When the door opened, bringing with it the chatter of a pair of officers walking past, I expected it was Captain Hennessy. If you would have asked me to guess, before the door opened, I would have never gotten it right. Not even if I’d had until the heat death of the Universe.
I wouldn’t say that I regretted not taking the offer from Dario Oberon, but as I sat in my little metal cell with nothing but a grimy toilet as companion, it certainly crossed my mind.
A thousand years of literature and holovids have glorified the wonders of space battles. I know I’d eaten up the stuff in my early days, eight years old and curled beneath the blanket when I should have been asleep, watching glittering beams burst through the dark on my MobiGlas.
“Why aren’t you moving?” I murmured under my breath, as if the slightest noise would set off the fireworks between the two pirate packs.
My father was a stereotypical bar owner. Gruff, but lovable. Simple, but fiercely intelligent. He had an eye for squeezing profit, but not so his customers lost on the deal.
Nothing jolts a person like imminent death.
When the Night Stalker, Burnett’s ship, lurched into the docking station, the sounds of metal coupling together echoed through the ship.
The hum of a ship’s quantum drive against my cheek woke me…
When the tears came, I couldn’t hold them back, which only made how I felt even worse.
The worst part about being stuck in a holding cell wasn’t the interrogation, but the waiting until it got to that point.