Starflight (Starflight, #1)(88)
“Last chance.” Doran rested a hand on the helmet hooked to his belt. When his warning was met with another round of laughter, he pressed his com-link and said, “Renny. Kane. Get ready for us.”
Demarkus sobered up enough to deliver a quizzical look. His lips formed a question that he never had a chance to ask, because Doran hurtled his rock into the fire with flawless precision, and an instant later, an explosion rocked the ship.
The floor shook beneath Solara’s feet, sending her stumbling for balance. Just when she’d righted herself, a second detonation thundered in her ears, twice as hard as the first. It seemed Gage had ignited one of his samples as well. Sirens blared and smoke filled the air as men scrambled toward the exits.
Solara slipped her cuffs and grabbed a pulse pistol from the nearest holster. When its owner spun on her, she fired off several rounds, none of which managed to hit him. He bolted in the other direction, and she paused to fasten her helmet. In the few seconds since the blast, the air had grown frigid and thin. It told her the hull was breached, and the ship had yet to seal off the damaged areas. The ore must be more powerful than she’d thought.
Cassia and Gage appeared on either side of the captain, helmets already secured.
“You know what to do,” the captain ordered through the com-link. “Everyone book it to the hangar.”
Solara motioned for them to go ahead while she stood on tiptoe and searched through the smoky haze for Doran. She spotted him sprinting her way, a group of men close on his heels. He caught up with her and snagged her hand, and they were off, tearing down the hallway so fast they passed the crew. They’d nearly reached the hangar when Solara glanced over her shoulder and realized they were a man short.
“The captain,” she said, squinting to bring his lumbering form into focus. He kept stumbling against the wall, pounding one fist against his chest. “Something’s wrong.”
They circled back and noticed Demarkus flanked by several guards, all running toward them from the other end of the hall. Solara raised her pistol and fired. The men ducked for a moment, and then, seeing she hadn’t hit any of them, continued in pursuit.
“I’m not saying you have bad aim,” the captain said with a pained smile. “But you couldn’t hit water if you fell out of a boat.” He took the pistol and squeezed off several shots, but Solara wasn’t paying attention to his targets. Her eyes moved over his face, which had grown waxen and sweaty beneath the glass. “I’m fine,” he said when he caught her staring. “The Beatmaster needs a recharge. Happens all the time. Let’s go.”
Doran and Gage each took one of the captain’s arms to help him move along, but they weren’t fast enough. Demarkus was closing the distance, plodding onward with his pistol raised, despite the lack of oxygen that clumsied his steps. A whirring noise from the overhead duct system said the ship was filling with heated air, which meant Demarkus and his men would soon get a second wind—literally.
A few moments later, the corridor twisted to the left, and Solara ran through the open air-lock doors into the hangar. Escape seemed so near, but she stopped short as soon as she crossed the threshold. There was a problem. Someone had to open the hangar hatch from the guard station, and the interior air-lock door had to be shut in order for that to happen. It was a safety mechanism, just as she’d told the pirate guard all those weeks ago. That meant one of them had to go back inside and face Demarkus.
The others must have realized it, too, because nobody said a word.
Tapping his com-link, Doran started to say, “I’ll do it,” but the slamming of the air-lock door cut him off, and they spun around to find the captain watching them from the other side of the thick windowpane. Doran grabbed the door handle and shook it with both hands, but the captain had already locked himself inside.
“Go,” Captain Rossi said. He held up his pistol along with a chunk of ore. “I’ll open the hatch and send a few pirates to hell while I’m at it.”
Solara’s breath caught when she understood his meaning.
“No!” Cassia yelled, banging both fists against the window. “We’ll wait for you!”
From behind the glass, Rossi delivered a stern look and thrust a finger toward the hangar door. “You’ll move your ass, Cassy Rose. That’s an order. I want you at that exit and ready for pickup when I hit the switch.”
“But…” she began, and choked on a sob.
“No buts.” The captain disappeared into the guard station. They couldn’t see him, but they heard his final words through the link. “Don’t you dare cry for me. I’ve lived twice as long as most men do, and I’ve finally found something worth dying for. That’s a blessing.” His voice turned soft. “Now, go, and take care of each other. It’s been an honor to have you as my crew.”
The next sound they heard was the synchronized click of a dozen shuttles releasing from their docking ports, followed by the hum of the hangar door opening. The pressure changed, sweeping Solara off her feet as her body drifted toward the exit. She thrashed her limbs, unprepared for zero gravity, until she caught hold of a rudder and used it to steady herself.
Shuttles floated into space, and beyond them hovered the Banshee, cargo ramp open and ready to welcome her inside. As Solara launched herself toward the exit, she listened for the captain’s voice, hoping more than anything that he would join them. But when a sharp boom rang out from the guard station, tears flooded her vision, and she had to hold her breath to keep her heart from cracking in half.