Read Online DarkShip Thieves by Sarah A. Hoyt - Free Book Online

and strangely calm for an obviously mad man. We're as close as I dare go now. The door is open. Please maneuver your pod out.
    As he stopped speaking, light came on—low level light, granted—but enough for me to see the less reflective black of the membrane to outer space. Of course, I couldn't be sure that the door was open beyond that. But again, why would he kill me that way? Wouldn't it be a very strange way to kill someone? And one that might damage his ship, as he couldn't know if my pod would go out in an explosion?
    Right. Just a touch of paranoia, Thena. The result of growing up with Daddy Dearest.
    I started the pod to liftoff, aimed for the membrane and sped forward. By the time I crossed the membrane, I was going fast enough that the airlock went by in a blur. And then I was . . . Up-side-down. Up-side-down whichever way I turned.
    In space. Looking straight at the dark bays of circum, the ones out of rotation for the harvesters.
    In my mind something echoed, that might have come from my friend the ELF, or else, might be completely imagined—it was that faint. Good Luck.
    Probably imagined because, first of all, why would he wish me well, after all I'd done to him? He might balk at actually killing me, and it was only sane for him not to want me in the ship with him, headed back wherever he was going. But why would he wish me well, after everything I'd done?
    I had a memory of his eyes, wide and terrified as I tightened the garrotte around his neck. Right. The chances of his saying something more than "good riddance" were very low indeed. And second, there had been an almost wishful sound to his mind-voice, a sound I'd never heard from him. Right. So now I was imagining ELFs in my mind. Just great. Let's add madness to your many accomplishments Thena.
    Clenching my teeth tight, not looking behind at the darkship, I headed straight for the deserted bay in the middle, and crossed the outer membrane at speed. At which point the sort of inner voice that has kept me from killing myself a dozen times—at least—whispered to slow down. So I crossed the second membrane slower. Which was good, because it meant that I managed to stop the pod just behind the huge, blue-ey metal harvester parked there.
    Earth harvesters were massive compared to the darkships. Still slim, mind you. Slim enough to maneuver between the powertree trunks and collect the powerpods. But they were more cigar shaped, bright metallic and looked like some decadent artist's depiction of a glorified sewing needle.
    Fortunately my inadequate pod was so small that I had plenty of room to park behind it.
    As I opened the canopy, I wondered what I should do. That bulletin claiming I was in the midst of a psychotic episode probably made it unadvisable to just use the two-way com and tell everyone I was here and to come get me pronto, with the red carpet, the fawning and the—please, for the love of heaven—ready bathwater.
    If I commed my arrival, I'd just get medtechs stacked three deep and dying to put me to sleep and deliver me to . . . Who knew who? I wasn't sure that Daddy Dearest was even alive.
    On the other hand, I had to talk to someone eventually unless I planned to be one of those space legends, living in hiding in the space station and seen only by the unlucky few.
    I'd go in. Go in and find some of my harvester friends. They'd listen to me. They wouldn't believe that I was psycho.
    Still, the idea of marching in there unprotected set off alarms, and put cold shivers down my spine. Unfortunately, and contrary to normal procedure, I'd failed to beg, borrow or steal a burner from the ELF. Well, it would have been stealing for sure. Even he wouldn't be crazy enough to give me a weapon.
    But I hadn't stolen it—frankly because he was so much faster than I he would have taken the weapon back and possibly shoved it somewhere unpleasant. I smiled faintly despite myself. I'd found someone who could match my speed and I was starting to