surprised.” Lindana held out a hand to help Raiya up, and Raiya clasped it and let Lindana pull her to her feet. “You look like hell. I like the hair, though.”

“You would. I would kiss you, but I have dragon breath.” Raiya embraced Lindana and grinned—she was newly missing two front teeth, and her face was a landscape of bruises in various stages of development. She looked about twenty pounds lighter and a hell of a lot angrier than she had been when Lindana last saw her.

“Kowalczyk is here to kill you. I’m here to recruit you. I also need you to take control of this ship. Interested?” Lindana asked. She helped Gabriel up, and he stood behind her, still quiet.

“Very.” She looked up and down the deserted corridor. “What, no equipment?”

“Who do you think I am? Father Christmas?” Lindana retorted. “You can loot the unconscious bastards we stunned for their stuff.”

Raiya smirked. “You always show me the best time.”

“Again, you’re welcome. Besides, this is a job, not a date. I’m putting all of this on your bill. Let’s move out.”

* * *

You can’t trust a Russkie. Or so his mentor, a hard-nosed woman aptly named Prudence, had hammered into Gabriel’s head during his basic training for the special tactics division. The Russkies—a blanket term she used to refer to any member of the Soviet Union, regardless of national origin—would always turn on you in the end. Sure, you could bribe a party official here and there with a promise of black market liquor, cigarettes or other hard-to-get luxury items, but ultimately the intel they’d give you would prove to be near worthless. Deep down, a Russkie never turned. Deep down, they would always serve the Motherland first. For some it was a matter of honor, for others it was fear at what would happen to their friends and family if they were caught. Mother Russia had a long history of being a vindictive bitch.

Gabriel studied the infamous Red Raiya as she rifled through the pockets of an unconscious guard. The woman had clearly been through hell—Gabriel recognized the work of a KGB interrogator when he saw it—but had she been broken? Intel’s files on her had been thorough in some places and thin in others. Raiya had once been Svetlana Grinkov, a decorated if occasionally insubordinate fighter pilot credited with numerous kills during the war. Even after she had gone rogue she still remained loyal to the party, choosing to pirate the enemies of the Soviet Union. Where would her loyalties lie now?

And why, for the love of all that was holy, had Command failed to mention the personal relationship that was plain to see between Raiya and Lindy? Damn it all, he hadn’t even known that Lindana enjoyed the company of women. I would kiss you, Raiya had said to Lindana. Could he interrogate and eliminate Lindy’s lover? His stomach twisted at the thought. No, of course not. Lindy was already furious with him, and she would never forgive him for that.

“These men are too tall.” Raiya chucked a piece of armor to the ground in disgust. She moved to the next unconscious figure and resumed her search for equipment.

“Or you’re too short,” Lindana said.

“We are nearly the same height.”

“Which my brother assures me is too short.”

Raiya snorted. “Your brother has a large mouth.”

“Understatement,” Lindy mumbled. Gabriel resisted the urge to nod in agreement.

“You are staring at me,” Raiya informed him. Her English was accented, which was not aided by her missing teeth and abused mouth.

“Yes.” He straightened and shrugged at Lindana when she shot him an accusing glare.

“Why?” Raiya liberated a keycard from the guard and eyed it speculatively before slipping it into the pocket of her prisoner’s coveralls.

“That’s his job,” Lindana said. “He’s our new intel officer. Or he was, before I fired him.”

Raiya rose and studied him with a contemplative tilt to her head, and then she frowned. “Is for the best. I liked Erik better. This one is too pretty.”

“Too pretty?” Gabriel blurted out.

Lindana chuckled. “Damn right,” she agreed mirthlessly. “Pretty rotten is what he is.”

“Let him take point, then,” Raiya suggested. “If his pretty face doesn’t distract them, he’ll be the one to suffer for it.”

Gabriel sighed but didn’t argue, for there was truth to her words. His looks had been one of the many reasons he had been recruited to join Intelligence, and they had often served as a weapon. He looked to his captain to confirm the order, and she nodded.

“After you,” Lindana said.

Gabriel started up the ladder, following the Cyrillic letters directing them up the lift shaft toward the bridge. He hated Russian. It wasn’t his least favorite language—Welsh still held that dubious honor—but there was something sinister in the Cyrillic font, as though the letters had been twisted to some nefarious purpose.

You can’t trust a Russkie.

And yet here he was with a Russian—no, Ukrainian, according to her file—pirate at his back, whom he was about to aid in stealing this starship. He was right and proper fucked on this mission. First, by not ignoring orders and informing Lindy of the truth of the situation, and now by the existence of a personal relationship between Raiya and Lindana. Command had ordered him to acquire, interrogate and eliminate Red Raiya, and he doubted that Lindana would approve of those orders.

The entire ship would be proper fucked if those orders were ignored. If the Mombasa lost its marque it would be considered a pirate, no longer under the protection of the Alliance navy and left to fend for itself to find work. And of course there was the added problem that whatever reason the Alliance had to acquire Raiya would still exist, and they would keep coming for her until they got what they wanted.

This mission worsened at every turn. At this rate Lindana might very well make good on her threat to jettison him into space, and if this continued, he might well thank her for it.

* * *

The sounds of combat greeted them when they reached the command level.

“Where are we on the map?” Lindana asked.

“I’m not sure,” Gabriel admitted.

Raiya cocked her head to the side. “Whoever they are, they’re on either side of us. There’s still a lot of distance between us and the bridge.”

“Could be Ryder’s team,” Lindana said. “They would move on the bridge after the Mombasa separated from the ship.”

“If they weren’t on the Mombasa when they separated,” Gabriel said.

“We need to take a peek,” Raiya said. “Let’s crack open those doors.”

With a bit of grunting and elbow grease they coaxed the lift doors open an inch, though the view was less than helpful. The lift opened into a T-junction, and without sticking their heads out all they could see was the opposite wall.

“Is the bridge left or right?” Lindana asked.

“Left,” Gabriel said.

“Right,” Raiya said.

Lindana smiled tightly. “I’m going with the Russian on this one.”

“Ukrainian,” Raiya corrected. “The bridge is right, then left. There will be no cover in these corridors. Only doorways and junctions.”

“Good to know.” Lindana raised her pistol. “I’ll take point. Steele, you’ve got rear guard.”

Lindana crouched low and advanced. It had been longer than a few weeks since her last firefight—she hadn’t been in anything more strenuous than a bar brawl since the war. Most of the combat she’d seen during the war was from the bridge of an Alliance ship, but there were a few ground battles she’d participated in, the memories of which still haunted her nightmares.

Lindana flinched at the sight of a Soviet crewwoman in the hallway, but she fired nonetheless. The stun blast hit the woman in the midsection, and her expression blanked as she fell in a limp heap to the deck. An energy blast zinged past her helmet—so close she could’ve sworn it singed her armor—and a second Soviet defender fell.

Lindana’s jaw clenched as she fought the urge to glare at Gabriel, and her group moved on.

They exchanged fire with the Novosibirsk’s crew and gained slow ground. Lindana’s pistol began to flash yellow, warning of imminent overheating, and she cursed.

“I’m running hot,” she warned her companions.

“Shitty Alliance tech,” Raiya sneered. “What will you do? Curse them into unconsciousness?”

“Hey, I’m not—” Lindana began, but Gabriel interrupted.

“Behind!” he exclaimed.

Lindana whirled just in time to see Gabriel hurl himself in front of her, shielding her from the headshot that would have pierced her visor and killed her instantly. Lindana felt the thump of Gabriel’s body hitting the floor through the soles of her boots.

“Cover me!” she barked at Raiya.

Lindana holstered her weapon, grabbed Gabriel beneath the arms and hauled him into the nearest open doorway. The office still held the body of the fallen Soviet crew member who had perished in it. Lindana opened her mouth to ask Gabriel where he had been hit, and she sucked in an anguished gasp. A hole punched through his armor, the edges smoking and singed. The smell of burnt skin and blood assaulted her.

“It’s not bad,” Gabriel said.

“Shut up,” Lindana snapped. “Try not to move.”

“You need to get to the bridge. I’ll hold them off.”

Lindana scowled. “You’re in no condition to hold anyone off.” She glanced back at Raiya. “He needs a medic.”

“I knew I forgot to bring something important,” she said dryly.

“I can cover you,” Gabriel assured them. He tried to rise but flopped back with a pained hiss.

Lindana examined the wound and her stomach rolled. It was bad—very bad.

“Lindy,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”

“No it’s not.” She met his eyes and swallowed hard.

Gabriel smiled weakly. “Now you can send me back in a box after all.”

Lindana flinched, horrified at the grim image of sealing Gabriel into a flag-draped coffin. “That’s not funny. You’re going to be fine. I’m ordering you to live.”

She wasn’t ready to lose him again—she still needed to tan his hide for withholding information. But aside from that, she was tangled into knots at the thought of watching him die and being helpless to stop it.

“Can’t order me. I’m fired.”

“You’re un-fired. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She drew her machete, and Raiya cocked an eyebrow.

“Wait until I give the signal,” Lindana said.

“What signal?”

“You’ll know.”

Lindana planted her feet and shouted the beginning call of Ryder’s favorite haka—one used by his favorite Earther rugby team, the New Zealand All Blacks. Raiya flinched at the sudden outburst, but Lindana continued. The sound of gunfire slowed as the pirates paused to figure out what the hell was going on. The pause was just long enough that Lindana heard the answering response in the distance, and then she charged.

Raiya laid down covering fire as Lindana barreled toward the nearest pirates like a grinning madwoman. A bullet hit her point-blank and lodged in her armor, but she hardly noticed. She cut the pirates down and gained bloody ground until Ryder met her in the middle.

“Where’s Tomas?” she asked.

“He went after Maria when the comms went down,” Ryder said. “Why?”

“Give me your med kit.”

Ryder motioned one of his team forward and the man unslung his pack. Lindana snatched it up, her heart racing. “Ryder, go with Raiya and take the bridge. Give me one of your team to watch my back.”

“Got it. Diesel, you’re with the captain,” Ryder said.

Lindana was silently grateful that Ryder never asked questions—Ryder and Jiang followed orders without hesitation. Med kit in hand, Lindana hurried to Gabriel’s side. His face was an alarming shade of gray but he was still conscious, and Lindana steadied herself.

“Watch the corridor,” she ordered Diesel, who grunted in reply.

Lindana pulled Gabriel’s helmet off and he managed a watery smile. “Stripping me during a mission. What will the others say?”

“I guess you just bring that out in me,” she muttered. “No dirty talk in front of the crew.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Diesel said. Lindana burbled a short chuckle.

She removed Gabriel’s chest plate and grimaced. He’d need an actual surgeon, but she knew enough field medicine to stabilize him—Lindana had encountered more than a few gunshot wounds. This had the spread and trauma of a shotgun blast, which explained why Gabriel’s light armor hadn’t soaked the damage. Bloody pirates.

Lindana slapped a painkiller patch on the side of Gabriel’s neck, and then she shook the can of aerosolized bandages. “Hold your breath,” she ordered. She sprayed the sealant over his side in a thick coat, essentially gluing everything in place until Tomas could fix it. The bandages were useful for external wounds, but he had to have internal bleeding. She added an antibiotic patch for good measure.

“All hands brace for hyperdrive,” the ship’s intercom advised. “One minute to hyperdrive engage.”

“Shit,” Diesel said.

“Help me move him. He’s stable. More or less,” Lindana said.

“Your certainty is comforting,” Gabriel mumbled.

Diesel and Lindana each grabbed an arm and threw it over their shoulders. They dragged Gabriel to the nearest acceleration couches and strapped him in.

“Give me an update, Diesel,” Lindana said as the countdown continued.

“Charlie team and the first group of prisoners got to Mama Mo before the pirates attacked. Ryder resealed the hull and the Mombasa detached.”

The Novosibirsk leaped into hyperspace, ending further discussion.

Chapter Seven

“He lives, Tomas,” Lindana said as her brother approached.

“So I see.” Tomas looked weary and a bit filthy, but otherwise okay.

“I mean it.”

Tomas met her gaze, then nodded. “Understood.” He approached Gabriel and frowned. “I see your first aid continues to suck.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t suck if you spent less time trying to sneak into the engine room and more time teaching proper first aid techniques to the crew,” Lindana countered.

“Yeah, yeah. So noted, Captain. Go on, I’ll take good care of Sleeping Beauty. I promise.”

Lindana squeezed Gabriel’s shoulder, then rose and grabbed her brother in a quick hug.

Tomas rubbed her head. “You need a haircut, Lindy.”

“Also noted. Diesel, keep an eye on them.”

“You got it, boss.”

Lindana made her way to the Novosibirsk’s bridge. Soviet ships were needlessly complicated due to a long history of spaceship design by engineers who mistrusted pilots. Soviet engineers automated everything, leaving as little to human error as possible. The result was a bridge crammed full of data stations providing readouts of a million different ships’ systems.

Ryder silently studied Raiya as she barked orders at the surprisingly compliant Soviet crew. “She reminds me of Jiang,” he said.

“It’s the training,” Lindana said. Raiya and Jiang had both been through the Soviet flight program, which was efficient and unforgiving. “Status?”

“We’re proceeding to the rendezvous point. The Mombasa was holding her own when we jumped.” Ryder rolled his shoulders. “The Novosibirsk’s bridge crew seemed happy to see Raiya. Most of them have already asked to defect. Other than that, we have an unknown number of pirates aboard and a KGB agent on the loose. Raiya really wants to find him.”

“I bet. We’ll see what we can do. I want to have this ship under our complete control before we reach the rendezvous point.”

“Do you trust her?” Ryder nodded toward Raiya.

“She’s been honest with me in the past. I trusted her enough to get naked with her.”

Ryder stroked his goatee. “Fair enough. It would’ve been nice to know she was our mission objective.”

“Gabriel’s going to answer for that after Tomas patches him up. Though really being gut shot seems like punishment enough.”

“True,” Ryder agreed. “Do you trust him?”

“That’s...complicated. We’re still trying to access his service record.”

“We can’t afford complicated right now.”

“Don’t I know it.”

* * *

Gabriel hated being shot. Oh, he hated being wounded in general, but a bullet wound was particularly vexing. He’d take a cutlass slash or a taser burn any day over the trauma one tiny ballistic missile left in its wake. Bullets rattled around your guts and redecorated your insides, and right now Gabriel felt as though his entire abdomen had been demolished. He had been shot with an incendiary round, judging by the faint smell of singed flesh and melted armor that lingered in his nostrils. Dragon’s Breath, pirates called it. Animals. He said a silent prayer of thanks for the continued good health and fortune of his armorsmith and cautiously opened his eyes. The face he saw staring back at him made Gabriel squeeze his eyes shut again.

“Are you going to kill me?” Gabriel asked.

“You’d be dead if I was. My captain ordered me to make sure that you lived. Not one of her better calls.”

“Oh?” Gabriel quirked a brow and peered cautiously at Dr. Tomas Nyota. The man had an impeccable service record before the C3 rebellion, but the trauma of the war had left a permanent mark on the man’s heart and mind. The Alliance had abandoned him—a shameful tragedy in Gabriel’s opinion. Too many good Alliance soldiers who suffered from mental and physical trauma had been dishonorably discharged instead of diagnosed and treated. In short, it was more cost effective to cut ties with the soldiers than to aid them. Tomas had been fortunate to have the support of his sister, but many others did not. One of Gabriel’s fellow agents had committed suicide, consumed by dark memories and regret.

“I would have spaced you after we left Tortue. I still might, if you hurt her again.” Tomas glared down at his patient.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’m not here to hurt her.”

“Why are you here?”

“Redemption, perhaps.” He smiled weakly, though it quickly turned to a painful grimace. “Might I trouble you for more painkillers?”

“I’m still debating whether or not you deserve them. Why didn’t you tell us about the prisoners?”

“It was classified, and I was ordered not to.”

“This isn’t an Alliance warship. You can’t use that excuse here.”

“I’m still an Alliance officer, and the Alliance holds your marque. I can’t ignore a direct order.”

“Their asses aren’t on the line out here,” Tomas said. “You need to choose a side. You either work for them, or for us. You can’t do both. We lost two members of our crew because we weren’t prepared for the reality of this mission. Those deaths are on you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Tell that to their families.” Tomas turned to walk away, and Gabriel caught his arm.

“Wait. You’re right,” Gabriel admitted. “I should have been honest, but this information was classified for a reason. There’s a leak aboard the Mombasa. I found and neutralized a transmitter, but I don’t know who planted it.”

“If you neutralized it, then someone higher up the food chain must’ve leaked our mission. Kowalczyk wasn’t gunning for the Novosibirsk by accident, and he’s going to be pissed as hell that we got away. We have Raiya, his men and his main boarding shuttle.”

“I need to get to the bridge.” Gabriel struggled to rise, and Tomas easily nudged him back down.

“Not yet you’re not. You need a few more hours to mend. You’ll only freak Lindy out if you faint on her.”

“My intentions toward her are honorable,” Gabriel blurted out. He winced—the pain was affecting his judgment.

Tomas folded his arms, his expression skeptical. “She’s too good for you. Though she used to see it the other way around. She thought you used her because she was only worth a fuck for your twisted game. Made her feel like a whore.” A vein throbbed in Tomas’s neck and he flexed his hands as though considering throttling Gabriel. At the moment Gabriel would let him.

“She is too good for me,” he agreed. “That’s why I want to be a better man for her.”

Tomas scowled. “Damn, that’s a good answer. You’d better try a lot harder. Next time you screw up I won’t save you, no matter what she says.”

“What did she say?”

“She just demanded that you live. She was a bit busy at the time. Still is, presumably, since she’s not here hovering over you.” Tomas sighed and picked up his data tablet. “I have other patients to tend to. I’ll give you something for the pain. Get some rest, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” Gabriel said.

He closed his eyes as the soothing medication eased the worst of the ache in his gut. Lindana wanted him to live. Progress.

* * *

Lindana and Raiya invaded the former captain’s ready room and sat staring at each other over steaming cups of black coffee.

“Begin at the beginning,” Lindana advised.

“I lived, I died, I became a pirate,” Raiya said. Lindana quirked a brow, and Raiya chuckled. “As I understand it, your story is much the same, comrade.”

“You died?” Lindana asked.

Raiya nodded. When Lindana had seen her last Raiya had a thick braid of crimson hair. Now only her carrot-colored eyebrows and lashes remained as evidence of her ginger past.

“My entire unit was killed during the war. Acceptable loss, command said. I was left for dead. Scavengers found me. They were going to sell me into slavery. I had other ideas. Theirs was the first ship I sacked.” Raiya grinned her gap-toothed smile. “Command thought I was dead, and I decided to keep it that way. I wanted to stay out of their politics. Turns out their politics found me.”

Raiya sighed and leaned back, propping her worn black boots on the table. “There are two factions in the Soviet Union. Those who think we should attack the Alliance first, and those who don’t. It’s gotten worse since the war. For centuries our two governments existed in a stalemate. We spied on each other in anticipation of an attack that would never come, because if it did, both sides would lose in the destruction that would follow. But the rebellion...” She grimaced. “The rebellion made things so much worse. Our military commanders were furious—most of their propaganda is based on the Soviet Union being an unconquerable force. We were the first to launch a satellite, the first to put a man in space, first to the moon, so on and so forth. Losing our own colonies to the Collective was the greatest blow to our pride that we’ve been dealt in ages.”

Lindana nodded. “The Alliance didn’t take it well, either.”

“I don’t doubt it. Traditionally the party wanted to destroy the Alliance, but the war showed them the futility of destroying territory, infrastructure and equipment that they want to gain. They’re developing other options now.”

“Bioweapons?”

“Too unstable. You risk infecting your own people, spoiling water sources and crops.” Raiya shook her head. “They’re building something new. They want to regain our colonies, and then conquer everything else.”

Lindana shook her head. “I need more than rumors and scary stories.”

“I have a piece of it—had a piece of it. No idea what it was. I’m no engineer, and my techs died when our engine blew.” Raiya rubbed her face, looking old and weary, and then she took a long gulp of coffee. “We nabbed the piece by accident. We hit an independent freighter expecting foodstuffs. Instead it was a cover for some experimental tech project. The KGB came after us hard. They destroyed my ship. A handful of us got to the escape pods, and we were captured. Interrogated. As far as I know I’m the only one left alive, because I wouldn’t break. They were transferring me to a new facility when you arrived.”

“I had no idea we were after you. My intel officer neglected to mention it.” Lindana was going to strangle him if he wasn’t already dead. Her stomach rolled at the idea—Tomas wouldn’t let Gabriel die. The image of Gabriel’s gray face was stamped into her mind, sure to reappear in her nightmares.

“Is probably best. Loose lips sink ships.”

And there was a leak somewhere aboard the Mombasa. God, she didn’t want to believe that was possible. She needed to look at the transmitter Gabriel found, and let Maria analyze it.

What if Maria built it?

Impossible, she chastised herself. Maria would never do anything to jeopardize Mama Mo. The ship was her baby as much as it was Lindana and Tomas’s.

“We’re meeting the Mombasa in six hours. What do you want to do when we get there?” Lindana asked.

“Most of the Novosibirsk’s crew has agreed to join me. I’m somewhat of a folk hero.” Raiya blushed. “And they’re underpaid. Piracy seems glamorous in comparison, especially to career spacers without family. I’d like to put the prisoners and the loyalist crew off at a safe location. From there...” She trailed off and studied Lindana.

“You want our help,” Lindana said.

“I assume that’s why your government sent you. They want to know what I know. Unfortunately for them all I have is a vague description of the piece of machinery. But—”

“I knew there was a but attached.”

“I know enough about the project to track down information about it. If I can access a Soviet military database, I could find more.”

“Those are unhackable.”

“No, they are remotely unhackable,” Raiya corrected. “I could do it if I had direct access to their network.”

“You want us to storm a Soviet military facility so you can directly access their network for files on some mysterious super weapon? Sure, sounds like fun,” Lindana said dryly. “I’ll talk it over with my officers. And my intel officer is going to want to talk to you.”

“We need to locate the KGB agent before we leave hyperspace,” Raiya said. “He’ll find a way to expose our location otherwise.”

“My people are looking for him. I’ll keep you advised.”

“Now if you don’t mind I’d like to borrow your doctor. I have a few cracked ribs that need mending, among other things.”

“Tomas will take good care of you,” Lindana promised.

Raiya rose to leave, but she paused beside Lindana and lightly touched her shoulder. “Thank you, comrade. You saved my life. I owe you a great debt.”

Lindana touched her hand—Raiya’s abused skin was rough and dry. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad you’re alive. I... I mourned for you, you know? When the word got out that you’d been killed, I took it hard.”

“Because you still owed me drinks?” Raiya cocked one ginger eyebrow, and Lindana chuckled. “We had good times, you and I. I’d like for us to be friends, but not... There is someone else. She will be also be glad to know I am alive.”

Lindana smiled. “I’m glad for her. And you.”

“You know, Raiya is not my real name. Red Raiya was only nickname.”

“Oh? What’s your real name, then?”

“Svetlana. Svetlana Grinkov.”

“That is...one of the least moanable names I’ve ever heard,” Lindana confessed. Raiya—no, Svetlana—threw her head back and laughed.

“True. You may call me Sveta. I would like to be Sveta again.”

“All right, Sveta. Off to the med bay with you.”

Lindana watched Sveta leave and noted the hitch in the woman’s walk; she must have been running on adrenaline and fury during the fight. Lindana sipped her coffee as she pondered Sveta’s dramatic physical change. The Soviets had destroyed her ship, killed her crew and tortured her over the theft of one mysterious piece of equipment. What the hell were they building?

Whatever it was, it didn’t bode well for her crew. The sooner this mission was behind them, the better.

Chapter Eight

Gabriel drifted in and out of fitful sleep. Lindana had been avoiding him, and he desperately wanted the chance to explain. He should have trusted her and not the judgment of Alliance Command. He had to stop blindly following orders and learn to...

His train of thought derailed as a shadow moved in his peripheral vision. For a moment Gabriel assumed it was part of his dream, but the figure was solid in the darkened med bay—a man, broad of shoulder but average in height, wearing the drab olive coverall of a prisoner. He moved with furtive purpose, and Gabriel’s instincts warned that this wasn’t a person seeking medical aid. A chill tingled down his spine as the invader stopped beside a diagnostic bed. The man disabled the medical sensors, then cut the patient’s throat.

Shit.

Gabriel reached up and silenced his own sensors before his rapid heartbeat set off an alarm. He had nothing to fight with—no weapons, no armor. He slipped from the bed and dropped to the floor, swallowing a yelp as the aching pain in his gut flared in protest.

Gabriel hurried to his sleeping guard—he thought the man’s name was Diesel—and discovered that he too had had his throat cut. Gabriel grimaced, and drew the guard’s weapon. He turned and fired at the intruder, but the pistol’s recoil sent the shot wide. The bullet slammed into a display panel and it exploded in a shower of sparks.

The man whirled and charged, his face twisted in a snarl. Gabriel shot him in the chest, but he kept coming without even a moment’s hesitation—his assailant must be wearing light armor beneath his coverall. Gabriel would need to score a headshot to take him out, but dead men told no tales and he wouldn’t be able to interrogate a corpse for intel.

Gabriel cursed and dodged as his attacker lunged, and the blade whistled through the air mere inches from where he stood.

Gabriel tried to strike him with the butt of his borrowed pistol but was a second too slow. Damn. The pain meds slowed his reaction time. The man spun and jabbed his blade between Gabriel’s ribs. Gabriel roared in agony as he jerked away, the knife still stuck in his side.

Gabriel fired in reflex and his wild shot caught the man in the knee. Joints were always a vulnerable point in armor, and blood spurted from the wound. Finally, some decent progress. The man stumbled back and cursed in Russian, colliding with a sedated patient who barely stirred at the impact. Gabriel yanked the gun up and took careful aim—this shot had to count because he wouldn’t get another opportunity with a knife in his gut—and shot him in the throat.

His attacker collapsed to the med bay floor in a bloody, gurgling sprawl. It was nearly as quick a death as the man had visited on his victims, but not as clean. Gabriel struggled to stand, leaning heavily against another diagnostic bed as pain lanced through his side with each movement. The bed’s occupant was dead, her throat cut ear to ear. How many patients had died while he slumbered? How many lives had he failed to save?

Reinforcements finally rushed into the room as two Soviet security officers with rifles flanked Dr. Tomas Nyota, who carried a simple stun pistol. Most doctors he had known refused to carry weapons, but a privateer was more pragmatic than a pampered core colonist physician.

“Where were you?” Gabriel glowered at them as he gripped the hilt of the knife in his ribs and debated whether to pull the blade free. The wound was a fresh torment added to his already abused body, and black spots danced at the edge of his vision.

“Tending to Raiya. She had internal damage that needed surgery to repair.” Tomas swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch that. Who the hell was that?”

“No idea, but he was killing your patients. He killed Diesel.”

“Bastard. Must be the KGB agent we’ve been looking for. It’s back to bed for you.”

“I need to speak to Lindy.”

Tomas nodded. “She’s busy. I’ll let her know.”

Busy. Of course—she was the captain, and didn’t have time to hold his hand. Still, Gabriel needed to talk to her. He had a multitude of sins to confess, and was running out of time to beg for her forgiveness. His knees buckled, and he prayed that if he fell unconscious he wouldn’t wake up in a shipping container bound for Alliance headquarters.

* * *

The Novosibirsk dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the system that housed the New Nairobi colony.

“I’m scanning for Mama Mo now,” Maria said. “I’m not picking her up yet. She may be late. She left after us.”

“Understood.” Lindana eyed the Soviet pilots warily as Sveta rose to stand behind them. “Head toward the colony. Hail them once we’re in range.”

“Aye, Captain.” Lindana and Maria exchanged a glance. Maria knew the go-codes that would give New Nairobi the all clear, otherwise a Soviet ship would be shot on approach. Not that the colony had much in the way of defenses. Guns were expensive and ammunition more so, as Lindana could attest to after refitting the Mombasa for combat.

“Hailing the surface now.” The seconds ticked by as Maria repeated her hail, and time seemed to stretch as no reply came.

Lindana frowned and turned to Ryder. “Communications malfunction?” she guessed.

“Possible. I don’t like it.”

“Put a visual on screen when we’re in camera range,” Lindana ordered.

Sveta joined them. “This is not usual?”

“No.” Lindana shook her head, a sense of unease rising in her gut.

“Ship detected. It’s the Mombasa.” Maria sighed in relief. “I’m connecting to her now.”

“Captain Nyota?” Jiang asked.

“I’m here. Good to hear your voice, Lieutenant,” Lindana said. “What’s your status?”

“The engine rats are about to riot without their queen, otherwise the ship’s in good shape. A few minor injuries. Tomas’s team functioned well enough without him.”

“We lost four people, mostly against Kowalczyk’s men. Maria is transmitting their names now. Maria, any reply from the colony?” Lindana asked.

“No, Captain.”

“The colony hasn’t hailed you?” Jiang sounded surprised.

“No. We’re almost in camera range. We’ll send you our visuals,” Lindana said.

The camera blinked on and thick black smoke obscured the screen. Lindana’s stomach dropped. The bridge was eerily silent; the only sound was the soft hiss of the open comm link to the Mombasa. As the ships drew closer to the planet, the images solidified. The colony was burning, and the only movement visible was the orange twist of devouring flames and billowing clouds of smoke.

Lindana wanted to say something, but the question caught in her throat and threatened to choke her. Could this be an industrial accident? No. Nor had a natural disaster befallen New Nairobi. No earthquake had caused this. She’d seen this sort of damage before, during the war, when orbiting gunships rained fire and destruction onto the surface of the planet below.

“Who could have done this?” Maria’s voice was soft and strained.

“Why would they do this?” Ryder asked. “New Nairobi is a Class 3 colony. It has no strategic military importance. Makes no sense to obliterate it. It’ll take years to rebuild the spaceport alone.”

“They were looking for you.” The bridge crew turned at the sound of Gabriel’s voice. He stepped out of the lift with a grim expression, moving slowly but surely. “For the Mombasa. Whoever hired Kowalczyk must have hired other groups as well. Unless the C3 or the Soviets attacked them, but I doubt they’d be so direct. It would be an act of war.”

War. The word sent a violent shudder through Lindana’s body, and she hugged her arms to her chest in reflex. “Looking for us? Why?”

“To stop you from reaching the Novosibirsk, and Raiya.” He nodded toward the woman in question, who scowled under his regard.

“That makes no sense. We haven’t been here in weeks. Why would they...” Lindana trailed off.

“New Nairobi is the Mombasa’s port of registry,” Gabriel said. “Whoever did this knew you’d return here after this mission. They likely didn’t know that we were delayed.”

Delayed because Lindana had been busy throwing a temper tantrum at Gabriel’s assignment to her ship. Dear God—could they have prevented this if they had arrived sooner? Lindana shook her head and stared at Gabriel in numb disbelief. “If they wanted to stop us why didn’t they attack us at Tortue?”

“Because it’s a Swiss station. Too many witnesses, too much at stake in attacking a neutral party. An attack like this could be blamed on pirates. It likely was pirates, after all. They might even try to pin it on you. Make it seem as though the Mombasa has gone rogue.”

“We would never attack our own people,” Lindana said. “No one would believe that.”

“Captain Nyota. Orders?” Sveta asked.

Lindana swallowed hard. “We need to land. Put those fires out. Check for survivors. There may be fuel and supplies that haven’t burned yet.”

“It’s wiser to run,” Sveta advised.

“No. We don’t leave anyone behind. Scan the surface for radiation.” Lindana shuddered again—if the attackers had used nukes, the colony would be beyond saving, but nuclear weapons were expensive to buy, dangerous to transport and a bitch to maintain. Pirates and privateers didn’t bother with weapons that tainted the goods one wanted to steal.

“Radiation levels are within normal,” Maria said.

Allahu akbar. At least one thing on this mission was in their favor. “Sveta, prepare the ship for landing. Chief Kalani, get a landing party together and have them meet us in the cargo bay.”

“Aye, Captain,” Ryder said.

Lindana scowled at Gabriel. “You’re staying here.”

“No.” Gabriel straightened, though he winced at the movement.

“That’s an order, Lieutenant. Get your ass back to the med bay.”

“No.” Gabriel lowered his voice. “You need all hands on deck for this. I’m fit enough to help with the evacuation. I refuse to take up a bed in the med bay when there are civilians who need it more. Besides, you fired me. You can’t order me back to bed.”

Technically she had un-fired him in a fit of fear for his safety, but he likely didn’t remember that. Tomas had said that Gabriel’s wounds had mended clean—he wouldn’t be one hundred percent, but he should be healed enough to handle this mission. Lindana’s eyes narrowed as she glared her disapproval, but then she gave a curt nod. “Fine. But if you pass out, we’re leaving your ass there for scavengers to pick over.”

“No, you won’t.” A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered.

Their eyes met and the moment seemed to hang between them, suspended in air. Lindana didn’t want him dead, injured or suffering, and that was...new. Something had changed, and she wasn’t certain how to feel about it.

She scowled and pushed past him. “Let’s move out.”

* * *

The Novosibirsk was a beast of a vessel, and Gabriel did not envy the pilots responsible for landing it. The retasked warship was capable of landing, but had been designed primarily for bombarding targets in space or from orbit. As it touched down on the shattered landing pad that had once been part of the New Nairobi spaceport, the entire vessel shook and shimmied like a wet dog after a bath.

In a perfect world Gabriel would have time to properly recuperate before heading out on another mission, but as he looked through the cargo bay’s viewports at the thick black smoke emanating from New Nairobi, he was reminded with a sinking feeling of dread that nothing was perfect about this situation.

The Mombasa’s boarding party stood side by side in the cargo bay with the crew of the Novosibirsk—or at least the crew who claimed that they intended to defect and follow Red Raiya into a life of piracy. There wasn’t enough time to study them closely and analyze their true intentions. The frightened political prisoners had been moved to another area of the ship for now. Gabriel wondered if the ship was sufficiently supplied to support the crew, their cargo and incoming refugees. Soviet ships were known for carrying the bare essentials when it came to food and medical supplies, even fuel.

Before he could worry further, the cargo bay doors opened with a ponderous groan. The smell hit him first—the peculiar stench of singed flesh, exploded munitions and burning buildings that reminded him of the worst parts of the war—followed by a furnace blast of heat from the flames and the planet’s hot, arid climate. Gabriel had been trapped in the heart of the city during the siege of Sydney on New Australia. The screams of the dying still haunted him, and for a moment he reconsidered accompanying the team into the colony. The med bay would certainly be quieter than this, but it would be an empty comfort.

There was only one direction to move—forward.

“Have your team hold until my signal,” Lindana ordered Raiya. “The locals know us. They’ll recognize us. Don’t want them to shoot you thinking you’re a raider.”

Raiya smiled grimly. “I am a raider.”

“Not today. Today you’re search and rescue.” Lindana motioned her crew into action.

Gabriel followed behind and to her right as they jogged down the ramp, while Tomas and Chief Kalani formed up on either side of their captain. The trio was grim-faced, likely flooded with haunting memories of the war similar to the ones that plagued Gabriel. Scorched, broken ground crunched beneath their boots as they stepped onto the planet’s surface. Communications were down, as was the power grid, but any survivors would have witnessed the massive Soviet ship landing—if there were survivors. Judging by the fat columns of smoke rising from the shattered buildings, the chances of finding colonists still alive seemed slim.

The New Nairobi colony had been founded on a Class 3 world, a desert rock which most of the super powers would hardly consider worth the fuel to reach and less so the artillery it cost to attack it. Class 3 colonies took years to become sustainable, and decades to become profitable. Pirates raided small colonies on occasion, but Gabriel doubted that New Nairobi possessed anything worth stealing, and this level of destruction was almost unprecedented for a pirate group. There was no profit in it.

Gabriel grimaced, but dutifully followed as Lindy jogged away from the ship. The main spaceport terminal was engulfed in flames, and the heat was so blistering that Gabriel almost expected it to scorch his armor and singe his hair. The Mombasa touched down behind them, and the ship was dwarfed by the massive bulk of the Novosibirsk.

“This way.” Lindana waved them on. “The closest shelter is there.”

The shelter in question was a simple armored bunker dug halfway into the ground. The metal that comprised it appeared battered and burned, but there was no smoke emanating from it, which Gabriel considered a good sign. Lindy banged three times on the shelter’s front door, and the hatch cycled open to reveal the business end of several shotguns.

“Don’t shoot, we’re friendly.” Lindana held her empty hands high.

“We know,” a woman shouted in reply. “Pirates don’t knock.”

“Kesi! What happened?” Lindana asked.

An older dark-skinned woman with soot-blackened clothes stepped forward. She studied Lindana with a furrowed brow. “You don’t know?”

“No. The sky’s empty.” Lindana waved an encompassing hand above them. “Who attacked you?”

“Damn. I thought you could tell us. They didn’t identify themselves,” Kesi snarled. “We had no warning. Our sensor grid hardly works as it is, and we didn’t detect them until they were right on top of us. Most people didn’t have time to get to the shelters.”

The Mombasa’s crew’s comms beeped, and Lindana touched her ear cuff. “Go for Captain.”

Jiang answered, her voice broadcast to all of them. “Cap, we’re getting fluctuating readings from the power plant.”

Chief Watson cursed. “They’ve got nuclear power. If the reactor melts down...”

“Right.” Lindana turned to her brother. “You and Sveta evac the civilians. Watson and Kalani, with me.” She paused and looked Gabriel up and down. “Fine, you too.”

His mouth twitched as he fought a smile. “Of course, Captain.”

They double-timed it through the rubble-strewn streets. Gabriel tried not to catalogue the destruction as they moved, but some sadistic part of his mind insisted on analyzing everything. Too much training, he supposed, and it distracted him from the constant, dull agony festering in his side. He counted corpses, noting their positions and speculating on what they were doing before they died. Market day. A flashback superimposed over his vision—a memory from the war of a terrorist bombing that had devastated a small village during a wedding celebration. Two entire families wiped out in one bomb blast—

Gabriel stumbled and slapped his hands atop the dusty hood of a ground transport as he caught himself. He struggled to breathe the superheated air as Chief Kalani appeared at his side.

“You good?” the big man asked. Gabriel swallowed hard—his throat was parched from heat and smoke—and he nodded sharply. Kalani studied him for a tense moment, his eyes darkening as a vein twitched in his jaw. “I know,” he said soft, almost under his breath. “You’re good. We got this.”

“Thank you.” Gabriel winced a bit at the chief’s enthusiasm as Kalani clapped him on the shoulder.

“Get your asses in gear or go back to the ship,” Lindana snapped from ahead of them.

“Aye, Cap,” Kalani said. Gabriel forced his legs to function once more as he stumbled after the giant and struggled to keep pace with him. Each step was accompanied by an increasing ache in his gut that relentlessly reminded him that he wasn’t one hundred percent healed yet.

The power plant’s pair of massive cooling towers had been hidden from view by the smoke, but they loomed into view like disapproving giants as the group approached.

“I got point,” Chief Watson called out. “Someone needs to scan for radiation.”

“Lieutenant Steele?”

“Aye, Captain.” His multitool included a Geiger counter—every standard issue multitool did, though he wished for the finer sensors included on the Intel-issued tablet sitting unused in his quarters on the Mombasa. Gabriel switched the scanner to the correct setting and the display on the handle promptly lit up with a number. “We’re green.”

“You squawk if it even twitches yellow, Lieutenant,” Watson said.

“Aye, Chief.”

“Damage doesn’t look too bad here,” Watson said. The majority of the smoke was behind them in the city proper. “Main structure’s intact. Not sure what the problem is. Ryder, get the door.”

“On it.” Chief Kalani stopped in front of the entrance. The security looked fairly standard—a card reader and a code keypad. Ryder wrenched the entire panel free and went for the wires beneath. It was clearly not his first time performing such a task.

Gabriel felt someone’s gaze upon him and turned to find Lindana regarding him with a quirked brow, as though daring him to comment on their less than legal activities. God knew that he had broken into countless buildings during missions and certainly couldn’t cast the first stone.

“Readings are green, Captain,” Gabriel said. Lindana snorted, and the door opened.

The power plant’s corridors were empty, but Chief Watson navigated them unerringly, steadfastly leading them to their destination. One lone man in a faded khaki coverall stood in the main control room, hunched over a data terminal as readout displays flashed red, yellow and green lights at various intervals.

“Damn it, Mike. What happened?” Chief Watson blurted out. She hurried to the terminal next to his and promptly began tapping away at the interface.

“Friend of yours?” Gabriel asked Lindy.

“Mike Jenkins, one of the colony’s tech specialists. We’ve worked with him before, and he’s—”

“I don’t know what happened!” Mike said. “We didn’t sustain that much damage here. They went straight for the residential and commercial areas.” The man dragged a hand through his dark blond hair and growled in frustration. “But the controls are going haywire. Every patch I make is undone a minute later. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Watson shoved her glasses up on her nose and then snapped her fingers at Gabriel. “You. Get your ass over here.”

“I’m not familiar with this technology,” Gabriel said.

Watson cut him off from further explanation with a wave of her hand. “Don’t need to be. You’re looking for recent data downloads. Whoever attacked us must have sent a virus to take out the power plant.”

Us. The word was not lost on Gabriel—New Nairobi was the Mombasa’s port of registry. Their home away from home, and someone had tried to obliterate it. Why? Because of Raiya’s intel? What the hell was she hiding?

Gabriel shook the questions away and focused. The system was unfamiliar, but he didn’t need to understand it or the science of what it controlled. He simply needed to locate the most recent files and track their origin, all while ignoring the flashing lights, increasingly hysterical wails of warning signals, and the constant drone of the PA system calmly requesting that all nonessential personnel please evacuate the facility.

There. It was a clever little bugger, disguised as a simple software update. Nothing that would have raised concern, even if the engineers hadn’t been distracted by the death raining from above.

“I see it,” Gabriel said. “It originated from off world.”

“Can you ID the source? Is it Soviet?” Lindana asked.

“I need time to analyze it. The program was disguised as a software update, so on the surface it appears as an Alliance transmission.”

“Copy it to your hand held. We’ll look at it later,” Lindana said. “And get a copy of the plant’s security camera footage. Might be the only chance we get to ID the attackers.”

“It still doesn’t make any damn sense,” Watson muttered. “Why would anyone—oh shit, that’s bad. The cooling system is down, and I don’t know if we can bring it back online from here.”

“I’ll do a manual reset,” Mike said.

Watson shook her head. “No. There’s no time for that.”

“I’ll make the time.” Mike stepped back and rubbed his palms against his trousers. “The system is fucked. We don’t have enough people to bring everything back online, and even if we did, there’s no fire control out there. Sooner or later the wind’s going to blow the fire this way, and...”

“So let’s get out of here now, Mike. Together.” Chief Watson grabbed Mike’s arm, and he pulled away.

“No, Maria,” Mike said. “If we leave, it’ll melt down now. I can buy you time, maybe an hour at best. You need to get everyone else out. Now. Shut up and go!”

“No!”

Lindana stepped forward and held up a placating hand. “We don’t leave anyone behind.”

“No, Captain. I’m not one of your men. You don’t get to make that call.”

Lindana nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “All right. Godspeed, Jenkins.”

Mike turned to Chief Watson. “I’m sorry. Get everyone out. I’ll make this count.”

Maria nodded sharply, and then leaped on him with a fierce hug. She murmured something to him in rapid-fire Spanish that Gabriel didn’t catch. He turned away and spied Lindana fixing him with a hard stare. Maria has a boyfriend on New Nairobi.

Shit. His heart sank at the realization that his mission had caused this tragedy, and Lindy blamed him for it.

“Do you have everything?” Lindana asked.

“Aye, Captain,” Gabriel confirmed.

Lindana squared her shoulders. “Then let’s get the hell out of here. Mike, keep your comm open. We need constant updates.”

“You’ll have them.”

Lindana led the group out of the power plant, barking orders to the group and to the others over her comm. Maria kept glancing back, her steps hesitant as she followed her captain.

A sick, grim certainty settled into Gabriel’s stomach like a stone—an hour was hardly enough time to evacuate a colony of this size, and they needed to make every second count. They had no way to search the shattered buildings for survivors, or to reach people trapped beneath the rubble. They could only help the fortunate few who had been able to reach shelters during the bombardment, and for everyone else New Nairobi would become their tomb.

“Jiang, I need you and a team from the Mo to do a quick and dirty supply run. Food and fuel, whatever you can load up. Sveta and the Novosibirsk’s crew will concentrate on people moving.”

“Aye, Captain,” Jiang said.

“Sveta, we need to divide into teams to reach each shelter. Jiang will transmit the GPS locations of each one to you.”

“We won’t reach all of them in an hour,” Sveta said.

“I know.” Lindana’s voice was strained, and Gabriel couldn’t resist the urge to touch her shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. She glared at him for a moment, but her expression softened a fraction as she cleared her throat. “Focus on the shelters closest to the spaceport. We’ll do what we can with the time we have.”

What came next was chaos the likes of which Gabriel hadn’t seen since the war. The air was thick with choking smoke and the stench of blood, death and singed flesh. Gabriel’s eyes burned, but he soldiered on, following Lindy’s barked orders, focused on the sound of her voice above the cacophony. Screams, cries, wailing sirens—God, it was awful. They herded the first group of survivors toward the waiting ships, and then went for more.

Forty-five minutes.

Lindy ordered Ryder and Gabriel to accompany her as she checked the local public elementary school in hope that the attackers had left it untouched. Luck, or perhaps divine intervention, proved Lindana right, and they discovered the students and teachers huddled inside their classrooms.

Twenty minutes.

A stream of survivors trickled away from the destruction and headed toward salvation as Gabriel’s team moved to another location. People, pets and livestock, all terrified, some injured, limping toward safety.

Ten minutes. Nine, eight...

Gabriel and Lindana approached the spaceport with what they expected to be their last group, and they found Chief Watson standing at the bottom of the Novosibirsk’s ramp, arguing with Sveta.

“Let me take the shuttle.”

“No,” Sveta said. “Captain Nyota, talk sense into your chief.”

Chief Watson turned toward them, wringing her hands. “I can take the Blackjack’s shuttle and get Mike.”

“No,” Lindy replied. “There isn’t enough time to get the shuttle’s engines online.”

“I have to try.” Maria’s voice jumped a panicked octave. “We can’t leave him.”

“Shuttle is not safe,” Sveta said. “We have not scanned for traps or security devices. You push the wrong button and bam! You explode before you even get to power plant.”

“Maria, Mike made his choice,” Lindana said. She reached for the chief, who jerked out of the way.

“We never leave a man behind!”

Gabriel spied Ryder and Tomas approaching, their expressions grim. Ryder reached for Maria as though attempting to calm her, and as she turned her frustration on him, Tomas stood behind her and pressed a hypo to her neck. Chief Watson’s eyes rolled back as she crumpled, and Ryder caught her and scooped her up like a small child.

“Take her to the Mombasa’s med bay,” Tomas ordered.

“She’ll hate you for that,” Gabriel said. It was a subject he was well versed in.

“I know.” Tomas grimaced, and then turned to his sister. “Let’s go.”

* * *

From orbit the New Nairobi colony had been reduced to a dark smudge of smoke, as though viewed with a camera with dirt on the lens. Silence reigned in the Mombasa’s cockpit as the crew stared down at the devastation with morbid fascination, unable to tear their focus away. So much death.

Lindana hadn’t seen so many civilian casualties since the war, but unlike the devastation she had seen then, this was personal. New Nairobi had been their home port, their sanctuary during downtime between missions. These dead weren’t nameless or faceless, they were people she had known. Friends, family—she and Tomas had a group of distant relatives who owned a restaurant there, who were always excited to see their famous cousins and ask about their travels. Lindana didn’t know if they were among the survivors. The fortunate few had made it to shelters in time and lived to be evacuated, but their homes were destroyed.

And for what? One woman’s memories about some doomsday weapon? This was evil. And Lindana was responsible—the colony had been attacked because of the Mombasa’s connection to it. The colonists’ deaths weighed on her like an iron yoke, crushing her hope of surviving this mission.

“Jiang,” Lindana said. She croaked the name, her throat still parched from heat and smoke.

“I’ve got it, Captain,” Jiang said. They exchanged a heavy glance, and Lindana nodded and retreated to her quarters.

Lindana showered and changed her clothes but she could still smell smoke, as though the scent was permanently seared into her nose. A blinking light on her tablet alerted her to a new message, and she picked it up with shaking hands. A message from Tomas was at the top of the list.

READ NOW.

Now? That did not bode well. Lindana tapped the attachment and her eyes widened—it was Gabriel’s file. She scanned through it quickly, zipping through screen after screen of mission data. Much of it was still encrypted, having foiled Tomas’s best attempts to crack it, but her blood drained as she read the rest until she held the tablet with cold, numb hands.

TARGET ELIMINATED.

Over and over, a litany of the dead. There were other entries, many marked with a less threatening note of ASSET ACQUIRED, but it was clear that for the most part, wherever Gabriel Steele went, death followed. And she had let this man—this monster—onto her ship, into her life.

Lindana set the tablet aside and paced the perimeter of her quarters until she was certain she’d worn a path into the floor. She was exhausted but couldn’t stand the thought of sleep and the nightmares it was sure to hold, hungry but couldn’t bear the thought of food. Everyone was waiting for her to give the next order, and she had no idea what to do.

The door chime pinged and she bid the person enter, expecting Tomas or Jiang. Instead, Gabriel stepped into the room and locked the door behind him. Lindana glared at him, hoping to ignite him with the fury of her gaze.

“This is your fault.” Lindana’s voice cracked on a sob as she pounded her fists against his chest. Gabriel grunted in pain and caught her wrists before she could hit him again. “If you’d told me the truth we could have warned them!”

“You don’t know that,” he said softly. “No one could have known that this would happen.”

“Bullshit. You’re supposed to know. That’s your damn job!”

“Lindy, please—”

“You’re just trying to cover your ass because you lied to us about this mission. All you do is lie. You destroy everything you touch. I read your file.” Gabriel’s pale eyes widened as Lindana continued her tirade. “You’re a murderer. A walking honey trap. You lured people in with your cheekbones and your good manners and betrayed them. Over and over, a river of broken lives flowing behind you.”

“I followed orders.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“The agency isn’t always concerned with right and wrong. They’re focused on the greater good, and yes, I did what Command asked of me, no matter how despicable. I lied, cheated, stole to achieve my mission objectives. I ruined marriages and destroyed families in the name of gaining intelligence, and yes, I did kill.”

“Why?” Lindana tested his grip on her wrists and he held her fast—probably rightfully worried that she’d hit him again.

“Because that intelligence saved lives. My work... I did all the dishonest deeds that a soldier couldn’t. Things that a politician couldn’t dirty his hands with. Awful things, Lindy. But they needed to be done. The people I killed were enemies of the Alliance and they needed to be stopped.”

“Why are you here if your work is so damn important?”

“Because I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want more blood on my hands. Other core colonist agents have been dying, colleagues of mine killed in the line of duty. Too many to be coincidence. I didn’t want to be next, and when this opportunity presented itself it was like a sign. A miracle. Lindy, you are the only person who has ever loved me. The real me. Everything else I’ve done since joining Intel was fiction. I seduced women and men who were enamored of an illusion. They loved the lie.”

“I don’t know the real you. I don’t know if I ever did. How can I trust you? You’ve told so many lies you wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass.”

“That isn’t another spanking reference, is it?” He quirked a brow, and she couldn’t resist a smile.

“Not helping.”

“Understood. What does your heart tell you?” Gabriel asked.

Lindana lifted her chin. “Nothing. It’s broken. It’s like a clock that only has the right time twice a day.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I can’t rely on my heart,” Lindana insisted. “It leads me astray.”

“My heart led me here. This is the only place I belong. With you.”

Lindana winced and looked away. “Don’t say that. You belong on the core colonies, being lord of your manor, rebuilding your family fortune like a proper gentleman. They might take you back if you’re properly apologetic. You probably have some sort of intel they’d find valuable.”

“No. That’s the life my father wanted for me. I want a life with you.”

Lindana closed her eyes, but she couldn’t escape the thoughts of what might have been. What would their lives have been like if they had stayed together? Would they have stayed with the Alliance? Or settled down in New Britain and raised a brood of precocious children on the Steele family estate?

Gabriel touched her cheek, turned her face to his and kissed her. Gently at first, likely braced for the worst, but then with more fervor when she didn’t haul off and slap him. Her body woke at his touch, every inch of her responding to his kiss. Lindana’s toes curled and her limbs tingled as warmth coiled low in her belly. We don’t have time for this. Then again, this might be the only time they had. The entire Soviet navy and one of the bloodiest pirates in space were out to kill them. They were dead men walking. It was only a matter of time before they joined their comrades decomposing on the colony below.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she murmured. “It’s too late for us.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

Gabriel grinned. “I prefer to think of myself as a reformed hopeless romantic.”

“And you think we’re going to fly off into the sunset and live happily ever after?” Lindana said skeptically. “This isn’t a fairy tale, and I’m not a princess.”

“You’re more like the knight in this equation,” Gabriel said.

“Really? You expect me to rescue you?”

“You’re the only one who can.”

Lindana went weak in the knees and she clutched his shirtfront. To hell with it—she was desperate to feel something other than fear and frustration. She steadied herself, slid her hands up his chest and framed his face. She studied him intently, as though deciphering the pattern in his pale eyes that would reveal the depth of his sincerity. Her scrutiny was interrupted as Gabriel kissed her. She leaned into him as he embraced her, finding solace in his arms, and then she sighed up at him.

“I hate you.” Lindana pushed the coat from his shoulders and the garment flapped to the floor.

“I know.” With a slight wince he pulled the shirt over his head.

Lindana’s heart stumbled at the sight of his scars, old and new. The menders had nearly healed his recent wounds, leaving bruises and new, pink flesh as reminders of where he had been injured. When they had met at the Academy they were both young and unmarred, but time and war had left them both with roadmaps marking landmark injuries. Gabriel had nearly died twice on this mission alone. She chewed her lip as she touched the pink blotch of an old burn scar that spidered across his chest.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Energy pistol, close range. Fried my armor.”

“Ouch.” Lindana stepped back to shed her top. Gabriel gazed at her as she stripped, as though memorizing every line of her body and committing new details to memory. He frowned and traced a thin scar across her abdomen, and Lindana shivered at his touch.

“What happened?”

“Pirate cutlass. Sliced through my body armor.”

Gabriel tsked. “I thought the captain doesn’t participate in away missions.”

Lindana smiled dryly as she reached to unfasten his pants. “The captain doesn’t. We were boarded.” Her smile turned wicked as she stroked his sex through his briefs. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I know how to handle a sword.”

His chuckle of amusement quickly deepened to an appreciative moan. “I do love a woman who enjoys taking command.”

They quickly shed the rest of their clothing and then tumbled atop the bunk in a tangle of grasping limbs, eager to touch and taste every inch of each other. Lindana trailed kisses down the column of his throat and traced his collarbone. Gabriel was thinner than she remembered, muscles honed by time and use. He’d lost the soft edge of civility, and was lean and tough like a proper soldier.

“Were you always this pale?” Lindana asked. She straddled his hips and laid her palms atop his chest. Gabriel covered her hands with his, then drew one to his lips and pressed a kiss against her palm, followed by the inside of her wrist. Lindana had never before considered the wrist to be an erogenous zone, but she realized she’d been missing out as a curl of delicious pleasure shivered through her.

“Too much time spent in space,” he said. “Not enough natural sunlight.”

“You won’t be seeing much of that aboard the Mombasa, either.”

“You’ll have to be my sunshine then.”

Lindana rolled her eyes. “That was terrible. Adorable, but terrible.”

“I’ll endeavor to make it up to you.” Gabriel tried to tug her beneath him, but she grinned and pinned him.

“It’s my ship. I’ll drive. Besides, you’re still wounded.”

“Yes, ma’am. I enjoy working beneath you.”

Lindana angled her hips and sheathed his hard length within her sex in one smooth thrust. She cried out in pleasure as he gripped her hips. Heaven—this was heaven, and every inch of her body burned with hungry heat. Damn him for being the only man who made her feel this way. Lindana moved slowly at first, afraid to hurt him. She leaned down for a long, slow kiss, and Gabriel wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

“A perfect fit,” he murmured.

She swallowed the reply that she bet he said that to all the girls. She didn’t want to think of the other partners he’d had—or she’d had, for that matter. What mattered was that they were together now.

Lindana distracted him from further comments as she kissed him breathless. Gabriel’s hands stroked her back, massaging hungry paths that alternated between cupping the back of her head, gripping her hips and grabbing her ass. She moaned as she picked up her pace, and soon she was drowning in sensation. Pleasure built in increasing waves until she came with a gasp, but Gabriel didn’t slow, moving beneath her with an almost desperate rhythm.

He nudged her shoulder until she leaned back, arched above him, and he stroked her clit. Lindana cried out as the added stimulation brought her to a second devastating climax that left her panting and shaking. The musky scent of great sex filled the room as he moaned her name, and she begged.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Please, Gabriel.”

“Please, what, my dear?”

Bastard. She could hardly form coherent words and he wanted her to spell things out for him?

“I need you,” Lindana said. Then she blinked—dear God, she did need him. How did that happen? She laid her palm against the yellow-green bruise that was all that remained of his mended gunshot wound. “Why, Gabriel? Why did you save me?”

“Because I couldn’t find you just to lose you again. I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Gabriel grabbed her hips and rolled her beneath him. Lindana gasped as he spread her legs wide and pounded her sex with a desperate, relentless rhythm. Her back arched as she locked her legs around him, and she grabbed a fistful of his long, silken hair and tugged his head up to feast on his mouth. She conquered and devoured, then held his head in place and forced him to meet her gaze. His pale eyes were clouded with lust and need.

“You won’t lose me,” she said. “It’s my ship. All you have to do is stay.”

“All you have to do is let me.”

His breath grew ragged as he drove into her. Lindana moaned high and loud as she came again—shattering, consumed by pleasure so sharp it skated the edge of pleasure and pain—and then Gabriel followed. He murmured her name over and over like a ragged prayer as he emptied himself inside her, each pulse of his cock inspiring additional shudders of ecstasy.

Gabriel brushed tender kisses against her hair. “Forever. I could stay in your arms forever.”

“We’ll start with tonight, and work from there.” She closed her eyes, held him close and shed silent tears for all the years they had missed, and all the time they would never have.

Chapter Nine

Lindana and Jiang shared green tea and shortbread cookies on the floor of Jiang’s quarters. Jiang had asked to speak with her in private—a rare occasion, because Jiang generally kept her own council. Her spartan quarters were devoid of the personal touches and little knickknacks that most spacers picked up in their travels. Lindana wondered what Jiang spent her money on. It couldn’t all go toward tea, and it certainly didn’t go toward clothing. Jiang always wore the same uniform of an olive jacket and dark cargo pants.

“What’s on your mind?” Lindana asked.

Jiang studied her captain over the rim of her cup, her dark eyes inscrutable like a hunting cat’s. “Do we trust Raiya’s information?”

“Sveta,” Lindana corrected. “There’s hardly any information to trust. All we know is what she and Gabriel have told us.”

“Do you trust him?”

Lindana scowled and devoured a biscuit. “Maybe. Yes. It’s complicated.”

“Do you love him?”

Lindana choked and raised a hand to avoid spitting shortbread crumbs across the room. She sputtered and gulped down tea.

“Also complicated?” Jiang asked. Lindana suspected that she was hiding a smile behind her cup.

“Understatement. I did love him once. At least I think I did. He was my first love, and first love is always...naïve. You don’t know any better, and you’re blind to a lot of things. I was definitely blindsided.” Lindana grimaced. “Okay, yes, I trust him. Any other feelings are still in question.”

Jiang nodded. “I believe they’re telling the truth. Which means we’re in trouble. Obviously. Someone is desperate enough to keep this buried that they attacked an innocent colony. We need more information, and I think I know how to get it.”

“Oh?”

“Soviet space is dotted with communications listening stations. They’re small, with only a skeleton crew to maintain the surveillance equipment. If we took the Novosibirsk we could pose as a supply ship to gain access to one. I have a few old IFF codes that we could use. Keep it quiet, without raising an alarm.”

Lindana’s brow furrowed. Identify friend/foe codes formed the basis of identifying other ships. Altering a ship’s IFF code was highly illegal—not that it mattered in this instance, as this whole idea was likely to get them all sent to a Soviet gulag if they were caught, if not executed outright. “You have Soviet IFF codes? And you never mentioned it before?”

“It was never relevant before,” Jiang countered.

“Anything else I should know? You’re not hiding missile launch codes under your pillow?”

“I prefer to keep them in the heel of my boots.”

Lindana chuckled. “Good to know. I guess we’re holding on to the Novosibirsk awhile longer then. We’ll have to figure out something for the Mombasa to do in the meantime.”

“They shouldn’t stay here.”

“Agreed. No one is staying here. I don’t think they’d be safe even in orbit.”

Under normal circumstances Lindana could have left the colonists behind for the Alliance to rescue, but something struck her about the fact that no Alliance ships had arrived yet. A cruiser should have shown up in response to New Nairobi’s distress signal ages ago. Where were the reinforcements? Was the Alliance battling the Soviet Union? Had they already released the mysterious weapon Sveta warned of?

The Mombasa and the Novosibirsk were both loaded up with the survivors of New Nairobi, and this resulted in a number of young parents, children and the elderly underfoot, as well as a startling number of pets and livestock that had been carried into the shelters. Tomas joked about how much Kenyans loved their goats, and Sveta insisted that dogs on spaceships were good luck. (She would, being a former Soviet.) Lindana didn’t appreciate the cat hair that sent her into sneezing fits, particularly since a rogue calico kept sneaking into the cockpit of the Mombasa and napping in her chair.

“Make a list of who you want to include in the mission,” Lindana said. “You’ll run it. I don’t trust Sveta enough to put her in charge.” She paused long enough to take a steadying breath. “There’s more.”

Jiang quirked a brow. “I’m not sure we’re equipped for more at the moment.”

“I know. Gabriel says we have a leak on the ship. He found a homemade transmitter near the engines. No way to tell how long it’s been there, or who made it.”

“There was no DNA? No skin tags?”

“Not quite. There were four different DNA hits, but they were all engine room rats, including Maria.” Lindana grimaced. “I trust Maria. I don’t think she’d turn. I don’t think any of them would.”

“Which is part of the problem. We’ve become complacent. We trust everyone on the Mombasa, and forget that everyone is here for a reason.”

Lindana sighed. “Said reason being that they screwed up somewhere else and this was the last stop before Pirate Town. Right.” She scrubbed her face with her hands as weariness sank into her bones. “But someone sold us out. It’s why our last few jobs went sour. We’ve got to find this leak and plug it.”

“Agreed.” Jiang tilted her head. “What will you do when you find this person?”

“Well, I’m not going to space them, if that’s what you’re thinking. And no, that doesn’t mean you get to space them, either.” She arched a stern brow at Jiang, who grinned. “We’ll hand them over to Alliance Intel and let them sort it out.” Lindana rose and her joints creaked in protest as she unfolded her legs. “Ugh. I feel like I’m a hundred years old. We’ll all need shore leave after this. Provided we live through it.”

“I have faith in our people. It will all work out,” Jiang said.

Lindana prayed that she was right.

* * *

Gabriel uploaded his data and set the tablet to work on analyzing the virus and the power plant’s security footage. The camera feeds were practically a nonstarter—the cameras were designed to monitor ground and local air activity, not orbital units. Still, if they were lucky they might see something useful in the firing pattern, or the type of weaponry used. In some ways explosives were universal—once one took into account the unique variables of each planetary target, it was relatively easy to blow it up, but each military had its own procedure on how to do so. And each pirate group had its own signature attack moves, but this... No, pirates had not razed New Nairobi. It was most likely the Soviets looking for the Mombasa and Red Raiya. But how had they known? Was the leak responsible? Gabriel’s tablet had been monitoring for new signals and nothing had come up yet, so the traitor hadn’t built another transmitter after Gabriel disconnected the first one.

He grimaced—frustration and lingering pain were combining to work against him. He was half tempted to ask for another dose of pain relievers, but he doubted that Tomas could spare them at the moment. There were plenty of injured colonists to look after, and not enough supplies to go around.

Gabriel tapped out a new message. MISSION SUCCESSFUL. TARGET ACQUIRED. ORDERS?

There. That ought to appease Command for now. Intel would likely want to take Raiya—Sveta—into their custody. Sveta would not go quietly, and neither would Lindana let her friend be taken away without a fight. Friend. Is that what the two women were? Friends? Gabriel knew that he had no right to be jealous, but regardless his skin itched and his fingers drummed the desktop in an irritated rhythm.

Well, they would simply need to fake Sveta’s death. She had been considered dead by the Soviets before. Perhaps the pirate had nine lives. It would be simple enough to create a new identity for her. Dr. Nyota could doubtless handle some simple plastic surgery to alter her physical features as needed.

Gabriel stared at the green cursor as it blinked steadily—no reply. Not that he expected one so quickly. The previous fast response time had most likely been a fluke, for often Intel Command was too busy tying itself into paranoid knots to bother replying to its agents. Particularly to agents like Gabriel who were in the proverbial dog house, as it were.

Gabriel leaned back into his chair and propped his feet up on his bunk. Might as well get a spot of rest while the tablet worked.

All you have to do is stay.

It seemed so simple when put that way, but so little was simple at the moment. This was quite possibly the worst set of circumstances to start a relationship under. Though, if they managed to survive this, any other problems would seem like smooth sailing in comparison.

Gabriel smiled, and hoped.

* * *

The two ships were minutes away from entering hyperspace when the Alliance finally arrived. A standard patrol—two scout ships, two gunships—dropped into real space on the opposite side of the system, within communications range.

“Should I hail them?” Kala asked.

“No,” Lindana said. “Jiang, keep us in the shadow of the outer planet. Send a burst to the Novosibirsk. Tell them to run quiet and wait.”

“What are we waiting for?” Kala asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Lindana said. “I’ll know it when I see it. Send a probe to get us a visual.”

“As previously requested, I’m supposed to remind you that probes cost a thousand credits each,” Jiang said.

“Noted. Thank you. Launch it.”

“Launching probe.”

The tiny yet exorbitantly expensive piece of equipment launched like a missile and streaked through the system. The long-range camera transmitted video of the Alliance ships as they glided toward the planet. Under normal circumstances Lindana would have thought the sight beautiful, like a flock of birds soaring through space, but there was something ominous about their silent approach. They should be broadcasting to the colony, asking for New Nairobi’s status and sending assurance of incoming aid. But these ships weren’t behaving like saviors—more like predators honing in on wounded prey.

“I don’t like this.” Lindana whistled low. “That’s a lot of firepower for a rescue mission.”

“They could be tracking the pirates who attacked the colony,” Jiang suggested.

Lindana nodded. It was possible. “The probe should be able to get an ID on them.” At the moment they only had the ships’ affiliation and class.

The ships reached New Nairobi. And opened fire.

“Holy shit!” Kala’s exclamation filled the cockpit.

Holy shit was right. Instead of scanning the planet or launching aid, the Alliance ships were finishing what the pirates had started by firing upon a defenseless colony. Bright flashes illuminated the hulls of the Alliance ships as their weapons unloaded. The lack of sound in the vacuum of space added to the eerie surrealness of the attack, like watching a drama vid on mute instead of live footage of real destruction.

The probe was too far out of range to zoom in on the surface, but Lindana didn’t need to see the footage to know what the barrage looked like dirtside. She had seen enough footage of it during the war, and she’d thought she would never have to see it again. There would be nothing left of the colony, just blasted rubble that would be quickly reclaimed by the planet’s arid terrain as though New Nairobi had never existed.

The Alliance had betrayed them, and that knowledge sat in Lindana’s stomach like a poisonous lump of lead. She and Tomas had devoted their lives to serving the Alliance; so much of what they had now was a result of the advantages the Alliance had given them. Was it all a lie? Gabriel’s assertions that he had done terrible things in the government’s name suddenly seemed darker and more terrible. What had they done to him?

“Why would they do that?” Kala asked.

Lindana licked her bone-dry lips. “They came back to check that the power plant melted down, and to tie up any loose ends. Bastards. Tell the Novosibirsk to jump now. We’ll be right behind them.”

Jiang sent the message, and the Novosibirsk ran. The sudden burst of energy and movement caught the Alliance ships’ attention, and they turned. Two of the scout ships broke off from the group and headed in their direction. They were fast, but too far to reach the Mombasa. Lindana intended to jump before they got within attack range.

“Hail them now,” Lindana ordered. The comm beeped as it connected and Lindana clenched the armrests of her chair. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Static. Apparently the Alliance wasn’t used to being addressed that way.

“Identify yourself,” a man said.

“I’m an Alliance citizen and I demand to know why you’re firing on an Alliance colony,” she countered. More silence.

“They’re entering ID range,” Jiang said.

“Let them ID us. I want to hear what they say,” Lindana said. “Run up the engine and ready for jump.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The Mombasa retreated as the scouts advanced. Finally a new voice spoke up. “Captain Nyota, power down your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You and your crew are under arrest for acts of piracy against the Alliance, treason, and destruction of Alliance property.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Fury and nausea at the betrayal warred within her until Lindana’s anger won out.

“Like hell. We didn’t attack New Nairobi. You did, you sick fucks.” And the Mombasa had everything recorded. It was the sort of data that the C3 or the Soviets would kill for—or pay exorbitantly to possess.

“We have warrants for your arrest,” the voice said.

“Warrants, huh. Issued when, and by whom?”

“That is irrelevant.”

“No, I think it’s very relevant, and I’m also pretty sure you’re required by law to share that information. But obviously you’re not focused on enforcing the law right now. Jackass.” Lindana cut the comm. They weren’t getting anywhere. “Jiang, jump when ready. Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Ten

Gathered into the Mombasa’s mess hall were Mama Mo’s officers, Sveta, three officers from the Novosibirsk, and delegates from both the Soviet dissidents and the New Nairobi survivors. The group feasted on pasta and protein balls, which Ryder loudly decried as tasting nothing like meat. Lindana almost broke open the liquor cabinet to allow the group to indulge in a few bottles of red wine with the meal, but erred on the side of keeping everyone sober. At least she hoped they were sober—Lindana was fairly certain that the Novosibirsk’s crew members had flasks of vodka hidden in their uniforms.

Lindana rose and gained everyone’s attention. “Here’s where we stand. We went to New Nairobi in hope of leaving the Novosibirsk’s guests there, as well as their dissenting crew, but things obviously went awry. After we left New Nairobi an Alliance patrol jumped into the system. We observed this.” Lindana activated the mess hall’s vid screen and played the recording of the Alliance attack, followed by her exchange with the Alliance ships. The friendly aura of the room faded, leaving grim silence in its wake.

“We’ve done a bit of quiet digging from our current position, or as much as we can in the middle of nowhere,” Lindana amended. They’d chosen a spot in unoccupied space—no planets, no space stations, just a black void that reminded them just how very alone they were. “We learned a few things by scanning public channels. The Mombasa’s marque has been voided, and warrants have been issued for the arrest of our entire crew. We’re accused of going pirate and attacking Alliance territory, starting with the destruction of New Nairobi. You, of course, are still listed as dead.” She nodded at Sveta, who rose and stood across from Lindana, two queens on opposite sides of a chessboard.

“But you weren’t responsible for the attack,” Kesi, the head of the Kenyan delegates, argued. “You saved our lives.”

“Which the Alliance wasn’t expecting,” Lindana said. “Anyone else would have left the survivors behind to be picked up by Alliance aid ships. They were counting on that. They expected to eliminate any witnesses who survived the initial attack. But the Mombasa doesn’t leave anyone behind.” Lindana paused and exchanged a meaningful glance with Gabriel.

Maria made a soft, choked sound; she had been quietly mourning Specialist Mike Jenkins, and even the rats were giving their queen a respectful distance.

“During the initial attack, a signal was sent to the New Nairobi power plant,” Gabriel said. “It was disguised as a software update, but it was intended to cause enough system failures to trigger a meltdown. Whoever attacked the colony meant to leave it so devastated that it would be considered too dangerous to rebuild.”

“Why would the Alliance do that?” Kesi asked.

Gabriel shook his head. “I’m not sure that this was sanctioned by Alliance Command. It could be the work of a rogue faction in Intelligence, or there could be other factors at play here. We’re not certain yet. We need more information.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Steele.” Lindana turned to Sveta.

“We’ve been digging through Soviet broadcasts,” Sveta said. “The Novosibirsk is listed as lost, all hands killed in action. They’re claiming some sort of malfunction in the equipment in the cargo bay caused an explosion.”

Sergei, the head dissident—a burly bear of a man with extremely bushy eyebrows—snorted and muttered in Ukrainian.

“There’s more,” Lindana said. “Sveta and I have checked with our respective privateer contacts. There’s a bounty out for Red Raiya, despite the fact that she’s listed as deceased—”

“Maybe they think I am zombie,” Sveta guessed.

“You do look a bit undead,” Lindana agreed. “And there are bounties out on the Mombasa’s command crew. So we’re wanted by...pretty much everyone.”

“Except the C3,” Gabriel said.

“That we know of. We’re keeping that option open while we consider safe ports to leave our passengers at. For now the loyalist Soviet crew members are confined to quarters. We may transfer them to the brig if it looks like they’re going to revolt. The Novosibirsk was carrying enough colonial supplies to keep both ships equipped for one month. That’s our deadline to resolve this situation.”

“How do you plan to resolve this?” Sergei asked.

Lindana folded her hands. “First, the Alliance and the Soviet Union are after Sveta because of what she supposedly knows about this super weapon. We need to find evidence of this weapon, possibly even the weapon itself, and expose it.”

“Any data you find now will be picked apart,” Sergei said. “No one will believe you.”

“Which is why we’re going to steal the weapon itself.” Lindana took a deep breath, and Sveta nodded for her to continue. “We’re going to split up. The Novosibirsk is going to embark on a mission to identify and locate the super weapon. The Mombasa is going to take our guests to a safe location and then contact our allies—the few other crews we trust—to form an independent fleet.”

“What location?” Kesi asked.

“An independent trading post,” Lindana said.

“A Swiss station?” Gabriel asked.

Lindana and Sveta exchanged an uncomfortable look.

“No. The Stryke Zone,” Sveta said.

Ryder whistled low. “Didn’t Stryker threaten to shoot you if she saw us again, Cap?”

“That’s why I’m not going.” Lindana smiled thinly. “But she has no love for the Alliance, and she’ll listen to reason. They’ll be safe there.” Or at least as safe as anyone could be in a den of thieves in the middle of an asteroid belt could be. It wasn’t a perfect solution.

“I guess that works, but an independent fleet?” Ryder frowned. “No offense, but why would anyone sign up for that? There’s no profit in it.”

“I don’t expect that we’ll convert many people to our cause, but most privateers were soldiers once, like you and me. We believed in what we were fighting for, enough that we kept fighting for it under the marque. No one profits from murdering innocents. We don’t let this stand.”

Gabriel’s head tilted, and he steepled his fingers to hide his expression. Lindana made a mental note to ask him about it later. Item one hundred and fifty-seven on her To Do list...

“I don’t need to tell you how dangerous this is,” Sveta said. “My ship was destroyed and my crew was murdered. The few who escaped were tortured to death. As far as I know, I am the only survivor. I intend to see that those responsible are punished.”

The New Nairobi contingent nodded in agreement. “Our people deserve justice.”

Lindana licked her lips as her stomach churned. “I am so sorry for what happened—”

Kesi held her hand up to silence further apology. “We know that they came for us in order to harm you. We do not blame you for that. We blame them. You and your brother are heroes to our children. We are alive because you treated us like family when the Alliance, who should have protected us, treated our home like target practice. They wished to silence us. We will not be silent.”

Lindana swallowed and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Is there dessert?” Ryder asked.

Lindana laughed, the sound bursting forth in a wave of relief. “Yes, there’s dessert.”

* * *

Lindana and Tomas eyed each other, both struggling to keep a stiff upper lip. “Stay out of the engine room. I won’t be here to protect you if the queen says off with your head.”

“Ryder promised he’d protect me if the rats mutiny.” Tomas managed a weak smile. “I should go with you.”

“Do I think you’re capable of handling this mission? Yes, I do. But you’re the only one I trust to captain Mama Mo while I’m gone.”

“Except for Jiang.”

“Except for Jiang,” Lindana agreed, “but she’s coming with us. She’s our Soviet captain, after all. And you’re the only one I trust to find us solid allies. You always were a better judge of character than me.”

Tomas snorted. “Ain’t that the truth? I don’t like that you’re taking Gabriel with you.”

“I know. But you’d space him the second after I left, and I’m sort of attached to him.”

“I still think he’s bad news, but I respect your decision.”

Lindana hugged him tight. “I’ll see you soon. I love you. You’re my favorite big brother.”

“And you’re my favorite little sister. I love you, too.” He drew away and rubbed her head for luck, and they parted.

Lindana stepped through the airlock into the Novosibirsk and sealed it behind her. She placed a hand against the chill, foreign metal and swallowed hard, blinking away tears. She cleared her throat and activated the comm. “Main airlock sealed. Ready to detach on your mark.”

“Acknowledged, Captain,” Jiang answered. “Detaching now.”

The ship shuddered as it accelerated away. Lindana caught a flicker of movement in her periphery, and she turned to spot Gabriel waiting a discreet distance away. “Something on your mind, Lieutenant?”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes.”

“Is it lascivious? I could use some lascivious right now.”

He smiled, and her heart fluttered. “You always inspire lascivious thoughts in me. This, however, is official business. If I might speak with you in private?”

“Of course. I have quarters...somewhere. I hope your Russian is better than mine.”

“My Russian is impeccable.”

Lindana sighed. “Of course it is. Lead on, then.”

The design differences between a former military vessel like the Novosibirsk and a former civilian vessel like the Mombasa were subtle, unless you knew where to look. The Soviet design was harsher, the lines harder and the cabins smaller (communists put little value on personal space). Comfort had been at the bottom of the list in designing the Novosibirsk, and as they ducked into Lindana’s quarters she immediately missed her room aboard the Mombasa. Lindana and Gabriel squeezed into opposite ends of her bunk and sat facing each other, her feet resting atop his lap. Not the most professional position for a discussion, but it would do.

“I’ve been thinking about your comment that no one profits from the murder of innocents,” Gabriel began. “That isn’t entirely accurate. Many groups profit from war. Ship builders, weapons designers, fuel companies. War is good for the economy, as it were, but only as long as it’s a manageable size. It’s one reason why the Alliance was so quick to attack the seceding colonies. Fighting the rebels was considered a safer war to fight than attacking the Soviet Union.”

“You think someone with an interest in maintaining conflict sold us out?”

“It is possible. Someone within Alliance Intelligence knew that we were assigned to the ship carrying Raiya, and wished to stop us from finding her.”

“But wouldn’t they want us to find her? Exposing the existence of a Soviet super weapon would mean a new call to arms. Hit them before they can hit us.”

Gabriel nodded. “The mole could be a Soviet agent, trying to cover up the existence of the weapon by labeling us as the enemy. An Intel agent could have convinced that Alliance patrol to fire on New Nairobi, and written the code that took down the power plant.”

Lindana quirked a brow. “Is it something you could have accomplished?”

“Is it within my skill set? Yes. I like to believe that I would have rejected following such murderous orders, but I know there are other agents who would not have hesitated.”

“That’s terrifying. So how do we find the mole?”

“From here? I have no idea.” He grimaced and rubbed his eyes wearily. “I can’t contact them again without revealing our position. I’m not even certain who I would contact. As you’ve said, intelligence officers aren’t known for their trustworthiness. Whoever betrayed us is a high-ranking officer, and my contacts might not believe me due to my past with you.”

“Intelligence knows about our sordid past?” Lindana scowled. “Of course they do, don’t answer that. For what it’s worth, I trust you.”

“Do you?” Gabriel quirked a brow, seeming intrigued. “I seem to remember you claiming to hate me.”

“I hate what you do to me. It would’ve been easier if I hated you. If I could despise you as much as you deserved. But I didn’t. I still loved you, even after you destroyed me. That made it so much worse,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry, not anymore. I need you to be here for me from now on. And to be honest with me. Completely honest.”

“I love you.”

Lindana winced. “Maybe not that honest.”

“Is it so terrible?” Gabriel reached for the laces of her boots as if to untie them. Lindana moved her feet out of his reach, curled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

“Terrible isn’t the word I’d use. Complicated. We need to set some ground rules.”

“Oh?”

“First, I really have no desire to be the lady of your manor should you decide to settle down. I haven’t lived dirtside in years. I don’t intend to start now.”

Gabriel nodded. “Agreed. I’m rather used to traveling as well. I would be happy to continue flying with you aboard the Mombasa.”

Lindana blinked in surprise, and then nodded slowly. “Okay. Good...what are you looking for out of this?”

He quirked a grin. “I want you to rescue me, so we can live happily ever after.”

“Cute. Well, we’ll have to defeat the ultimate evil and save the kingdom first.”

“Of course. In the meantime...” Gabriel trailed off and his grin turned into a come-hither smolder.

She pointed a finger at him in warning. “We’re supposed to be on the bridge.”

“Why? You’re not the captain of this ship.”

Lindana snorted. “I’m not going to be caught naked, midcoitus when the ship enters hyperspace. That’s asking for sprains in places we don’t want.”

“An excellent point,” he agreed. “But later...”

“Later.” Lindana nodded and rose. She held out a hand to help him—he was so damn tall, he’d probably hit his head on the doorways in the Novosibirsk if he wasn’t careful.

Gabriel uncurled languidly like a cat waking after a long slumber, and he drew her into his arms. He held her close as she buried her face in his chest, taking solace in his strength. God, she’d missed this. Lindana felt a strange sense of belonging when wrapped in Gabriel’s arms, as though she had been made to fit against him. A perfect match.

Lindana tilted her head up for a scorching kiss that fried her senses like an overloaded circuit. He was just too much. The first time she saw him at the Academy Lindana thought that Gabriel Steele was physical perfection—tall, handsome, dashing—but then she also learned that he was gifted with a clever mind, a quick wit, and the refined manners of a privileged upbringing. He was Prince Charming, and she was Cinderella without the benefit of a fairy godmother. And yet, for every moment of self-doubt that she had in his presence, Gabriel always made her feel beautiful. He watched her like she was the only woman in the room—in the entire galaxy. The only woman he wanted.

“Damn you,” she said. “Fine. Five minutes.”

“Oh?” Gabriel’s eyes widened in surprise as Lindana dropped to her knees. She stroked his hard length through his trousers and he groaned. “Ten minutes.”

Lindana grinned as she freed his cock and took his sex into her mouth.

Gabriel growled and braced himself against the desk. “Dear God, yes.”

She stroked his shaft as she teased the tip with her lips and tongue, and he lolled back as he moaned his appreciation. He cupped the back of her head. “I do miss your hair. There’s nothing here to grab.”

“That’s the idea. You’re almost asking for me to pull your hair.”

“Please do.” He grinned, and she ended further banter by lavishing attention on his cock. She split her focus between pleasuring her lover and watching his reaction. There was a thrill in seeing how she affected him as his composure unraveled at her touch. She stroked, rolled, squeezed and teased until he cried out in warning.

Lindana paused and leaned back. “That’s not ten minutes.”

“True. I have plans for the rest of those minutes.” Gabriel held a hand out to help her to her feet. She rose and nuzzled his neck, and he reached between them to unfasten her pants.

“Do those plans involve this desk?” she asked.

“I had thought up against the wall, but I could be convinced to bend you over this desk.”

Lindana grinned wickedly. “Save the against-the-wall sex for when you’re completely healed.”

“I’m convinced.” Gabriel spun her around, tugged her pants down and nudged her thighs apart. Her sex was already hot and wet, aching with arousal. His cock entered her sex in one swift thrust, and then pounded her without mercy. She gripped the desk and held on tightly as sensation exploded through her. She came with a gasp, but he didn’t slow.

“Again, darling,” he purred against her ear. Lindana moaned and gasped, hurtling toward a second climax. Too much—the angle, his thick length, his hard, fast pace, it was all too much, pushing her forward.

“Gabriel, please.”

He came with a shout, pulling her back against him and clutching her to his chest as his cock pulsed within her. He brushed tender kisses against her hair as they both shook and struggled to catch their breath.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured.

“No, I did. Best to jump you now in case all hell breaks out later. Plus it’s entertaining when you lose your composure.”

“What composure?” Gabriel asked. “Just being around you makes it hard for me to breathe, like you steal all the air.”

“Mmm, good answer.”

They put themselves back to rights, then she took his hand and led him out of the room. “Bridge. Now.”

“Aye, Captain. But later...”

“You’re insatiable, Lieutenant.”

“You bring that out in me.”

Lindana grinned—she did, didn’t she. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Gabriel paused in the corridor and tugged her to a stop. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you.”

Lindana swallowed hard as her heart somersaulted—how could something so simple hit her so hard?

* * *

Gabriel lay in the darkness of the cramped Soviet quarters and felt completely content. Lindana stirred in his arms but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent yet strained, and Gabriel stroked her back. She snuggled closer, and he smiled.

He didn’t deserve this—the warm comfort of his lover pressed against him, at peace in his embrace. The blame for New Nairobi’s destruction lay at his feet. If he had trusted her, if he had ignored his orders and shared the mission details with her, if they had warned the colony...

Gabriel sighed and focused on the gentle rhythm of Lindy’s heartbeat where her body pressed against his, and the whisper of her breath against his skin. Coming here, accepting this mission, had put Lindy in precisely the sort of danger he had broken her heart to avoid. He had been such an idiot—filled with the righteous certainty that he was doing The Right Thing, and that he had hurt her to protect her. Now he understood that he had no business making a decision that important about their relationship without consulting her. Lindana had had a right to know, to decide whether or not to continue on or break things off. And of course Gabriel had promptly blundered into making that mistake again, charging ahead with his orders instead of trusting Lindy.

Trust. That was the heart of their problem, perhaps at the heart of the entire galaxy’s problem. Everyone was wound so tightly while living in constant fear of each other, waiting for the other side to strike. Humanity suspected traitors among their friends and family instead of enjoying the blessings they had, and spent their lives braced for sudden but inevitable betrayals.

Gabriel was through living like that. Lindana made him want to be a better man, and by God, he would do his best to never disappoint her again. He wanted a better life, and he wanted to start that life now.

“I can’t sleep when you’re thinking so loud,” Lindy muttered. She stretched and yawned, and he smiled sheepishly.

“My apologies. Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t now. You have to spill what was fueling that frown.” She propped herself up on her elbow and peered at him.

“I have something for you. I’ve been carrying it around for years, God knows why. I’ve even worn it on a chain around my neck when I was feeling particularly sorry for myself.” Gabriel activated the lights, slid from the bunk and liberated the copy of Pride and Prejudice from his pack. The pages were marked with a golden ring looped through a fine chain necklace, and he held the jewelry up for Lindy to see. The thin golden band was adorned with a sparkling diamond, and it swung ponderously back and forth as Lindana blinked at it with a stunned expression.

“Whoa. That would buy a lot of power converters.”

“I bought it for you when I returned to New Britain for my father’s funeral,” Gabriel explained. “I was going to propose on our anniversary, but the spec ops recruiter was waiting for me before I even left the planet.”

Lindana snorted, though there was a slight sniffle to the sound. “You should’ve sold that and put it toward your debt.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. A drop in the bucket.”

“Oh.” Lindy tore her attention from the ring and met his gaze. “I’m not saying yes. We’re not there yet.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment and Gabriel’s cock roused at the sight, distracted by thoughts of the wicked things her lips had been doing earlier. “Maybe you should wear it for now. It’s pretty. Like you,” she added with a mischievous grin.

Something fluttered in his heart, a rush of hope with sharp wings. “Then I will wear it until you deem yourself ready.”

“Until we both deem ourselves ready,” she corrected. “This is a two-way deal, Lieutenant. You’re still learning that.”

“I am.” Gabriel joined her on the bunk and rolled her beneath him. “Now that we’re awake, is there anything else you’d care to educate me about?”

Lindana kissed him. “Definitely.”

* * *

The blare of an alarm shocked Lindana out of a deep sleep. She jolted up and whacked her head on the low ceiling over her bunk, and was promptly elbowed in the ribs by Gabriel.

“Ow! Watch it,” she snapped. Then the ship suddenly dropped out of hyperspace and they both tumbled onto the floor. Lindana landed hard on her ass, sure that the impact bruised her tailbone. She cursed and barked for the lights to turn on—in English, which the Soviet computer ignored. Gabriel supplied the correct word in Russian, and they both blinked in the sudden illumination as they scrambled for their respective clothing.

“Is that battle stations?” Gabriel asked.

Lindana frowned as she attempted to judge the correct pitch of the alarm. “Fuck if I know. You’re bleeding here.” She tapped her forehead to indicate where Gabriel’s fall had gashed a bleeding slice across his forehead, and then she activated her comm. “Bridge, report.”

“There’s an emergency in the engine room,” Jiang said. Lindana wondered if she ever slept. “The hyperdrive is offline and we’re bleeding fuel.”

“What’s their status?” Lindana asked.

“They’re not responding.”

“Keep us updated. Gabriel and I are headed there now.” She pulled her shirt over her head.

“Saboteurs?” Gabriel guessed.

“Probably. Could be related to the damage Kowalczyk caused. Best to be prepared.” Lindana belted her pants and added her machete. She handed Gabriel her pistol, and he smiled grimly.

“We should have slept in my quarters. I have a rifle.”

“It’s not about the size, it’s how you use it,” she said, and Gabriel chuckled. Lindana grabbed a bandage from the room’s med kit and pressed it over Gabriel’s injury. “You’re the most accident prone intel officer I’ve ever met.”

“Because you keep hitting me,” he countered.

“Is that a spanking reference?” Lindana teased. Gabriel chuckled again as they hurried out of the room.

Lindana expected to find an engine room in turmoil from an equipment malfunction, but instead they nearly tripped over a corpse when she and Gabriel stepped off the lift. A Soviet crew member lay facedown in an enormous pool of blood, stabbed in the back. Gabriel cautiously knelt beside the victim.

“His throat’s been cut,” he said.

Lindana nodded and commed the bridge. “We have a security breach in the engine room. Lieutenant Steele and I are investigating.”

“Aye, Captain. I’m sending a team to check on our guests. It’s possible either the pirates or the loyalists escaped.”

“Or there was another KGB agent aboard,” Gabriel added. “A covert operative.”

“Lovely. Acknowledged, Lieutenant Chen. We’ll keep you updated.” Lindana cut the connection and drew her weapon. “I’ll take point.”

“I have the firearm,” Gabriel argued.

“And you’re still recovering from your injuries. I have point. Don’t shoot me in the back.”

He frowned but nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

They glided down the corridor, checking for signs of saboteurs. Alarms continued to blare and yellow warning lights flashed at regular intervals. Lindana’s heart pounded—there were too many access hatches to cover, and a rat’s nest of pipes, wires, conduits that could be concealing numerous dangers. They rounded a corner and Lindana’s breath caught as she spotted a Soviet tech specialist slumped against the wall, his throat sliced from ear to ear.

Shit. These people had pledged to help her, and she had failed to protect them. Adrenaline flooded her veins and her grip tightened on her blade. She raised a fist and motioned for Gabriel to halt at the sound of raised voices ahead.

“I’m telling you, these is the wrong kind of cells. Shuttle won’t take them, and it don’t have enough fuel to get far.”

Kowalczyk’s men. Figured. The loyalists wouldn’t have killed their former crew mates unless absolutely necessary. And the crazy pirate bastards had pulled fuel cells from a ship in hyperspace. They could’ve blown the whole section up, or worse. Gabriel lowered his pistol and holstered it, drawing a knife instead. Most of the sensitive equipment wouldn’t react well to stray energy discharges.

“We don’t have to get far. Just far enough to send a signal to the captain to come get us.”

“We have to live long enough for him to pick us up. We run now and they’ll shoot us like fish in a barrel.”

“Can’t you disable their weapons? Initiate the self-destruct sequence?”

Lindana considered chancing ricochets and ordering Gabriel to stun them, but to what end? To lock them up until they broke out again? How many more people would they kill? How many had they already killed? Kowalczyk’s men were ruthless—having one’s throat slit was a blessing compared to the hell of being one of their prisoners.

No, stunning them was not an option. There was only one punishment that would be justice for their crimes. Lindana motioned for Gabriel to attack.

She rushed the pirates. Four of them were arguing over the pulled power cells. Shit, there should be six. Where were the other two?

Mindful of the possibility of additional combatants, she engaged the closest one. Machetes were messy, hacking and slashing weapons, and she disemboweled the bastard in one swing that cut a diagonal slash from shoulder to hip. He had enough time to scream before she reversed her momentum and decapitated him.

The three remaining pirates rushed her, and Gabriel used their distraction to stab one through the back, thrusting up to pierce heart and lung with the same blow. It was a smooth, well-practiced move that made Lindana reassess her previous dubious opinion of his combat skills.

Lindana dodged a wild swing of a makeshift blade—bastards must have fashioned shivs to facilitate their escape. Her attacker lunged, and Gabriel yelled, “Behind!”

Lindana dropped and rolled—quite a trick while holding a machete, which was why she’d often practiced it while dueling Ryder with blunted blades. She came up in a squat, balanced on the balls of her feet, just in time to see the man who was about to ambush her crash into his comrade instead. Well, that answered the question of where one of the missing pirates was. Gabriel eliminated another pirate with a well-timed thrust that stabbed his target through the eye—three down, two still standing, and one missing in action.

The remaining two turned on Gabriel, and Lindana sprang forward and hacked the closer man’s legs. He fell screaming, and Lindana loomed over him and finished him off with a slash across his throat. Gabriel circled the remaining pirate. The man’s hand shook as he clutched his makeshift weapon, and for a moment Lindana thought he might surrender, but then he lunged at Gabriel. Lindana darted in, swung her blade above her head and sunk it into the pirate’s skull.

Lindana and Gabriel stood tensed for the appearance of the last pirate. When nothing happened, Lindana activated her comm. “Bridge, this is Nyota. Engine room threat neutralized. One hostile unaccounted for.”

“Do you need medical assistance?” Jiang asked.

“No.” Lindana nudged a corpse with her foot and cleaned her blade on the pirate’s trouser leg. “We’re going to need a cleanup crew though. Someone with a strong stomach.”

“Understood.” The call ended, and Lindana looked to Gabriel.

He stood over the fuel cells. “They don’t look too badly damaged, but I’m no engineer. Someone will need to examine them. Are you all right?”

“Fine. These bastards are used to slaughtering civilians with automatic weapons. I doubt anyone’s ever given them a real fight.”

“You’re not used to this much combat either,” Gabriel reminded her gently.

She scowled, prepared to tell him off, but then she nodded. “Not since the war. We try to avoid violence. Most of our missions are completed without a shot fired or a weapon drawn.”

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“I know.” Lindana nodded, then straightened. “I’m glad you’re here to watch my back.”

“It is a lovely view.” Gabriel grinned.

* * *

“How bad is it?” Lindana asked.

Vlad, the Novosibirsk’s chief engineer—or new chief, as the case may be, because the former chief had died during the pirates’ attack—rubbed the grease from his hands on to a faded red rag. “Could be worse.” Vlad shrugged. “Could be better. They pulled four fuel cells, but didn’t know what they were doing. They could’ve triggered an explosion. But they damaged the cells, and we don’t have the equipment to repair them. As it is, we have enough fuel to get to our destination.”

“And after that?” Lindana prompted.

“We’ll either need to get cells from the station, or the equipment to repair the ones we have.”

“Understood. Do what you can, and keep Captain Chen updated.” Lindana left the engine room to find Jiang and Sveta frowning together over a large blood stain. Lindana understood—they felt the same weight of responsibility that she did.

“Any news on our missing guest?” Lindana asked.

“No. We’re guessing he was sent to prep the shuttle while the rest of them grabbed fuel, but we haven’t seen any sign of him. There are a million places he could hide on a ship this size, and he doesn’t have an ear cuff or an implant like the Soviet crew does, so we can’t use the computer to locate him.”

“We’ll post guards outside sensitive areas and around the shuttle,” Jiang said.

Lindana nodded. “Have nonessential personnel sweep the ship in teams,” she suggested. “We had guards on the engine room before. Unfortunately they weren’t successful.”

“They were understaffed and overwhelmed,” Sveta said.

“I know. I don’t fault them. But now they’re even further understaffed and more vulnerable to attack. We can’t risk any more damage to the engines. If we end up marooned in Soviet space...” Lindana trailed off. They would be lucky to be sent to a gulag if they were discovered. The Soviet navy would probably obliterate them on sight.

“I’ll take care of it. If you’ll excuse me.” Jiang nodded politely and left. Sveta continued to stare despondently at the blood on the wall and floor.

“This is my fault,” she murmured. “I brought this upon them.”

“No,” Lindana said. “On the list of people who are responsible for this, you’re not even in the top ten.”

Sveta smiled weakly. “That is kind of you to say.”

“I’m not sure it’s kindness. It’s practicality. You stumbled onto something huge and ugly, and you’ve been paying the price for it. But you didn’t come up with the weapon out there. Someone in the Soviet Union did because they wanted to put the fear of God into the Alliance.”

“The fear of communism,” Sveta corrected. “Organized religion is against party policy. What they wanted was proof. Proof that we are better. It’s foolishness. Alliance, Soviet, neither is better than the other. They’re all just people, trying to live their lives as best they can.”

“Which is what we’re doing. Trying to live.”

Sveta nodded and sighed as she ran a hand over her bald head. “I miss my hair,” she admitted sheepishly.

“It will grow back. It looks okay on you. You have a nice head.” Lindana smiled, and Sveta laughed.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re welcome.” She glanced down the corridor. “We can clean this, if you want. I’ll help. Shouldn’t take too long if we do it together.”

Sveta smiled gratefully. “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

Chapter Eleven

This was without a doubt the farthest into Soviet space that Lindana had ever traveled. During missions the Mombasa kept to the edges of Soviet territory and only crossed the border to pounce on ships traversing trade routes, and then hightail it back to Alliance space when the job was done. It helped that Soviet space, the Core Colonies and Alliance space were tangled like a Gordian knot. Territory was officially claimed once permanent settlements were established, and as humanity spread from system to system some colonies flourished while others failed, leading to polka dotted maps where Soviet planets shared solar systems with Alliance ones. Things had begun to even out as the two superpowers consolidated their claims into clumps of influence, but the C3 upended that. Maybe that was why the Soviets had developed their mysterious super weapon—to paint the entire galactic map red.

From her spot on the Novosibirsk’s bridge Lindana watched the final moments of the countdown tick away as she fidgeted with the collar of her borrowed uniform jacket. The Mombasa didn’t have an official uniform to speak of, other than to insist that everyone wear pants, shirts and shoes while on duty. Even that didn’t always happen—Ryder had a shirt allergy, preferring to display the intricate tattoos covering his torso, and Maria and the rats often shucked their shoes when crawling around the ducts, claiming that they needed the extra climbing traction that toes provided. Lindana hadn’t realized how used to casual attire she had grown until she donned the Soviet uniform. The stiff jacket was itchy, but the true torture came from the fur cap. Sveta had assured them that the fur was not real, but it still made Lindana feel as though a small animal was precariously perched atop her head.

Three, two, one. The hyperdrive disengaged and the Novosibirsk—now temporarily named the Yangtze, according to their forged ship ID—dropped into real space. Lindana said a silent prayer for their success. They needed all the help they could get.

“Hail Korolev Station when in range,” Jiang ordered. Command seemed to come easily to Jiang, her rigid posture as natural as if she spent all of her time in the big chair. Lindana wondered again what other “nonrelevant” details of her pilot’s past Jiang had failed to mention—or remember, due to the head trauma she’d suffered during the siege of New Hong Kong. Jiang’s long-term memory was like Swiss cheese filled with black holes.

Korolev Station loomed into viewing range. The enormous structure bristled like a metallic hedgehog, a roly-poly ball covered in spiny antennae. Lindana wondered how they were supposed to dock with the pointy bastard, but that wasn’t her job. She was seated at one of the sensor stations, scanning for potential threats and other spacecraft. At the moment Korolev Station was alone, and it should stay that way. Communications stations weren’t high traffic areas, and the few visitors they hosted were only stopping on their way to somewhere else.

“The station is requesting to speak with our captain,” the Soviet communications tech said.

Reasonable. The station wasn’t expecting visitors, and the Yangtze had seen better days. If the ship was still up to military specs it wouldn’t raise an eyebrow, but it was clearly modified—and damaged from its rumble with the Blackjack. With any luck Jiang would convince them that everything was on the up and up.

“Put them on speaker,” Jiang said. She immediately launched into Cantonese, one of the official languages of the USSR. Lindana spoke it well enough to converse with Jiang when they didn’t want eavesdroppers. Most military personnel had translation programs built into their comms, but the programs were glitchy—slang never translated well, and the programs tripped over things like accents, local dialects and colloquialisms.

“This is Captain Yang of the transport Yangtze,” Jiang said. “To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Commander Kornelius Polestra. State your business.”

“We have damaged fuel cells and request access to your engineering bay to make repairs.”

It was a legitimate reason for a ship to require aid, and they did have damaged fuel cells that would pass any inspection that Polestra might make. The plan was to have a small team pose as techs and then break off to access the Soviet data network.

“How were the cells damaged? Are they stable enough to transport?” he asked.

“We have a new chief engineer. Honestly I think he fucked it up.”

There was silence over the comm as the commander digested that; Lindana blinked, surprised at Jiang’s choice of words. Apparently they were the right words, because Commander Polestra burst into hearty laughter.

“Understood. You are clear to dock, Yangtze.”

Lindana released a breath she’d been holding. This was the first step in what would be a stressful mission, but they passed initial muster.

It would be simpler to go in guns blazing and force their way in like proper pirates, but Lindana was still a soldier at heart, and none of her people had wanted to take the direct route. They agreed to the path of least resistance, and hopefully by the time the Soviets realized what had happened, the Novosibirsk would be long gone. If they were really fortunate the Soviets wouldn’t even know of their actions at all.

Lindana wasn’t optimistic that their luck was that good, but she added another prayer anyway. Religion had never been her thing, much to Tomas’s exasperation. The past few years had seen a renewal in his faith as he sought ways to manage his PTSD, but in Lindana’s opinion the only thing that formal prayer brought a person was bad knees.

The Yangtze eased toward the Korolev, and Lindana was glad she didn’t have to be the one responsible for flying the beast into position. One crunched antennae was probably worth a year’s pay for the average grunt.

“Hard dock achieved,” the pilot said.

Jiang rose and tugged at the hem of her jacket. “It’s showtime.”

* * *

Makeup concealed Sveta’s fading bruises, and she looked healthy but still nothing like the infamous Red Raiya. The loss of her flaming red hair—along with about fifteen pounds—had transformed her, or perhaps restored her, to Svetlana Grinkov. Useful for the mission, but Lindana was concerned about Sveta’s mental state. She had held up admirably so far, but everyone had their breaking point. This would be the first time since her rescue that Sveta was surrounded by potentially hostile members of the Soviet Union.

Gabriel was still sulking over the loss of his hair, but the Soviet Union had strict uniform standards that did not allow for his long locks. He had insisted on participating in the mission, and his hair was a casualty of that demand. To be honest, Lindana was a little upset over the loss as well, but she had gotten in one last good pull before they had cut it.

Jiang led the group in her role as captain. Lindana, Gabriel, Sveta and Sergei played the part of techs in charge of transporting the damaged fuel cells. Sergei would be in charge of repairs while Jiang schmoozed the Korolev’s command crew and Lindana, Gabriel and Sveta searched for information on the secret super weapon.

The airlock opened to reveal Commander Polestra. He was an older man, likely near retirement judging by his silver hair, and of Eastern European descent—German maybe, or Czech. Polestra was fair-haired and blue eyed, with a tall, robust build meant to chop wood and haul water. Like many men he was immediately smitten by Jiang because she appeared petite and vulnerable. On the surface Jiang looked as though she needed doors opened for her, but the reality was that she could kick her own doors in, no help necessary. Lindana and Jiang had sparred many times, and Jiang always won.

“Captain Yang, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to be your guide aboard Korolev Station.” The commander bowed, and Lindana bit her tongue. His Cantonese wasn’t bad, but his bow was definitely rusty. There weren’t many social opportunities out here in the middle of nowhere. He’d stepped on someone’s toes to merit a shit assignment like this at the end of his career.

“I am honored to meet you, Commander Polestra.” Jiang bowed, the picture of grace and deference. Points to her. “If you would be so kind as to direct my specialists to the engineering bay, I would enjoy a tour of your station.”

Polestra grinned. “Of course. Please, follow me.”

Jiang was a natural. Lindana kept her head down and pushed her fuel cell, the squeaking wheels of the flat cart loud against the metal deck. The station was quieter than a spaceship—no propulsion needed, and Soviet automation only needed a small crew to monitor it. Two dozen people were assigned to the station, most responsible for upkeep of the various communication systems—techs, not soldiers.

By the time they reached the engineering bay Jiang had taken the commander’s arm and was giggling at his jokes. Giggling! It was more than a little disconcerting. The commander steered Jiang away and left the team under the supervision of a specialist who looked suspiciously as though he had been sleeping on the job. Putting him back to sleep should be simple, and Lindana doubted that he would find anything unusual about an unscheduled nap.

Lindana eyed the array of tools, gizmos and other pieces of equipment that she had no idea how to use. Engineering had never been her strong point; she was the sort who hit her data terminal until it cooperated or until a tech appeared to insist that she stop.

“How long will this take?” she quietly asked Sergei.

“Depends. It would have been nice if you’d given me more help,” he said.

“Maybe their tech can help you.”

Sergei frowned, his disapproval almost palpable as he eyed the Korolev’s crew member with derision. Apparently the man didn’t measure up to Sergei’s standards.

Lindana shrugged. “Just a thought.”

“Have him work with Sveta. She knows enough to convince him. Give me ten minutes before you move,” Sergei said.

Lindana nodded and followed his lead. It felt like the longest, most boring ten minutes of her life. Gabriel once again proved that he was perfect at everything by singlehandedly repairing the damage to his fuel cell in less than ten minutes. She was both irritated and aroused by this, and managed to burn her fingers in her distraction, much to Sergei’s amusement.

Sveta sedated the Korolev’s tech before Lindana even realized what had happened. One moment the man was bending over his work, and the next he slumped to the floor with a thud.

“The security feed is on loop. We should have twenty minutes,” Sveta said.

“Fifteen,” Gabriel guessed. “We estimated the sedative for a person with less body mass. He won’t be out as long.”

“All the more reason to hurry,” Lindana said.

“Go.” Sergei waved them on. “I’ll finish up here.”

* * *

Their footsteps echoed, eerily loud in the chill silence of the Korolev’s corridors. Sveta moved with determined purpose, her jaw set in a grim line as she led them off the beaten path and into a series of maintenance shafts. They climbed down narrow ladders and through tight tunnels until Sveta announced that they had reached the access point. Lindana thought the place looked suspiciously like a janitorial closet, but the thick layer of dust coating every surface suggested that it was the maid’s year off. Sveta pried a panel off the wall and the ensuing dust cloud sent everyone into a sneezing fit.

Gabriel and Sveta seemed to know what they were doing as far as accessing the data network went—which was fortunate, because Lindana had no clue how to do it—and Lindana stood guard as they worked. The pair of them had pulled enough wires to make a multicolored plate of spaghetti, and were now stripping insulation, twisting ends together, and causing other electronic mayhem in order to connect Maria’s tablet to the network. Maria had assured them that her tablet could hack any security system, and Lindana prayed that she was right.

“Time,” Sveta said.

“Eleven minutes,” Lindana said. She wondered how Jiang was faring. A tour of Korolev Station likely wouldn’t last very long. Was the commander plying her with vodka and promises? Lindana shuddered. Poor Jiang. Lindana would buy her three boxes of shortbread biscuits at their next stop.

“This should be the last one.” Gabriel pulled a cable free and the lights went out above them, plunging the room into darkness.

“That’s...wrong,” Sveta said. Lindana could hear the frown in her voice.

“Maybe they forgot to pay their power bill,” Lindana joked. She reached for her handlamp, but the lights flickered back on. “There you go. Fixed.”

“I didn’t do anything. Did you?” Gabriel asked Sveta, who shook her head. “Hmm. No matter. You’re clear to proceed.”

Sveta took a deep breath as she picked up the tablet. “I’ve bypassed the security firewalls and I’m accessing the network now. I’m deploying Chief Watson’s sweeper programs.”

“It should go quickly,” Gabriel assured Lindana. “Chief Watson does good work. It’s only a matter of sifting through the layers of Soviet encryption.”

“Oh, is that all?” Lindana said dryly. Soviet codes were a bitch to crack. It was a problem that had plagued them since the twentieth century.

“It helps that we’re searching for mentions of me,” Sveta murmured. “There could be any number of top secret weapons programs under development, but there is only one that I stumbled upon. Someone will have connected it to my file. Soviet paperwork is massive and predictable.”

Lindana edged nearer to Gabriel, and he reached for her hand and held it. His touch was reassuring—his fingers were slightly singed from twisting live wires, but otherwise his hand was warm and solid. Sveta glanced up and snorted.

“I did warn you that he is too pretty,” she said.

“I disagree with the idea that too pretty is a bad thing,” Gabriel said. Lindana resisted the urge to nudge him in the ribs and concentrated on keeping watch. It was quiet. Quiet was good. Quiet meant that their absence hadn’t been discovered and that they hadn’t tripped any security alarms. Yet.

“Preliminary results beginning to populate now,” Sveta said. “Nothing much. The name of the ship we sacked, its itinerary from the run it was on when we attacked it. Destination and port of origin both classified, of course.”

“Is there a crew list or passenger manifest?” Lindana asked. “We can track their movements before the shipment was loaded.”

Sveta nodded. “I’m downloading it. The files are encrypted, too, but not as heavily as the information about the piece of the weapon is. Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Lindana prompted.

“Medical studies. I recognize the names of the labs. Pharmaceutical companies. I’m not certain why this is connected to weapons research.”

“Human trials,” Gabriel said. “Or misdirection. They could be using the labs as fronts.”

“Nine minutes,” Lindana said.

“The running countdown is not as helpful as you would think,” Sveta retorted.

“Chase the money,” Gabriel said. “There’s always a military paper trail. Someone requisitioned the ship, and their name may be on the payroll.”

“This is not my first rodeo, buckaroo,” Sveta scoffed. “Next you will be telling me to track large increases in military spending. I am already on it.”

“Not bad, for a pirate,” Gabriel said.

Sveta’s shoulders tensed. “I was not always a pirate,” she said softly. “I’m not certain what I am now.”

“We’re the good guys,” Lindana said.

Sveta snorted. “Everyone thinks that they are good guy. Usually that is a sign that you are up to no good. Or on the wrong side.”

“We’re on our own side now,” Lindana said. “Whether or not it’s the right side will have to wait.”

The lights flickered again and everyone flinched. “Is that because of the wiring?” Lindana asked.

“It shouldn’t be,” Gabriel said. “The systems are separate. We didn’t pull any related wires.”

“I don’t like this. I’m going to check in with Sergei.” Lindana activated her comm, but it remained silent.

“My comm is down,” Gabriel said.

“Mine, too. Damn it, I’ve lost the connection.” Sveta thumped the side of her tablet. “The whole network is down.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Gabriel said. Sveta handed him the tablet and he frowned at the screen. “The only way we could lose the connection is if transmissions are being jammed.”

“Why would the Soviets jam the transmission? Did they discover the breach?” Lindana asked. The lights went out again, and then weak yellow emergency lights came up accompanied by the blaring of alarms. “Shit. Did you get what we need?”

“No. I need more time.” Sveta grimaced, then grabbed Lindana’s arm. “This is our only chance at this. I need you to get me more time.”

Lindana nodded and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get it, I promise. Gabriel, let’s move out.”

Chapter Twelve

“Pirates?” Gabriel guessed.

“Kowalczyk. Has to be,” Lindana said grimly. “That missing pirate must have sent him our position. That, or he finally tracked his shuttle. We should have spaced the damn thing when we had the chance.”

“Waste not, want not,” Gabriel said. “We’re unarmed and unarmored. Ideas?”

“The station has to have an armory. At least we’re dressed the part.” Lindana scratched beneath the fur uniform cap and wondered what sort of animal had inspired the original design—some angry Siberian creature that ate frozen tundra for breakfast. The Soviets were too stingy to provide extra fuel to keep their facilities warm, hence necessity of the hat—though the official reason was tradition.

“If we can get to the ship—” Gabriel started, and she cut him off.

“They’ll have detached by now.”

“They have no captain,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s standard procedure. They’re sitting ducks as long as they’re docked. They need to separate if they have a chance at defending themselves.”

Gabriel nodded, lips pressed in a grim line. “We need to end the jamming in order to restore the signal. That means we’ll either need to destroy the Blackjack or find a way to deactivate the jammer.”

“We could try asking Captain Kowalczyk nicely,” she said dryly.

“He may listen. There’s a first time for everything.”

“Considerate pirates. It could be the new fashion.” Lindana stopped at a four-way intersection and frowned at the Cyrillic letters. “Okay, Lieutenant Impeccable Russian. Which way to their command center?”

“I thought we were going to the armory?”

“We are. After we fetch Jiang. She counts as a weapon,” Lindana said. Gabriel seemed skeptical, and she grinned. “Trust me.”

“Of course. This way.”

The station rattled ominously a few times as they hurried down corridors and climbed maintenance ladders to reach the command level—no sense looking for a lift during a power outage. The Korolev’s command center was abuzz with noise and activity like a nest of angry hornets. Jiang was in the center of the storm, barking orders like a seasoned veteran. She motioned them over to join her.

“Status?” Jiang asked.

“Communications are jammed,” Lindana said. “The others are continuing their mission.” Bland enough to explain their situation without revealing the truth. “Orders?”

“We’re preparing to repel boarders,” Jiang explained. “The Blackjack is engaging the Yangtze. She’s holding her own. The pirates launched a shuttle that has almost completed a hard dock. I want you to join the defenders.”

“Aye, Captain.” She said it without hesitation, though after a moment the strangeness of it hit her. When was the last time she had called another person “captain”? Not since her Alliance days. Lindana trusted Jiang to take command. “We’ll need weapons.”

Jiang snapped her fingers and caught the attention of a nearby specialist. “My people need directions to the armory. They’re joining the defense.”

“Do you think the Yangtze can handle the pirates?” Lindana asked quietly in Cantonese.

“They did before, but I sent for backup, just in case. They just have to hold out until it arrives.”

Lindana nodded and turned to Gabriel. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The Korolev’s crew was frightened. Lindana didn’t blame them—the crew had never experienced anything like this before, because no pirate in their right mind attacked a communications station. Sure there was money to be made in information, but pirates seldom wanted to invest the sort of time it took to sift through data and find a buyer for it. Much easier to raid a target that had physical loot one could steal, carry off and sell on the black market.

The ranking officer’s hands shook as he gathered weapons and ammunition, and he couldn’t fasten his armor. The man was about five years from retirement, judging by his salt-and-pepper hair.

“Have you ever been in combat?” Lindana asked. The poor bastard was so scared he didn’t even notice her terrible accent.

“No,” he said. “Not even during the war.”

Gabriel thumped the officer’s shoulder. “We have been,” Gabriel assured him. “We can take the lead, if you wish.”

The officer sighed and sagged with relief. “I would be grateful, comrade.”

Gabriel looked to Lindy, one dark eyebrow quirked in silent question, and she inclined her head in permission. Yes, she outranked him, and she arguably had more battle experience than he did—difficult to judge, considering that she still didn’t know the details of his classified past—but Gabriel’s Russian was impeccable. He could handle this. She trusted him.

Gabriel clapped his hands sharply to get the room’s attention, and then he barked orders like a seasoned commander. Lindana allowed herself a tight grin—she and Gabriel should be able to handle a few pirates. All they had to do was repel the boarders and hold the station long enough for Jiang’s help to arrive. Though it did beg the question of who Jiang had called for help. The Mombasa was away on its recruitment mission, and they didn’t have any allies in Soviet space that Lindana knew of, though other Soviets vessels would help them until they realized that the Yangtze was really the Novosibirsk.

Well, one crisis at a time.

Chapter Thirteen

The slam of the battering ram reverberated through the corridor, and the Korolev’s crew all flinched as though struck. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Lindana’s face as she steadied the butt of the rifle against her shoulder.

“Hold,” Gabriel ordered. “Remember, they have to come to us. They can only take what we give them. Do not cede any ground.”

Jiang had assured them that nothing in this area was flammable or combustible. They could shoot the entire corridor full of holes if need be—but no concussion grenades, just in case. Lindana had rigged a quick and dirty set of traps by setting trip wires to trigger stun grenades while the rest of the defenders hauled makeshift cover into place. She could have set a dozen more if she had the time, but the Blackjack’s pirates were nearly through the hull and there was no time left.

“Hold!”

One final boom of the battering ram was followed by the heavy clang of metal hitting the Korolev’s deck. The roar of angry voices echoed down the corridor, and Lindana braced herself behind an overturned desk. The Blackjack’s crew outnumbered the Korolev’s by three to one, possibly even more. Captains like Kowalczyk had no problem attracting men to their crews—men who were desperate, violent, greedy or crazy enough not to care who they hurt as long as the payday was good. The Korolev’s defenders had the advantage of good position, but the Blackjack’s invaders had superior numbers. The stun grenades would take out the first wave, and Lindana waited for the flash of the stun blast followed by the thumps of unconscious bodies hitting the ground.

Her Soviet comrades were not so patient and fired the moment the pirates appeared, wasting their ammo and giving away their positions. Lindana’s lips pressed in a disapproving line as she lined up her first shot. The rifle jerked in her hands as she fired, but the round hit the chest plate of her target’s armor. Shit. The Korolev’s armory wasn’t equipped with ammo that could penetrate heavy armor. Poor bastards hardly had any weapons at all.

Gabriel was positioned across from her, and she watched as he fired and hit a pirate with a clean headshot. Damn. Maybe Lindana was more out of practice than she realized—soft from too much time spent in the cockpit and not on the front lines. She’d remedy that if they survived this; item two hundred and fifty-five on her To Do list.

The Soviets fired wild, and the fever pitch of their attack kept the invaders at bay until the pirates realized that their armor was soaking most of the damage. The pirates advanced in a drunken line as they bobbed and weaved to avoid taking fire. Lindana lined up and shot the lead pirate through the throat, but his comrades simply stepped over him as he fell.

“Hold!” Gabriel’s order boomed over the noise of battle, but the nearest defenders spooked and ran, only to be shot in the back when they turned. Their light armor was no match for the bullets of the Blackjack’s crew, and most were dead before they hit the deck.

Lindana and Gabriel exchanged a grim look, and each tensed at the inevitability of hand-to-hand combat. Lindana had never missed her machete so much; all she had was her backup knife. It was a wicked military model that would cut through even heavy armor, but she hated letting any target get close enough to use it. A machete at least gave her an arm’s length of distance from an attacker.

Lindana and Gabriel’s combined marksmanship took four more pirates out of play. Several shots thudded into the desk in front of her and one bullet zinged past her head. She dropped her rifle and switched to her pistol, plugging several rounds into a pirate who had advanced within a few feet of her position. She unloaded until the pistol clicked empty, and then she sucked in a deep breath and grabbed her knife. Then a voice shouted down the hallway and combat ground to a halt.

“I want to parlay!”

Fuck. Lindana would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere, as though the speaker gargled with whiskey and rusted nails. Captain “Black” Jack Kowalczyk. She frantically shook her head at Gabriel and hissed, “Just shoot them!”

Gabriel raised his rifle to reply, but then Commander Polestra answered from behind them. “What are your terms?”

“Sir, we do not negotiate with pirates,” Gabriel reminded him, his voice strained.

“This is my station, and I will do as I please,” Polestra said.

Idiot. Lindana was tempted to shoot Polestra herself if he stepped into her line of fire.

Kowalczyk swaggered into view, geared in expensive armor that would deflect their bullets as though there were shooting spit wads at him. Lindana could never afford to outfit the Mombasa’s crew with equipment like that. The armor envy was almost enough to tempt her into piracy.

Kowalczyk peered up and down the hallway, and his attention locked on Lindana. “Why, Captain Nyota. Is that you hiding under that dead rat?”

Lindana scowled and fought the urge to scratch under her fur cap. She clutched her knife tighter. “Come a little closer and you’ll find out.”

“Now, now. No need to scratch my armor,” he tsked. “Why don’t you all put your weapons down and we’ll talk like civilized people.”

“You wouldn’t know civilized if it bit you in the—”

“Ah ah!” Kowalczyk waved a disapproving finger in her direction. “Weapons down, or my boys will start killing these nice people.”

Lindana’s teeth ground as she slowly rose and set her blade aside, the rest of the defenders following suit by dropping their guns. She glanced behind her and saw Polestra finally step into view, and her hands clenched into fists. The commander held a pistol pressed against Jiang’s temple.

“Stay back! I will shoot her.”

“She’s lovely, whoever she is,” Kowalczyk said, “but we’re not here for her. We want Red Raiya. Give her to us, and we’ll leave quietly.”

“Raiya is dead, jackass,” Lindana said. “Don’t you read the newsfeeds? Oh, wait, I bet you never learned how to read.”

“Very amusing, I’m sure. I know she’s with you.”

“How do you know?” Gabriel asked. “Who sent you after us?”

The pirate captain turned his focus, and his weapon, on Gabriel. “That information is expensive, and I doubt you can afford it. Hand Raiya over now,” Kowalczyk demanded.

Lindana shrugged slightly. “Not sure where she is, but really, I’m afraid you have things backward.”

“Backward?” Commander Polestra repeated with a confused frown.

“Raiya is the least of your problems now. We’re prepared to accept your unconditional surrender.” The pirates burst into laughter, but then as if on cue the entire station rattled as though shaken by an earthquake. “Sounds like the cavalry to me.”

Everything happened at once, almost in slow motion. Jiang swung into action, disarming Commander Polestra and dropping him to the ground in one fell swoop. The pirates realized that something was wrong and the parlay was over and began to fire, and Lindana watched in horror as Kowalczyk’s weapon discharged. She leaped forward, propelled by fear for Gabriel’s life, and she threw herself in front of him. Pain blossomed through Lindana’s chest and she collapsed.

“Lindy!” Gabriel’s pale face swam into view, his eyes wide with terror. “God, no.”

“Not done yet,” Lindana blurted out. “Orders. Go.” Her lips twitched as she tried to give him a reassuring smile. She was made of stern stuff, and one bullet couldn’t bring her down.

“Damn you. Don’t you dare die on me.”

Jiang appeared at his side and pressed a blade into his hands, and the pair charged off. Lindana listened to the cacophony of battle around her. Each breath was an agonizing struggle, and each inhale a wheezing gasp that didn’t seem to draw in any air. She suddenly regretted not bringing Tomas on this mission.

* * *

Rage burned through Gabriel as he gripped the hilt of the sabre Jiang had given him. Commander Polestra’s, doubtless, liberated from the man after she dropped him.

“Go,” Jiang shouted. “Stop him.”

Captain Kowalczyk was rushing toward them, and Gabriel raised his borrowed blade and charged.

Bullets whizzed past him as the few Soviet crew members fired at the pirates. Jiang was a blur of violent grace in Gabriel’s peripheral vision, dropping target after target with a pair of daggers.

Kowalczyk drew his cutlass, and a metallic clang cut through the cacophony of battle as their blades met. Fueled by fury, Gabriel was relentless in his attack, forcing his opponent to retreat as he pressed him back.

“You’re new,” Kowalczyk said. “This isn’t your fight. Just give me Raiya and I’ll leave.”

“The only way you’re leaving is in a box.” Gabriel lunged and scored a hit that gouged a line across the pirate’s armor.

“So dramatic. This is just business.” Kowalczyk slashed at him and Gabriel was a second too slow to dodge. He hissed in pain as a long slash sliced through his light armor and cut a gash down his left forearm.

“Hardly,” Gabriel spat. The fate of the galaxy could be at stake, and Lindy might be dying from her wound. This was far from business. He surged forward and swung for Kowalczyk’s head, and the blow cracked his helmet’s visor.

Kowalczyk stumbled back, momentarily blinded, and Gabriel pressed his advantage. He continued to gain ground as his opponent retreated, all the way back to the pirates’ boarding point. Kowalczyk shouted for reinforcements, but nothing happened. Gabriel risked a glance past Kowalczyk, and saw only the blackness of space through the hole the pirates had cut into the Korolev’s hull. The Blackjack was gone, and it had left the dubious protection of a flex-seal in its place.

“Hold your fire,” Gabriel ordered. One stray bullet could puncture the seal, and Gabriel had no desire to see what would happen if it did.

Captain Kowalczyk snarled as he realized he was stranded, and he whirled and renewed his attack. He swung like a madman—hacking and slashing without form or finesse. Gabriel struggled to block each blow, on the defensive for the first time. His wound ached and bled, and his gut roiled with fear for Lindy.

“Gabriel! Down!” Jiang ordered.

He dropped to one knee in reply, and two daggers sailed over his head and embedded harmlessly into Kowalczyk’s breastplate.

“You missed,” the pirate crowed.

No, she didn’t. Gabriel lunged and thrust up, stabbing Kowalczyk through the throat. He withdrew the blade in a gush of blood, and the pirate collapsed like a rag doll.

Gabriel scanned for other threats, but Jiang seemed to have taken care of the rest of the pirates. He dropped his sabre and hurried to Lindy’s side. She gazed up at him, her breath rattling wetly as she struggled for air.

“Why?” Gabriel pressed his hands against the wound to stanch the bleeding. “Why would you do that?”

She reached a shaking hand to cup his jaw, and then placed her palm against his chest over the spot where the gold engagement ring hung on a chain around his neck.

Gabriel grabbed the chain and yanked it free. With bloodstained hands he slipped the ring free, and then placed it on to her finger. “Marry me,” he insisted. “I love you. I will never make the mistake of leaving you again. I’ll follow you to the ends of the universe.”

Lindana inclined her head in a weak nod, but then her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness.

“No!” Gabriel roared.

“Here.” Jiang appeared at his side with a med kit in hand. “That station medic is down. We need to stabilize her until the Yangtze can dock and we can get her on board.”

He nodded as he cracked the kit open and grabbed the aerosol bandages. “What happened to the Blackjack?”

“It’s being pummeled into scrap. Comms are back up.” Jiang squeezed his shoulder. “She’ll make it. Lindana is a fighter, and she’s fighting for you.”

Gabriel nodded tightly, and prayed.

Chapter Fourteen

“I can’t believe you took a bullet for him.”

Lindana blinked a desert’s worth of sand from her eyes as she dragged herself awake. Everything hurt—an all-over pain as though she’d rolled down a hill covered in sharp rocks. The world swam into focus and Tomas’s disapproving scowl hovered over her.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” Tomas said. “I’m going to sit you up, and you’re going to drink some water.”

Lindana nodded. The diagnostic bed angled up and eased her into a sitting position, and Tomas held out a cup of water with a straw. She reached for it and he gently pressed her hand down. “Rest. Drink. That’s an order.”

She cocked a brow as she tried and failed to remember the last time Tomas had pampered her. She had a fuzzy memory of having the chicken pox as a child, and Tomas force-feeding her soup. The moment the water hit her lips she realized that she was parched, and she sucked down the liquid like it was cheap vodka.

“Easy. Don’t overdo it. You’ve been out for two days.”

“Only two?” Her voice was rusty as though unused. Or overused. Had she been screaming?

“Well, more like three. The Novosibirsk busted ass to get to the rendezvous point. Lucky for you we were already there. Though the Soviet medical team did a decent job of patching you up. Not as good as I do, mind you, but at least they didn’t screw anything up.”

“Report.”

“Right. You’re aboard the Mombasa. Sveta is captaining the Novosibirsk, which is docked with us. All of our crew and theirs is accounted for. The Korolev had a bad day, but that’s the Soviet’s problem, not ours. Sveta stole the entire Soviet data network, and we’re working on it now.”

Lindana frowned, skeptical, and Tomas shrugged. “Okay, not the entire network, but it’s a big haul. It’s going to take time to decrypt and analyze.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

Tomas rolled his eyes. “I kicked him out. He was always underfoot and I was about to stab him with a scalpel. Jiang put him to work.”

A knot eased in her chest. Gabriel was all right. Her gaze flicked down to her left hand, and she blinked at the ring. So she hadn’t hallucinated that. Good to know.

“That’s some bling you have there, princess,” Tomas teased. “Guess you finally found your Prince Charming.”

“No,” she corrected. “He finally found his knight in shining armor.”

“No shit. Sounds like you. Leaping into the path of Teflon bullets to protect your true love.”

“Are you mad at me?” Lindana asked.

“No. I want you to be happy. I’m just not convinced yet that he’s the man to do that.”

Lindana smiled. “He has time to convince you. He’s staying.”

“Well I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”

“Was your mission successful?”

Tomas shrugged again. “Yes and no. We have three additional ships. We also have what was left of the Blackjack after the drones got through with it, but there are differing opinions on what to do with it. For now it’s running with a skeleton crew made up of people from each ship.”

“Drones?”

“Apparently Jiang called in a drone strike.” Tomas paused and looked away. “Don’t worry about that now. What matters is that we’re okay.”

“It’s a start. We’ll convert more people to our cause.”

Tomas chuckled. “‘Our cause.’ You sound like a revolutionary.”

“I guess I do. We are starting a bit of a revolution. Fighting the good fight.”

He scratched his head and poured her a refill. “Not sure if this is the good fight. I’m interested in keeping us all alive, though. And you! No more diving in front of bullets. I don’t want to be an only child.”

“I’ll do my best. I love you, big brother.”

“I love you too, little sister.”

“Lindy! You’re awake,” Gabriel exclaimed as he hurried into the room. He shot Tomas an irritated glare. “I asked you to call me if she woke.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind. I’ll let you two...” Tomas waved his hands in their general direction. “But no kissing in the med bay. Got to have some standards around here.”

“I’m the captain, I can kiss anybody anywhere on my ship,” she argued.

Gabriel proved her point by leaning in for a soft kiss, and she beamed at him. There was something medicinal in being kissed by the one you loved.

“Ugh. Page me if you need me. I’m going to go bleach my eyeballs,” Tomas said.

“Stay out of engineering,” Lindana called to his retreating back, and he flipped her off. “That’s insubordination.”

“Well, he did save your life,” Gabriel said. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“It only seemed fair after you did the same to me on the Novosibirsk, remember?” she pointed out, and he scowled. “Report, Lieutenant.”

“We have several promising leads based on the information Sveta pulled from the Soviet network. They’ll take time to follow, and all of them appear...”

“Politically problematic?” Lindana guessed.

“Put lightly.” Gabriel sighed and shook his head. “It’s going to get ugly.”

“Well, then I’m glad I have an extra pretty intel agent on my side.”

“Always.” Gabriel raised her left hand and kissed her knuckles, the golden ring sparkling in the flashing med bay indicator lights.

“You know, we could sell that thing and buy everyone new sets of armor,” Lindana said, and then chuckled at Gabriel’s scandalized expression. She winced—it hurt to laugh. “Just kidding. I’m not taking it off. It’s mine now. I took a bullet for it.”

“I love you.”

Lindana smiled. “I know.”

Epilogue

Jiang kept playing the moment over inside her head like a vid stuck on loop. The way Lieutenant Steele’s eyes hardened and his lips pressed together in a thin line, the way Tomas refused to meet her eyes as he rattled off the science of what the brain scan had discovered.

A tumor would have been kinder. It would have neatly explained the blackouts, the lost time, the low-grade migraines that appeared and disappeared without reason. Or a brain lesion, perhaps. Something treatable with another surgery—she’d been through so many, one more would hardly bother her.

It’s the tea, Gabriel had explained gently. Her favorite green tea turned out to be a traitor, hiding insidious codes that activated the remnants of a sensory implant buried in her brain. The implant had sustained too much damage to function properly, so instead it triggered her subconscious. Jiang’s left hand literally hadn’t known what the right hand was doing. And in this case, her right hand had been betraying her shipmates—her only friends, and the closest thing she had to family—and she had no memory of doing it.

She was the mole aboard the Mombasa. She was responsible for Erik’s death.

The lift doors opened and Jiang shifted the equipment bag on her shoulder as she entered the Novosibirsk’s cargo bay. The Blackjack’s primary boarding shuttle was still berthed inside, waiting to be reclaimed by its previous owners, but there was no one left to claim it. Their blood was on Jiang’s hands, and normally she wouldn’t shed a single tear over dead pirates, but the drone strike she had called against the Blackjack had been both her salvation and damnation. Jiang hadn’t even known she’d done it. Oh, she knew that she’d done something to call for backup, that much had been stuck in her brain. But she didn’t truly believe that she had entered the command code into the station computer until Sergei called up the Korolev’s security footage that showed her doing it. Viewing the video felt as though she was watching a stranger walk around in her skin, or a ghost...

Jiang keyed open the shuttle’s hatch and jumped at the sight of Ryder seated in the copilot seat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Preflight check,” Ryder said matter-of-factly. “She’s low on fuel, so we’ll have to stop somewhere close. Didn’t seem right to take fuel from the Novosibirsk, you know?”

“You can’t be here.” From the moment Jiang saw the result of the brain scan she knew that she had to leave. Until she figured out how to stop what was happening to her, she was a danger to her crew—a security risk. Lindana would never ask her to leave, so Jiang took it on herself to do so.

“It’s okay. I’m going with you.”

Jiang blinked. “You’re...? What, no. You need to leave.”

“Correction, we need to leave. And soon, because they’ll notice that something is wrong as soon as I kick on the engines.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jiang was completely baffled. Out of all of her crew members, the chief of security seemed the least likely to offer her help to steal a shuttle. Ryder should be cursing her for her betrayal and locking her in the brig, not helping her leave.

Ryder shifted and studied her. “Well, I could say that you need my help, but I don’t think you do. Not in the typical way, at least. You don’t need hired muscle, and you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. But you need someone who trusts you to watch your back while you’re figuring out what happened to you. I trust you. So I’m going with you.”

“But I...” Jiang trailed off. “New Hong Kong,” she blurted out. “We’re going to New Hong Kong. Not first, because we don’t have the fuel, but if I’m going to find answers they’ll be there.”

“You got it, boss.” Ryder grinned. “Strap in.”

* * * * *

Acknowledgments

Huge thanks and much love to my family, who continue to allow me to be the madwoman in their attic.

I continue to be blessed with the best BFF ever: Diana Baxter. She was the first person I told when I received my very first contract offer, and she has been a huge part of my life and my writing journey since. I am so grateful for her love and support.

Along the way I’ve met fabulous authors like Devin Harnois and Sasha Devlin, who inspire and encourage me. You both rock!

A big thank-you goes to my editor, Deb, and the Carina Press team.

And finally, the inspiration for the world of the Galactic Civil War owes its thanks to Dr. George H. Miley of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. I was privileged to work with Dr. Miley on his memoir, Life at the Center of the Energy Crisis: A Technologist’s Search for a Black Swan. I was fascinated by Dr. Miley’s stories of doing nuclear research during the Cold War, and editing Black Swan started the what-if gears in my head turning. Those what-ifs became the bones of this setting, and for that I thank him.

Coming soon from Robyn Bachar
and Carina Press

The Galactic Cold War: Contingency Plan
The Galactic Cold War: End Transmission

Also available from Robyn Bachar

Bite Me
Just One Spell: The Sephra’s Tear
Bad Witch: The Emily Chronicles: The Importance of Being Emily
Bad Witch: The Emily Chronicles: Poison in the Blood
Bad Witch: Blood, Smoke and Mirrors
Bad Witch: Bewitched, Blooded and Bewildered
Bad Witch: Fire in the Blood
Cy’ren Rising: Nightfall
Cy’ren Rising: Morningstar
Cy’ren Rising: Sunsinger

About the Author

Robyn Bachar enjoys writing stories with soul mates, swords, spaceships and vampires. Her books have been finalists twice in the PRISM Contest for Published Authors, twice in the Passionate Plume Contest and twice in the EPIC eBook Awards. Robyn enjoys rolling twenty-sided dice, playing rock-paper-scissors and slaying creatures in video games. You can find Robyn online at www.robynbachar.com and on Twitter, @robynbachar.

Introducing the Carina Press Romance Promise!

The Carina Press team all have one thing in common: we are romance readers with a longtime love of the genre. And we know what readers are looking for in a romance: a guarantee of a happily-ever-after (HEA) or happy-for-now (HFN). With that in mind, we’re initiating the Carina Press Romance Promise. When you see a book tagged with these words in our cover copy/book description, we’re making you, the reader, a very important promise:

This book contains a romance central to the plot and ends in an HEA or HFN.

Simple, right? But so important, we know!

Look for the Carina Press Romance Promise and one-click with confidence that we understand what’s at the heart of the romance genre!

Look for this line in Carina Press book descriptions:

One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

Find out more at CarinaPress.com/RomancePromise.

Find out more at CarinaPress.com.

Craving more sexy sci-fi stories?
Don’t miss these male/male space opera romances from Kelly Jensen and Jenn Burke!

The Chaos Station series
Discover intergalactic romance and out-of-this-world stakes in the first book of the critically acclaimed Chaos Station series.

CHAOS STATION (Chaos Station, book one)
LONELY SHORE (Chaos Station, book two)
SKIP TRACE (Chaos Station, book three)
INVERSION POINT (Chaos Station, book four)
PHASE SHIFT (Chaos Station, book five)

“This series is going to be so epic, you don’t even understand.”
—The Novel Approach

Order your copies now!

Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers and much more!

Visit CarinaPress.com.

Other ways to keep in touch:

Facebook.com/CarinaPress
Twitter.com/CarinaPress
CarinaPress.com/newsletter

We think you have a good book in you!

Do you write in the below genres? Harlequin’s Carina Press wants to see your manuscript.

• Contemporary Romance
• Romantic Suspense
• Historical Romance
• Paranormal Romance
• Mystery
• Erotic Romance
• LGBT
• Science Fiction & Fantasy Romance

Submit today!

All manuscripts receive a thorough evaluation by a Carina Press editor and a decision within 12–16 weeks. What do you have to lose?

To learn more about our submission guidelines, visit us at CarinaPress.com/WriteForUs.

ISBN-13: 9781488028199

Relaunch Mission

Copyright © 2017 by Robyn Bachar

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

www.CarinaPress.com