Galactic Gale

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hit and Miss

The Rapid's temporary holding cell was little more than a boxed room without any windows. It hadn't taken Meldrom long to realise she and Don had been locked in one of the lesser suites of the legendary vessel.

While the room might have been intended to be a sleeping area, there were no beds, blankets, or anything else that would cause anyone to feel comfortable inside. Everything had been stripped from the room, leaving nothing more than an empty shell for Meldrom to explore.

She circled the floor within a few seconds, then dropped into a crouch and eyed the door. It might have looked like nothing more than a jumble of polished scraps from the outside, but the Rapid was well-constructed. There would be no breaking out of the cell.

Not to mention the issue of the crew who were patrolling the corridors outside. Meldrom had given each of the strangers a look over before she had been locked away. There was the captain – oddly pale, but nothing special – an angry co-pilot who Meldrom had no doubt could shoot as well as she snarled, and an adult human male who was too old for his chosen line of work.

Alexander had been a familiar face. The fleet had all kinds of information regarding her; what she did for Retch, and how she had gotten her position. Meldrom was impressed Alexander could hold her own and that she had not yet been a disappointing opponent.

As for the prince, Meldrom did not let her thoughts dwell on him. He had been lucky in the alley. He lacked any kind of talent for fighting, and his refusal to strike her down permanently was a sign of weakness. Meldrom did not doubt that without his presence Alexander would have removed her head and returned the rotting flesh to Retch as a trophy.

Her fingers cracked in succession when she stretched them against each other. Meldrom glanced at Don, but he was still sleeping on the floor at her heels.

Surprised but not wholly impressed by his tactics, Meldrom took a moment to consider what Don had told the Rapid's crew.

She knew a few gangs from her days before joining the fleet and could name a handful. The Red Runners were an impressive group – even those who had no place in the criminal underworld had heard their name. They liked to think of themselves as civilised. Meldrom had never found anyone else to be so warped in their own self-reflection.

Still, she did not fancy finding herself in their nest, or sharing words with their leader. The Red Runners were dangerous and no one without a death wish wanted to find themselves in the heart of a monstrous machine.

The click of her tongue echoed around the chamber. Although she could not see them, she knew someone was standing guard at the other side of the door.

She had scarce time until that door opened and Captain Lee or one of her associates strolled in, likely with a loaded blaster or some form of blade in their hand. Meldrom would have placed a bet on the co-pilot being the one to interrogate them if Don had been in better spirits.

As it was, with her only companion sleeping in a weak attempt to hide from the pain of his shattered arm, Meldrom simply gripped his shoulders and shook him until his eyes fluttered open.

"Get up. You need to be awake and alert," she snapped.

"There is nothing to do but sleep." Don winced as he rolled onto his good arm. His eyes narrowed when he realised that aside from a few cuts and bruises, she was otherwise unharmed. "This is unfair," he added. "You were the one who caused the crash, yet I am the one suffering from it."

Meldrom shot him a dark look. "Your friends on the flagship caused the crash. They fired before we were clear."

"We should never have been in the fire zone!"

"We were in the fire zone because Shee put us there. She ruined the formation because of her recklessness. And if we had been in a better ship, there wouldn't have been any issue in finding a neat way out of there."

"So, what? You're going to blame this on everyone but yourself?"

"There's nothing to blame myself for."

"That's a lie, and you know it. The gods know you know it."

"There are no gods – not here. Here there are just four metal walls, you and me, and that crew out there that wants us dead." She pushed her hair away from her eyes and snarled at him. "You will remain awake and alert until we get out of here."

"We cannot escape." He pointed at the bolts on the door and rattled off some facts about mechanics and ship parts Meldrom failed to listen to. When he was done with the lecture, Don finally raised his back and faced her directly, eye-to-eye.

"These people are not going to kill us," he said slowly. "They would have killed us already if that was the case. You saw them. They are not killers. They are simply a small crew caught up with the wrong people. Alexander likely commandeered their ship and promised them some wild reward. They started the healing process on my arm, did they not?"

"You know little. Amara Lee does not work for a wild reward."

Don shook his head and held up a finger, his ears twitching. "I can hear someone coming. A few people. Sounds like they're heading straight for us. Stay quiet and follow my lead."

"You don't have a lead. You have crazy stories that you hope will keep us alive for a moment longer. When they come in here, we jump them, take their weapons then head for the control room. We seal ourselves in. Dump the crew and the ship at the closest port."

Shifting to a better position, Meldrom flecked her fingers. It was a miracle she had avoided any serious injuries in the crash and the following fight.

If things went her way, it would be the prince or the small captain who entered. Meldrom reckoned she could have taken on the old man and been victorious, but there was something about his presence that made her hope for the younger members of the crew.

She turned as Don's fingers grasped her arm. "They get us to Retch, they get us to the fleet," he said. "Just sit down and act like you don't understand what anyone is saying."

Meldrom snorted. "The last time we did what you wanted, we ended up in that wreck of a ship. I'll handle myself."

The door cracked open and Meldrom spun in a heartbeat, her attention fully focused on the first figure through the door. Alexander.

There was no time to hesitate. Meldrom launched herself at the Red Runner, fingers balled into fists and posed to strike.

Before she reached her target, a bolt hit her leg and Meldrom was thrown to the floor. She screamed, but not from pain, rather from frustration as the crackling energy of the stun shot spread over her skin.

Amara rolled her eyes and stepped around where Meldrom lay on the floor. "Which of you is the smart one, then?" she asked. Her colourless eyes danced between them for a while, then she tapped Don with the tip of her boot. "Let's pretend it's you."

"I don't want trouble," he said in the common tongue, holding up his good hand.

"Good. I happen to hate trouble." Amara motioned to the prince. "So does he. He's very bad with trouble. How about you, Alex?"

In contrast to the placid expressions of her companions, Alexander's face was set in a wicked grin. "Oh, I like trouble. I happen to thrive in terrible times."

Swallowing was all Meldrom could do until the effects of the stun shot wore off. Had she been able to move freely, however, she would have informed the cluster of fools standing above her that she was more than a match for them when it came to stirring the waters.

But what she would have done did not matter. It was what she could do that did – and she could do very little.

"Let's get started," Alexander said, holstering her blaster.

"By that she means you tell us everything," the co-pilot added.

"And nicely." Amara folded her arms and cocked her head at Don.