To get a jump point, you entered the queue. Depending on the gate’s age and level of activity, it could take anywhere between hours and minutes to clear the queue, because the gate could only calculate a fixed number of jump points at once. Older gates were the slowest, but they were often in deserted sectors, so it balanced out.
Gates also worked as communication hubs, because they talked to each other via faster-than-light transmissions to calculate safe jump points around other ship traffic. FTL communication required vast amounts of energy and a very precise, very expensive setup, so most ’verse communication bounced through the gates rather than being sent directly with FTL transmissions.
We were several hundred light-years from the closest gate. The escape ship should have emergency supplies for fourteen people for four weeks, assuming they hadn’t been raided by the mercs. It was a glorified lifeboat, meant to hold the crew until their SOS reached a nearby ship. But for me, it was my ticket to freedom.
So, step one: verify the escape ship existed and was in working order.
Step two: convince Marcus Loch that we’d make better friends than enemies. It was hard to manipulate a manipulator, but I wasn’t the daughter of a High House for nothing. One thing I had to give my parents credit for: they raised all six of their children as if we were the direct heirs. We all had the same tutors, learned the same secrets, and honed our skills in the same Consortium ballrooms.
As the fifth child, I might be nothing more than a political pawn to be auctioned off to the man with the most to offer the House for my hand in marriage, but I’d learned everything required to be a von Hasenberg. Of course, my parents didn’t do it out of the kindness of their hearts—let’s not be crazy. They did it because I was expected to spy on my future husband’s business and personal life for them. After all, House von Hasenberg came first, even if I was sold to a man from a rival House or business.
And Father wondered why I fled.
I turned my thoughts back to escape. Step three: create a big enough distraction that Loch and I could make our way to the escape ship. My original thought was that Loch would be the distraction, but I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to condone killing ten people, even if I wasn’t the one pulling the trigger or holding the knife.
“You asleep, darling?”
“No,” I said without opening my eyes. “And my name is Ada.”
“You asleep, darling Ada?”
I cracked one eye open enough to scowl at him. “I’m rather busy plotting my escape. Did you need something?”
“You’re never going to escape just by sitting there,” he said.
“Of course not; I will escape through the ceiling. Or perhaps the wall, I haven’t quite decided because it depends on whether I decide to trust you.” I closed my eye and pretended to go back to my meditation.
“There is no way out through either of those.”
I made a noncommittal sound.
“I’ve spent more hours in these cells than you can imagine. There are no weak points, no way out except for the door.”
“If you say so,” I agreed easily. I waited.
It took longer than I expected, but finally he growled, “Where?”
I opened my eyes and met his stare. “I will tell you when I trust you.”
“Or you’re making shit up.”
I shrugged. “I could be. But I’m a von Hasenberg and this is a Yamado ship. We’re competitors, you know. I know as much about Yamado and Rockhurst ships as I do about our own. Maybe more.”
“How do I earn your trust?”
I smiled at the phrasing. He would’ve done well in a Consortium ballroom. So I gave him an honest answer in return. “Slowly,” I said. “But we may not have time for that. Captain Pearson sent our flight plan to my father before our first jump. Depending on how fast my father can free up ships and where they are, he’s likely to have an escort waiting for us at the gate. If he received the message extremely quickly, it’s possible he’ll scramble a ship to meet us here, but that’s less likely.”
“And I suppose Albrecht von Hasenberg won’t miss the opportunity to bring in the Devil of Fornax Zero.”
“Not if he knows you’re on board. He’ll pay your bounty out of his own pocket, just to be the one to bring you to the Consortium. And there will be no escape from his ship.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of, darling Ada,” he rumbled. His voice alone was dangerous. It vibrated over my skin like a caress. And every time he called me darling, my heart tried to do a little flip, even though I knew it wasn’t an endearment.
Yeah, I didn’t know what he was capable of, but I knew that he was trouble.
Chapter 3
Loch and I each spent the rest of the day lost in our own thoughts. I tried to talk to him a few times when I grew tired of thinking in circles, but he just grunted at me or answered with single syllables. Apparently the knowledge that my father’s fleet was en route had goaded him into moving up his own escape attempt and he had no time for idle chatter.
I ended up with two plans, one where Loch and I worked together, and one where we were adversaries. It was a fair guess that we’d both be going for the escape ship, so I had to either reach it first or make myself indispensable to its launch.
By the time Chuck came to retrieve me for dinner, I still wasn’t sure which plan was more likely to play out. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice that a third person had joined us for dinner until I was already halfway into the room.
“Hello, Gerald,” I said. “And I believe you are John, yes?” I asked the blond man who had dragged me back to my cell earlier. I smiled shyly. I kept the smile as he grinned lasciviously and bent to kiss the back of my hand, though I wanted nothing more than to smash a knee into his face.
His presence meant he was angling for the open commander position. He also changed the game and I subtly altered my persona. Mercs in general didn’t take well to superiors and this one in particular seemed to like his women meek and afraid.
Even so, dinner was trying. John sat across from me, thank heavens, so I didn’t have to ward off wandering hands. But his gaze rarely strayed above my breasts and all of his comments were so rife with innuendo that it could hardly even be called innuendo.
I kept my voice soft and my eyes down—though he never bothered to look that high—all while mentally plotting the most painful demise I could come up with. Feeding him alive to the lava worms of Centarii Delta Seven was currently in the lead.
When the proximity alarms started blaring I was in a dark enough mood to almost hope for a rogue asteroid. Or perhaps just a very carefully placed micrometeoroid that would find its way through the merc sitting across from me. I’d happily deal with the hull breach for hours if the universe would be so kind.
“Mayport, show me the outside cameras,” the captain barked. “And silence the damn alarms.”
The far wall lit up with video feeds from outside the ship. It wasn’t an asteroid—it was far worse. A Rockhurst battle cruiser filled the display. The designation marked it as one of House Rockhurst’s personal ships. Somehow, I didn’t think they were here to pay a social call.
“Incoming communication,” the ship’s computer intoned.
“Answer it,” the captain said before I could caution him against it or find a place to hide.
The video came up and Richard Rockhurst’s face came into focus. The fourth of five Rockhurst children, he was a handsome man with the trademark Rockhurst blond hair and blue eyes. At twenty-five he was only two years older than me, but he’d been in command of one of House Rockhurst’s most prominent ships for nearly six years.
The responsibility had hardened him, and the amusing young man I had played with as a child at Consortium events was nowhere to be found. Rumors of the ship’s more heinous problem-solving techniques were rampant, though no one had enough proof or enough power to officially charge him with criminal conduct.