Starflight (18 page)

Doran jumped to his feet and quickly pushed Demarkus back onto the ropes. When the man eventually rebounded, Doran was there to deliver another shove—and then another. Each time, the voltage seemed to drain Demarkus a little more, until his head lolled from side to side and his body began to sway. Then, clenching one fist, Doran wound up and punched Demarkus hard enough to send him to the floor with a loud clatter that shook the planks.

The crowd fell silent, and the electric ropes shorted out.

Keeping a wary distance, Doran crept near enough to study his opponent’s face—lids shut, lips parted by slow, deep breaths. He didn’t know if Demarkus was playing dead or truly out cold, so he stripped off his belt and used it to secure the man’s wrists behind his back. Only then did he rise and face the crowd, lifting an arm to declare himself the last man standing.

Nobody cheered.

A thousand pirates blinked at him, then turned to peer at one another in confusion. Hands settled briefly on pistols before drifting up to scratch their owners’ heads. The reaction told Doran that they didn’t know what to do. Should they honor the victory of an outsider, a boy who’d won by trickery, or avenge their leader?

Solara must’ve noticed their indecision, too, because she snatched a pulse pistol from the nearest hip and started waving it around. “Stand down,” she shouted at the crowd. “According to your rules, no moves were barred. My pilot won his challenge. You’re bound by Brethren law to let us go.” She tossed her gold necklace onto Demarkus’s body, then pointed the gun at Four-Eyes. “You. Drop your weapon and come here.”

The guard obeyed.

She pressed the muzzle to his back and ordered, “Tell your crew to make a hole. You’re going to lead us to the hangar, and if anyone moves on me or my pilot, I’ll ventilate your chest.”

Four-Eyes seemed to hesitate, but then he raised both hands and begrudgingly told everyone to clear the way. Like molasses on a pancake, the spectators drifted toward the edges of the great hall and opened a path to the exit, never taking their eyes off Solara. She gave the guard a nudge and followed as he began a cautious stride through the room. Doran fell into place behind her. His eyes had swollen nearly shut, making it impossible to watch the crowd, so he fixed his gaze on Four-Eyes and let Solara scan the others.

Doran’s heart thumped while they crossed the floor. Every sound made him flinch, each cough triggering his anticipation of an attack. The journey to the corridor seemed to last a thousand years, and when they crossed the threshold into the hallway, he released a long breath.

“Shut those doors,” Solara told him. “And bolt them if you can.”

He did as she asked. There was no bolt, so he removed his jacket and tied the sleeves in a sloppy knot around the door handles. It wouldn’t hold the crew if they decided to follow, but it might slow them down a bit.

They jogged to the hangar, where Solara ordered the guard to remain inside the control room and open the hatch after they’d boarded their shuttle. She pointed to a box mounted on the hangar ceiling and warned, “If anything goes wrong, I’ll start taking shots at your air pump. Are we clear?”

Four-Eyes set his jaw and nodded.

“And since we obeyed your laws, there’s no reason to follow.”

“No one will come after you,” the guard said, then glared at her and clarified, “Today.”

That was good enough for Doran. He ran to the shuttle and climbed through the passenger door. “You’ll have to fly,” he told Solara. He could barely see well enough to fasten his safety harness. “Try not to break my other arm.”

She took the pilot’s seat and flipped on the ignition. “I told you. I can fly just fine.”

“
And
land?”

“Shh,” she dismissed him while lifting off. “One crisis at a time.”

S
olara held her breath as she eased the shuttle toward the
Banshee
’s docking station. She cast a longing glance at the switch to dispatch the magnetic tow cables, wishing she could use them to pull her into position. But Doran had insisted that she land on her own.
You’ll do fine,
he’d said.
If you can hold a room full of pirates at gunpoint, then you can land a two-person craft.

She gripped the wheel and asked, “How’s this?”

Doran peered out the side window. “Good. Now tap your starboard thruster to bring us around a bit.”

She did as he’d suggested. The shuttle rotated into perfect alignment and drifted near the ship. A few slow seconds later, the shuttle nested into place with a slight jolt that shook Solara and Doran in their seats. An automatic smile formed on Solara’s lips. She’d performed her first landing without breaking any bones.

“I did it!”

“Told you,” Doran gloated while unbuckling his harness. He opened the side hatch and pointed at the propellant cell. “Let’s celebrate inside. I’d like to put a few solar systems behind us before morning.”

“Good plan,” she agreed. They’d kicked a hornet’s nest tonight, and the Brethren didn’t strike her as the forgiving sort. Still, her chin lifted as she followed Doran inside the ship. She felt more like an action hero than a mechanic. She wished Sister Agnes could see her now.

The bounce in Doran’s step told her he was riding the same high, but she had no idea exactly
how
high until he spun around and scooped her into a hug that lifted both her boots off the floor. She stiffened while his laughter rang in her ears, a sound of pure exhilaration she’d never heard from him before, not even during football season at the academy. His reaction forced a giggle out of her, and she told herself the tingly sensation unfurling inside her belly was nothing more than adrenaline.

“We were amazing back there,” he said, and set her down. He kept both hands on her hips and pulled back to look at her through one swollen eye. “Can you believe it?”

At the sight of him in the overhead lighting, her smile died and her tingles morphed into sympathy pains. The darkness inside the shuttle had concealed the extent of his injuries, but now she could see that his eyes were nothing more than slits, and the bottom half of his face was covered in a macabre beard of dried blood. She could only imagine how badly he would hurt once the rush wore off.

Guilt swam over her. This was her fault.

“Do I look that bad?” he asked.

She winced as a cut reopened in his lower lip, but then she reminded herself that Doran’s happiness was the only silver lining in this cloud. He’d done something remarkable tonight, shown more bravery than she’d ever thought possible, and she refused to rob him of that. “I hate to break it to you,” she said. “But you’re not the prettiest girl in the room anymore.”

He chuckled. “Give me time.”

“Go ahead and laugh.” She studied the crooked angle of his nose, which was undoubtedly broken. “Because you’re going to feel this in the morning.”

“Hell, I feel it now,” he said, bringing a hand to his ribs. “But who cares? I actually knocked him out. First person to challenge Demarkus in five years, and I won.”

Her heart twisted at the memory of Doran lying on the floor, blood pouring from his mouth while she watched helplessly from outside the ring. She hadn’t known it was a trick. She’d thought he was dead, and fear had gutted her like a fish. The flashback made her vision go blurry, so she dropped her gaze to his boots. Even those were smeared with red. “Sorry for doubting you.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited,” he muttered. “All I did was bring down a giant with my bare hands.”

“A giant who could have killed you.” She glanced up to find him frowning at her. “All because I put on that stupid necklace.”

“You didn’t know any better.”

“No, but I should have. Nothing comes for free in life—not food or land or clothes, and especially not gold. Deep down I knew it was too good to be true, but I took the necklace anyway. And you paid for my mistake, Doran. You could have died.”

He didn’t answer at first. He waited until she met his gaze, then flashed a grin that softened the edges of her guilt. “I’m fine, really. This is surface damage. My devilish good looks aren’t lost forever.”

“Demarkus hurt you.”

“Yeah, but I gave it back,” Doran said. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s probably still looking for his left nut.”

Solara couldn’t help laughing. “That does make me feel better.”

“Me too.”

“Listen,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Now it was his turn to avoid her eyes. He fell silent for a while, fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper pull until he quietly cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more to apologize for than you do. When I tried leaving you alone at that outpost, I had no idea what it’s really like out here. I hate to think…” He trailed off, peeking down at her. “But maybe we can call it even and start over?”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

“And thanks,” she told him. “I owe my freedom to you. You don’t know me very well, but nothing means more to me than that.”

“Anytime.” His gaze moved over her face in a way that made her blush. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Their eyes held for a beat of silence, and the mood shifted. Solara could swear she felt something electric pass between them. One of his hands still rested on her hip, and she became hyper-aware of its weight and its warmth. But then he seemed to take note of their closeness and stepped back. The moment ended so quickly that she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. She couldn’t decide whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

“Sorry,” he said. “I probably stink like a corpse.”

She cradled the propellant cell to her chest and inched toward the engine room. “I hadn’t noticed. The only thing I smell anymore is burnt porridge.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Of course not,” she told him while striding away. “It’s my duty to give you hell.
That’s
what friends are for.”

Two hours later, when the
Banshee
was sailing smoothly once again, Solara followed the sounds of laughter to the lounge, where a party seemed to be under way. She walked inside and found the crew sitting around the holographic fireplace, leaning toward Doran to hang on his every word. He reclined in his chair, head tipped back with a gel mask covering his face, not that it stopped him from spinning a lively tale.

“And then,” Doran said, practically choking on a chuckle, “he told me,
I like your spirit, boy. I’m going to try not to kill you
.”

The captain slapped his knee and heaved a mighty guffaw that shook his chest. In response, Acorn climbed out of his pocket and scampered to his knee, then spread her furry arms and glided to the floor. “I bet he’s eating those words right now.”

“With a steaming side of crow,” Renny added, removing his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye. “I wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too,” the captain said. “I’d give my fake leg to see the look on his face when you punched him in the short and curlies.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Cassia asked with a grin that transformed her face from fierce to beautiful. She should smile more often. “We’d make a mint if we got our hands on the video feed.” She elbowed Kane, who sat beside her, but he wasn’t laughing.

Unlike the others, he glared at Doran with an intensity that prickled Solara’s nerves. She had no idea what his problem was, but she didn’t like it.

“How’s our hero?” Solara asked while watching Kane. Their eyes met, and he must’ve sensed her apprehension because he looked away and offered Acorn a chunk of dried fruit.

“I’m fannntastic,” Doran called from beneath his mask, and thrust both thumbs in the air. He sounded drunk, or at least buzzed. “How’s our divorcée?”

“Still single, thanks for asking.” She admired his relaxed posture. “But I wouldn’t mind sharing a sip of whatever you’ve had.”

Cassia stood from her chair to check on Doran. “I gave him some painkillers before I set his nose. He’s still a little loopy.” She lifted his gel mask to reveal a nose splint, and right away Solara noticed the swelling had subsided.

“Wow,” she said. “Nice job. He looks almost human.”

“I can’t take all the credit.” Cassia pointed at a jar on the floor that seemed to be filled with squirming black slugs. “That’s the magic of camelback leeches. They drain twice the fluid in half the time.”