T ierc plotted a path through the attacking ships, forcing them to fire on both him and each other. He shot out the far side unscathed, ducked into a passing asteroid and landed on a target marked X on his navigation chart. He felt a brief jolt as he secured landing gear and checked for incoming threats.
“A passable attempt, Tierc Marcel. Despite your bullish tactics, you acquired the target with ship undamaged and are designated ship’s captain.”
Tierc removed the virtual simulator, stood up and faced a holographic simile of a young girl with serious eyes and a mouth that didn’t know how to smile. “Why a child, Axo?”
The ship’s AI tilted her—its—head. “A child engenders nurturing instincts.”
Damn. Axo wanted to win Ahnna’s approval. She’d taken against the Artificial Intelligence on sight, her usual HD-X mistrust and paranoia. Busy testing the ship’s capabilities in the flight simulator, Tierc had paid little attention to the brewing problem between his teammate and the ship’s AI. Tierc and Ahnna had slept on the Orion Nebula overnight, preferring to settle into their respective cabins than take rooms on the space station orbiting Primaera. Plus Tierc needed to pass the simulator tests before Axo allowed him to pilot the ship.
A second hologram strode across the Orion Nebula’s bridge and swung a holovid drone to a new angle that better captured the ship’s Artificial Intelligence. Zeke’s holo-image effected force-fields that allowed him to direct the holovid drones remotely. Tierc shifted out the way. Interfering with Octiron’s crew could throw them out the race. At least, Zeke was real, albeit physically absent. Tierc wasn’t entirely alone with a xenophobic human nutcase and an AI with security issues, although Tierc had to admit Axo made a cute four-year-old.
“Are you feeling threatened or ignored?” Tierc asked Orion Nebula’s AI.
Axo’s expression didn’t alter. “Ahnna barely acknowledges my existence.”
“She’s scared of you. Has she seen you today?”
“She ordered I stay out of her quarters.”
“So?”
“She does not appear intimidated by me. She said she would never deliberately harm Octiron property. She then tipped her coffee down the solid waste dispenser. Liquid should not enter the solid waste dispenser. Her meaning was plain.”
Tierc scratched his head. “You think she means to sabotage you?”
“I have calculated a forty-seven percent possibility of accidental sabotage.”
“Log your suspicions with Octiron, inform Ahnna, and then recalculate.”
A second later, Axo rose from the floor and reformed in its android holograph—a see-through exoskeletal form, packed with colored veins and flashing fake neurons… and distinctly male.
“You do know you’re not real?” Tierc said, disturbed by the AI’s personality quirks. “Your avatar suggests an identity crisis.” Axo could assume full control of the ship. The AI could not be ignored.
Ahnna burst onto the bridge. “I’m not taking fucking orders from you!”
Tierc raised an eyebrow at another problem he couldn’t ignore. Obviously Ahnna had just learned he’d been named ship’s captain. “Didn’t imagine you would for a second.”
She stood glaring at him, hands on hips and primed for battle. Tierc quashed a desire to kiss the living fight out of her and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, an action guaranteed to rile, but not incite total carnage. He noticed Zeke step back into the wall, effectively disappearing. The holovid moved discreetly up to the ceiling.
“I can fly this ship, too!” she snapped.
“Not as well as Captain Marcel,” Axo interjected. “You failed advanced training.”
Ahnna turned on the avatar and snarled. “Go crawl into your box.”
Axo blinked and vanished.
Tierc watched her smirk. “Ahnna, you are a bitch. Axo, do you have an emotion receptor?”
Axo’s android-like voice responded. “Yes, Captain.”
“Well switch it off and get back here, Captain’s orders.” Tierc watched Ahnna scowl as Axo reappeared, all lights flashing.
“Yes, Captain,” Axo stated, his pronouncement smug in ways Tierc couldn’t explain.
Ahnna swung to face Tierc, open mouth and agitated hands expressing WTF in action.
Tierc fielded her indignant fury with a wave and pulled up the race challenges available to them. The list spread above the cockpit console on virtual screens. “Axo. Talk us through the rules.” He glanced at Ahnna. “We should agree our first destination before tomorrow. I don’t want to be the last one out simply because we haven’t a clue where we’re headed.”
Ahnna shrugged, unimpressed, but did drop into the copilot’s seat. She seemed a little listless, and her eyes were shadowed, like she hadn’t slept well.
“Fine.”
“Axo?”
“To fulfill your contract with Octiron,” the AI began, “and complete the race, you need to accumulate one hundred points across four challenges. These include a mandated challenge on the planet Altaira located in the Allermo system.” A holographic light map of Paragon sprung out of the navigation console. Altaira flashed on and off in red, displayed in real-time. If they watched long enough they’d see planets rotating around their suns. “Once contestants acquire one hundred points, they can wait out the rest of the race on Primaera until winter solstice.” Paragon’s capital planet lit up. “Rewards accumulated during the challenges may be exchanged on Primaera for credit or divided between you.”
“Do contestants get the same pick of challenges?” Tierc asked. He’d been studying the challenges on offer, few close to what he’d imagined.
“There are common tasks accessible to all contestants, but many are tailored to individual contestant’s abilities. Octiron guarantees contestants a level playing field. Tasks considered too easy or dangerous are replaced with a more suitable challenge.”
Tierc glanced at Ahnna. “Got any opinions worth hearing?” He winced as her eyes flashed with irritation, he hadn’t intended to be so snarky, but she’d been prickly since their boarding… since day one.
“I want to free Xecara, the High Priestess of Sorsei.” Ahnna gestured an item on the list. “She’s being held in House Verdon Territory. Axo, light up Verdon.”
“The whole sector or the planet?”
“The planet.” A third planet began to flash, east of the Central Alliance Sector from their current viewpoint.
“The challenge is eighty points, and it’s damn near impossible!” Tierc pointed out. The higher the points the more challenging the task.
“Xecara’s a child and a hostage to fortune. House Verdon is using her to subjugate the Sorsei.”
Defiance sharpened her voice and Tierc scratched the back of his neck. “It’s a political minefield. In what universe could we sweet talk a dynasty controlling numerous star systems into releasing a key political prisoner?”
“You’ve obviously checked it out.”
“And I discounted it, with good reason. For starters, how do you propose we get in?”
“Disguised as traders. Break her out.”
Tierc laughed. “If only life were so simple. I thought HD-X trained their operatives better.” He shook his head. “Our faces are all over the galaxy! We can only use our weapons in self-defense. A recipe for failure.”
Ahnna launched out of her chair, her fists clenched, a spitfire waiting for the right spark. “House Verdon is an insular society. Octiron doesn’t broadcast there. And they won’t broadcast information that will deliberately sabotage a challenge!”
“Axo, is that true?” Tierc asked.
Ahnna’s eyebrows shot up. “Because you can’t trust that I might know what I’m talking about?”
Axo reappeared, lights firing throughout his body. “Octiron refuses to censor its content and therefore has no license to broadcast in House Verdon territories, however it does have a black market following.”
Ahnna cussed.
Axo visibly brightened. “However, an analysis of previous races confirms viewers argue and often gamble over the outcomes and purposes behind contestants’ actions. The mysterious nature of the challenges entices viewers. I find no evidence that Octiron sabotages challenges by revealing compromising information in advance.”
Ahnna nodded, her expression smug.
“So we need to monitor the other contestants and any wager odds against these challenges,” Tierc responded. “Axo can do that. We should also identify tasks with a reasonable probability of success but unlikely to attract competition. Let others fight over the easy targets while we concentrate on harder tasks, fifty pointers, challenges within our capabilities.”
“Fifty pointers? Like ‘find the lost archives of Orca’? A goddamn treasure hunt?”
“What’s wrong with a treasure hunt?”
“It’s a book! Bits of parchment!” She stalked the limited space, shoulders stiff, jolted when Zeke emerged and retook possession of the holovid. “Xecara is a sentient creature held against her will. House Verdon is dictating terms on Sorsei, imposing its laws on a free planet!”
“I get you’ve looked into this,” a late night would explain her ratty mood, “but getting involved in planet politics is not our business here.”
“It was your business when the K’lahn invaded Earth!”
Tierc smacked his forehead. “Skal! The invasion’s done. Over three hundred years ago! Only goddamn fanatics like you even remember what happened back then!”
Ahnna glanced at the holovid, returned her gaze to Tierc. “You think what you did was right?”
“What I did?” Tierc growled. He lurched forward, incensed beyond measure.
Ahnna stood her ground. Her fists clenched, her muscles contorted, defiance hardening her features. “What your kind did… the Qui. They invaded Earth. They may have used the K’lahn, but you gave the orders. You enslaved humans.”
Her pheromones and accusations raised Tierc’s blood. He couldn’t cope with the pain of a threatening shift, her accusations, and her alluring scent. He fought back rising anger. The witch played to an audience.
She threw a dramatic hand out. “Raped them!”
“What the hell? I haven’t raped anyone!”
“Maybe, but the first human-Qui hybrid was the product of rape! That’s your people!”
His eyes widened in shock. “Crendea? Bullshit! For one, Crendea’s K’lahn father and human mother loved each other!” He didn’t even bother correcting her mistaken assumptions on his ancestral line.
“No,” she argued, “that’s Qui propaganda.”
“Ah, no! You’re drunk on HD-X propa-juice! Fear and paranoia, it’s rolling off you so hard you don’t know what’s real. They feed you people lies upon lies, I can’t even begin to untangle your fucked up beliefs.”
“Next you’ll be saying Earth’s first tribute volunteered!”
“He did volunteer! Skal! The historical record is so popular it’s been portrayed in that holovid show ‘Empire’. I think they’re up to ten seasons now. Haven’t you seen it?”
She scoffed. “Dramatized fiction!”
“It’s factual history. The story of the . It won a documentary award! You’re telling me the Qui Treaty is a lie? The same treaty that grants humanity free travel across the entire Qui Empire?”
“Of course there’s a treaty. We were enslaved by it.”
“Your willful ignorance is astounding. of the United Regions sacrificed his freedom in Tribute and brought the K’lahn invasion to an end. The love he and the shared positioned Earth at the center of the Qui galaxy. Your twisted beliefs discredit humanity’s greatest legend.”
“You chained Jaden in a cage! Like an animal!”
“I did? I wasn’t even born! Look, I can’t defend everything that happened back then. It was a different time. We can’t judge the past by the standards of today. The treaty ended the war and morally it was questionable, I agree, but what Human Defense-X does? Assassinating Qui-humans? That’s not only immoral, it’s criminal. Terrorism. Whether you admit the truth or not, Ahnna, you’re not just complicit in HD-X’s activities, you’re a gullible pawn in the whole goddamn charade. HD-X makes the Qui of yesteryear look like angels!”
* * *
Ahnna stormed to her room and discovered Crandal in holo-form waiting outside her cabin. She walked straight through him, remembered Zeke had been on the bridge, had witnessed everything, and slammed shut the door.
Crandal simply popped up inside her cabin.
She frowned at him, anger collapsing to mortification. “Zeke told you what happened.”
“I watched the whole thing. Great stuff. Viewers will love it.”
“Shit.” This race was a fucking nightmare, and they hadn’t even started.
“Look, Ahnna, Tierc may be captain on the ship, but that doesn’t put him in charge of your race.”
She pulled back from metaphorically showing Crandal the door. “I’m listening.”
“Octiron just issued a new rule change.”
“What a surprise. You gonna change the prizes too? Remove our bid for freedom from commercial slavery? Octiron’s rule changes are giving me whiplash.”
“No, that’s part of your contract. This is one of those race procedures subject to change.”
Ahnna walked to her desk, accessed a digital copy of the race rules and spotted an update applied four minutes earlier. The teammate who is not designated ship’s captain may overrule the selection of one task. Crandal was drawing her attention to it. How convenient. He probably wrote the change to incite drama and boost viewer enjoyment. Sick fucker.
Or…
She eyed Crandal’s duplicitous image. “You want us to free Xecara?”
Crandal’s image sat on a chair she couldn’t see. “Yes. House Verdon dominates comms outlets to enforce their agenda. They publicly deny they hold the high priestess. We know they do, but we need visual proof, a story we can broadcast galactic wide. It would be a delicious coup if our space race exposed their lie.”
“And how many rules will you change to make our task more difficult?”
“Not for this task, it’s already a substantial challenge.”
Ahnna folded her arms, disbelieving.
“The viewers need to understand why you want this task so badly. When you were talking with Tierc–”
“That wasn’t talking.”
“Okay, fighting. You make your grievances with the Qui about him. How is Tierc responsible for events hundreds of years past?”
“Because he won’t acknowledge what’s happening. Not just him, the United Regions—and don’t forget, Tierc works for the UR; he’s a part of this. They’ve twisted history to their own ends.”
“So the HD-X believes the Qui took a human hostage?”
“Yes. You heard Tierc. They call him a Tribute. As if the , brought to heel by Empress Sonestra, was a noble thing. The romanticized love story between the General and the Empress is the velvet curtain wrapped around the ugliness of Qui Imperial enslavement.”
“When did this happen? You must understand this is fascinating stuff. Viewers will want to know.”
Ahnna hesitated. The more she talked, the harder it got to stop. She didn’t want Crandal digging into Tierc’s Qui nature or they’d want to see him for real. “I’ve told you all this. How’s it important?”
“Ahnna, you come from a parallel universe. Your story is important to understand our own history. When did your timeline diverge from ours? How did the Qui Empire in your universe stop human space exploration? Did you know that Tierc is significantly better informed about worlds and galaxies outside the Milky Way than you are? Why is that?”
His words sunk in slowly, an ice-cold band wrapping her heart as the implications of his last question unfurled in her mind. “You’re taking his side?”
“Side? Interesting. No, but it’s obvious that Tierc is informed by his upbringing within the Qui Empire. Your knowledge is limited to your cause. There is a distinct difference in breadth.”
Ahnna dragged breath into her lungs. Crandal could be lying, inciting trouble between her and Tierc. That made sense. Octiron wanted drama. Don’t rise to the bait. “Human Defense-X is focused on preserving the human genome. Not on exploration.”
“Of course, and, correct me if I’m wrong, but there was no HD-X until the arrival of the Qui on Earth. When was that?”
“Mid-21st Century AD.”
“We use the same Gregorian calendar with reference to Earth events.”
“I know.”
“So what happened in the mid-21st Century AD? Explain to our audience.”
Ahnna hesitated, but she’d signed up to this. “It began with the K’lahn invasion. The K’lahn are Qui foot soldiers—reptilian-like scaling and bone structure, more cold-blooded than humans, talons instead of nails.”
“We know of similar species, although none that invaded Earth.”
“In our universe, the K’lahn invasion killed billions, trafficked millions throughout the star systems of the Qui Empire, but humans formed a resistance movement, and we were winning. We forced the K’lahn off-planet, and that’s when a Qui arrived and negotiated a treaty. She took General Jaden hostage in return for peace, a tribute. The United Regions, our political leaders, they caved. We were winning, and then the Qui arrived and conquered Earth without another shot fired.” Ahnna felt sick. She shook with anger. “The United Regions formed a Treaty alliance with the same aliens responsible for the K’lahn invasion. They betrayed humanity. How could they do that?”
* * *
Tierc watched Ahnna’s perverse account of the Qui Treaty with Earth, with increasing unease. It wasn’t her words, her fundamentally flawed understanding of historic events, it was her bewilderment, anger and disgust with the United Regions that concerned him most. Her emotional convictions made the UR’s alliance with the Qui impossible for her to accept or understand.
As Ahnna’s interview finished, Tierc turned to Crandal’s lurking holo-image—impossible to kick the man out.
“Ahnna’s passion is sincere,” Crandal observed. “Many would consider her outrage justified.”
“Perhaps, but her flawed view of history is distorted by hatred. The facts are different. Yes, there was an invasion. Yes, the Qui Empress ratified a peace treaty to end the invasion. Ahnna failed to explain why the Empress ordered the K’lahn’s withdrawal. Sonestra didn’t want to destroy humanity. She took a human tribute who despised her, a General who would just as soon kill her, and she taught him devotion and sacrifice. In the process, she discovered what all Qui know today, the potency of human love and emotion is a powerful mating call for Qui. Within decades, humanity assumed a prominent position in the Qui Empire.”
He laughed aloud. “Ahnna forgot to mention that the Empress eventually ended slavery across the empire.”
He resented the need to justify his heritage. If Ahnna would only open her mind…
“I won’t deny that Qui culture and human culture are very different, alien in nature and diverse in origin. Humans are romantic in their viewpoint, feel morally superior, and are sometimes willfully blind to their own flaws. Ahnna condemns the trafficking of humans by K’lahn or Qui and forgets that slavery is also a human failing. She refuses to accept that Qui and humans united found a higher calling and brought vast improvements to the Qui Empire. As I understand it, slavery is a travesty that still flourishes in Paragon today.” Tierc clamped down on a growing aggression towards Crandal and his provocations.
“The Central Alliance outlaws slavery.”
“And yet it exists in multiple systems, a large interstellar trade, billions of credits.”
Crandal’s holographic head flickered as he nodded.
Tierc sighed. “Ahnna condemns the Qui for the attempted genocide of humanity, and she’s right, as most would condemn any holocaust, but it doesn’t end there. Human Defense-X is committed to the expulsion of Qui-human hybrids from Earth. They wish to delegitimize my existence. The mating attraction between Qui and human can be intensely powerful, irresistible, a force of nature that overrides our physical differences. Sexually and physically, Qui and humans are compatible. I don’t expect your viewers to find that immoral or repugnant. Interspecies relations are common in Paragon.”
“We have groups—cults, orders, whatever you call them—who outlaw unions between different species. As long as they do not impose their views on others, problems are contained.”
“Well HD-X does impose their view. They assassinate any Qui or UR official they can get close enough to target. They are waging a terrorist campaign against the United Regions, the Qui-Earth Alliance, and Qui-human hybrids. They claim the moral high ground by celebrating all human unions, regardless of race or religion. So human purity is without constraint, but a union between human and Qui is deemed a crime against humanity. I am evil, my very existence a crime. No! I am the product of a universal law. I am the child of genetically compatible parents who fell in love and enjoyed a family together. Where is the crime in that? What gives HD-X the right to condemn me from birth? What gives Ahnna the right? I am not evil. I am not a crime against nature. I am me.”
* * *
Me? Right. Says the Qui hiding the truth of his scaly ass and demonic nature.
Between them they deceived a galaxy.
What did that make her?
Ahnna punched her door, regretted it immediately. She headed to the galley for ice, left Octiron’s upcoming broadcast spewing the hybrid’s lies to an empty room. She stopped dead at the sight of Tierc nursing a glass of water at the table.
He grimaced, his gaze dropping to the hand she cradled and back again. The glittering blackness of his eyes chilled her spine. One eyebrow hooked higher than the other. “I’m guessing Crandal showed you my interview.”
Ahnna huffed. “Of course he did. Octiron want drama and you gave it to them. They are playing us against each other and getting exactly what they want.”
“As if the race won’t be hard enough already.” He nodded at her hand. “Your nanos not working?”
“Not as fast as I’m used to.”
Tierc got up and ordered ice from the food dispenser. He brought the bowl to the table.
Damn. Now, if she rejected the gesture, she’d look churlish, and they still needed to work together. Giving in to the inevitable, Ahnna took the chair opposite and dumped her hand in the ice. “Fuck, that hurts.”
A smile lifted one side of his mouth. God, he was hot. Ahnna studied him, glad she wore a jacket that would hide the electric effect his presence forced upon her. That was the danger with Qui pheromones. Humans couldn’t resist them and Tierc tested her training, responding to her pheromonal output, but she’d been practicing. She slowed her heartbeat, reduced her body temperature to discourage perspiration. “You think HD-X brainwashed me. They didn’t.”
“I disagree.”
“It was a nice speech.” There had been real pain and depth of conviction in his words, a perspective on history that would give many pause, and she had to admit, his argument was hard to dismiss out of hand when he sat a bare three feet away.
His head tilted, his eyes studying her. “What difference does it make now? I’m the only Qui in this universe—and half-human at that. I’m making a life here, same as you.”
She shivered. “Are you going to breed?”
His dark-chocolate eyes flashed gold and his hissed intake of breath betrayed she’d provoked his Qui. “Let’s think about that. A new Qui dynasty, an extinct race reborn. Are you going to let that happen, Ahnna?”
His saccharin words played upon her fears. Zeke’s holo image materialized before she could answer, privacy in short-supply.
Ahnna pulled her hand out of the ice. “Plenty of time to decide that.”
Tierc shot out of his seat, making her jump. He wheeled away from Zeke’s holovid and placed palms on a counter top with shoulders hunched. She caught a flash in his eyes. She’d provoked a shift and now he battled his cuffs.
“I miss something?” Zeke’s eyes dropped to the ice bowl. “You two get in another fight?”
Ahnna showed him her hand, almost back to normal. “Caught the edge of a door.” Her nanos forced her unruly pulse to even out.
Tierc turned around, his expression ruggedly handsome. “We’re discussing the other two challenges we need to complete.”
“Before we attempt the big one,” Ahnna added. She snuck a glance at Tierc, found him looking at her. He had to know Octiron had forced her right to select a challenge, but his eyes were only watchful, assessing.
“The big one?” Zeke asked.
“Let’s avoid discussing details on the record,” Tierc said, “but we should select challenges that get us closer to Ahnna’s goal.”
Ahnna heard reproach in his voice and her rigid control slipped. She’d forced the House Verdon challenge on him, a challenge he’d rejected. The triumph felt petty.
“Unless you want to change your mind,” Tierc asked her.
She shook her head. Blood warmed her cheeks. “What do you suggest?”
“There’s a three pointer on Trax.”
“Help a child change his world?” Ahnna couldn’t hide her surprise.
He shrugged. “It’s an easy challenge in Verdon territory. We can research the sector and get a feel for how these challenges roll.”
Ahnna frowned. “Three points seems very low.”
Zeke leaned towards her, his holo-head moving through his vid drone. “The ‘Help a child’ challenge is a crowd pleaser. Octiron keep it for contestants requiring less challenging tasks, but it shouldn’t be underestimated. One team picked up this lost kid and dropped him back home—got beat up for their trouble. Kid sent them to a drug den.”
“So we ask questions first,” Ahnna said. “Tierc will smell a lie.”
“Didn’t work on you,” Tierc replied without looking at her. “Axo, what should we expect?”
The AI holo-image materialized at the far end of the table. “Trax is highly populated near the spaceports. Traders recruit there, but it’s also a popular stop for Rafters—raiders for the traffickers. It can be dangerous. You should know the sun is strong. You will need to purchase protection at the spaceport before transporting planetside.”
“Do we have any credit?”
“Negative,” Axo replied.
Tierc ran his hand through his hair, his muscled chest straining his clothes. “We’ll figure that out later. Right now, we have a destination to plot and a race to start.”
* * *
Ahnna pressed her hand to the console, confirmed she no longer had access to the copilot’s systems and snapped her head around to face Tierc. “You locked me out!”
He shrugged. “We’re one of twenty-odd ships jostling for position. I want out this mess. We’re not exactly team material and I don’t want any… um… misunderstandings until we’re clear of the starting gun.”
Ahnna bit her lip, hearing the logic, wanting to tear strips off him.
She fumed, staring out at the space station, stars twinkling beyond the gaping hole forming one side of the docking bay on one of Primaera’s space stations. A countdown ticked in the background. T-47 yachts extended either side of them, sleek and white, each boasting a team name emblazoned across their hull. Crandal had designated their ship the Orion Nebula. “I’d have picked Resistance.”
“Huh?”
“For our name.”
“Stop trying to pick a fight.”
The race announcer appeared as a holo-vision before them, alien pink and all horns and teeth. Engines roared as he verbally prostrated Octiron before a galaxy of race sponsors. He paused and Ahnna flushed to hear a recording of her snarling voice broadcast across the galaxy.
“Lay a finger on me—if I fucking smell your pheromone assault shit—I’ll slit your throat and die happy.”
Shit. She refused to look at Tierc sitting in the pilot’s chair beside her.
The race announcer’s chirpy voice continued, “Keep your eyes on Ahnna Sokovik and her teammate Tierc Marcel, longtime enemies from an alternate universe! What are the odds of them ending up together? Speaking of odds, the bets on that pair are crazy! How soon will they kill each other? Will they make it back before winter solstice? Perhaps they won’t even survive through the start!”
Tierc chortled.
“What the hell?” Ahnna snapped.
“They’re milking this drama for all its worth. They revived your threat because we’re not providing enough juicy conflict.”
“I didn’t think anyone could hear me.”
“We hear everything,” Zeke commented, his holo-image emerging from the huge viewscreen.
Ahnna jumped—she’d forgotten Zeke was on duty.
Tierc ignored them both. “Axo, confirm course. Visual only.”
Ahnna checked the navigation chart. Axo had plotted a course for the nearest wormhole to House Verdon Territory. “This isn’t a proper race,” she pointed out. “It doesn’t matter who gets out first.”
A male voice said, “I’m in no hurry to die.”
“And that of course is Tripp from team Supernova!” The announcer couldn’t sound more excited.
Ahnna rested her forehead on the console. Not as if she could use it productively. “Just get us out of here.”
“Glad we agree on something,” Tierc murmured, his voice tense and loaded with sarcasm.
“Three,” the announcer yelled. “Two, one! Go!”
Ahnna gripped her arm rest as the Orion Nebula launched forward, Tierc’s jaw set in concentration as he veered their ship around a forming collision and shot past to the safety of space. G-force pressed her back in her seat, the roar of their engines drowned out the show announcer’s commentary, and exhilaration hammered in her chest. For a fleeting moment, Ahnna glimpsed the possibility of freedom. She forced her head to turn and looked at the Qui sitting beside her.
What the hell had she agreed to?