Captain “Sage” Sagitta paced between his command chair, the communications station, and the science station, making a triangle as he walked, following the wedge shape of the Falcon 8’s bridge. He was careful not to pass too close to the one other officer up there with him, Lieutenant Commander Zakota.

The helmsman wouldn’t want his captain peering over his shoulder as he guided the ship away from Iolkos Space Base. Nor would he want Sage inadvertently jostling the back of his seat. Not only could it distract him at a tense moment, but it might knock off some of the wooden talismans, fetishes, and charms dangling on twine and thongs from Zakota’s seat and console.

“Zakota?” Sage asked, eyeing the collection. “Are there more of those glued to your station than there were yesterday?”

The bronze-skinned, shaven-headed officer grinned over his shoulder. “Might have added a few, sir. On account of some rumors floating around the ship. And on account of you rousting me from my bunk two hours before dawn downside. I figure I’ll need extra luck today.”

“I see.”

The mention of rumors was troublesome. Sage had done his best to keep his crew in the dark about the trip they were leaving on, one that not only defied orders, both from High Command and from the archons, but that was essentially stealing the Star Guardian ship too. Since he wasn’t on an authorized mission, the Falcon 8 wasn’t his to take. And fire-falcon-class ships, especially ones only five years old, were not inexpensive assets.

Sage wasn’t positive how his superiors would react, but he was positive it would be better if as few of his crew as possible could be implicated as accomplices. He had told the forty-odd women in his rec room, women his team had rescued from kidnappers, that he was taking them home, despite his government’s decision that their planet Gaia be quarantined and the women remain on Dethocoles. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that some of them had spoken to his men, or had simply spoken openly enough to be overheard. The line between the women and his crew wasn’t as strict as he’d intended it to be, especially now that Miss Angela and Miss Juanita were sleeping with Treyjon and Orion respectively. Sage’s little brother, Orion, wasn’t a part of the crew, but Lieutenant Treyjon was and had set a precedent. Last he’d heard, a lot of the single men were trying to woo the women on the sly, despite Sage’s insistence that their guests be left alone.

He hoped none of the men were bothering Tala, the doctor who’d been learning his people’s medical technology and helping out aboard the ship. She didn’t seem like someone who would appreciate hulking young Star Guardians panting all over her. She was intelligent, determined, and took her work seriously, not unlike him. And she wasn’t afraid to argue with him, something that he rarely got from the people in his command, or anyone under the rank of admiral or archon. Too bad she always seemed so disgusted with him after an argument. It wasn’t his intention to irritate her. Sometimes, his orders and the needs of the ship had to supersede the needs of individual patients.

“Don’t worry, Captain. I’m almost done with the one I’m making for you.”

“The one I didn’t order but have already received an invoice for?”

“Yes, sir. Can’t run a legitimate side business if you don’t keep up on your paperwork. Reckon you’re gonna need some extra luck too. More than that, a blessing from a real live shaman.”

Sage had yet to see any paperwork, digital or otherwise, that verified Zakota’s claim to being a shaman back on his home world. Even if it was true, he didn’t believe in divine intervention, magic, blessings, or anything else like that. Still, if there was such a thing as luck in the universe, and if his helmsman could send it his way, he wouldn’t object. He might, however, haggle on the final price.

Zakota peered at the sensor display. “Are we expecting pursuit?”

“If it comes, the threat will be the warships in orbit rather than the vessels docked at the base.”

“That didn’t really answer my question, sir.”

“Just stay on your toes.”

Zakota hopped out of his seat, danced a quick jig on tiptoe, then slid back in again.

“Spry,” Sage said dryly.

“Thank you, sir. Shamans have to keep up their plantar agility in order to perform ritual dances as needed.”

“Is that what that was? A ritual dance?”

“Couldn’t you tell?”

“It looked like you had darva bugs crawling up your leg to start a colony in your drawers.”

“There would have been a lot more cursing if that were the case.”

Sage’s logostec pinged on his wrist, and he grimaced. He had chosen this early hour in the hope that it would take Star Guardian Headquarters a few extra minutes to realize that the Falcon 8 was slipping out of dock and also that it hadn’t dropped off the women before doing so. Still, Sage wasn’t truly surprised that they hadn’t made it halfway out of the atmosphere before someone noticed. It would most likely be Admiral Eliados, but it could also be one of the archons, comming him directly.

“Captain Sagitta,” he answered, not bothering to look at the caller identification as he mentally braced himself for a challenge and a reprimand.

He’d considered ignoring all attempts at communication, but he wouldn’t want his commanders to believe someone else had stolen the Falcon 8. They might take more brutal measures than if they knew Sage commanded it. He also hoped his reputation would make them hesitate to send ships after him. After all, he was one of the great heroes of the Territory War. None of the other commanders should want to pick a fight with him. If nothing else, Headquarters shouldn’t want one of its ships damaged. Maybe there was a chance they could make it to the wormhole gate unscathed, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of his decision until he returned.

“Sage, you’re not leaving, are you?” came an unexpected yet familiar voice from his wrist computer. “You just got here, and you never came by the house. When I heard you were coming, I made a fresh pot of melas zōmos. And I’ve got sweets, though I suppose you still won’t deign to eat them. You’re a very odd boy, Sage. Orion and Leo and Taurus eat my baked goods when they come. Good boys eat what their mother makes them.”

Zakota peeked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

Sage gave him a flat look and walked toward the ready room to the side of the bridge, reminded of why he took comms from his mother in private.

“I have to stay fit for my work, Mother,” he murmured.

“Orion hasn’t come by, either. And I heard he was on the planet. Actually, I heard he was with you. On your ship. Is everything all right? You’re not fighting, are you? The Star Guardians aren’t arresting him, are they? He tries so hard. I know you think bounty hunting isn’t honorable, but he wants to be a hero, Sage.”

Sage stepped into the ready room but paused on the threshold. His logostec flashed an alert for another incoming message.

“I know he does, Mother. I get that now. We’re not fighting. The Star Guardians offered him a position, and we’ll come visit soon.” Sage hoped that wasn’t a lie. “But I have to take another—”

“He’s going to become a Star Guardian? That’s wonderful. You’re such a good influence. That’s what he’s always wanted, you know. When he was a little boy, he wanted to be just like you.”

Sage’s hand was hovering over the logostec so he could switch channels, but he paused, startled by the information. It wasn’t as if his mother didn’t tell him every bit of gossip on everyone, but it had been a long time since they discussed his little brother, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard that tidbit of information. In truth, he didn’t know Orion well. Orion had only been a toddler when Sage left for the military academy, and his interest in his little brother had dwindled significantly after Orion received all those demerits during his years at the academy. During his first year of active duty, he’d gotten into fights and punched an officer Sage respected a great deal. His dishonorable discharge hadn’t come as a surprise, and Sage had stopped paying attention to him at all once he’d turned bounty hunter.

“I didn’t know that,” he said quietly. “We don’t talk much.”

“I know. It’s shameful.”

His logostec beeped insistently, and Zakota called, “Got some activity back at the base, Captain. The two Star Guardian ships we were docked next to are powering up.”

“On my way.” Sage turned away from the ready room. Chatting with his mother would have to wait. “I need to go, Mother.”

“When will you be back? Both of you? Is it true that Orion met a girl?”

Sage didn’t roll his eyes, but only because captains were supposed to be mature and stately. “How do you find these things out, Mother?”

How had she even known the Falcon 8 was on the planet? And for that matter, how had she learned they were leaving? Logic would suggest that Orion had been talking to her, but Orion never commed home, from what Sage had heard. It was one of their mother’s constant complaints and another reason Sage had held a grudge against Orion for years.

“I have my sources,” she said smugly.

“I thought Aunts Kalliope and Khloe were your only sources for gossip.”

“Please, honey. Thanks to your father, I know half of the men over seventy who are affiliated with the space fleet. They’re not all retired. I had tea with Admiral Taloshi just last week.”

“One of those admirals is comming now. Goodbye, Mother.” He lowered his voice, though Zakota was focused on the sensor display now, and added, “Love you.”

“I love you, too, even though you don’t eat my pastries anymore. I miss being able to send you gift boxes, you know. Remember the cookies? I suppose I could send you one of dried meats and cheese. Do you eat cheeses, honey?”

“I need to go,” he repeated, not wanting to get into another conversation about how odd the Star Guardian diet of mostly meats and fats was. Most of the men only maintained it in space, but he got headaches when he switched off and on, and found it much easier to do without his mother’s baking.

“Does Orion like cheeses?” was the last thing he heard before switching over to the incoming comm.

“Captain Sagitta,” he said.

“I’m terribly sorry, Captain,” a sardonic male voice said. “Did I interrupt you while you were getting your boots polished?”

“Actually, I was talking to my mother, Admiral Enroy.”

“A noble activity, I’m sure. Now, if you’d be so kind as to tell me… Where in all the hells are you going?”

Zakota glanced back, no doubt hearing the raised voice even across the bridge.

Sage schooled his expression into one of calm neutrality, his command face, as the men often called it. He’d expected this. There was little point in wincing now.

“To take these women home. It is the right thing to do.” Though Sage hadn’t spoken to Enroy since arriving, he had no doubt the admiral had been filled in on everything.

“That’s not for you to decide. Return to base now.”

“I cannot.”

“You can’t get away with disobeying orders because you’re a war hero, Captain.”

Sage wasn’t sure what the emphasis on his rank meant. Maybe Enroy was reminding him that he’d passed up a promotion to admiral in order to leave the fleet six years earlier and become a Star Guardian captain. Did Enroy mean to imply that he would have had more sway if he’d accepted the promotion? It wasn’t as if anyone had been surprised when he’d chosen to stay on the bridge of a ship rather than taking a desk job in High Command.

“I understand there will be consequences.”

“There’ll be more than that. The archons commed me personally this morning. Do you know what time it is, Sage? I’m in my underwear.”

“Lost that bet,” Zakota muttered to himself. “Hierax was right. Who would’ve thought the admiral didn’t sleep in the buff?”

“If those women are returned to their home world,” Enroy continued, hopefully not hearing Zakota’s mutters, “they will tell their government everything.”

“So?” Sage asked. “Their world doesn’t have spacecraft capable of even reaching their gate. If our government truly fears that Gaia will become a contender for rule over the human planets in the galaxy, then they can disable their gate, but let these women go home first.”

He grimaced at the idea of cutting off Gaia, both because of the moral ambiguity of such a decision and because his brother and Lieutenant Treyjon had formed relationships with two of those women. He would lose both of them if they chose to stay on Gaia with the women. For some reason, an image of Tala also flashed into his mind. He would never see her again once she went home.

“Or here’s a thought,” Sage continued. “Let’s announce ourselves to the people of Gaia and send representatives to speak with their government leaders.”

“As we did on Syan?”

“We can’t treat all planets with fear because of one bad experience.”

“To not learn from our mistakes would be foolish.”

Sage’s logostec flashed with another incoming comm call. He sighed.

“My decision is made, Admiral,” he said. “I will return for whatever punishment High Command deems necessary once I’ve dropped off the women.”

“Damn it, Sage. You’re not going to make it out of the system.”

Sage closed the channel.

“Hierax is comming me, sir,” Zakota said, looking back. “He says he needs to talk to you.”

“Yes, everybody does right now. Tell him to come up here.” Sage tapped the next call waiting. It came from one of the two Star Guardian ships Zakota had noticed powering up. “Yes, Captain Victor?”

“Captain Bo and I have been ordered to come after you, Sage. I don’t suppose you want to surrender now and make things easier?”

“Easier on me or on you?”

“Shit, on us. You know we don’t want to attack you. You’re not actually going to shoot back over this, are you? Why are you disobeying orders?”

“I’ll explain the next time we have lunch together,” Sage said, sighing again and wondering if his hope that the Falcon 8 could make it to the gate without engaging with any other ships was delusional. He refused to fire on his fellow Star Guardians over this. The space fleet ships, either. For one thing, his punishment would surely be harsher if he hurt anyone or damaged a lot of equipment. For another… those were his comrades commanding those ships. Men and women he’d known for years. Decades, in some cases.

“Please just get back here, Sage. I don’t want to—” Victor’s words grew harder to hear as he turned away from the comm. “What do you mean we can’t take off?” he asked someone on his bridge.

Hierax walked in, the top half of his uniform missing, as usual. He wore the gray tank top that went underneath it, and his belt was laden with tools and the odd mechanical knickknacks he made. He and Zakota could compete for a clutter-creation prize.

“It’s better this way, Captain,” Sage said softly and closed the comm.

“It’s cold up here.” Hierax rubbed his bare arms. “You know I hate leaving my engine room, Captain.”

“I see you dressed for the occasion.”

“I figured you’d want me here promptly. Wasn’t sure where my jacket was.”

“I assume you were successful in planting your virus?” Sage waved to his logostec to indicate the trouble Victor and hopefully Bo were having.

“On both Star Guardian ships, yes, sir. They won’t be going anywhere for a couple hours.”

“Thank you. What about the fleet warship that was docked next to us?”

“I don’t know that model ship as well, and their engineers weren’t interested in playing Razor Wars with me—” Hierax winked, and Sage assumed that had something to do with how he’d delivered the virus, “—but you’re in luck. A compact, barely noticeable drill drone can do quite a bit of damage when the lower-decks crew is dumb enough to leave the cargo hatch wide open.”

Hierax plucked a winged construct from a hook on his belt and tossed it into the air. It hovered in place until he tapped his logostec. He waved his finger through a holographic control panel that popped up, and the device zipped toward Zakota’s head.

“What are you doing, fool?” Zakota swatted around his head. “If that thing drills me, I’ll pummel you.”

“I was going to demonstrate its finesse by having it cut through the thong on your necklace without touching your skin.”

“This is a totemic pendant, not a necklace.”

The drone buzzed about but ultimately flew away from Zakota.

“In other words,” Sage said, “you effectively sabotaged the warship.”

“Yes, sir.” Hierax caught his device and hooked it to his belt again. “Helps when everybody’s on the same side and nobody has their guard up.”

“Yes.” That was why Sage had set Hierax to work before announcing his plans by taking off, before any of his fellow captains had a reason to be suspicious of him or his crew. “Did you two disable the command codes?” Sage waved toward Zakota’s console. One of the first things Headquarters would try would be to remotely take control of the Falcon 8.

“Even the ones we’re not supposed to know about,” Hierax said smugly.

Sage didn’t mind that smugness now. He was relieved to have good people. Hierax was more than good at his job, and Sage had been lucky to get him. Of course, he’d definitely been able to get the best the Star Guardians had to offer when he’d accepted the position to command the Falcon 8. He had no trouble remembering a time when he’d been a new captain in the space fleet, going into war on a rust bucket, with a misfit crew manning her, the people that none of the more experienced and decorated commanders had wanted.

“Yup,” Zakota said, double-checking his console. “But we’ll still have to deal with— Uh, two of the warships in orbit are shifting their paths and heading in our direction, sir.”

“Can you beat them to the gate?”

Fire falcons were fast ships, with the newest technology in their engine rooms, and warships were known more for devastating power than speed, but outmaneuvering multiple opponents wouldn’t be easy. Even if they slipped past these two, Sage knew from an earlier check that there were other warships farther out in the system, orbiting planets and moons that held human colonies. If some of those ships were alert and ready for action, they could intercept the Falcon 8 before it reached the gate.

Even if Sage made it to the gate, he wouldn’t be in the clear. High Command knew exactly where he was heading. There were five more gates between here and Gaia, and a trip of over a week. There was a good possibility that he wouldn’t be able to outrun trouble the whole way unless he chose an unexpected and unorthodox route to get there.

“We’ll see,” Zakota said. “But you might want to warn everyone that the ride is about to get bumpy.”

Zakota licked his finger, then one-handedly touched each and every charm hanging from his station while he navigated with the other hand.

“I’ll do that,” Sage said.

“You sure those women are worth all this trouble, Captain?” Hierax asked softly, his expression uncharacteristically serious and somber.

“We vow to defend the bodies, souls, and freedoms of all humans, throughout the galaxy,” Sage murmured, reciting part of the Star Guardian oath. “Nobody should be put in a cage. If they had to stay on Dethocoles, it would be better than being eaten by aliens, yes, and the planet offers much, but it’s not their home, and they didn’t ask to be taken there. No matter how nice the cage, to be stuck in it against your will is the destruction of your freedom.”

“Besides, Orion and Treyjon would say they’re worth it,” Zakota said, winking as he hit full acceleration, and the deck trembled slightly underneath their feet.

“That’s because they’re getting their bows polished by two of them,” Hierax said.

“I could stand to have something polished.”

“If it’s your shiny head, I doubt any woman is going to be interested.”

Sage frowned at the silly banter. It still disturbed him that Orion and Treyjon had been romancing a couple of the women. Even though the Star Guardians had saved those women from the slavers who’d originally taken them from Gaia, they were still out here against their wishes. Sage called them guests, but when he was honest with himself, he knew they were prisoners. It wasn’t right to make passes at prisoners. Better to get the women back to their homes where they would once again have the freedom of choice.

Even as he had the thought, Tala’s face came to mind again, her black hair always bound tidily back at the nape of her neck. She’d stood out from the others right away, with her warm brown skin, her high cheekbones, and her tall, athletic form. He’d heard she had some unarmed combat experience and had kicked a couple of the slavers. Effectively. He would like to have seen that.

What expression had she worn while kicking them, he wondered. She had such dark, thoughtful eyes, eyes that always seemed to have an inward focus rather than an outward one. He could understand that. He spent much time living in his head.

One of his flaws, he’d been told by superiors over the years, was that he sometimes forgot to explain his thoughts clearly to those under his command. He often assumed that what was clear to him was clear to everyone else. And sometimes, even when he knew he was being terse, he lacked the patience to amend that. He had a tendency to see the men as moving parts in a machine where it wasn’t that important for each piece to have knowledge of the bigger picture. Fortunately, he somehow managed to make the machine do its job effectively.

He wondered if doctors had similar experiences, focusing on the problems and forgetting to keep their staff apprised of everything. If so, it was something he could work with in a ship’s doctor. Had the stars been aligned differently, he could have seen himself inviting Tala to stay aboard the Falcon 8. She might not yet have the experience that Dr. Svetloka had possessed, but she was certainly more attractive than he had been. Not that he would choose a crew member because of that. He’d already observed that she was a quick study, and she was calm, quick, and methodical when she worked on an injured man. He had a feeling she wouldn’t break down even if sickbay were inundated with men in the midst of the ship being fired upon.

“Captain?” Hierax asked, shifting to stand in front of him.

Something about his tone made Sage think he may have spoken more than once.

“You all right?” Hierax added. “You contemplating strategies?”

Er, yes, that was what he’d been doing.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d been contemplating getting his bow polished,” Zakota said, grinning again.

Hierax snorted. “Right.”

“Just get us to the gate, Zakota,” Sage said, ignoring the innuendo, even if it was closer to the mark than he wanted to admit. “You can get something polished later.”

“That a promise, Captain? You’re getting me a little excited. Shit, there’s a third warship coming in from the blue moon.” Zakota focused on the panels and his controls and dropped the polishing topic. “And there’s a little courier ship going through the gate right now. You think they’re warning someone in the Medea System about us?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Sage reached for the intercom to warn the crew—and their guests—that the ride was about to get… turbulent.