Laser fire. The enemy was shooting at them.

  Nightrunner lurched hard again, as Andi remembered what Lorillard had told her about evading enemy fire. Unpredictability was the key, more so than velocity, allowing just enough intuition to combine with the AI’s algorithms to throw off the enemy’s targeting.

  She was no expert, not yet, but she was a quick learner. Nightrunner was shifting around wildly, altering its vector as unpredictably as she could manage. She wasn’t sure what a flight school instructor might have said about her flying, but she was damned sure her Union pursuers would have a hard time reestablishing a lock, especially with the station’s jamming interfering with the scanners. Still confidence was one thing, and hope another, and she wasn’t sure exactly where she sat on that spectrum.

  And neither one of them was a guarantee.

  She would lose at least some of her protection, she knew. As they pulled away from the station, at some point, they would clear the jamming.

  Assuming the station doesn’t…

  Every readout on her board suddenly shot wildly to maximum readings. Her eyes caught the hull temperature, watching in frozen horror as it topped out no more than a hundred degrees from the alloy’s melting point. The rad levels were like nothing she’d seen before, and she hoped the ship’s shielding was in good shape—and thick enough to protect them, or at least to hold back a lethal dose.

  She reached out, grabbed the controls, changing Nightrunner’s vector again, bringing the ship away from the station. From where the station had been.

  She knew immediately what had happened. Yarra’s hastily-assembled bomb had worked, and it had breached the antimatter storage. The station hadn’t just exploded, it had vanished in the unimaginable fury of massive matter-antimatter annihilation.

  Nightrunner was hundreds of kilometers away, but the energy from the titanic explosion bathed the ship in radiation, and came a hair’s breadth from vaporizing the hull.

  She clutched at the controls, rerouting burnt out circuits, struggling to maintain control of the damaged ship. The station’s explosion hadn’t destroyed Nightrunner, but it had taken out more than one system. Navigation was partly out…she was controlling things entirely manually. Half the positioning jets were down, too, making it harder to change vectors, and reducing her options for evasion.

  But the lasers were still functional, at least according to her display. And the jamming was gone.

  Clear space to target lasers was a weapon that cut both ways.

  She hit the controls to charge up Nightrunner’s guns. The scanners, what remained of them, were suffering interference from the radiation, but with the active jamming gone, she figured she had a good chance of targeting a shot.

  Besides, she was sick of running. If those bastards were going to come after her, she was going to make them pay for it. She wasn’t sitting helplessly under their guns anymore. She was out in the open, her own weapons ready.

  And she was powered by a cold, frozen fury. Her first instincts after the station blew was to maintain control of the ship, deal with the enemy vessel.

  But now, the reality had set in. The station wasn’t the only thing that was gone now.

  Jim Lorillard was dead.

  She had lost another mentor. Another friend.

  And, she wanted blood for it.

  She gripped the main nav control, nudging the ship’s vector, bringing its guns to bear. The enemy was still coming on, and with each passing second, the clarity of her scans improved as the range declined. The sensor units were damaged, mostly monitoring antennas overloaded on the hull, but what she had was probably good enough.

  And probably would have to do…

  She was no gunner, even less so than a pilot. But there was no time to get anyone else on the bridge. She’d have to do it herself.

  She brought up the firing display, hooked in the AI. Targeting a ship hundreds of kilometers away, moving at the velocities common in space travel, was almost impossible without computer assistance. Instinct played a role, too, mostly in guessing at enemy evasive moves and choosing the moment to fire.

  Andi flipped on the gunnery units and held her breath for a few seconds, until the targeting computer booted up. For an instant, she was afraid it was down, just like the nav unit. But then, the assisted targeting screen came up, and her controls locked onto the guns.

  She saw a pair of long streaks of light whip down her display. The enemy had fired again, the last shot coming within ten kilometers of Nightrunner. That wasn’t near enough to do any damage, but it was definitely close enough to make the hairs on her neck stand up. Whoever was on those guns had a head start on her.

  She pressed the firing stud, and breathed a sigh of relief when the weapons actually fired. The shot was wide, no closer than fifty kilometers from the target, but she hadn’t even been sure until then the lasers were truly operational.

  She jerked her hand hard to the side, almost an afterthought. Combining evasive moves and targeting was far from easy. They were almost opposites, and without the nav AI, she had to stay on it closely. She didn’t know what she was facing in terms of human gunners, but she was sure enough, if she let her guard down the Union AI would plant a laser blast right into Nightrunner’s guts.

  She brought the ship around again, firing, coming closer this time, within fifteen kilometers. It was better, but not good enough. The target ship was less than two hundred meters bow to stern, and hitting something that size across hundreds of kilometers of open space was precision shooting.

  She fired again. This time, she almost let herself believe she’d hit. The final review showed one of her shots coming within five kilometers.

  She could hear her heart pounding, her killer instinct rising, taking control. She was close, another adjustment, just the right instant to fire and…

  Nightrunner shook hard, and the ship went into a series of spirals, turning over and over, half a dozen times before Andi managed to stabilize it. Her hands moved frantically over the workstation, checking on damage, adjusting the ship’s vector, rerouting non-responsive systems. The hit hadn’t been critical, she was almost certain of that after she’d done her first check.

  But it wouldn’t take critical damage to doom Nightrunner in the fight. The loss of any vital system, even for a moment or two, would be fatal for them all.

  “Yarra, how’s the reactor?” The static on the speaker told her the internal comm systems had been damaged. She wasn’t sure the engineer had gotten her message, at least not until a distorted and difficult to hear response came through.

  Not for the first time, Andi was grateful for her sharp hearing. “No significant damage,” had been the answer. And that meant they were still in the fight.

  She brought the ship around yet again, and her eyes narrowed on the targeting screen. The enemy was closing, and Andi knew she was running out of time. They’d almost gotten Nightrunner once, and if she gave them any more time, they’d finish the job.

  She had to take them out, and she had to do it immediately.

  She breathed deeply, regularly, trying in every way to connect her mind to her task. She saw the enemy ship, on the display and in her mind. She put herself in her adversary’s position, imagined what she would do to evade herself.

  Her hands gripped tightly on the controls, her finger gently over the firing stud. She angled it slightly changing her vector, ignoring the flash as the enemy fired again, coming dangerously close.

  She’d gambled long enough, gotten as much time as she could hope for. The gunner on the enemy ship was skilled and capable, that was obvious. She had to take him out…or he would get her.

  She let her mind slide, almost into a trancelike state. Her finger tightened…and then she angled her shot one last time, working almost on pure instinct, and she fired.

  The lasers whined as they discharged the output of Nightrunner’s reactors into two great lances of deadly, focused light. Then, she saw it, blinking two or three times, and looking again in her disbelief.

  A direct hit. Both beams had struck the enemy amidships. The vessel hung in space for a few tense, excruciating seconds, and then it vanished in thermonuclear fury.

  Yes! Andi felt a moment of triumph, of relief. But it didn’t last. She was far from home, the ship was damaged, the crew was battered, and half of them were badly wounded.

  And Jammar and the captain were dead.

  Nightrunner might get back home—though she was far from sure of that. Getting back to Dannith relied more on Yarra’s ability to keep the almost shattered vessel flying—but even if they made it, their family had suffered terrible losses. Whatever they got for the tech in the ship’s hold, whatever they did next, none of them would ever be the same again.

  She leaned back and rubbed her eyes with her hands. Then, she saw something, a small symbol on the barely-functioning scanner. A ship, moving toward the transit point.

  The other Union vessel…they must have gotten away from the station in time…

  She felt a flash of panic, and then the urge—the need—to chase after them, to destroy them as she had their comrades. Hatred coursed through her veins, but her reason fought to regain control. The enemy ship was too far away, on too sharp a vector, too close to jumping out of the system. Nightrunner couldn’t catch them…and it she did manage to come into range, the ship was in no shape for another fight.

  Get my people home…Lorillard’s words echoed in her ears, and they settled in her soul like a sacred oath. The captain had trusted her with the others, and she wouldn’t fail him. She couldn’t live with herself if she did.

  She leaned forward and tapped the comm back on. “Yarra, give the reactor and the engines a quick check, and then we’ll plot a course out of here.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

  “It’s time to go home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Free Trader Nightrunner

  Docked at Samis Shipyard

  Orbiting Ventica VII

  Year 301 AC

  Andi sat in her quarters, her old, small, cramped stateroom wedged up against the cargo hold. She hadn’t moved to the captain’s cabin, not yet. The very idea still seemed…unthinkable…though she had every right to do just that.

  She’d listened to Lorillard’s last message to her at least five times before the words had truly sunken in. He’d left her all sorts of instructions for accessing the numbered accounts and distributing the crew’s stashed savings. Most shockingly, he’d bequeathed his position to her, bade her take his place, at the helm…and as Nightrunner’s commander.

  And as the ship’s owner.

  His will had been with the other documents he’d left behind, and it granted her full ownership of Nightrunner.

  She’d been stunned. She still was. It didn’t seem real. How was it even possible?

  He’d explained himself, briefly. She was the most like him, the likeliest of his people to successfully take command after his death, to ensure the others could stay together, those who could still stomach it, at least. He’d come to trust her, and he’d never thought of Nightrunner as his, so much as the groups. He didn’t want to see the ship sold, the proceeds divided. He wanted the legacy of his people, his team to live on.

  Andi felt as utterly unready for the responsibility as she’d ever been for anything. But rejecting the captain’s last request was unthinkable. She would step into his shoes, do her best to lead the crew, to move things forward and emerge from the black shadow of his death. She didn’t know if she could manage it, but she would try her best.

  Still, it was likely to be a good long while before she moved into the captain’s quarters. She had to clean them out first, and going through Lorillard’s things loomed over her future like a dark and terrifying nightmare.

  First things first. She had to get Nightrunner ready for action. The ship had made it back, barely, but that had only been the result of Yarra’s near wizardry. The engineer had fixed malfunction after malfunction and rerouted a hundred failed circuits. She’d rebuilt half the ship’s system, replacing damaged and destroyed mechanisms with ingenious, if jury-rigged, replacements that had gotten the vessel back to port.

  Just.

  Now it was time to get real repairs done. There were any number of shipyards orbiting Dannith, but Lorillard had left her one more gift. Discretion. A location and a contact…and a way to get Nightrunner back in top condition away from prying eyes.

  The shipyard orbited a moon around the system’s deepest gas giant, a position that defied all effort at explanation in her mind, until it hit her like a sledgehammer.

  The remote location was the yard’s main selling point. It was a place for ships to go when their owners wanted to avoid undesirable attention. Vessels came back from the Badlands in need of repairs all the time, of course, but Nightrunner had fought a battle, and it had been bathed in the radiation from a massive antimatter explosion. The fewer questions anyone asked, the better. Which was why Andi had docked with the shipyard before going anywhere near Dannith. Even at a twenty percent premium over rates at a normal orbital yard, she thought it was well worth it.

  She got up and stared at herself in the mirror. She was twenty years old—almost twenty-one—and she often looked even younger. But now, she was wearing a trim suit that looked almost like a uniform, and her hair was pulled back under a dull gray hat. It was as old and as professional as Andi Lafarge could make herself look, and she turned and walked down the corridor and out the hatch.

  There were three men standing outside the ship waiting for her. She only had one name, the one Lorillard had left her in his final message.

  “Is one of you, Durango?” It had seemed an odd name, but was the only one she had.

  “I’m Durango. Who are you, and where is Captain Lorillard?” It was clear Nightrunner had been there before.

  “Captain Lorillard is dead.” She managed to say it without her eyes watering and her voice cracking, barely. It was just about the first time she’d managed it. She knew it would get easier, and in some way that made her feel guilty. Will the captain be any less dead in a year than he is now? Any less important to you?

  “I’m Nightrunner’s owner now. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a datachip, proof that Lorillard had left the ship to her.

  “It looks like you had a rough time of it.” His eyes moved over the ship’s hull, his gaze freezing for a second here and there as he surveyed the situation. “Well, we can fix her, but I can tell you now, it’s going to cost a bundle.”

  “We’ve got artifacts…but we’ll have to get back to Dannith to sell them. Is there a shuttle or something we can take to the planet?”

  “We’ll shuttle you back, alright. This job’s gonna take a few months, and we don’t have any hotels out here. But no need for you to go to Dannith to sell your swag. I can hook you up here, and you’ll get a fairer price than any thieves in the Spacer’s District will offer. It’s in our interest to help folks move their old tech…since that’s where most of our billing get paid from.”

  Andi nodded cautiously. She didn’t trust Durango, not even close, but she liked the man at first impression, and she appreciated his directness. Besides, Lorillard had trusted him, and that counted for a lot.

  “Okay, set it up. We’ve got circuit boards and processors, and a good number of them…in better shape than what you normally see. So, whoever you bring better have deep pockets, because this is no little bag of imperial novelties.”

  Durango nodded, and he looked at her with what seemed like the beginnings of respect. “Fair enough. I’ll have my man here tomorrow, nine sharp. That work for you?”

  Andi nodded.

  “Good, then I’ll get my people started on a price for you…if you don’t mind a dozen boys crawling around your ship.”

  She just nodded again. Then she turned and walked back inside.

  * * *

  Andi crept quietly up to the door. There’d been a single man posted outside the closed tavern, and dispatching him had been no trouble at all. Andi always enjoyed knifework, at least when she was in the mood that gripped her just then.

  She scoffed at Darvin’s arrogance and stupidity. It was beyond unwise for a man who dealt in deceit and treachery to trust his safety to one disinterested guard, groggy and half asleep at his post. That would prove to be a disastrous oversight.

  At least the guard had been half asleep until she’d gotten there. He was completely asleep now. Andi’s lip was crooked, the hint of a grim smile there. She had once been plagued with mixed feelings about being a killer, but no longer. The men she had killed—and so far, her victims had all been male—were a virtual rogue’s gallery of creatures who deserved death. There was no room for self-recrimination or hesitancy in terminating enemies, she had resolved herself to that reality. At least, not in a universe so overflowingly filled with people who needed to die.

  She could hear voices inside. She’d have preferred to move against the Dannite information broker alone. He was the one she’d come for. Anyone else in there would be collateral damage.

  Still, she liked the odds it would be somebody else who richly deserved what she was bringing, and not some innocent in the wrong place at the wrong time. The thought she might be wrong, that the individual talking to Darvin might be an innocent, or at least one who didn’t rate death, troubled her for a few seconds.

  But not enough to stop her.

  She moved forward, pressing each foot down lightly, taking care not to make any sound on the old, wood floor. A creak or a hard step could give her away. That wouldn’t necessarily mean she had failed. She suspected she could take Darvin in a straight up fight easily enough, but she preferred to maintain surprise, to ambush the fool, an appropriate response to the way the bastard had set up Captain Lorillard, and the rest of her comrades.