“That’s what the cage is for,” Solara said. “The one in the lounge.”
“Not that she uses it,” added Cassia. “And guess who gets to clean up all her little surprises.”
The captain cut a sideways glance at Cassia and reached a thumb inside his pocket to soothe his pet, as if the words had hurt her feelings. “You know she can’t be caged in there all alone. Acorn’s a colony animal.”
“Very social,” Renny added with a nod. “We looked it up. She can actually die if she doesn’t get enough affection.”
“So until we find her a friend or two,” the captain said, “she has free run of the ship.” He lowered his voice to a rumble and asked, “Anyone have a problem with that?”
Both ship hands faced their bowls and filled their mouths with food. Everyone ate in silence for a while, until Acorn peeked her furry head out again and Renny handed her a bean. She took it between her paws and sniffed it with a tiny pink nose, then began nibbling while making a contented chirping noise.
The captain’s mouth turned down. “I wish you’d stop giving her junk food.”
“It’s not junk,” Renny said in a tone that implied they’d had this argument before. “Beans are healthy.”
“Not as healthy as insects and—”
An alarm interrupted them, and the captain cocked his head toward the sound in perfect synch with the marsupial in his pocket. “Vessel approaching,” he muttered while reaching for his crutch. He pushed to standing with a groan and limped toward the stairs leading to the pilothouse.
“It’s probably nothing,” Renny told them.
But not a minute later, the captain’s voice crackled over the intercom with a single command. “Strap in.”
As the crew scattered, Doran jerked his gaze around the galley. “Strap into what?”
“Follow me,” Solara said while swinging both legs over the bench.
She ran back to their room and pointed at the front wall, where two harnesses were bolted on either side of the door. Kane had shown her what to do in case of turbulence. They were supposed to sit on the floor and strap their backs to the wall.
A sudden force of inertia tossed them both to the floor. Their bodies collided, but Solara barely felt a thing. She rolled off Doran and crawled to the nearest harness. He did the same, and they buckled in.
Solara tightened her straps and drew both knees to her chest.
“I can’t die yet,” Doran whispered. “I barely remember living.”
“Don’t talk like that. It’s probably just a debris field.”
But then a force of energy passed through her—a vibration, like she’d pressed her whole body to the shell of an engine. The fierce, rattling hum settled in her joints. Her teeth clattered together, making her lips go numb. The discomfort stopped as abruptly as it had begun, but it left a lingering impact because she recognized the sensation. She’d felt it before, several months ago, when she’d tried to run from the Enforcers. It was a cautionary blast, a threat before they fired real ammunition. And if memory served, the Banshee would only get one more warning. Her heart pounded and jumped into her throat.
They’d found her.
“Did you feel that?” Doran asked, gawking at his hands. “It was like a million bees crawling over my skin.”
The sickening buzz passed through her again. Solara opened her mouth to cry out, but she didn’t get a chance. The ship turned sharply and rolled to the left until she was hanging upside down by her harness straps. A discarded cup clattered against the ceiling, making her grateful the furniture was bolted down. The floor trembled with something new, and then a horrible screech rent the air as the ship rocketed forward with enough force to glue her limbs to the wall.
Now she understood why the ship was called Banshee.
The room lurched and spun for what felt like an hour before it came to a sudden halt.
Solara shook her head to clear it. Had they landed?
All motion seemed to have stopped, but dizzy as she was, she couldn’t be sure. The captain’s voice blared through the intercom, and the urgency in his tone sent a pang of fear through her. If a man like Rossi was anxious, it must be bad.
“We made an unplanned stop,” he barked. “All hands report to the bridge.”
Solara’s left arm was pinned awkwardly beneath the harness strap, so she brought her free hand to the buckle and fumbled with the release button. She had to find a place to hide from the Enforcers. Kidnapping was a capital offense, and Doran hadn’t been lying when he’d said his family had connections in the Solar League.
Cold sweat slicked her hand, causing her grasp to slip from the fastener until she whimpered and tugged at the strap. She turned to Doran and said, “Help me out of these buckles.”