Fools Rush In (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3) Page 2

  “What kind of problem?”

  “A woman down there is giving us holy hell. Says she wants to see you.”

  “One of these bastards wants to see me?” He laughed. “Spacer’s luck with that! Tell her she can talk to me from a cell on Madras.”

  “No, Cap, not one of the crew. One of the, uh . . .”

  Murphy’s gaze grew dangerous. “Don’t say it. They’re people, not slaves. And on my ship they’re the lucky ones.”

  Blindar swallowed. “Aye, sir. One of the LO’s, sir. She’s threatening to kick serious ass if she doesn’t speak with you directly.” He shook his head. “She don’t look like much, Cap, but some of the folks with her say she’s perfectly capable of doing like she says.”

  The captain of the Shadowhawk gave up an exasperated laugh and lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll see her. We’ve had enough mayhem for today. Tell Patel to assign her a berth on board the ’hawk, and I’ll meet her in my command room in two hours.”

  No, no, no, no, NO! This was not how this mission was supposed to go down. Rayna couldn’t help seeing it as a disaster, though, of course, she couldn’t ignore the implications for the people around her. They were all going home now. Or going on to new lives, if they could not be sent back home.

  The impact hadn’t hit them yet. When she’d been called out of the hold to her berth assignment, her fellow captives had still been milling around in confusion and a muted sort of fear. Their blunted response was an effect of their programming, the mindwipe that took their higher emotions, their identities and their memories of home before they were assigned to labor throughout the Minertsan Consortium. The Rescue relocation center would do their best to restore these things—and eliminate the memories of their abduction into slavery. The level of success of this process would determine whether the former slaves went back home to Earth or were relocated on Terrene or another colony planet.

  So, yes, this hijacking by space pirates was just freaking great for them! But for Rayna and the Interstellar Council for Abolition and Rescue it meant half a circuit of meticulous planning out the thruster tubes. Finding a way to salvage her mission had just become her top priority.

  She’d been allowed to shower before being shown to her bunk in a closet-size, six-person cabin that now slept twelve in two shifts. Her bunkmate was not in evidence, so Rayna supposed she was expected to be sleeping now. But her appointment with the captain of this hunk of junk was coming up in a few minutes. Now was not the time for a nap.

  She glanced across the narrow space between the rows of bunks to see a member of the crew practicing an intricate sleight-of-hand with what appeared to be a razor-sharp blade. “Nice slith.”

  The girl, who couldn’t have been more than 17, glanced up at her but didn’t speak. The blade disappeared up her sleeve.

  “Must be a real pain in the ass to have all these extra people crowding your space, huh?”

  The girl considered her from under a fringe of dark hair. “We’re used to it. Cap does it all the time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “We take the slavers, LO’s gotta go somewhere ’til we get to the nearest relo center.”

  “LO’s?”

  “Lucky ones. That’s you, I guess.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” Rayna swallowed a swirl of resentment. She had to separate her own situation from that of the rest of the people in that hold. “So, what, your captain got some kind of crusade going?”

  The girl’s blue eyes flashed. “He need a crusade to save your ass?”

  Rayna’s lips twitched. The kid had a point—and an attitude.

  “No, but there’s not much profit in it, either. Aren’t pirates all about the loot?”

  The kid drew herself up with a frown. “The ’hawk ain’t no pirate ship! We’re legitimate traders! The slavers are the criminals in this sector!”

  Hawk? What kind of name was that for a ship? “I won’t argue that point with you, uh . . .”

  “Lainie.” The girl gave the information up like it was a carefully-guarded secret known to a select few.

  “How did you get to be a member of the crew, Lainie?”

  The girl was pissed off now, Rayna saw. Or maybe that was her default setting. She sprawled in her bunk and pulled the blade out again, making it appear and disappear in her hands.

  “You ask a lot of questions for an LO.”

  Rayna shrugged. “Just naturally curious.”

  Lainie’s gaze hit her like a laser. “And the mindwipe? Doesn’t affect you, huh?”

  “No. I’m resistant.”

  “Huh.”

  Rayna was beginning to think Lainie wouldn’t answer her question when the girl said, “Cap saw me one day on Barelius at a slave auction. I was just a kid. If he hadn’t scooped me up I’d have been headed for a partyhouse. Guess that makes me an LO, too.” Lainie’s lips lifted at one corner.

  “Guess it does.”

  Lainie wasn’t finished. “Don’t ask me why Cap stops every slaver he comes across. I don’t give a fuck. I’d do anything he asked me to do. Everyone on this ship would do the same thing.”

  Before Rayna could respond, a crewman with a body like a spacedock tug and “Security” in yellow across his chest appeared in the hatch and motioned in her direction.

  “You. Follow me.”

  She nodded at Lainie, hopped down off the bunk and did as the crewman had ordered. Time to meet the great man at last.

  A crowded ship’s corridor and a lift ride later, Rayna and her escort arrived at a cabin just off the bridge. The Security man banged on the hatch.

  “The, uh, woman . . .” The man stumbled to a halt, unsure exactly why he’d been asked to bring her. “Sir.”

  A voice from inside, one that captured your attention. “All right, Zefron. Dismissed.”

  “But, Cap, she . . . um . . .” The guard glanced down at her and frowned.

  Rayna lifted her chin and drew herself up to her maximum height. That put her eyes level with the “S” in “Security” on her guard’s chest. Then the captain was there in the open hatch. Sweet Jesus, was he something to look at! He filled the doorway with smooth muscle, and he was trimmed out more like a Confederated Systems Fleet officer than a pirate. His black hair was cut short, the stubble on his strong jaw was no more than a shadow and his bright green eyes were untroubled by the haze of habitual drug or alcohol abuse.

  Nope, not your typical pirate. At. All.

  Captain Murphy grinned when he saw her. “What’s the matter, Zeph, ’fraid she’s gonna murder me and hijack the ship?”

  Zephron swallowed awkwardly.

  Rayna bristled. “Not today. I just want to talk.”

  His grin widened. “I’m relieved.” He looked at his Security man again. “Dismissed, crewman.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man slung a sideways glance at Rayna and left.

  The captain retreated back into the tiny cabin and waited for her to follow him. Inside the cabin, narrow benches lined the two short walls across and to the left of the hatch. The desk—with the captain, one hip cocked on its edge—filled the rest of the space. There was a datapad thrown among the clutter on the desk, a desk screen and a holo-projector for meetings. The captain’s command room, such as it was.

  “Captain Sam Murphy of the Shadowhawk.” He held out a hand.

  Holy shit! Not Hawk—Shadowhawk! The ship’s captain was known to her organization. The mention of his name could be guaranteed to induce screaming fits of frustration in Rescue officials, no matter how much they admired him. Rayna guessed she was about to find out why.

  She took his hand and tried to ignore the warmth flowing from his big palm. “Rayna Carver. Thank you for seeing me.”

  Murphy radiated amusement. What did he think was so damn funny?

  “My people said you seemed to think it was pretty important.”

  “You might say that. May I ask where the Shadowhawk is bound, Captain?”

  “Bound?”
A frown drew his dark brows together. “It’s no secret that I plan to release you and the rest of the LO’s on Madras—that’s the nearest Rescue relocation center.”

  Madras—that wouldn’t do. “I need you to make a stop on the way.”

  Murphy laughed, the rich sound rolling up out of his chest. “Did somebody give you the impression the ’hawk is a taxi?”

  Rayna flushed, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Her next words were out of her mouth before she could call them back.

  “Better a taxi than a blackjack.”

  The captain rose slowly to his feet, his casual demeanor gone. He towered over her, glowering down into her eyes with a green gaze as hard and cold as a frozen sea.

  “This blackjack just kept you from a short lifetime of back-breaking labor, of rape and humiliation and cold and hunger.” His hands curled into fists at his side. His voice lowered into a growl. “I would think a little gratitude would be in order.”

  Her own emotion flared to meet his. “You think I don’t know what we were headed for? What all those poor souls in that stinking hold were destined to go through? Jesus, the belly of that slaver was just the beginning.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. “Who are you? You’re no slave.”

  “You found me in the hold of a slave ship. What else would I be?” She struggled to hold her ground against his size, his presence. The urge to take a step backward was overwhelming.

  “Your mind is intact. Even people who are resistant to the mindwipe take some time to come back to themselves after programming. Who the hell are you?”

  “Maybe I’m luckier than most.”

  “And maybe you’re ConSys Intel undercover, looking for a way to turn me in.”

  It was Rayna’s turn to laugh. “Those clowns? They couldn’t find their own asses with both hands.”

  Murphy seemed to appreciate the joke, but he didn’t join in the laugh. “A common bounty hunter, then, though I admit hiding out on a slaver is a long way to go to get to me. I wasn’t aware my capture price was that high.”

  The last she’d heard the price on the Shadowhawk was more than enough to mean retirement for the bounty hunter lucky enough to claim it. “I wouldn’t know. But trolling for you on a slave ship seems like a plan with pretty low odds of success. Who knew you were going to pick my ship in all of space to rescue?”

  His face relaxed into a smile. “Right. And now I’m certain you’re no slave. No one resents having their shit pulled out of the fire.” He considered. “So, if you aren’t here for me, maybe ConSys sent you to LinHo to spy on the Minertsans. I hear the factory those slaves were bound for is making weapons for the rebels in the Grays’ nasty little civil war. Is that it?”

  “I told you before, I don’t work for ConSys.”

  “Ah, but you do work for someone. Who’s left? The Minertsans themselves? The rebels? Some criminal element hoping to make a profit off the weapons trade? Now if that’s the case I might be in a position to help for a split.”

  The son-of-a-bitch! “No! What I’m doing on LinHo has nothing to do with profit and everything to do with saving lives. But it’s my business. You don’t need the details to know whether you can drop me off at the spaceport.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I need all the details or I won’t consider helping you. I told you before, the ’hawk is no taxi, and I’m certainly no brainless transport hauler.”

  “Well, we just seem to be repeating ourselves, don’t we?” She crossed her arms over her chest. The man was infuriating. “What part of ‘I can’t tell you the details’ don’t you understand?”

  “Fuck!” The captain moved as if he wanted to pace—or strangle her, Rayna couldn’t be sure. “Suppose I let you rest in the brig until we get to Madras? Because not only will I not help you, but I don’t even trust you to have the run of my ship until you tell me what the hell is going on.” He reached for the comm.

  Rayna struggled to regain control of her temper. “No, wait!”

  He looked back at her. “You have ten seconds.”

  She weighed her options. The plans that had taken half a circuit to develop were in ruins, thanks to this freaking Good Samaritan. Getting to LinHo and the weapons factory via her original plan would be nearly impossible from Madras, a planet with strict anti-slavery regulations. If she allowed him to take her there, she’d have to find passage back to MgT25 where she’d started her journey and begin again. That would take time she didn’t have. She had to bring him into this and find a way to convince him to drop her on LinHo.

  “I need to trust you, Captain.”

  He scowled. “I wouldn’t if I were you. I’m a blackjack, after all.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was . . . I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I may be a pirate, Ms. Carver, but I don’t rape, I don’t murder, I don’t set ships afire just to watch them burn.”

  She found his gaze. “I believe you.”

  His frown softened into a more neutral expression of curiosity. He settled his hip back onto his desk.

  “Why don’t you start over?”

  “Right.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m an agent for the Interstellar Council for Abolition and Rescue, working with a cell on MgT25. I’m a conductor—do you know what that is?”

  “No. Enlighten me.”

  “We infiltrate the Minertsan work camps, the factories, the mines. Set up communications with the outside to pass information back and forth. Identify candidates for extraction—those who are resistant to programming—and help get them out. Organize smuggling and protection. Commit sabotage.”

  Murphy looked at her and laughed. “Well, you’re just a regular death-defying little concussion torpedo, aren’t ya?”

  She wasn’t sure quite how to take that. “Beg pardon?”

  “The Kinz facility on LinHo is no ordinary work camp. It’s an ultimate-security prison factory, and you’re telling me you were planning to slip inside with the people in that hold?” His expression communicated open disbelief. “You were going in there to set up an undercover operation among the unlucky ones. All by your lonesome. Little bitty thing that you are.”

  All right, that’s it! Temper rose like floodwaters and broke the dam of her fragile control.

  “Just takes a little bit of plasmion to blow you to hell, Captain Snark. And guess what, I’ve done this before. Once on Riza, where I helped thirty escape before I took the factory to the ground; once on Apparion where a team of us blasted a dam to flood the orm fields and commandeered a freighter to take 400 slaves off-planet.”

  “And how many were killed in those operations?” The captain was on his feet again, no longer laughing. “I heard nearly 50 on Riza; no one would give a number on Apparion. There were locals there, you know, living near the dam.”

  “What you heard were lies.” She shook as she stood toe-to-toe with him, arching her neck to glare up at him. “We made certain no one else was hurt.” Please, God, let it be so. We did everything we could.

  The corners of his mouth ticked upwards. “Maybe. But LinHo is not Riza or Apparion. The factory itself is a para-military installation.”

  She cut him off. “Rumor exaggerates. Can you get me there or not?”

  “Not. It’s suicide. And not just for you. The spaceport requires special permissions for berthing. Without them, automated orbital defenses would blow us apart.”

  “There must be a way to get those permissions.”

  “If there is, I don’t know it. I’ve never had business on that godsforsaken dirtball.”

  “But you have connections. Friends who’ve been there. Chips you can call in.” She was fishing.

  And hooked something. The amusement returned to Murphy’s eyes.

  “I might have. I would have to be convinced it was worthwhile to call them in. You’re asking me to spend huge amounts of political capital, to risk my ship and crew, just to drop you on that planet so you can put you
r pretty ass in a world of danger. And without a plan of any kind, so far as I can see.”

  God! She balled up her fists to keep from throttling him. “What makes you think I don’t have a plan?”

  He spread his hands. “Please. Share.”

  “I can’t. Do you think I’d get very far in my business if I ‘shared’ every time someone asked?”

  “I’m not just anyone. You’re asking for my help. That makes me a partner.”

  “No, it doesn’t. I’ve already told you too much.”

  Murphy shrugged. “Madras it is, then.”

  “I have contacts on LinHo. They’ll be able to find me a way into Kinz. I just need to get on-planet.”

  He studied her face for a long moment, weighing the odds, all humor gone from his eyes. Then, “It’s too dangerous.”

  This couldn’t be the end of it. So much was at stake. Rayna glared at him, words on the tip of her tongue that she knew she shouldn’t say: Coward! Credit-grubbing fireworm!

  His hand was suddenly under her chin, lifting it. “Cheer up, little torpedo.” There was a crinkle of—sympathy?—at the corners of his green, green eyes. “You’ll live to fight another day.”

  The heat that surged into her chest was equal parts anger and arousal. The moment she recognized that unacceptable fact, Rayna turned on her heel and stalked out, Captain Murphy’s soft laughter caressing her ears.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sam watched Rayna Carver’s retreat down the corridor of his ship with a curious mixture of emotions roiling in his chest. Or not properly his chest, because, gods knew, just her presence made his blood boil, his stomach do strange, unsettling things and everything that made him male stand to attention. Maybe it was those dark eyes flashing fire. Or her smooth skin blushing red under his stare. But the idea of that tiny woman—perai, she barely reached to his shoulder!—stuffed in the hold of a slaver, choosing to throw herself into the worst hellholes in the galaxy. And for what? Some misguided heroic impulse?

  He shook his head as if that would free him of the hold Rayna had on him and turned toward his bridge. He strode through the hatch and saw all eyes turn in his direction.