“Several million credits worth of contraband livestock embryos?” Ignatius stood beside her. He frowned at the screen, and one of his hands still rested distractingly in the small of her back. “The slug eggs?”
“How could they know about them?” Murray spun her chair away from the console long enough to glare at Zora. “I thought they might be friends of yours until they started shooting.” Her raised eyebrow said she still considered it a possibility.
Zora stiffened. “I don’t consort with Pirates, Mur. Jeeze.” Her eyes drifted to Ignatius. Did he buy it? Murray didn’t. She snorted and went back to the console. Rook didn’t even glance in away from the controls, but she thought she saw his shoulders shaking, just a little. Damn them both.
She didn’t imagine the Emperor of a planet full of clone children would consort with pirates. She could imagine what he’d think of someone who had. She could guess exactly how he’d feel about any woman who’d signed on with a ship of marauders, who’d once been known as “The Bloody Red Angel of Nardul Eleven,” who’d had to slip away in the night before her term of service ended in a wedding to the Dark Star himself. She doubted he’d care how much Martian Tequila was involved in the decision either.
That pretty much summed up her whole damned problem, didn’t it? Zora had been around the block one time too many, and she’d had a damned good time along the way. The way she saw it, no one like Ignatius could get past a great many of the things lurking in her past. The Emperor might have eleven wives, but as far as she could tell, he’d never slept with even one of them. The man was a freaking Saint, and she was, well, she was not.
She’d be better off with at least a half a galaxy between them.
“Did they do much damage?” Ignatius dropped his hand from her back and moved toward the pilot’s chair. “I assume you’ve lost them?”
“They ceased hostile activity when we approached the jump gate,” Rook said. He still sounded like a bloody android, flesh or not. “I believe they wished to remain out of range of the authorities.”
“I should think.”
“As to the damage, we sustained little more than minor hull abrasions. I suspect they never intended to damage us at all.” He, also, turned an accusing look at her.
“What?”
“If they were interested in our cargo,” Ignatius interjected. “Then it would follow that they’d want minimum damage.”
“Yeah.” Zora nodded along. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Then why attack so close to a jump gate?” Murray joined in, still characteristically blaming her for everything. “And I can’t see how anyone would know about the eggs.”
“Oh, come on, Mur. You’ve got the activists scrounging for planets to keep them on. Don’t you think someone might have let it slip?”
“Maybe someone let it slip, yes.”
“I’m not sure I like how you’re saying someone, Mur. You want to come out and accuse me of something?” She stared daggers at her sister.
Instead of arguing, Murray darted a nervous look toward the pilot’s side of the cabin. She shook her head, caved and turned back to her controls. Zora bit back a growl and watched the three of them examining the screens and gauges. Once again, they’d gone all funny on her.
“What’s the first stop?” She watched the jump gate swing into view. It pulsed and spiraled inside the containment ring like a trapped star.
“Cyrrus 4.” Rook said, still clipped and reminiscent of his long-lost metallic voice box.
“Really?”
“Yes, and yes,” Murray answered the question without giving her time to ask. “We’ll stop at Cyrrus 2 as soon as the first batch of eggs is delivered.”
“Good.” Cyrrus 2 brought back another flood of memories. These, though less illegal, still widened the chasm she needed to put between her and the Emperor. “I could use to do some shopping.”
She needed new clothes. Her swelling midsection wouldn’t stay invisible for long under the shirts she’d brought. Her hand flickered toward the belly, but she fought the instinct and pressed it to one hip instead. There had to be a shop somewhere on Cyrrus 2 that sold mu-mus, god help her.
Murry kept rattling on. They needed supplies—good—the galley looked dangerously empty, and she could stash a few dozen more Earth Burgers for the next leg of the trip. They needed to repair any hull abrasions. Fine. She’d rather not have a hull breech cut her stint at motherhood short before she even had the chance to count the baby’s arms.
Ignatius turned away from rook and flashed her a grin that made her knees wobble. He was damn adorable, if only--. “Cyrrus 2?” His eyes sparked, and he rubbed his hands together. Maybe. “Fantastic. I think Haley’s Tail is playing a series there.”
Zora’s hopes deflated. Haley’s Tail. She shook her head and gave him her most clueless face. “I’m not sure I’ve heard of them.”
At the console, Murray choked on her air. Rook half-turned in her direction, but neither of them ratted on her directly.
“Oh good,” Ignatius continued. His voice danced with excitement. “I just know you’ll love them.”
“All of them, I should suspect.” Rook said.
She almost didn’t blame him. That would have been a hard one to let pass. She might even have laughed at it before her current predicament once upon a time when she was still the old Zora. Even now, maybe, if she hadn’t been staring in to a pair of lovely, expectant eyes that had no idea why Murray was trembling with unexpressed spasms of humor.
“Fun.” She tried to sound like she looked forward to the horror. “I think I’m gonna go back to my room now.”
Maybe they wouldn’t even remember her. She told herself that a few times on her way off the bridge. Maybe. She knew better. A night with The Bloody Red Angel wasn’t something you just forgot. One corner of her mouth managed to curl into a faint smile. Even new and improved Zora could appreciate that, and if her memory still served, it had been one hell of a night.
Next Episode ◦
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