He turns back to study the readouts.
“Something else is at work,” Daccia murmurs. “Enemy activity, possibly – like a remote shift jammer.” He glances up. “AI – give me a scan of nearby space. Maybe that human we stole Allie from, Spur, was foolish enough to follow us after all.”
His eyes turn to Hadrian, still standing over us.
“Back to stations!”
Hadrian sits back down. His aura shifts from confusion to eager energy. I’ve always swallowed down my weaker emotions – fear and anxiety. Hadrian shifts their focus instead; using them as fuel to charge his concentration.
Huge hands gripping the handle of the Orb-Cannon, Hadrian scans the empty space beyond the viewport – searching for any sign of a ship that might be jamming our Orb-Drive.
My own targeting reticule dips and darts over dead space, scanning every meter of it. I’m ready to turn any opponents into dust and meat…
At the same time, three probes shoot out from our Reaver – arcing off into space around us. Our AI system will use the probes to search space for any sign of enemy contact – a cloaked ship, emission trails, or an energy signature – even as we continue flying away from the planet we’d stolen Allie from.
We might not be able to Orb-Shift – but we’ll still put as much distance between us and that planet as we can.
Ten minutes pass. There's not a single ship in my line of view – not even a harmless cargo ship on its way to the planet we’ve just left.
Daccia snaps his fingers, as if suddenly having a flash of inspiration.
"AI – show video feed of the punishment brig, ten seconds before Orb-Shift initiation."
A three-dimensional hologram shimmers into existence between the three of us – a feed from the brig in which Allie is imprisoned.
Suddenly, not a single one of us is scanning space anymore. Instead, we’re watching the digital recreation of Allie.
The moment before we attempted to Orb-Shift, the three-dimensional video recording shows her reaching to her left arm, pressing something…
…and smiling.
It hits me instantly.
"She has a shift-blocker – embedded in her own flesh!"
Hadrian growls: "She'll suffer for this. Punishment rations for a week."
The thought of Allie being forced to eat dried, flavorless rations angers me. I don't know why. For some reason, I don't look at her like she’s just some unruly prisoner, the same as all the others my triad has rounded up during our career with Law Enforcement.
No, Allie is different – and as cunning as she clearly is, I feel a great responsibility for her.
8
Allie
My heart is pounding.
I wasn't sure the jammer device would work. I got it installed in a back-alley modification center, and developed an infection in my arm as a result. The infection caused a fever so bad that I missed a whole week of work at Spur’s joint, and almost got fired.
It was my own fault – you get what you pay for. The infection was bad enough, but given how sloppy they’d been about implanting the device, it wouldn’t have been difficult to imagine the device not working at all when I actually needed it.
Thankfully, it did work.
The device in my arm is designed to create a feedback loop that shorts out an Orb-Drive as it powers up to shift – kind of like the way an electromagnetic pulse can knock out and short electronic circuits.
As a result of using it, the Orb-Drive of this Reaver will now be out of commission – entirely inoperative until they get the blown circuits fixed. It’s not a massive task – but Orb-Drives are rare and expensive, and the tools and expertise to fix them isn’t widely available.
I doubt there’s even a place that could fix the burned-out circuits back on the planet we’ve just left – and it’s not like those three Aurelians could take me back there anyway. Spur might not have pursued us off-world – but he’ll still be out for their blood if they return.
So, that means the first stage of my plan has been completed.
I look around the dimly lit cell. I might have stranded the Reaver in space – but I’m still stranded in here. Unlike the Aurelians, though, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.
There's a sudden hiss as the doors of the punishment brig open.
Suddenly, I find myself staring up at a very pissed off Aurelian. Daccia, the leader of the triad, is practically snarling at me.
It’s terrifying – but also elating.
Their species doesn’t like to show emotion – but no matter how much this Aurelian tries to control it, I can see in Daccia’s face that he's mad – really mad.
His jaw is set, his eyes are narrow, and his huge hands are balled into fists.
It’s a small victory to have got him so enraged.
I smile sweetly, feigning ignorance about what might have happened to disrupt our Orb-Shift. Instead, I ask:
"What can I do for you?"
Daccia’s lips pull back in a snarl:
“I am Daccia – Aurelian Law Enforcement, third rank. This is not some backwater militant ship. We know what you did – and you’re toying with forces far greater than you can imagine.”
Daccia points angrily at my forearm.
“Extend your arm. Now!”
I swallow hard, remaining motionless. I don’t want to even think about what might happen when this towering Aurelian finds the shift-blocker implant in my arm.
He must have noticed something. Dammit! I wasn't sneaky enough!
Of course, I also knew there’d be a video feed of the punishment block. Prisoners who try to escape don’t get basic rights like privacy.
I should have thought about that. If I’d found the cameras, I could have used my body to shield my arm when I pressed the device beneath my skin. I should have been more careful.
Instead, I now have a seven-feet-tall warrior fuming at me angrily; barely holding back his rage.
How can I stall him?
Daccia’s hand suddenly snapping forward answers my question.
He grabs my left arm – hard. I gasp as he stretches my arm out,
