Songs of Love & Death

Nic hoped that was it. Unmanned security drones weren’t difficult to evade with someone of Serri’s expertise at the controls. Plus, drone’s lasers had limited range.

“Increasing aft shields to counter,” Serri said.

“Those chuffers at traffic control are getting quite vitriolic.” Quin sounded amused.

The Pandea shuddered. Another alarm trilled. Serri slapped the disconnect as she checked ship’s status. “Drone just bit us in the ass. Shields are holding.”

She had the ship dodging and darting, trying to avoid any more hits from the drones, but they were persistent.

“Shield down to seventy-two percent. Three minutes to outer beacon.”

Suddenly the bridge filled with a rapid high-pitched series of tones. “Shit!” Serri’s fingers moved with new intensity over her console. “Targeting sensor warning. They’ve got a lock on us. It’s the cannons.”

Nic’s heart hammered against his ribs. They’d misjudged or someone had overridden Serri’s program. Why and how no longer mattered. Staying alive did.

“Hang on.” Serri dropped the freighter into a roll and, after that, into a curving dive. Nic could feel artificial gravity straining to maintain stability; little pockets of weightlessness making his ass rise off the seat as the shields’ power draw drained ship’s systems.

Serri’s screens—and the wailing of alarms—confirmed two near-misses but the second was close enough to damage the shields. “Shields down to sixty-one percent.”

“Quin, patch me in to the comm,” Nic said suddenly, angling the console’s mic toward him.

Serri shot him a quick glance. “You tell them Filar’s onboard, they’re going to send pursuit ships. I can’t outrun those and avoid the cannons.”

“They won’t send ships when I tell them he’s in DIA custody.”

“But you said your mission—”

“Screw the mission.” He meant that. This was about choices—and not just life-and-death ones. He made his. “Quin, patch me in.”

“Mic and speakers are live,” Quin said.

“Jabo Station, hold fire. This is Special Agent Nicandro Talligar, Dalvarr Intelligence Agency, onboard the Star of Pandea. Cease fire or we’ll put your station under full lockdown.”

“Talligar, this is Jabo. We have no proof—”

Nic was already working the console. “Transmitting identification now.”

His console clicked and beeped. His heart pounded. He could hear Quin breathing heavily, and though she tried to hide it by dropping her hand into her lap, he could see Serri’s fist clench.

“Talligar, this is Jabo. Ident confirmed. We’re holding fire. However, we should have been informed of your presence and any investigation.”

“You can take it up with the agency. In the meantime, be advised that I have your stationmaster, Gop Filar, onboard and under arrest. A DIA enforcement ship is at your outer beacon and will counter any moves against this ship. Talligar out.”

The alarms cut off in mid-wail. Jabo had stopped firing. Nic leaned back in his seat and scrubbed at his face with his hands. When he opened his eyes, Serri had swiveled her seat partway around and was looking at him.

“You’re going to be in real trouble over this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said, and flexed his left wrist. Time to talk to those voices in his head again. They were not going to be happy.

SERRI SWIVELED THE high-backed chair around in the ready room, very glad that the room was now empty. She hadn’t been through a debriefing since she left Widestar, but that had been the corporate version. The DIA version was frightening—almost as frightening as their shadowy stealth ship.

She swiveled back. The room’s viewports were small. She couldn’t tell where she was—disconcerting for a pilot. But she knew they were headed back to Jabo Station with the Pandea in tow. She and Quin had permission to retrieve their cargo—minus whatever tracking gizmos the DIA had added—and deliver the forty-seven cartons to the winery. And get the rest of their payment.

She should be overjoyed. She wasn’t. Nic was in trouble. More than trouble—he’d sacrificed his career for them. For her.

A soft chime signaled the door behind her opening. She swiveled again, expecting Quin, who’d gone in search of some meat tea for himself and coffee for her.

She saw Nic instead, hands shoved in pants pockets, mouth grim.

Her heart sank. But at least they hadn’t locked him in the brig. Yet. She rose. “I told them you saved our lives. But they”—she waved her hand toward the empty chairs as if the DIA officers were still there—“didn’t seem to care. There must be someone else I can talk to. Someone higher up. I’ll do anything I can, Nic. Just tell me what you need me to do. I’ll do it.”

He stepped up to her as the door closed behind him. “I need your ship. And I need you to lose your cargo again.”

“You what?”

“Jonas had Filar pulling cargo forfeitures so that when he hired Quin and sent him to Jabo, the Pandea’s ‘accident’ wouldn’t stand out. But Filar had no idea that Jonas’s plans involved murder. That’s why he’s cooperating so willingly with DIA interrogators right now.”

“But the station’s cannons—”

“Have never destroyed a ship. They’re set to disable, and the drones tow you back in.”

“Then how was Rez going to kill Quin?”

“There was a bomb in one of the containers Filar was supposed to leave onboard, but, Filar being Filar and being greedy, took them all. Jabo Station just informed us that one of the Bruisers found it while taking inventory. The bomb was set to detonate while you were trying to get a loan. Evidently Jonas never meant to kill you.”

Serri collapsed back into the chair. She realized her mouth was hanging open. She closed it. “But why do you need the Pandea?” They had Filar and his confession. They’d probably have Rez Jonas in custody very soon. The DIA was not something you could easily run from.

“Because someone’s still pulling cargo thefts on other stations and in some dirtside ports. We thought that Jabo Station was part of that larger crime ring. It’s not. So we need to do this all over again, but this time”—he eased down into the chair next to her and clasped his hands together, on his knees—“we don’t want to lie to the ship or her captain. It’s not worth the risk.”

“Quin—”

“Is calling it a ‘grand adventure.’ The director hasn’t been able to get more than a few words in edgewise.”

“So you’re not in trouble?”

Nic sighed. “Oh, I’m in deep trouble.” He splayed his hands. “The director, though, is willing to—eventually— forgive me. But you’re the one I’m really worried about. You’re the one who really matters.”

“Nic, I—”

“Serri.” He folded her hands in his, and she was surprised by how badly she needed his touch right now. “I made a huge mistake six years ago. I kept silent when I shouldn’t have, believing it was the right thing to do. And I almost made that same mistake again.” He shook his head. “I knew Jonas was cheating on you. But I was afraid that if I told you what was going on, you’d reconcile, because Jonas could always talk his way out of anything before. I needed for it to get to the point where you wouldn’t take him back. Ever. I just waited too long. Because by the time that happened, you hated me as much as you hated him. And I’d lost the chance to tell you how much you mean to me, how much I love you.”

Shock, confusion—and hope—swirled through Serri. “You… were in love with me?”

A wistful smile played over his mouth. “Still am.”

“But… we were friends.”

“I hope we still are.”

“Nic—”

“Tell me it’s impossible, that there can never be anything between us, and I’ll go away. I’ll get the director to assign another agent to the Pandea. But if it’s not impossible, I’d like that chance I