Hero (8 page)

As they arrived on the bridge, Hidar began clicking his mandibles again, drawing

Micayla's attention. His antennae were rubbing together in an anticipatory manner that sent shivers down her spine.

"So no, you do not get to fuck the stowaways, Hidar," Lerotan said. "You can bunk with Rodan and the ladies will share your quarters."

Micayla wasn't sure she wanted to use a room so recently vacated by an insect but decided it might be preferable when a large, odoriferous male of unknown origin

approached, apparently having heard at least some of the conversation.

"I have to share quarters with Hidar?" he demanded. "No fuckin' way! I'd rather
sleep with a--"

Lerotan's pointed look cut him off. "That's enough, Rodan," he said. "It's only temporary."

Rodan managed a weak smile. "Sorry. Oh, and just so you know, we're being

hailed."

Lerotan rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. Rutger Grekkor?"

"Well, no," Rodan admitted. "Just someone from the station who wants to know if we took on any, uh, passengers," he added with an eye toward the ladies.

"I'll talk to them," Lerotan said. "You two stay where you are and keep quiet."

Micayla didn't need the warning. By this time she was barely able to think, let

alone talk. Her planet of origin was called Zetith, and it wasn't just remote, it no longer existed. But having visions was normal. Then there was Trag. Dana hadn't been kidding when she said he was handsome--though in her eyes, he went far beyond that. He was absolutely gorgeous and to top it off, she'd made him mad right off the bat. All of this, coming on the heels of the discovery that the demise of her people had been instigated by one man--one incredibly ruthless man who would now be hunting her down with the

same cold-blooded vengeance that had destroyed an entire planet--rendered her

speechless.

As Lerotan took his seat in the captain's chair, Micayla couldn't help but be

grateful for the miracle that they had somehow managed to board the right ship. She wondered if Trag would see it the same way. The rest of the crew appeared to be every bit as rough as Lerotan said, but at least Lerotan seemed trustworthy. He handled the exchange with the station official with casual indifference and if Micayla hadn't known better she'd have believed she wasn't on board either.

The new station commander might be trustworthy too, but even admitting they

were on Lerotan's ship--which Grekkor had to have realized they were--was risky unless Beontal was told directly. There was a chance that Lerotan's ship hadn't been the only one leaving port at that time, but even so, Grekkor had known what docking bay they'd disappeared into. What story had he told? What lies about them?

This question was soon answered. "They are wanted for questioning in the death of a Norludian merchant," the station official said sternly.

Micayla nearly screamed out a protest but somehow managed to keep her outburst

to a hoarse whisper. "What?"

Windura covered her hand and gave it a meaningful squeeze. Lerotan's reply was

as smooth as they could have hoped--the proper mix of regret and concern, but not changing his story one iota in light of this new information.

Signing off, Lerotan turned to them. "Okay, then. I've lied for you. Now would you mind telling me the whole story?"

"They must have killed that Norludian," Windura began. "I never heard a shot, but--"

"We had no weapons," Micayla said bitterly. "How could anyone believe such an accusation?"

Lerotan gave Windura a knowing look. "Not been on Orleon for very long, has

she?"

"No, she hasn't," Windura replied, "but neither has Commander Beontal. He's here to put an end to the corruption, but what he might not know is that it goes all the way to
the top--or at least it did until he took over. It wouldn't surprise me if he ended up dead too."

"So no one on the whole station will believe we didn't kill that Norludian?"

Micayla gasped.

"Probably not," Windura said. "Especially if Grekkor tells them to believe otherwise."

Micayla slumped back against the bulkhead and closed her eyes. She could have

taken a nice, cushy job at Earth's diplomatic station on Velasia, but instead she had opted for Orleon because it sounded more challenging. Knowing what she knew now, she'd

have given a lot for a nice, boring post on Io. "Why on Earth didn't I listen to my mother?"

***

Trag went back to the pilot's console on the far side of the dimly lit bridge. Sitting in the small alcove with his back to the others, he could almost pretend he was flying alone through space; master of his own destiny with the whole galaxy to explore and no one's orders to follow but his own. He had other dreams too, and though he might have told himself he wasn't interested, he'd also spent a fair amount of time imagining what it would be like to meet up with a Zetithian girl--one he really could fall in love with.

Someone who could make him forget Kyra.

They were typically idle daydreams of rescuing damsels in distress, or even a

chance meeting in a bar on some backwoods planet, but he'd never imagined anything comparable to actually meeting Micayla for the first time. She'd actually hissed at him!

He'd never heard of such a thing, though, granted, he'd been raised offworld and wasn't well-versed in traditional Zetithian culture, let alone the courtship rituals. Judging from Micayla's apparent age, neither was she; she had to have been a baby when Zetith was destroyed. He had all kinds of questions about her--which was understandable--but he found it difficult to even consider discussing past histories with a girl who obviously couldn't stand the sight of him. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter--he was only feigning interest in finding a mate, anyway--but he was still affected by it. Most of the time he had women crawling all over him, and though there was the occasional woman who wasn't smitten with him on sight, they certainly didn't spit at him like an angry cat.

Still, he found it intriguing that she would respond to him in that manner. She'd apologized immediately, seeming to be as shocked by her reaction as the others had been--which led him to believe that it wasn't typical behavior for her--but why had she done it?

His uncle could have told him if he'd still been alive; as captain of a space

freighter, he'd been around an awful lot. Trag had too, but he had never been with a Zetithian woman. Actually, the person he probably needed the most right now was his mother, but she'd been killed long ago.

Trag tried to ignore the others as they came onto the bridge, but he couldn't help but overhear the exchange between Lerotan and the station official. He wasn't surprised that Lerotan would lie so easily to protect them. His captain might have been ruthless when it came to dealing with customers, but women had always been Lerotan's soft spot.

Trag was amazed that it had never gotten him into trouble before, but there was a first
time for everything. Trag was fairly certain that the women hadn't been responsible for a murder, but if anyone else believed it and came after them, things could get nasty. Trag knew that The Equalizer's weapons system was second to none--and that knowledge

alone was enough to keep most ships from firing on them--but he wasn't so sure they could count on it this time.
Chapter 6

"Rodan, send out a deep space hail to Jack," Lerotan said as the ship quickly left Orleon Station behind. "No, wait. I was forgetting we have a communications officer now," he added, grinning at Micayla and gesturing toward a station. "We've had to double up on duties. Not many of my men can handle the more technical end of things, unless it has to do with a weapon."

"Good," Rodan said, appearing relieved. "I've always hated doing that shit. I'd much rather fire the pulse cannons."

"Well, then, that's settled," Lerotan said pleasantly as Micayla took a seat at her new post.

Glancing at the controls, she commented, "Outdated, but functional."

"Tell Jack we've found you," Lerotan said, ignoring her remark. With a nod toward Windura, he added, "You might want to take a peek at our computer system too.

It's been a bit temperamental lately." Looking pointedly at Hidar, he went on, "And now that you ladies both have jobs, you can't be considered passengers or stowaways, so Hidar might not feel the need to fuck you."

"I will always feel the need," Hidar said morosely. "I haven't fucked anyone in many years."

"Sorry about that, Hidar," Windura said cheerfully. "I'd help you out if I could, but something tells me--"

"Don't give him any ideas," Lerotan warned. "He's hard enough to control when we make port. He's been kicked out of more brothels than anyone in the sector, and with two females on board, he might be more of a problem."

Not looking up from her console where she was engaged in the search for Jack's

hailing frequency, Micayla said absently, "Are your testicles well protected, Hidar?"

"Oh, yes," Hidar replied. "They are deep inside my exoskeleton--unlike those of mammalian bipeds."

"Pity," Micayla said. "Any other sensitive parts?"

Finally suspicious, Hidar trained his antennae on her. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wanted to know in case I ever decide to fuck you," Micayla replied.

"Wouldn't want to hurt you." Actually, she was seeking a way to do just that, but Hidar didn't need to know it--yet.

"My wings are very sensitive," Hidar admitted, rustling them gently. "But if you wish to stroke them..."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Lerotan advised.

"And why not?" Windura asked before Micayla could reply. "They're actually very attractive."

"It's part of the Scorillian mating ritual," Lerotan replied. "It makes his dick hard--

well, no, actually it just makes his dick pop out. It's always hard."

Obviously viewing her as a more likely candidate than Micayla, Hidar sidled up

to Windura, rustling his wings again. "Would you like to see it?"

"Maybe later," Windura replied. "Nice wings, though." Glancing around, she
added, "I can look into your system anytime you like, Leroy. Got a tech station somewhere?"

"Over there next to Trag," Lerotan said with a nod. "It's probably safe. Never saw him bite anyone, though he is a bit surly these days." He paused for a moment before adding, "What did you call me?"

"Leroy," Windura replied. "Seems less formal than Lerotan. Do you mind? Or would you prefer that I call you Captain?"

"Never mind." Lerotan sighed and shook his head. "And I thought it was just Terrans..."

***

Micayla found the frequency signature and sent out the message that a Zetithian

female named Micayla Johnson had been found, which was odd since she had never

considered herself to be lost. After that, she worked on familiarizing herself with some of Lerotan's other contacts. The designations were certainly colorful, as one might expect from an arms dealer--Gunrunner Gereg, Swordmaster Sakram, and so on--which led her to believe that no one ever used their real name in the weapons trade. She'd found Jack Tshevnoe listed as Jack of all Traders.

From time to time she stole a glance at Trag. He was just sitting at his station with his back toward her, but she still felt like hissing at him. Weird. She didn't know enough about him to take an immediate dislike to him. And she didn't dislike him, it was just that from the first moment she'd seen him, even at a distance, he had affected her like no man ever had.

Windura leaned over and said something to Trag that actually got a chuckle out of him, causing Micayla to experience a sharp pang of jealousy. It was difficult for her to joke around with men; everything had to be strictly business or they had a tendency to get the wrong idea. While this wasn't ordinarily a problem, Trag was actually from her homeworld! She had so many questions she didn't know where to begin, but she couldn't blame him for not sticking around to chat after she'd behaved so badly. She'd already apologized, but he still seemed angry; he hadn't said a word to her since they came on the bridge. Perhaps talking to this "Jack" would be easier.

***

It was obvious that Micayla would have gladly continued her perusal of the ship's com system without interruption, but Lerotan felt that some further discussion was required. "So, Micayla," he began. "Tell me, did Grekkor say how he destroyed Zetith?"

"No," Micayla replied. "Just that he had."

"Too bad," Lerotan mused. "That information might come in handy sometime."

"What?" Trag exploded, spinning around in his chair. "You know who did that?"

"Oh," Lerotan said innocently. "I was forgetting. You didn't stick around for the rest of the story, did you?"

His jibe was not lost on Trag, who replied with a mumbled, "No, I didn't."

Satisfied that he had made his point, Lerotan continued, "Shifting an asteroid's trajectory would be tough." Tapping his leg with his tufted tail, he added, "I wonder if
they used explosives or just rammed it with a large starship. Either one would probably work, but explosives would be tricky on an asteroid with no oxygen atmosphere to

support the explosion, and sacrificing a ship that big would be damned expensive."

"Could have been more than one ship," Windura suggested. "They could have towed the asteroid with tractor beams."

"Still wildly expensive," Lerotan said, shaking his head. "I can't imagine why anyone would go to that much trouble."

"I think Grekkor is a little on the crazy side," Windura said. "You should have seen the look on his face when he was telling us what he'd done." Shuddering, she added,

"He gave me the creeps."

"Let me get this straight," Trag said, looking back and forth at the two women.

"You know who destroyed Zetith, and he knows you know he did it?"

"That's right," Micayla chimed in without looking up. "And if he catches up with this ship, we're all dead meat."

"Fuck!" Trag exclaimed. "Why the devil didn't you tell me we needed to hurry?"

"Trag," Lerotan said with a grin, "we need to hurry."