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Authors: Marcella Burnard
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seen fuel feed clogs like I cleared from your starboard intake all the damned time. The valve is all but shot. You’re riding tolerance right now. Next venture into atmosphere may cause a fuel bleed. Your engineer needs a good swift kick.”
“So I’ve long thought,” Ari replied, then sighed. “He doesn’t keep spares. We’ll have to risk putting down at the supply depot on Kebgra.”
“Captain Idylle.”
V’kyrri glanced at the geo station. His expression tightened. Ari followed his gaze. The kid. Sindrivik.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Sindrivik?”
The young man stood at attention, his gaze focused above her head. Damn it. They were military. Recently enough to still be habituated to chain of command and protocol.
“I apologize for my comments earlier. They were inappropriate,” he said, his tone neutral.
Had Seaghdh threatened him into the apology? The man’s expression again turned to ice, until his gray eyes were the only color in his face. Ari detected the flicker of anger buried beneath the mask and admired the young man’s control.
“I regret trying to take the ship from you,” he went on. He hesitated and Ari could see the discomfort and the sincerity at last. “I endangered the ship and the crew.”
“I appreciate the apology, Mr. Sindrivik,” she said, glancing at her panel and tweaking a specific light filter on the view screen. “But jettison the regret over trying to take the ship. In any other circumstance, your instinct to get me off the controls would have been right on. It’s a damned risky maneuver in the best of ships.”
From the tightening of the muscles around his eyes, she gathered he would have preferred she’d yelled at him. Ari glanced at Seaghdh’s patently neutral expression. What the hell was she doing treating four pirates like crew members?
It didn’t matter. She was still the captain with the most practical experience with the Sen Ekir . Whether they liked her command methodology or not, they’d hijacked her ship and were letting her fly it. They’d all but volunteered as her crew, at least until they shot her or shoved her out an air lock.
Scanning the drained, tight expressions of the men around her, she nodded at the view screen. “Watch this.” Ari tweaked a filter setting on the view-screen input sensors.
The brilliant, raging inferno of Occaltus’s star dimmed. Luminous, intense color flooded the field behind the star.
Sindrivik took a step toward the screen, his expression scrunched in concentration. V’kyrri said something in a language Ari didn’t recognize, though the wondering tone of his voice was clear. Turrel grunted.
“What is it?” Seaghdh asked as if awestruck.
Ari realized she’d leaned over her panel, her elbows propping her up as she delighted in the play of ancient light and color. She glanced at Seaghdh, grinning. Pleasure gleamed in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at the view screen. Something sparked in the short distance between them, and Ari found it hard to draw a full breath.
“Our reward for a job well done,” she said.
He answered her smile, his eyes on her mouth.
Ari forced herself to look away. She cleared her throat, but still it took a moment before she could answer his question.
“It’s a supernova remnant.”
“Several thousand light-years away?” Sindrivik asked.
“Around twenty. That cooling debris cloud is all that’s left of the massive star that blew,” she said. She worked a few more filters. “If I mess with the resolution a bit, you get . . .”
“Stellar nursery!” V’kyrri said, his tone enchanted as pinpricks of white light appeared in the darker gas clouds.
“Stunning,” Seaghdh murmured next to her. At the relaxed enjoyment in his voice something warm and comforting blossomed within her.
“Is this important?” Turrel demanded.
“Not from a tactical standpoint,” she said, studying his impatient expression, “but from a morale standpoint, it is. You’ve had a rough
“So I’ve long thought,” Ari replied, then sighed. “He doesn’t keep spares. We’ll have to risk putting down at the supply depot on Kebgra.”
“Captain Idylle.”
V’kyrri glanced at the geo station. His expression tightened. Ari followed his gaze. The kid. Sindrivik.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Sindrivik?”
The young man stood at attention, his gaze focused above her head. Damn it. They were military. Recently enough to still be habituated to chain of command and protocol.
“I apologize for my comments earlier. They were inappropriate,” he said, his tone neutral.
Had Seaghdh threatened him into the apology? The man’s expression again turned to ice, until his gray eyes were the only color in his face. Ari detected the flicker of anger buried beneath the mask and admired the young man’s control.
“I regret trying to take the ship from you,” he went on. He hesitated and Ari could see the discomfort and the sincerity at last. “I endangered the ship and the crew.”
“I appreciate the apology, Mr. Sindrivik,” she said, glancing at her panel and tweaking a specific light filter on the view screen. “But jettison the regret over trying to take the ship. In any other circumstance, your instinct to get me off the controls would have been right on. It’s a damned risky maneuver in the best of ships.”
From the tightening of the muscles around his eyes, she gathered he would have preferred she’d yelled at him. Ari glanced at Seaghdh’s patently neutral expression. What the hell was she doing treating four pirates like crew members?
It didn’t matter. She was still the captain with the most practical experience with the Sen Ekir . Whether they liked her command methodology or not, they’d hijacked her ship and were letting her fly it. They’d all but volunteered as her crew, at least until they shot her or shoved her out an air lock.
Scanning the drained, tight expressions of the men around her, she nodded at the view screen. “Watch this.” Ari tweaked a filter setting on the view-screen input sensors.
The brilliant, raging inferno of Occaltus’s star dimmed. Luminous, intense color flooded the field behind the star.
Sindrivik took a step toward the screen, his expression scrunched in concentration. V’kyrri said something in a language Ari didn’t recognize, though the wondering tone of his voice was clear. Turrel grunted.
“What is it?” Seaghdh asked as if awestruck.
Ari realized she’d leaned over her panel, her elbows propping her up as she delighted in the play of ancient light and color. She glanced at Seaghdh, grinning. Pleasure gleamed in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at the view screen. Something sparked in the short distance between them, and Ari found it hard to draw a full breath.
“Our reward for a job well done,” she said.
He answered her smile, his eyes on her mouth.
Ari forced herself to look away. She cleared her throat, but still it took a moment before she could answer his question.
“It’s a supernova remnant.”
“Several thousand light-years away?” Sindrivik asked.
“Around twenty. That cooling debris cloud is all that’s left of the massive star that blew,” she said. She worked a few more filters. “If I mess with the resolution a bit, you get . . .”
“Stellar nursery!” V’kyrri said, his tone enchanted as pinpricks of white light appeared in the darker gas clouds.
“Stunning,” Seaghdh murmured next to her. At the relaxed enjoyment in his voice something warm and comforting blossomed within her.
“Is this important?” Turrel demanded.
“Not from a tactical standpoint,” she said, studying his impatient expression, “but from a morale standpoint, it is. You’ve had a rough
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