“The bounty on Hauser did offer the reward for his death as well.”
“Dead’s not my color,” he says as he raises the blaster just an inch. “And Maxtin’s bounty with the retrieval code would never want me dead. If I’m dead, I can’t rescue the Admiral.”
“Lower the blaster. It won’t help. I’m finished killing under the Admiral’s orders.” Reynard demands, “Where’s Maxtin?”
“I thought the other Zayar absconded with him, based on what the kids reported. Only the Zayars care nothing for galaxy politics.”
“Maxtin was seen with a second Zayar.” JC grows concerned. “Impossible.”
“Even if true, someone else has used the Admiral’s absence to manipulate us.”
“But only those of us in this room even know he’s missing,” Hauser speculates.
“Trace the Admiral’s next transmission?”
“Doug would be qualified,” JC reminds her captain.
“No, I want you. In this room we’re the only people who know we’re dealing with an imposter.”
“Or a traitor within the crew.” Joe completes aloud what Reynard was thinking.
“Everyone was assigned by Maxtin, except for your sword brother, myself, and Amye,” JC points out.
“Doug wasn’t assigned. I retrieved him from prison, but he was suggested by Maxtin. I was looking for a telepath when I met you, and I rescued Amye from a rock slide. All too random of events for a person to plan an insertion into the crew.”
“You were sent for Scott when you met Amye,” JC reminds him.
“No way was she a plant. If I didn’t discover her, she’d still be buried under that rock slide.”
“Someone Maxtin trusted,” Joe insisted.
“Or someone turned after they joined. It’s been known to happen. The other side finally offered a bigger piece,” JC says.
“Enough. Whoever’s behind this wants us not to trust each other.”
DOUG SECURES THE tie-down strap to the metal grate floor in the center of the Silver Dragon’s cargo bay. Once he has the line taut, he jogs down the landing ramp.
Bringing up a cable, he attaches it to a winch. He activates the lever. The whirl of pulleys turning echoes across the cargo hold. Reynard forbids anyone on board the Dragon but crew. Doug must load the massive holoemersion unit alone. Once assembled the apparatus allows the crew to live in a virtual reality world. Doug splurged on the deluxe package, adding several tons to the ship’s manufactured weight. With the second deck rarely utilized, no one will notice the extra rooms the machine commandeers once he figures out how to get these crates into the elevator.
As the crates teeter on the ramp to the cargo bay floor, muffled squeals catch Doug’s sensitive hearing. He spins around, wishing he had drawn his blaster in the movement, but an incorrect choice allows Ki-Ton to fire a blaster with a third arm.
Doug dives behind the crate as the super-heated energy ball screams past his position. Thud—the landing pushes air from his lungs, forcing him to need a moment to breathe again. His brain accesses the recorder built into the cyberjack, now a permanent part of his anatomy. A freeze frame image flashes over his eyes.
He did spot Ki-Ton carrying a shackled princess with bound hands. Upon encountering Doug, a third arm grew from his side to draw the holstered blaster. Doug always knew Ki-Ton wasn’t an Osirian, but hiding a fully developed third appendage would be difficult.
Doug’s lungs refill as he grabs his weapon. He twists the end of the barrel in order to adjust the beam strength before jerking up to fire.
Two energy beams splinter the cargo crate before Doug clears his own weapon to fire. He slams against the floor again. A third energy ball burns through the cable wrenching the crate inside.
Twang!
The crate crashes down the ramp, removing Doug’s cover. He fires.
Ki-Ton avoids the intense beam of sound with reflexes no Osirians have.
Doug aims.
One step—Ki-Ton stands next to him. A fourth arm grows from his side, reaching for Doug’s weapon.
Doug scrambles for the open hole in the Silver Dragon’s hull, fall-rolling down the ramp.
“I’ve no time for this.”
Doug scampers from the ramp, anticipating blaster fire, but no energy beams explode near him. He pulls the respirator from his belt pouch and shoves it in his mouth, needing more oxygen to run.
Doug’s commlink blares nothing but static.
Instead of pursuing, Ki-Ton jammed the communicators.
Doug has no choice but to rescue the princess—alone. He peeks over the edge of the landing ramp, witnessing Ki-Ton disappear through a hidden door in the forward section of the cargo hold. Fully aware of many hidden storage compartments, Doug did not know of one under the main bridge.
The Dragon shimmies.
Doug grabs onto the edge of the ramp.
Even in the limited atmosphere the dust stirs from under the Dragon’s oval hull section. The loose gravel vibrates from the mini earthquake.
Doug witnesses the constant swimming skin across the hull leave the bottom of the forward oval section. The seams of the hull lower. Other silvery skinless panels slide open, and thruster rockets emerge. A hidden shuttle lowers from under the bridge section.
Even if the lowering shuttle has clearance between the Silver Dragon and the ground, the expulsion of thruster fumes must go somewhere. Doug vaults into the cargo bay sprinting for the manual control station. Super-heated air surges up the ramp and fills the hold. Airborne gravel rains inside as the ramp fits into place.
The shuttle skips over the ground as it launches forward away from the Silver Dragon.
The hull skin swims back over the now-empty shuttle chamber.
Once clear of the mother ship, the shuttle blasts out into the outer atmosphere.
••••••
KI-TON’S THIRD ARM retracts back into his abdomen. He winces with pain.
“Why do you perform such actions if it hurts?” Michelle twists her limbs, but the binders securing her wrists chafe her delicate skin. She hasn’t the tolerance for pain to struggle her way to freedom. She imagines for a moment Amye in her place and using the manacles to club Ki-Ton’s skull into a
