It took them longer than an hour to get everything stowed away, but they were soon soaring out of the atmosphere. They blazed past Trisa III’s starport and the ships moored there and instead flew toward the planet’s lone moon. As they flew around the far side, they saw the silhouette of a ship in low orbit. “That’s the Arthian Dream,” Krox said. “Your new home for the next day or two.”

  “Why is it moored all the way out here?” one of the technicians asked.

  “Pirates were after us,” Krox said. “We managed to escape, and intercepted a message sent to Trisa III to warn their allies we were on the way.”

  “Ah, that makes sense.” The tech nodded. “Lucky break on intercepting that transmission!”

  Yeah, real lucky, Devon thought. It appeared that Miranda wasn’t the only Velox who could lie without batting an eyelash. Or antenna, in this case. He crossed his arms and tapped the badge sewn into the sleeve of his work jacket. It bore the seal of some munitions company named JWMCC, which was the silhouette of a woman wearing a bunny costume and holding a submachine gun of some sort. “Ready to hop when you need a drop!” was printed along the bottom. It was a popular enough logo that random citizens wore it emblazoned on all manner of outfits and paraphernalia. The badge looked innocent enough, but tap it a couple times….

  “We hear you, Grease Monkey One,” Copperhead’s tinny voice sounded from his hidden earpiece, the words so quiet he could barely hear them, a good thing considering how cramped the shuttle was. “More importantly, we hear everyone around you.”

  “Thassor is finishing up repairs,” Ela said, answering Devon’s unspoken question. “I’m actively tracking your position now. When you’re in position, I’ll get to work.”

  He tapped the badge twice. Confirmed.

  As they passed over the Arthian Dream in their landing approach, Devon could see the damage he and his crew had wreaked. The number two engine had been completely blown out, and one of the ship’s massive cargo holds was gone, blasted into oblivion by one of Black Maria’s missiles. Copperhead would be pleased to see that, he thought.

  They landed a few minutes later and disembarked into a bustling shuttle bay. The Arthian Dream had a number of skiffs of its own, and it appeared at least two of them had recently returned from somewhere. Trisa III or its moon, most likely. Devon felt a flash of concern at first. Could the trade have already taken place? Was the stolen software gone? Then he looked closer and realized the crates and containers piled high in the bay were foodstuffs, probably replacements for the cargo hold they had struck.

  Miranda led Devon over to the cargo pods attached to the outside of Krox’s shuttle, and a few of the techs followed. Krox waved them back. “Save that for the crew! You were hired to turn wrenches, not haul crates!”

  “Then why did we haul crates planetside?” one of the techs, an Elowan, grumbled. “My back will be sore for a week.”

  “Ssstop complaining,” a Thrynn engineer hissed.

  Miranda stepped in before the two could come to blows. “Let’s be civil, please. I need to be planetside ASAP, or my client will make ceremonial armor out of my carapace.”

  Krox called them over to a console in the corner of the shuttle bay. The widescreen monitor displayed a map of the ship. “We’re gonna split into two groups. Half of you are headed for the breached cargo bay.” He tapped out a path this group was to follow to get there from the shuttle bay. “There’s quite a bit of patching up to do there, so make sure you’re suited up. I’ll have a member of my team lead you there.

  “The other half is bound for the engine room.” He tapped out another path, then pointed at a group of the technicians, Miranda and Devon included. “You’ll be coming with me. You have the most experience dealing with engines and thrusters.”

  Damn. Devon really wanted to go with the group headed to the cargo bay. There’d be less scrutiny, and a greater chance to slip away and find what they were looking for.

  “There’s not a second to waste,” Krox said. He headed for the door, waving with his four hands for those he designated to follow.

  Miranda planted herself behind Devon for a moment, blocking anyone else’s view of the console. Devon reached into his pocket, rubbed his thumb along the adhesive strip to activate it, then stuck it to the underside of the console. He tucked his hands back into his pockets and followed after Krox.

  The Velox engineer led them away from the shuttle bay, toward the bow of the ship. They stopped at a maintenance bay to collect equipment. Krox and his crewmates went inside while he made the off-ship techs wait in the corridor. “Once we know what we need, you’ll help us carry it all,” he explained.

  Devon and Miranda settled in to wait with the other contractors. They milled about in the corridor, frequently pressing themselves against the walls so members of the Arthian Dream’s crew could move past. Several minutes passed, with Devon growing more anxious by the moment.

  Up ahead, a door slid open and a mix of Humans and aliens stepped into the corridor. “What’s going on here?” a familiar voice called.

  Devon froze as most of the people up ahead parted to let an Elowan through. It was Graslen! “Are you lot the contractors we….” His voice trailed off as he made eye contact with Devon. He pointed. “You’re that cop from the Starport!”

  Graslen’s guards reached for their pistols, but Devon fired first. When he fired, the laser beam punched through the shoulder of the Human guard. The man screamed and dropped his pistol.

  The other guard, a Thrynn, drew a long-barreled revolver and aimed. Miranda threw herself in front of Devon as the Thrynn fired three times. The first shot went wide, but the last two struck the thorax armor beneath Miranda’s jacket. She grunted as she returned fire with her laser pistol. Her shot barely missed the Thrynn, who retreated through a door Graslen had fled through. It slammed shut behind him, the clang of the lock reverberating in the corridor.

  “Greassse Monkey One, thisss is Black Maria,” Thassor called. “Repairsss completed. We’re ready to intercept.”

  “Black Maria, Grease Monkey One.” Devon jogged down the corridor, past several shut doors. He’d memorized the schematics of the ship while Miranda flew them down to Trisa III, so he knew several different ways to get to the corridor outside the bridge. “Our prey is alerted to our presence. We’re heading to the bridge. Could use your assistance at any time.”

  “Ssshould’ve let one of us go, inssstead.”

  Devon carefully crept past an open doorway, his weapon aimed down the corridor as he scanned for threats. “Coulda, shoulda, woulda. Next time, Thassor. Grease Monkey One, out.”

  Miranda let out a buzzing snort that sounded eerily similar to Krox. “Thassor may have the…gift of gab, as you Humans would say, but he couldn’t act his way out of a nest of well-fed gracka nurslings.”

  “I heard that, Greasse Monkey Two.”

  “When Miranda’s right, she’s right,” Ela added. “Sorry, Thassor, but you’re no good at undercover work.”

  “Oh, and you think you’re any better?”

  “Never said I was. Why are you getting so worked up?”

  “I’m not getting ‘worked up.’”

  “Guys, cut the chatter,” Devon snapped.

  “Ssshe started it,” Thassor muttered.

  “I did not—” Elowan started to say, then the connection was severed.

  Devon opened an access panel and motioned Miranda inside. She took one look at the tight space and twitched her mandibles in the Velox equivalent of a frown. “I don’t think I can fit through there.”

  A door hissed open, and Krox stepped through, flanked by a Velox and an Elowan. That maintenance bay must’ve doubled as an armory, because all three were equipped with rifles. Devon raised his pistol. “I don’t think you’ve got much choice!”

  He shoved her into the tube entrance, then fired at the trio of bad guys down the corridor. His laser beam went wide, missing Krox by a handbreadth. Their return fire caused Devon to throw himself against Miranda’s backside, and the two stumbled into the tight access tunnel. Devon pulled the panel shut and then melted the latch with his laser pistol. It drained the energy cell, but left the panel inoperable. They’d have to cut it off, or loop around to the next access point, which was on the other side of the deck. It would buy them a little time.

  Outside, Krox and his men pounded on the panel, but it wouldn’t give. He heard the Velox chief engineer curse.

  “Hurry up!” Devon shouted. “We’ve got to get to the shuttle bay! We got what we came for!”

  Miranda looked over her shoulder at him, a quizzical look on her face. He hiked a thumb toward the panel, then listened as Krox barked orders to his men and they ran off.

  There. That should buy them even more time. “Lead the way, Miranda,” Devon said as he recharged his pistol with a fresh cell.

  “I don’t know the way.”

  Devon frowned. He’d forgotten she didn’t have time to memorize anything. He should’ve gone first, but there was nothing to be done for it now. “Start moving. I’ll tell you where we need to go.”

  It was slow going at first. Miranda could barely fit in the ship’s access tunnels, despite the fact that these were designed for engineers and repair technicians, of which a significant number on Arth were Velox. Of course, most Velox weren’t three meters tall like Miranda, either. Thankfully, she never got stuck, although it was a close thing when they encountered a huge junction box that jutted out of the wall and cut the tunnel’s width down a half-meter.

  Every time they passed an access panel, Devon kept his pistol trained on it and listened for anyone outside. They’d heard boots pounding on the decks above them, but so far their pursuers hadn’t tried to enter the tunnels. With luck, they were all still focused on the shuttle bay and wouldn’t be anywhere near the bridge.

  Their luck ran out a few minutes later, as they were nearing the bridge corridor access panel. A hatch opened above them, and a surprised Human engineer looked down at them, his mouth agape. He then keyed his radio. “Intruders in AC-43—”

  Miranda grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him down. He screamed, but it was cut short when she slammed his head into the floor. He went limp, and his radio thumped against the floor.

  “Baxter?” a voice asked. “Damn, they got Baxter! They’re in AC-43!”

  “My team’s right outside there,” another voice said through the radio. “We’ll flush them out!”

  True to the disembodied voice’s word, an access panel down a side tunnel started to open. “Time to move!” Devon tapped his mic. “Ela, can’t you do something about these panel locks?”

  “Unfortunately they’re all manually controlled.”

  “Wonderful.” Devon watched as Miranda ran, her jacket and exposed chitin rubbing and clacking against the cramped corridor walls. He shifted his focus back on the access panel as it finished opening. He fired several shots, striking a Velox male in the thorax and face. The insect went down, blocking the entrance for his companions. He shot at the dead alien’s crewmates, then chased after Miranda.

  He had to stop to shoot two more times, and then they reached the panel he’d been looking for. Miranda wrenched it open and scrambled out into a much wider corridor. Devon pulled himself free, then shut and melted the latch again, burning through the remainder of his energy cell to do it.

  They stood alone in a corridor with two doors: one an elevator, the other the door to the bridge. They hurried over to the bridge door and found it locked. “Ela, the door.”

  “This one I can do something about. Give me a moment.”

  Devon and Miranda recharged their laser pistols while Ela did her thing, using the device Devon had placed in the shuttle bay. The hacking tool wouldn’t give Black Maria access to complex and heavily encrypted systems, but it would let her tap into the comms and mess with the doors.

  As the seconds ticked by, Devon’s anxiousness grew. The bridge had to know they were on the way, if not already outside. With their cover blown inside the access corridors, Krox would be running their way from the shuttle bay. And where the hell was Black Maria, anyway? They should’ve been here by now.

  The door’s lock chirped twice, then went from red to green. Devon’s hand hovered over the button. “You ready?”

  Miranda switched her laser pistol to her primary hand, then drew two more pistols from the recesses of her jacket. “In for a credit—”

  “In for a thou!” Devon slapped the button. After a case like this, they better be getting more than a thousand credits in bonuses, or he’d be pissed.

  The door slid open with a hiss, and Devon and Miranda charged through.

  Graslen and his goons fired from behind cover on the far side of the bridge. Devon and Miranda scrambled in separate directions; Devon behind the captain’s chair, Miranda into the tactical officer’s booth. Consoles exploded in a shower of sparks and plastic under the intense barrage. Laser beams singed the fabric of the captain’s chair. Damn, this thing is pretty sturdy, Devon thought.

  Then a bullet from a large-bore pistol punched through the chair’s “sturdy” back. Devon crouched as low as he could and fired blind over the chair’s headrest. Someone screamed, and the amount of fire directed his way tapered off.

  Miranda used that opportunity to lay down heavy fire with three pistols at once, two of hers and one she’d looted off one of Graslen’s crew. Laser beams and bullets flew with wild abandon. Graslen’s bodyguards scrambled for cover under the onslaught, and one of them leveled a machine gun Miranda’s way. With a speed that belied her size, Miranda leapt over the back end of the tactical officer’s booth, landing behind it as a barrage of bullets tore through the consoles. “This is some date you brought me on!” she called.

  “Wild and hot, just like you love!” Devon answered. He blasted at a Thassor guard, but the lizard man wore some kind of ablative armor that deflected the shot. He aimed higher, and managed to singe the alien’s nose. The Thassor threw himself flat with a yelp.

  Over the deep reports of gunfire and the crack-whine of lasers, Devon managed to hear the doors behind him slide open. He spun in time to see a handful of Graslen’s crew in the corridor outside, weapons shouldered. With a curse, Devon shifted his aim, but he knew he’d be too late.

  One of them, a Human male, clutched at his throat and dropped his rifle. Blood sprayed from between his fingers as he dropped to his knees. Bullets and laser beams peppered the walls, forcing the others back. They leaned weapons out from around the doorframe, firing blind like Devon had done before.

  “Get them, you fools!” Krox yelled from the corridor. “There are only two of them!”

  Devon crouched as low as he could, his weapon shifting from one side of the door to the other. To his left, Miranda continued to pour fire down on Graslen and his guards. This is quite the fix we’re in, he thought as he fired at Krox when he peeked his insect head out from the door. Krox threw himself back behind cover, cursing loudly.

  “I don’t care if it damages our instruments!” Graslen shouted. “Do it!”

  That didn’t sound good. Devon looked over his shoulder in time to see one of Graslen’s goons throw a grenade. It sailed overhead, directly toward the captain’s chair Devon crouched behind.

  An Elowan crewman jumped out from behind the doorway. Devon shot him, then jumped to his feet and snatched the grenade out of the air. A thrill of fear shot through him as his fingers clutched the live explosive. How many milliseconds did it have left? With no time to lose, he wound back his arm and spun toward the door.

  Krox saw what Devon was about to do and hit the button to shut the doors. Devon let the grenade fly in an underhand throw, and it slid along the ground like a grolden disc. It made it through the doors right as they hissed closed. Outside, aliens and Humans screamed in terror, and then those screams were lost in a rumbling blast that shook the deck plates beneath Devon’s boots.

  “Nice one!” Miranda called.

  Devon breathed a sigh of relief. “It was a close thing,” he admitted. “Thanks for the grenade, Grassy!”

  “It’s Graslen!” the irate Elowan shouted, a tremor in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Get it right, you fethwick!”

  “That’sss enough of that, criminal,” a voice said over the bridge’s intercom. “Power down and prepare to be boarded.”

  Devon grinned. “They’ve already been boarded, Thassor,” he said. “We’re onboard, remember?”

  “Good point. Then, prepare to be re-boarded.”

  “Graslen Supox,” Miranda said, “you’re under arrest for the illegal possession of proprietary software from Interstel’s Department of Cartograpy, with intent to sell. Surrender, or face justice here.”

  “I’m a citizen of Arth, damn you!” Graslen yelled from behind cover. “I have rights!”

  “Now you want to play that game?” Devon asked. “You steal surveying software from a small start-up poised to take off like a rocket when their product goes public, only to then be caught trying to sell it to their competition. How many rights did you trample on to get this far?”

  “Not to mention lives,” Miranda added. “Seventeen, by my count. Thirty-six, depending on how the next few minutes go.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s talking about you and what’s left of your crew.” Devon held his comlink up so Graslen and his crew could see it. “Your ship’s disabled, and my crew’s ready to finish the job. One word from Miranda or me, and Black Maria fires everything she’s got.”

  “Hardly.” Graslen laughed, the noise similar to wind rustling through dried leaves on an autumn day. “I know police protocol. They won’t do anything so drastic, not while you’re still onboard. You’re hostages. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “I’d prefer to bring you in so you can face justice all proper-like, but I get it.” Devon glanced at his partner.” You talk about rights, Graslen. Maybe now’s a good time to tell you about Miranda’s rights.”

  Graslen’s face remained blank. “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Old lingo from a bygone era, forgotten by all except for the crew of the Black Maria. When we find an uncooperative criminal like you out in the vastness of space, Miranda here has the right to rip all your limbs off before she shoves you out an airlock.”