“I don’t like this,” Hao said, getting into the ped cart’s cargo space. I had to agree. The cargo hold was half-a-meter high, and ran all the way through the cart. Nothing but a big box. Four walls and us, squashed between sheets of steel.
I was regretting my wish for walls. Riding on top of a ped cart would have let me see.
“It’s a voidmunging cart,” I said. “Get in.” Some of my irritation leaked out in my harsh tone, and I regretted it. My hands no longer shook, which was a bad sign. Steady before a battle, shaking afterward. Crud.
One of these days, I’d get used to getting shot at. Probably ten seconds after I died.
“And you,” I told Maia. “Get back inside. Lock up the Bucket. If we don’t make it back, rip out the docking holds and get back to the Belithain. Riina needs to know what’s going on. Someone targeted us. They might have recognized the Bucket from somewhere. The Belithain might be next.”
She nodded, a short, almost invisible motion, her face impassive, any emotions hidden deep inside.
Maia would do what she needed to. We’d gone over the emergency routines on our way to the trade fleet. She might not be a pilot, but she knew how to start the warpstone engines, engage the autopilot, and monitor the sensor net good enough to bring her back to our mothership.
“Luck,” she said.
That was a first. I’d never known Maia to believe in luck, fate, or anything like that.
“You too,” I said, filing it away for later.
Maia slammed the hatch closed, darkness enveloping Hao and me. The ped cart rolled into motion.
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Riding the ped cart was a lot less comfortable in the cargo compartment. The cart shifted and jerked, swerving and rolling us around. Hao’s Tornado stabbed me in the side, just below the ribs. For a moment I lost my breath, then I rolled away. The cargo space smelled of sweat and volatile organic compounds. Without the wards in my stockman, I was breathing it all in.
“Crudmunging way to ride,” I muttered.
“You chose it, Captain,” Hao said, lightheartedly. Paying me back for the decision, or hiding her nerves, or both.
The ped cart went into neutral, then started engine breaking, causing us to slide deeper into the cargo space.
The engines stilled into silence with a final jerk. Definitely a crudmunging way to ride. I conjured a thread of force, wanting to up-tune a glow ward, then realized that I didn’t have any on my armored coat.
“Crud,” I said, just as Hao pulled out a small flashlight, shining on the hatch.
The lock was a simple spring-mounted latch operated by an outside pressure plate. I tore a nail getting it open from the inside, right before Hao offered me a small multitool. Timing. It was everything.
I put my finger in my mouth and ripped away the torn part of nail, leaving an uneven cut.
Great start. At least the hatch was unlocked. I eased it open a crack.
No one there.
An empty cargo inspector station, a shut-down magedowser. Another docking ring, this one to a larger setting than the Bucket’s. Bigger ship, then. We should have tried to get the schematics.
The ring wasn’t secured, the inner doors open. Of course, they could scissor closed in a fraction of a second, if the massive pistons on their sides were any indication. Only the ship’s pitted airlock stood in our way.
A com readout was inset in the hull. Hao might have tried to hack it, if she’d had the equipment, and the time.
Which we didn’t. An alarm bleated in the distance. It might have been a stack of cargo being shifted, it might have been the tribunal being discovered, or the Bucket being stormed. No way to know.
Stupid to listen to it. Hao kept giving me worried looks, her submachine gun low by her side, its sling clutched tight. Shielding it with her body, trying not to be obvious about it. Smart. She was smarter than she wanted people to believe.
“Captain?” she said.
Right. I was stalling.
Truth to tell, the foil scared me. But the options were worse. I put my hand on the smooth grip, summoned a thread of force, and pulled.
