He and Soval waited quietly, dividing their attention between the transport and the warship.
Two sleek fighters raced toward the ugly Gathendien ship and boldly entered the docking bay.
Long minutes passed.
“Looks like someone disabled the atmospheric shield from here in the bay,” Krigara commented.
Janwar frowned. “Is it still operational?” He needed live Gathendiens to question.
“Give me a minute.” One soon stretched into several. “Got it,” he said with a touch of triumph. “We’re going in.”
Mere seconds ticked past before curses erupted over the comm.
“I see why the one in white didn’t want to be left behind,” Krigara commented. “There are a srul of a lot of dead bodies here.”
Janwar frowned. “How many?”
“Enough to make me think the life-form scan was accurate.”
“Cause of death?”
“Battle,” Krigara disclosed grimly. “This was no contagion.”
“Stay alert.” Janwar and his crew weren’t the only pirates in the galaxy. Another party could’ve snuck aboard the last time the Gathendiens docked, intending to wrench control from them.
A quick search of the ship yielded more dead and several wounded. All of the latter were unconscious but would likely survive.
Yet the ship appeared to be free of hostile forces.
What had happened? Had there been a mutiny?
Janwar’s gaze slid to the transport.
Had the figure in white been trying to escape the bloodbath, or had he instigated it?
“Elchan, lockdown the bridge controls. Then I want you all to return to the Tangata.”
“Doing it now.”
If one man had wrought that much damage, he wanted his entire crew back on board when they confronted him. That was a remarkable feat. Gathendiens did not go down quickly. Their thick reptilian hide was difficult to penetrate with a blade and could even withstand a few e-blasts. Throw in fear of the punishment their volatile emperor would meet out to any who failed in their missions, and they became even harder to kill, most choosing to fight to the death rather than face his wrath.
Janwar studied the transport and detected no hint of movement inside it.
Once his men returned, he and Soval confirmed the Tangata’s shields were still functioning at maximum efficiency, then headed down to the docking bay, pausing only long enough to visit the armory.
Krigara, Elchan, Srok’a, and Kova exited two fighter craft and discarded their protective suits as Janwar and Soval entered the bay. Once everyone armed themselves with O-rifles and Bex-7 stun grenades, they retreated to the safe zone near the innermost wall. A small control station resided in front of it, boasting multiple consoles and data entry pads.
At the press of a button, an invisible shield rose in front of them that could withstand a direct hit from a missile.
Beyond the open bay door, the transport floated placidly against a midnight backdrop that sparkled with distant stars.
Janwar glanced at Kova. “Bring the transport aboard.”
Kova stepped up to one of the stations. “Locking acquisition beam now.”
A beam of light shot forth from the wall behind them and streaked toward the idle transport. As soon as it touched the shuttle, the light spread like water until it engulfed the entire surface, closing off the open hatch so the figure inside couldn’t escape.
Not that the figure tried.
Janwar found himself hoping the man wasn’t dead in there. He’d like to see the face of the one who had managed to conquer so many… and ask why he’d done it. Was he an assassin who had merely plowed through all the other Gathendiens to reach his intended target? Was he the sole survivor of a small pirate crew who had failed in their attempt to commandeer the ship? Was he perhaps someone seeking vengeance?
The Gathendiens had amassed an impressive list of enemies.
If the figure were any of the above, he might just be worth recruiting.
Guided by the acquisition beam, the mangled transport floated into the hangar and gently descended to the deck. Magnetic clamps rose from the floor and locked onto the new arrival with a series of thunks.
The beam shut off.
“Seal the bay,” Janwar murmured.
The large bay door began to lower, shutting off the view of space.
“If nothing else,” Krigara murmured, “we’ve acquired another transport. Once we repair the hatch and rid it of the Gathendiens’ stench, it’ll make a nice addition to our fleet.”
Janwar nodded absently.
The figure inside the transport opted not to make an appearance.
“Do you want a ziyil?” his cousin asked.
“Not yet.” Raising his voice so their guest would hear him, he called, “You may exit of your own accord, or we can force your hand. The choice is yours.”
A faint sound reached their ears.
Soval arched his brows. “Was that a snort?”
Janwar would’ve answered in the affirmative, but the figure in white chose that moment to step into the open hatch. After pausing to sweep the bay with what Janwar guessed was a very discerning gaze, the figure hopped down, landing nimbly on the deck.
He was smaller than Janwar had supposed. Clearly, the baggy suit he wore had been made for someone larger.
The figure raised his wrist, drew back a flap, and consulted the screen embedded in the suit.
Was he confirming that the bay had a breathable atmosphere?
“No blasters or O-rifles,” Krigara whispered. “His only weapons appear to be the swords.”
The figure’s helmet turned in their direction.
Had he heard Krigara? If so, his helmet must be amplifying sound because Janwar had barely heard his cousin, and he was standing right next to him.
Circumventing the shield, Janwar strode toward the newcomer. Krigara remained behind to man the controls should the figure choose to attack. The rest of the crew followed Janwar and fanned out behind him.
A heartbeat passed.
In a bafflingly fast motion, the figure doffed his suit.
Someone sucked in a breath.
Janwar’s eyes widened.
Or rather her suit. A slender woman garbed all in black now stood before them: black pants with many pockets, a form-fitting black shirt that hugged a narrow waist and full breasts, and heavy black boots that were similar to those he and his crew wore but almost child-sized by comparison.
The fingers of both small hands now clutched the handles of long, gleaming swords.
Janwar stared. Her clothing was torn in several places. Her pale skin bore multiple gashes and splashes of red blood. Her long, disheveled black hair shone beneath the bay’s lights. And her face…
She was beautiful, even with a scowl creasing her forehead and her jaw jutting forward in defiance.
Judging by her appearance, she was either a Lasaran, a Segonian, or an Earthling. Segonian women tended to be taller, often matching the men in height. And a Segonian soldier facing a possible enemy would’ve long since activated her camouflage. So he omitted that option. Her petite build resembled that of a Lasaran woman. But a Lasaran wouldn’t wear a shirt with sleeves short enough to bare her arms as this woman did. Which left… Earthling?
Could they be so lucky? Could they have inadvertently stumbled upon one of the very beings they hoped to rescue?
Not that this woman needed rescuing, he thought with growing admiration.