“Good thing my loins don’t get all juicy when I’m near the commander, because once I fancy pilot the Dragon for him he won’t even remember your successes.”
“I think we both scored low on the ‘plays-well-with-others’ exam.”
“I’m just telling you how you feel about yourself, Little Sis.”
“I don’t need to be constantly reminded about my poor life choices. I thought us joining the Dragon’s crew was our chance to reinvent ourselves.”
“It is,” Kymberlynn says.
“Then why do you have to constantly remind me how messed up I used to be?” The well fills behind Amye’s eyes.
“Don’t cry, Little Sis, it will ruin the makeup.”
“That’s what concerns you?” Amye disquiets her distemper toward Kymberlynn to prevent those tears from escaping.
“Don’t give me none of that ‘what about my feelings’ smerth. You want anything but to be treated soft,” Kymberlynn reminds her.
“I don’t want to be coddled, but you don’t have to drive stakes into my heart.”
“Just get your butt down there. Once again, your actions are pivotal in the Commander’s plan. If he only knew you have no confidence in yourself.”
••••••
THE TRANSPORTER’S BLINDING white light subsides as Amye materializes in a stone chamber. Secured in a chair, a diminutive brunette sporting the same snowy silk dress as Amye pleads for help with her tear-filled eyes. Amye hears Kymberlynn pointing out that if she had cried, her makeup would have been in the same ruined state as the poor girl’s.
A short-haired blonde with three tear-drop tattoos below her left eye removes the sable glove running up the length of her arm to the middle of her bicep. “You know I’m about to break fifteen laws on over a thousand worlds, all of which result in my death, if I’m lucky. I don’t want the alternative.”
“What’s worse than death, JC?” Doug asks.
“For a telepath, the equivalent of a lobotomy. Only they turn your mind in on itself and feed you through a tube for the remainder of your existence.” JC waves her hand over the girl’s forehead, never touching her sweating temples.
“Smerth me.” Doug takes the girl’s left hand from the binders and inserts it into a slot built into the briefcase he carries.
JC touches the girl’s temple. Her mind drifts into the terrified thoughts of the flower maiden. “She knows nothing. Just how to bear the flowers for the wedding. Security has cleared her twice, and procedures say she has one more check once she’s placed in the wedding precession.”
“I’ll copy her DNA card with her security clearance to allow Amye to take her place in the precession,” Doug announces with pride.
“It’s impossible to duplicate those,” Amye chimes in.
Doug lifts a lid on the top of the case. He removes what looks like raw flesh. He dangles the skin before Amye. “I’ve created a way around it. Using synthoid tech and some computer genius, I’ve duplicated her unduplicatable DNA implant, only like synthoids it’s unstable and won’t last.”
“It’s a trick. It’s impossible to duplicate the implant—only fool it,” Amye scolds him.
“For one or two scans maximum. DNA card readers use a form of radiation to prevent exactly what I’m attempting.”
“You’ll guarantee I’ll fool the scanners.” Amye points out, “If I get caught the Mokarran will serve me as part of the wedding feast.”
“This maiden was to take her place in the precession line. Once she’s scanned in, they shouldn’t have a reason to check again,” JC assures her.
“Just don’t get out of line to pee,” Doug suggests.
“So I should go now.” Amye rolls her eyes at Doug.
KI-TON UNPACKS FUEL cylinders for a portable cutting torch. “We just beam out the treasure from the vault instead of wasting time faking a robbery.”
“In all your travels, have you ever encountered another transporter system with the capacity to transport objects without the limitation of two transporter pads? I want to keep that secret a bit longer,” Reynard adds.
“Your tactic has certain logic to it.” Ki-Ton snaps together the cutting torch.
“We don’t actually have to move the treasure—just appear we have.” Reynard hovers behind Ki-Ton. “We cut the hole and transport out the wealth.”
“It’s convenient the vault is directly next to a transporter room.”
“Beam in the wedding guests, and they would want to immediately secure any lavish gifts brought for the nuptials,” Reynard says.
“We’re now smugglers, thieves, and abductors of women. And certainly the prevention of this wedding will leave no doubt we’re terrorists against the Mokarran.”
“That’s the plan.” Reynard flashes a cocky smile.
“This will only add to the list of people who wish to eliminate you from existence.”
“It can’t be that long of a line.”
“It’s longer than you think, Commander.” Ki-Ton ignites the torch.
Reynard turns away. His eyes need protection from the intense plasma burning through the wall. Ki-Ton seems unaffected by the intensity of the beam. Despite how he appears almost Osirian, it’s a subtle reminder he’s not.
Sparks fly. The wall panel crashes to the floor.
“Smerth. That will bring the guards,” Reynard exclaims.
“There’s to be no one in this section of the palace,” Ki-Ton reminds his captain.
“So the intelligence reports read. You worked with Admiral Maxtin for nine years. Tell me, have you ever had inaccurate intelligence information?”
“Most of my job was gathering intelligence, Commander.” Ki-Ton easies through the makeshift doorway.
Reynard follows through the hole, avoiding cooling metal. Inside the chamber are lavish gifts from dozens of worlds. Art, statues encrusted with jewels, ornamental weapons, woven tapestries, and items only royalty would receive as gifts fill half the vault.
Ki-Ton opens one of the chests. Inside are gold coins. Another box contains paper money. Reynard scoops a handful of diamonds from the third crate. “Our fee. The rest we keep in trust for the princess.”
“You could buy a small moon with all this.”
“Let’s keep how much there is under wraps, just in case anyone in the crew wants to prematurely retire.”
“A captain has to trust his crew,” Ki-Ton says.
“I trust them, but I still don’t know them.” Reynard opens
