Page 23 of Seven Oars
“And if we’re not?”
“They’ll shoot.”
She put the oxygen mask over her face. It pinched her skin.
All of it seemed surreal, like one of those bad action movies. Or maybe the good action movies. The realistic ones.
Eze stirred at the edge of the circle of light.“Did you contact our flagship? The one with Rosamma’s brother on it?”
Phex shifted ever so slightly.“No. They’re too far. They changed course and went to Enzomora,” he said stiffly.“That ex-pirate friend of yours, Lyle, needs medics Priss doesn’t have.”
Rosamma’s breath thinned, and the oxygen mask did nothing to help.
Ren!
“You never told us that!” Alyesha’s voice bristled with fear, hurt, and anger.
“You didn’t need to know.”
Rosamma wanted to laugh and laugh. Why did nothing go according to plan? Why had she agreed to leave Meeus in the first place? Why, why…
Alyesha exploded.“Wedoneed to know! We’re in this together, you uppity fucks. You’ve failed us! Some Rix defenders you are. You missed the pirates, didn’t you?Didn’t you?”
Phex adjusted his grip on the gun.“Yes, we have missed them,” he admitted, the first crack in his composure.“This cruiser lacks equipment. Flying it was a stupid idea. But we didn’t have a choice, did we? We were ordered to fly you, and now we’ll die protecting you.”
Alyesha fell silent.
They waited, ears straining.
Nothing changed.
“Why are we sitting here and not shooting at them?” Eze asked again.
“There’s no ammo.”
“Is there any good news?” Gro quipped.
Riel, another optimist, chuckled.“We haven’t been blown up yet.”
A sound came then, a distant groan of resisting metal being pried open. Clangs followed. Then a sizzling shot. And then… voices.
Louder, closer.
Near.
The Rix defenders formed a line in front of the frightened huddle of the women.
Abruptly, the hatch protecting them from the intruders was torn away, ripped off along with the doorframe. The beam of an industrial-strength flashlight from the opening blinded them.
Phex fired.
His laser hit the flashlight, melting it and filling the air with acrid smoke. The pirate holding it howled and spit out a savage curse in a language that struck Rosamma as strange—and familiar.
But there was no time to think about languages.
An object flew through the open hatch—the molten flashlight—striking Riel in the head with a dull thunk.
A massive body loomed in the opening. Then another.
