Wind Sabre came to a full stop, letting the Imperials cross the final distance to them. The other ship’s crew made quick work of tying off alongside their starboard railing. A gangplank painted a glossy cream slid across the gap between the two ships, and The Serpent Rose’s commander stepped up into view.
“Five hells,” breathed Talis. Dug shot her a look. She pressed her lips into a thin line in response. It wouldn’t be enough to just play innocent.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward as the Imperial captain paused at his end of the gangplank. He didn’t look half as surprised as she felt.
She crossed her arms and stood, blocking his path. “Hey there, Hankirk.”
Chapter 4
Hankirk stood at the far end of the gangway, regarding Talis with the look of disdain she remembered so well instead of the surprise which she felt. She might not be able to surprise him by being here—and why was that, she very much wanted to know—but she could at least take him down a few notches in front of his crew by ignoring his rank.
“It’s Captain Hankirk, currently,” he said, his eyes narrowing. Sounded like he was counting on a promotion soon. “Some careers progress further than others.”
His connections had clearly served him well. He was well-polished, trim, healthy. Still handsome, though the smirk of entitlement on his face always ruined his good looks. He had no Cutter prayerlocks knotted into his hair. She recalled that he never seemed to think he needed any help from, or favor with, The Five. It wasn’t surprising to hear him boast, though his cadence was a bit formal compared to their last conversation. He was showing off—either for her, or for the crew that was waiting behind him to board her ship.
“Hey now, she’s a captain, too.” Tisker, even without knowing the history Talis and Hankirk shared, couldn’t let the implied insult go unanswered.
“That’s right,” Talis said, giving the Imperial captain the most insincere smile she could muster. “Look at that, we’re both captains now.”
At a nod from Hankirk, two of his men moved forward and crossed their rifles in Talis’s face. She was forced back a step so he could board.
He stepped onto the deck of Wind Sabre as if it were his ship. He had more personnel on board to command than she did, at that point, as his crew spilled onto her deck and began the expected sweep of the ship. Talis knew the pale coats would find everything tidy. She made a practice of stowing what the Empire felt she shouldn’t have where a cursory search wouldn’t disturb it.
Hankirk glanced around and took in her trappings, her weathered black paint and tarnished brass fittings. Glanced up, at a lift balloon patched in several places. Talis kept her eyes fixed on him. Willed him to make some remark and see what happened. She was as proud as a mother of her ship. And no ship with a crew small as hers wasted their days polishing brass.
“Been, what, about ten years?” She kept her voice amiable. But not too much so. They had been less than friendly last time they spoke. Not much reason to pretend to be old pals now.
“I’d have thought it would be far longer before we met again,” he said, with a cocked eyebrow and a matched tone in his voice. “Once I heard you’d quit the service.”
She smiled instead of speaking. The only response that came to mind was a quip about how relieved he must have been that, with her gone, he’d have finally been at the top of his graduating class. Could be satisfying to take him down another rung, but it wouldn’t get him off her deck any faster.
With the pleasantries out of the way, he held out an open hand, and one of his crew appeared to place a dossier into it.
“You are under arrest, charged with illegal salvage operations, evading Imperial forces, and”—he looked around the ship again—“I’m certain a search of your vessel will only reveal material for additional charges.”
She’d talked her way out of plenty of situations by playing dumb and weak, but that wouldn’t fly with Hankirk. He knew her as well as she him. Fortunately, their cover story didn’t hinge on her acting the role of bumpkin. She’d stick to what they’d planned, because she honestly didn’t know what else to do. And, if her crew was separated for questioning, they all knew their lines.
“Salvage?” She played a little laugh into the statement. A touch of relief. But not too much. “There’s been a mistake. It wasn’t a salvage.”
She had to sound mournful, too. She let her eyes go big, hoping he still found them as pretty as he once told her he did.
“We lost one of our crew. A line came loose on the lift balloon, and she fell. We hoped if we got down after her fast enough, we could get to her in time.”
“Crew overboard, then?” There was a glint in his brown eyes. He was on to her.
She nodded anyway, not ready to give up on the plan until she had something better.
“Safety violations can be added to the list, then,” he said, curtly. “Perhaps we might have aided you, but you attempted to ghost from the area as though you had something to hide from an Imperial ship.”
Talis shook her head. “I found her. It was too late to help her.” She gestured over her shoulder at the direction from which they’d come. “And as for running—did you see that alien ship? We’ve never been so close to it before. Spooky thing. We know the stories. They’re all curious and nosy, right? Might come aboard and get too friendly.”
“The aliens.”
“Right, Captain. Wasn’t your ship we were running from.”
She
