Closer the warship loomed, an incredible behemoth of steel and circuitry as their own hijacked ship weaved in between bits of intermittent wreckage and flames threatened to reduce it to dust.
The enemy locust pilot was groggily coming to and Miko knew he would have to dispatch the thing sooner or later. But no, there was a better solution. The creature might be needed to fly the craft. With grim resolve, he seized it by the antennae and dragged it past the Jakru woman in the tank over to the feeding tanks at the far wall. A cord dangled from stopper to ground. He knew this fed others of their kind. There was some half-dead creature inside, an aquatic lifeform with too many eyes. He emptied the tank of the creature and stuffed the locust, struggling and spitting into the pale liquid.
The thing thrashed and thrust pincers out at the glass. Miko ignored it and looked at it with cold dispassion, then a look of triumph as he secured the plug.
A blast came to starboard. The outcast jerked the ship sharply starboard past enemy outriders. It was manoeuvring well, past gleaming hulls and red blasts and Miko acknowledged its skill with a silent nod.
Other shell-shaped vessels closed in, locust craft, some long and tapered like grasshoppers, others shaped like warrior beetles. They took out pieces of the Jakru battle cruiser, but its shields held, as blue puffs of debris fanned on its exterior. Now another Jakru battleship came ripping out of light speed. A cone of iridescent light flared around its bow, a fire-flux that sent other defence ships wheeling into oblivion.
“Fire, you fool!” Miko screamed as he leaped over to the outcast and stabbed down at the controls. He caught the gist of the weapon’s panel as he gained the pilot’s chair. The outcast was a capable pilot, but not a weapons’ tactician.
An aphid vessel smashed into the battleship’s shields and disintegrated in a puff of light. Almost at the same time, a Jakru light craft shot out of the cruiser, pointing artillery gun and blasting any resistance to kingdom come.
Miko winced. Intelligence must have reached the mother ship that it was their craft that contained the Jakru prisoner. Was the woman that important? It seemed so. Miko pondered the situation in detail. Would they launch a full-scale assault on his tiny craft for one woman—and against the locust race in general?
He stared at the tank containing the woman. The glass was tipped sideways and she moved imperceptibly on her side like a fish, floating precariously, vulnerable, exposed, sensual. A hand reached out to fan the glass. Miko blinked. He debated whether to smash open the glass and loose her. But something in the woman’s alien gaze stayed his hand. One swing of Fenli’s pipe was all it would take. But a cold flicker of judgement flashed across those lovely eyes. He did not know what complications would arise as a result of his liberating her. Better off to leave her in the tank.
Bzt. His body blinked out of existence. He saw her eyes glow with interest.
A blast came searing close to the vessel. Miko’s ethereal body tingled under the force of the energy pulsation. Fenli looked in a bad way. The cargo man lay on his back groaning.
Miko floated in limbo, considering. His astral senses and intellect told him the problem was unfixable.
It was an understatement to say that he did not like the way things were progressing. Odds were they would perish under enemy fire any second. Then, he knew he had been dead the moment the amalgamator had dumped him on this alien vessel.
Bzt. Back in his body again, feeling the aches and pains running up and down his limbs. The outcast had not even noticed his absence, so absorbed was it in staying conscious and keeping the ship out of laser reach.
Miko ripped a patch of canvas from the gear that hung on the wall. He wrapped a tourniquet around his upper arm where a locust had snagged him. He swept back his lank mass of blood-caked hair, shuddering with exhaustion. What to do? The place was a shambles. Dead bodies lay strewn everywhere, broken panels splashed in blood. His allies were out cold, or impaired. The life force of the outcast, it seemed, was dimming.
But why wasn’t it taking them into light drive?
Was the ship that crippled?
The ship lurched again as it strained under maximal impulse power. A shuddering blow caught her port bow.
The ship probably would not last another minute under such fire. Why it had not been blown out of the ethers, was beyond him. The outcast, obviously, had some evasive manoeuvres left in its arsenal.
A slight jar rocked the ship as the locust shifted into light speed. Miko’s eyes lit in half-mad joy. The ship was still space-worthy! The windows showed a whitish-grey, a chalky fluttering like falling snow. Then the stars were gone, replaced by a milky mass.
Miko went to check on Fenli. The cargo operator lay in a sprawled heap, but breathing normally. A gash on his right temple spoke of concussion. Miko heard the man moan and he gently moved him to a more comfortable position.
The ship gave an alarming wobble. At least the enemy ships couldn’t target or batter them when they were in time drive, thought Miko. The figures around him, Fenli, Usk, the Jakru woman, blurred and shimmered like caricatures from a lurid dream. Fuzzy patterns showed around the edges, then they cleared.
Time drive distortion, Miko told himself—the disastrous side effect of this volatile technology. He knew it only too well from his crash landing on
