“That’s not me, Captain.” The sound of frantic scrabbling came through the comm. “Nav is going crazy with rerouting coordinates. Can’t tell where inputs are coming from.”
“Captain,” called Suvan. “The engines are ramping up. Are we going somewhere?” More frantic sounds, this time of servos whirling faster. “Ah, somewhere at maximum speed?”
Felicity sucked down a breath as the view swerved away from the night’s itinerary to frame only empty space.
Ellix swiped grimly at his datpad, blanker than the viewport which at least glinted with some distant stars. “We’ve been hijacked.”
As the three moons continued on a flirtatious dance with their sun, the Love Boat I rocketed into the black.
Chapter 7
Felicity stared at the viewscreen, her last breath congealing in her body. She might be just a non-command crew closed-worlder, but even she knew a runaway ship wasnotgood.
While simultaneously issuing commands to the crew through the comm, Ellix took her hand, his furred skin almost hot because her fingers were so cold. Vaguely, she heard his orders—probably important ones, something about trying to disable the engines, but what did she know about hijacked spaceships?
Hijacked. But who was controlling them? And why?
While Ellix hauled her back to the command module, all the while exchanging rapid-fire damage control protocols with the crew, she tried to think.
The happy, relaxed, enthusiastic, curious IDA guests had been gathered for one purpose: to make a connection.Whathad they made a connection with?
She’d seen something like a black tangle of fingers reaching for them. Just a shadow, or maybe a projection? Had it been an actual thing, or just her closed-world confusion? Nobody else seemed to know what it was either, so she had as good a chance as anyone of figuring it out, even if she was just the entertainment director.
Ellix threw himself into the center chair while the crew rushed behind him into the command module, their reports tumbling in. “No external comms.” “No nav.” “No internal monitors.”
“Engines at a hundred and thirty percent,” Suvan said in a cheerful tone. “And quickening. The harmonics seems to be augmenting our power, just without controls.”
Great, so they didn’t know where they were going, but they’d get there faster.
Ellix’s claws clicked against metal as he levered himself out of the small chair. “What are the options for deactivating?”
“Nothing easy. Primary interfacing is down, same as with comms and nav. Physical access with this nacelle configuration at current output levels is…problematic.”
Pacing a tight circle, Ellix grimaced. “A modern ship would have a secondary portal to the engine module.”
“A modern ship wouldn’t have a ghost,” Suvan said. His pet chittered in the background as if in agreement.
Felicity pictured the schematics of the ship which she might’ve memorized out of excess caution while dealing with an insomnia flare after their initial safety lectures. “If you can’t turn off the engine, can you jettison it?”
Through the empty engineering console, the goblhob shrieked with a sound like maniacal laughter.
Suvan grumbled. “Who said that?”
“Um, me? Felicity Rowe, cruise director?”
“The closed world female. If we cut loose the nacelle at this speed, the engines would explode right in front of us. Maybe stick to entertaining.”
“Well,” she said, stung. “Thatwouldbe entertaining, albeit briefly.”
A strangled sound from Ellix distracted her. Was Captain Never-Smiles laughing at her? When she turned to glare at him, he just set one heavy paw on her shoulder.
“Chief Engineer Adrakh,” he said in that deep voice, “is there any indication the engines left in situ might exceed operating specs and”—his golden gaze slid slyly to Felicity—“even more briefly entertain us?”
A moment of considering silence reverberated in all their comms.
“It’s an old ship, but a decent one,” Suvan said grudgingly. “We’re not even close to flame-out. It’s not worth the risk.”
Ellix flexed his fingers on her shoulders, and for a moment, Felicity felt as if…almost as if she were holding him up, just a little.
