Page 24 of Star Bringer
Right now, he’s busy working away under the console, trading jokes with Max while Ian paces back and forth and curses under his breath. Rain and Merrick are in their seats, talking quietly in Seratian.
Restless, I wander up to the console, more out of curiosity than because I think I can actually help. But I’m guessing this ship is old—really old—and the history buff in me can’t help but be a little interested. At least it takes my mind off my imminent death.
Will it hurt?
Don’t think about it.
I peer at the console. It’s just a smooth black surface, except for what looks like some sort of bio-scanner on the top. But as I bend down to get a closer look, a loud crash sounds outside the room. I whirl around so fast that I lose my balance and stumble into the console.
A woman suddenly appears in the open doorway. Maybe a year or two older than me, she’s medium height, with olive skin and curly black hair. The skin around her yellow eyes is stained darker than the rest, and I recognize the telltale signs of a native of the desert planet Permuna.
There’s a scar running down her neck, the black ink of a tattoo snakes down her bare arm, and I’m pretty sure that’s blood staining the front of her ripped gray jumpsuit. One look into her face has me straightening up—and then going still. She’s staring back at me out of cold, flat yellow eyes, and I catch something dark and twisted flickering behind them.
But then she blinks and it’s gone.
“Holy shit! I really am a genius!” Gage’s enthusiastic shout breaks the tension in the air as he scoots out from under the control panel. I drag my gaze from the newcomer and focus on the front of the ship, only to realize that he’s right. The console is glowing.
“You did it?” Ian asks, sounding doubtful. It might just be the first thing we’ve ever agreed on.
“I did it!” Gage confirms, his smile quickly giving way to a frown. “I have no clue how I did it, but she’s coming online. Whether or not we can fly her is something else entirely.”
“I can fly,” comments the woman who just appeared from nowhere.
“And you are?” demands a very suspicious-looking Ian.
Okay, make that two things we can agree on.
The woman blinks a couple of times as if she’s not sure what the answer is. “Beckett,” she finally says, but she sounds uncertain.
I tell myself it’s because she got hit in the head during the explosions, but my gut is working overtime telling me not to trust her.
“How did you get up here?” I ask, because her name tells us absolutely nothing. “I thought we were cut off from the rest of the space station.”
Her gaze shifts back to me, and she frowns. “I was on the other ship.”
“The other—” I break off as I realize what she’s talking about. She came from theReformer, what Ian called the prison ship. I didn’t realize any of the prisoners made it to our side of the docking bay before the bulkhead dropped.
She could be a pirate. Or a murderer. Or any number of other types that shouldn’t be left to run free around the system. Not that any of that matters right now. It’s not like we’re about to leave her behind on a space station that’s going to crash at any moment.
One more thing Ian and I must agree on, because instead of wasting time on a bunch of useless questions, he says, “Then take a seat. You can be my copilot.”
Then he turns to me. “You plan on standing there all night, Princess, or are you going to buckle up?”
“Oh, I’ll definitely buckle up. I’ll need to, if your flying is as good as your engineering skills.”
I eye the big chair in the center of the room, but Ian beats me to it, and I’m too exhausted to fight for what my mother would call my royal privileges. Instead, I sink into the nearest seat, next to Max.
Buckling up isn’t that easy, however. The seat restraint is so old that it takes me a couple of minutes to figure out how to work it. I don’t feel too bad, though; everyone else is doing the exact same thing. And it occurs to me that if the controls are just as archaic, then we might be jumping from one kind of trouble to another.
“Please tell me you know how to fly this thing?” I ask, sounding a little desperate even to my own ears. “You do, don’t you?”
“Not a clue,” Ian replies.
At that moment, the station rocks as a giant explosion tears through the docking bay, and Ian grabs onto the controls. “But I’m about to take a crash course.” He flashes me a grin. “Having fun yet, Princess?”
“You know it. So much fun.”
Ian slams his hand down on the control panel. Nothing happens.
