Have Spacecat, Will Travel: And Other Tails John Hartness (reading cloud ebooks TXT) 📖

may have unwittingly picked up a package of ours on Tideb. I wanted to give you an opportunity to return it to us. There is a substantial reward attached.”

“It must be a pretty important package,” Tinbrak said, his voice mild. “For you to hail every ship leaving Tideb within the past two days searching for it.”

“Oh, not so much trouble as all that,” the slaver said, his voice unctuous. “We have a tracker in the package that allows us to find it wherever it should go. It’s more sentimental value than anything, really.”

“Well, we didn’t pick anything up on Tideb, Mr. Vashindo. It was unfortunately a drop-off only stop for us. I’d hoped to pick up some cargo, but we have pressing business in another system that kept us from taking on any freight. So your tracker must be mistaken.”

“I assure you it is not,” the Gritloth said, his voice hardening. He seemed to catch himself, then soften his tone. “If you would allow us to board with a small shuttle, we could scan the hold closely, find the package, bring it back over to our ship, and be gone before you know it. We’ll even pay you a small fee for your trouble. In addition to the reward, of course.”

“How much was that reward again?” the captain asked.

“One hundred thousand credit. Plus an additional ten thousand for delaying your trip to Verlin. Of course, if we’re wrong and the package isn’t on board, we’ll give you the ten thousand for your trouble.”

“That’s…a lot of credit,” Tinbrak said, and Bek’ah’s heart leapt into her throat. He wouldn’t turn her over to those scum. Would he? She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and looked up into the placid eyes of the Rincah communications officer Harmbo. He smiled at her and patted her softly on the back.

“Don’t worry,” the thick-bodied being whispered.

“Unfortunately, we are on a very tight timeline, and since I am certain that we picked up nothing at Tideb, we’ll just be on our way. Good day, Mr. Vashindo.”

“Captain, wait!” the Gritloth said, and Tinbrak paused with his hand over the control panel set into the arm of his chair.

Just as the slaver opened his mouth to speak, the door to the bridge whooshed open and Dr. Skarper rushed in. “Captain,” she called the second she crossed the threshold. “I’ve decoded the chip we found in the stowaway’s knee. It’s coordinates and a passcode. And there’s something else you should know—there’s a tracker built in. It’s highly likely the Gritloth will be close behind us, if they aren’t already…oh.” Her words trailed off as she looked at the screen. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the captain replied.

“It seems there has been a miscommunication, Captain,” Vashindo said. “We have missiles locked on. Prepare to be boarded. I hope your stupid pride was worth a hundred thousand credit, because now it just cost you that, plus your ship. But don’t worry. Some of your crew looks very fit. They should fetch a fine price.”

The captain pressed a button on the arm of his command chair, and the image on the screen winked out. “Timsif, evasive maneuvers, now. Harmbo, get the comm signals scrambled so we can’t be tracked that way, and see if you can block out the signal coming from our new passenger’s knee. Tenkor, time to throw some distractions out there for those missiles.”

The crew sprang into action. Bek’ah shot out of the chair, and the thick-bodied Rincah sat down and immediately began tapping away at the display. Bek’ah latched onto a handhold in a blank section of bulkhead and watched the beings flow together like a well-oiled machine. The vacuum of space and the faux gravity on the ship meant that she didn’t feel the acceleration as they began evasive maneuvers, but there was a low thrumming that vibrated through the decks as the engine spun up to full power and beyond.

“Prepare to roll right and launch chaff,” the Pikith male, presumably Tenkor, called out. Bek’ah focused her attention on the radar display, where the large Gritloth ship was currently disgorging fighters into nearby space, trying to hem them in. Suddenly the screen filled with new radar signatures, dozens of fighters filling the space between them and the Gritloth, zipping this way and that like firewasps in a sugar factory.

“Where did those ships come from?” Bek’ah asked. “And what the Hells is that?” She pointed to the screen, where a huge ship had materialized. It was the size of a heavy battlecruiser, and it popped into being right in the center of a mass of fighters.

“Mr. Harmbo, a little noise, if you will?” the captain asked, his voice as calm as if he was asking a waiter for a dessert menu.

“Aye aye, sir,” the Rincah replied, tapping away at his panel. “Missile lock tone broadcast across all frequencies we detected from the Gritloth ship.”

“Well done, Harm,” the captain said. “Timsif, I think we’ve caused enough confusion. Are you ready to punch it?”

“Affirmative, captain.” Bek’ah’s head whirled. This crew, so relaxed and jovial moments before, had snapped into a deadly efficiency the second they were presented with danger.

“Fire main engines at full, Timsif. Tenkor, get on the fore laser cannons and plow the road.”

“On it,” the two Pikith replied in unison. Tenkor snickered, then pressed a few buttons on his control panel. A small display slid up from his panel, and a pair of joysticks with red triggers mounted atop the handles rose from underneath.

“Let’s rock and roll,” the purple-skinned weapons officer said with a whoop. He reached forward and took the joysticks in his hands, and Bek’ah could see just enough over his shoulder to watch a quartet of fighters disappear from his viewscreen in flashes of red laser fire.

“Shields at ninety percent, captain,” the Lormell officer called from their display. “We have missile launch.”

“Dammit,” Captain Tinbrak replied. “I thought they’d skip the missiles if they wanted her alive badly enough. Guess I was wrong.