“We have to get back to her.” Cyra grabbed Doc’s sleeve tugging him in the direction of the dock.
“If I know Varik, he’s already on the way to empty the accounts. If we don’t stop him, you’ll have nothing.”
“You can’t know that’s where he went. And this is Veda.” Her dearest and only friend.
“She’s capable of getting to safety.”
Cyra shook her head. The spiders could be anywhere on that huge ship. One bite and her friend would be dead. But if Doc was right and Varik was taking all the funds to runThe Treasure, she’d have no way to keep her ship. Wouldn’t even be able to pay the docking fees to leave Cassan. Besides Doc was being a pessimist. Varik wouldn’t be able to do anything without a death certificate, and Auvi’s instructions left everything to her.
“It’s your call, Captain.”
Cyra snapped her gaze to Doc. “What?”
“As of a few moments ago, you’re the captain ofThe Treasure. You’re in command.” A passerby bumped into Cyra’s shoulder and she wobbled. She grabbed Doc’s arm. Credits or Veda.
“We’re going back to the ship. Now.” The bodies filling the thoroughfares of the station parted like the sea for her. She wasn’t thick or broad, but she was very tall and she could move. The fear for her friend and her own future warred within her. If she was wrong, and Varik got the accounts—she’d deal with that possibility later—her friend’s safety came first.
Chapter6
“We have to get out. Now.”A short brown-skinned curvy female threw open the door to Dez’s cell. She wore a white suit that bagged on her short frame. A helmet under her arm.
He stood, but didn’t move so as not to frighten her, although she was already agitated—wide-eyed gaze darting around his cell and back over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“The spiders—they’re deadly. One bite—” A large black blob scurried across the ceiling not three meters away from the panicked female. She tossed a bag at him. “Put this suit on. We have to get out of here.”
Dez tugged the top open, and the contents expanded. The material was unlike any he’d encountered before, light, but thick. He slipped a leg into one hole, forcing his boot into the foot space. The fabric stretched, but it was still a tight squeeze.
“Hurry.” The female put the helmet over her head.
Once he had the coverall over his lower half, he had to tug the suit over his shoulders. The female reached for the closure. He stepped out of her reach and sealed himself in. She pointed at the helmet and he fitted it over his head, grateful that it, at least, was roomy.
“Follow me.” The voice came through a speaker in the helmet.
Dez nodded.
She scouted their exit and darted forward. A black blob dropped behind her. Dez booted it out of the path, wrapped one suited-arm around the female’s middle and ran for the deck where he’d first entered the ship.
She squeaked. The noise came through some audio device in the helmet. “Put me down.”
But Dez had no intention of waiting for her short legs to cover the distance they had to travel. He’d deal with the consequences after they were safe. With the suit on, the customs of his world were respected, at least in principle. They reached the loading bay in moments and the ramp was already down. He set his cargo at the edge. “Call the station security for help.”
She started down the gangplank, comms already in her hands.
He called out to her. “Which way to the galley?”
She turned, her brow wrinkled. “It’s back at that Y. Take the leg that doesn’t lead to the cargo area. But you need to?—”
Her feet cleared the ramp. He pressed the button to his left, and the ramp lifted to close. The female squacked again. He spun and ran, praying he’d find what he required. The galley tuned out to be spacious, with a single large table bolted to the floor. He grabbed a chair back for leverage as he raced toward the cupboards and nearly landed on his ass when the seat spun. Fancy, but not helpful.
He ripped open doors, not bothering to close them. On the lower left side, tucked in a corner, he hit pure gold. Concentrated capsaicin oil. He tugged the container free from where it had adhered itself to the shelf. Apparently this crew wasn’t much for spicy food. That explained the crap he’d been eating since he’d come aboard. Edible but bland.
In another cabinet, he found a cleanser in a spray bottle. He poured out half the contents, added the oil, and tested the mist. Too direct. He adjusted the nozzle so a wide fine spray burst out with every squeeze. Perfect. Time to hunt some creepy crawlies.
In the corridor he scanned the ceiling, nothing. Yet. He turned right, toward the cargo bay. His gut warred with his feet, arguing that he should be running away, not toward the threat. But if the deadly spiders escaped onto Cassan, who knows how many people could be hurt. Better to contain the threat, only risking himself.
Cyra raced through the aisles between the berths. The docking area of Cassan had never been so impossibly big. Air heaved in her lungs, her gills flapping so fast they vibrated. She’d lost Doc somewhere in the central commerce area and he’d told her to leave him. She’d hated to do it, but he was a grown man and not facing killer critters like her best friend. Hell, her only friend.
Finally she got toThe Treasure’sberth. The docking crew was absent. Veda must have notified them about the breach. She cleared the isolation entrance and finally made it into her bay. Her eyes watered, burning from the air. She sneezed.
