“Almost done,” Solara shouted. “One more minute…”
“We don’t have that long,” the captain yelled, and a sickening sound like a foghorn penetrated the ship. “They’re trying to board. It’s now or never.”
Solara scrambled to the engine and placed the accelerator in its cradle, then snapped both fasteners over the extension rods. “If they’re close enough to dock,” she hollered to the captain, “then they can eat our thrusters. Fire it up!”
The engine began to spin in a noisy rotation, turning faster by the second until its parts formed a gray blur and filled the tiny partition with blistering heat. Doran jogged into the cargo area, and when Solara followed, he shut the engine room door behind them.
“Cover your ears,” she shouted over the din.
He had just enough time to comply before an unholy shriek rang out, and the floor vanished from beneath his feet. He skidded on his backside until he hit the wall, then remained plastered there by the sheer force of speed, tangled up with Solara as the ship rocketed into space like a bullet from a gun.
Doran closed his eyes and savored the crush.
Acceleration had never felt so good.
That night, after the captain had docked the ship inside another dismal hidey-hole, Doran and the crew gathered in the lounge to wash down the day’s horror with a round of hot buttered Crystalline. But despite cushioned seating and the facade of a crackling fireplace, the mood was anything but cozy.
“They’ve been quiet for months,” the captain said from his chair while petting that ridiculous thing he called a sugar bear. Acorn sat in his palm and curled a long tail around his thumb, oblivious to how close she’d come to nibbling a poisonous treat today. “What were they doing on Pesirus?”
“Waiting for us, maybe,” Renny answered. “It’s no secret we make the syrup delivery each year.”
Doran was tired of tiptoeing around for answers. If Solara wouldn’t ask, he would. He leaned forward in his seat and looked the captain right in the eyes. “What are the Daeva, and why are they after you?”
At the question, Captain Rossi tucked his “baby” inside his coat pocket as if to protect her. “When you want someone dead,” he said quietly, “you hire a hit man. When you want someone to scream until his vocal cords rupture, you hire the Daeva.”
Solara glanced up from the floor, where she sat hunched over the ship’s accelerator with a soldering gun in one hand and the broken rod in the other. “So they’re snuffers?”
“I guess you could call them that,” the captain said. “Since they do kill folks.”
“Eventually,” Renny added.
“Which one of you are they after?” Doran asked, glancing around the room. He noticed that Cassia and Kane hadn’t said much. They sat at the gaming table, each studying a handful of cards, but had yet to make a single play. Kane’s eyes seemed especially shifty, never settling on his opponent’s face longer than a second. Doran’s money was on that one. Maybe he’d seduced the wrong man’s wife with that greasy smile of his.
“We don’t know,” the captain said. “And it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because we just roasted their hull and sent them spinning.” The captain smiled at Solara. “Thanks to you.”
“I can’t take all the credit,” she said. “If Doran hadn’t kept a cool head—”
“So you’re telling me,” Doran interrupted, “that the whole ship is marked?”
Captain Rossi nodded. “For death.”
“Worse than that,” Cassia muttered behind her cards. “If the Daeva catch you, death will sound like a trip to the candy store.”
“What did they look like?” Solara asked, peering at the ship hands. “I never saw who we were running from.”
Neither had Doran, so he listened for the answer.
Kane spoke up for the first time, though his gaze never left his cards. “You can spot them by the metal studs on their temples.” He tapped a finger against the side of his head. “Prefrontal cortex blockers. Subdues the part of the brain that controls guilt and empathy.”
Solara’s mouth dropped open. “That’s…”
“Disturbing,” Doran finished.
“And how they do their job so well,” Kane said.
That clinched it. Doran was getting off this heap as soon as possible. “How much longer are we stuck here?” he asked Solara.
She powered off the soldering gun and inspected the rod she’d just reattached. “Until morning. I want to reinforce the other side, too.”
“How far is the nearest outpost?” he asked the captain.
“From here,” Rossi said, “a couple of days.”
“Good. The sooner the better.”