Mick followed her putative ally—Ariston, he’d called himself—through the ruins and toward the pyramid. He was taking a circuitous route to her ship, and she wasn’t sure if it was to avoid the men searching for them or to come out on the other side of the ship, where their appearance would be less expected.

A part of her wanted to go handle those thugs herself, but she wasn’t delusional. She would have gotten her ass kicked back at the wreck if Ariston hadn’t appeared. More than appeared. He’d beaten the snot out of a bunch of guys, all at once. He would be an amazing ally if she could trust him.

Unfortunately, she didn’t. Not for a second. He had been lying when he’d told that story, and she was fairly certain he still wanted to take her prisoner for whatever reason. Maybe he was a slaver on the side—Mick had heard all about how her sister had originally been kidnapped from Earth by slavers who had wanted to sell her to aliens. Mick had heard about all kinds of assholes in the year-plus that she’d been out in the galaxy.

Her guess was that this guy was a willing member of that crew of murdering salvagers—make that savages—and had decided this would be a good place to pull off some kind of coup. Maybe he was the second-in-command and wanted to be in charge of the outfit. And maybe the captain had caught wind of it and ordered that Ariston be abandoned or killed down here, but he was fighting back. That would explain why he needed another way off this planet. If she did take him with her when she left, she would have to drug him and lock him in one of her detainment cells. She would be better off leaving him here, but that would leave him as a problem for her scientists, assuming they still wanted to stay here.

She wouldn’t.

The way she kept seeing movement out of the corner of her eye was freaking her out, and she was still disturbed by being lured to the wreck only to find everyone already dead. She didn’t believe in ghosts or hauntings, but she’d already decided she didn’t want to spend the night on this planet. The meteorological data that Safin had gathered included sunrise and sunset for their current location, and they only had about two hours of daylight left. Not comforting.

Ariston stopped and poked his head around an opening in a wall. He waved for her to join him.

They were at an edge to the ruins, and boulders littered the dusty, open ground ahead of them, most of them taller than they were. The map in Mick’s faceplate display told her the ship was ahead of them, but she couldn’t see it.

She moved back behind the wall, jumped up, and caught the lip. Stone crumbled under her fingers, and she almost fell right back down, but she managed to hook an arm over the top. She pulled her chin up so she could see over the boulders.

Yes, there was her ship and—

She swore under her breath. Her suit’s scanners could have told her that the shields were down, but she didn’t need them to, not when she could see the damage to the aft side with her naked eyes. The hull around her small engineering section was charred and warped with three panels completely missing and others marred by an indentation that made it look like an asteroid had struck. One of the ship’s lower two thrusters was mangled, as well. To add insult to injury, a cocky-looking man in coveralls leaned casually against the side hatch with one hand while he worked on cutting through a seam with a magtorch.

Two other men stood guard, facing the entrance in the ruins she’d tried to return through earlier. They wore armor and carried weapons.

She dropped to the ground, rage burning in her chest, and snatched her bolt bow with both hands.

Ariston turned toward her and lifted a hand. To stop her? No damn way.

“They’re tearing apart my ship,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with anger. “I’ll kill the bastards.”

“We’ll stop them,” he said, irritatingly calmly. “But your ship is damaged—”

“No shit.”

“—so, we need to make sure they can’t flee and return to their ship. We need to capture that shuttle.” He pointed in the direction where it was presumably parked—she hadn’t seen it during her quick peek. “If we don’t and they get away, we’ll be stranded down here. I wouldn’t count on Captain Eryx to come rescue us after what I did. He might very well drop a bomb on the entire place once he’s got his people back aboard.”

“You go capture their shuttle then. I’m going to kill those guys.” Mick thrust her arm in the direction of the Viper.

“There are three of them, and they could easily call in reinforcements from the ruins. You can’t handle all of them alone. I believe that was an eight-man team, and there are men from the other shuttle that may have recovered from my attack by now. However, I’m betting there’s currently only the pilot and maybe one other man in the remaining shuttle. The rest are all out here, trying to deal with us. This would be a good time to take control of the shuttle.”

“I have a bunch of innocent scientists in my ship.” Mick flung her hand out again, almost clunking her knuckles on the wall. “If those murderers get in while we’re dicking around with their shuttle, they’ll kill them. I know they will.”

“Scientists?” Ariston sounded puzzled, like he wasn’t sure his translator chip had worked.

Mick didn’t have time to explain their mission. All she said was, “Who else would come to this desolate hole?”

With her grip tight around her bolt bow, she tried to walk past him, intending to sneak out there, using the boulders for cover. If she could stop the unarmored guy with the magtorch, she would delay the forced entry. God, would she be able to repair all the damage that had been done and get off this planet? She had some spare parts, but not that many.

Ariston caught her arm, keeping her from slipping through the hole next to him.

“Let me go,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “They’re almost through. I have to stop them before—”

“I’ll stop them,” he said. “You go see if you can knock out the pilot on their shuttle. Like I said, it should be two men max. You handle that, make sure that shuttle doesn’t take off, and I’ll keep these men from getting in your ship.”

“But—”

“You have my word,” he said fiercely, his faceplate close to hers.

She could see his features clearly through it, his dark brown eyes, olive skin, a strong jaw and sharp nose, a crease between his eyebrows as they drew together in an intense look. He was older than she’d expected after witnessing his athleticism, forty or forty-five. He was also a hell of a lot better looking than she’d expected.

Even though she had no reason to trust him, Mick had to admit he would be able to handle multiple opponents in armor more easily than she. And he seemed willing to do so. She just had to pray that he wouldn’t turn out to be a murderer himself and run inside and kill everybody under her charge.

Despite the doubts stampeding through her mind, she found herself believing him. Earlier, she’d been able to tell from his clumsy story and hesitations that he’d been lying. He seemed utterly serious now. And truthful.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Ariston released her and turned toward the hole. But he paused, looking back. “Before I risk my life for your ship and your scientists—” he said the word like he didn’t believe that’s what they were, “—what’s your name?”

“Mick,” she said, more because she didn’t want to delay than because she wanted to share it.

“Mick?” His brows drew together, emphasizing that slight furrow again.

“Technically, Michelle, but I hate that name. It’s too girlie.”

“Mick, it is then. May the gods be with you.”

And with that, he was gone, leaping from the ground in front of her to a boulder ten meters away. He landed in a crouch on top of it, sprang to another one, then dropped down to approach the ship on the opposite side from the hatch. Mick lost sight of him, but she had to trust that he would do as he’d said.

She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.

Following the map on her faceplate, Mick located the enemy shuttle about a half mile away and veered toward it. It had landed farther from the ruins than the Viper, probably clearing numerous boulders in the same way she had. She ran instead of walking, wanting to hurry up and secure the ship, then return to help protect her own.

But loud cracks made her falter. Gunshots.

Their enemies all had energy-based weapons like the bolt bows. That could only be Dr. Woodruff with his gun.

Did that mean Ariston had been too late? That the guy with the magtorch had already burst into the Viper? He and his armored buddies could be attacking her scientists while Ariston fought others outside. Bullets might work on someone in coveralls, but they’d be even more useless than bolt bows on armor. They would bounce right off.

Mick could see the top of the enemy shuttle over a few boulders, but the gun fired again. It sounded muffled, like it had come from inside the Viper.

Cursing, Mick changed routes. She sprinted toward her ship, almost caroming off boulders as she rounded them. She couldn’t risk all of her passengers being killed. It was bad enough Dr. Garcia had died.

The ship came into sight, as did orange en-bolts streaking all around one side of it. Shouts, roars, and cries of pain echoed off the boulders.

Mick came at her craft from the far side, so she couldn’t yet see the combatants. She ran under the shadow of the two wings on the port side, then eased toward the nose, her bolt bow ready. As she rounded the front of the craft, a figure came into sight, a flying figure. The armored man flew head over heels through the air to crack against a boulder fifteen meters away from her.

The armor was silver and blue rather than the mismatched white and gray of Ariston’s, so she assumed it belonged to an enemy. As the man rose to his feet, Mick fired. Knowing the armor would deflect all but a sustained blast, she held her finger down, aiming for the seam at his shoulder.

The man roared and turned toward her. He reached for his utility belt, but he must have lost whatever weapon he carried there. He realized it was gone and sprinted toward Mick, his hands outstretched.

She shifted her aim, pouring her fire right into his faceplate, still holding the trigger down. The man zigzagged his route, ducking his head and trying to avoid her en-bolts, but at this range, she could have hit a mosquito.

His legs bunched, and she expected him to spring for her, but some alarm must have gone off, warning him that his armor’s integrity was failing, because he bolted to the side. He jumped over a boulder and ran off into the wilderness.

A gunshot came from Mick’s left.

Someone in a yellow hazmat suit was leaning out of the open hatch—the hatch that had been forced open—and firing a gun. Woodruff?

His bullets ricocheted off a boulder. The man in coveralls crouched behind it, returning fire. Mick winced as en-bolts streaked toward the Viper. Woodruff ducked back into the airlock, and the beams slammed into the already damaged hull of the ship.

Growling, Mick took aim. From her position, she had a better bead on the man in coveralls and lined up her shot—he didn’t seem to have noticed her because he wasn’t ducking back behind the boulder. He was too busy shooting into the airlock, maybe trying to make his shots ricochet around inside the chamber to kill Woodruff.

Mick fired. She’d hesitated because he wasn’t in armor, and shooting him in the head could kill him, but he was trying to kill her people. She had no idea how or why she was in the middle of some lawless Wild West shootout, but she would end it, one way or another.

The man must have seen her at the last second because he jerked back behind the boulder. Her en-bolt still caught him. It looked like it grazed his temple.

Mick sprinted over the boulder-strewn ground, hoping she could get to him before he recovered. As she ran, another armored man flew overhead, this one sailing at least twenty meters before landing hard on the ground.

Just as Mick rounded the boulder where the injured man hid, an armored figure came up from behind him. Ariston. He gripped the unarmored man around the waist, hoisted him over his shoulder, and tore the bolt bow from his hands.

“You going to throw that one too?” Mick asked him. “I know those first two enjoyed their ride.” She glanced toward the one he’d just thrown, thinking he might run back into the fray, but he was crawling on hands and knees in the direction his comrade had already fled.

“I thought I’d make him my second prisoner,” Ariston said, ignoring the man’s kicking and pounding. Since he was in armor and his new prisoner was not, he could do that.

“Who’s your first?” Mick narrowed her eyes at him.

“You were.”

Were or are?

“Saying things like that doesn’t make me inclined toward liking you.” Mick thought about aiming her weapon at his chest, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. They were close enough that he could grab it from her or knock it aside. She hated to admit it, but he was a more experienced fighter than she was, and she had a feeling he had better armor than she did too.

“That’s unfortunate, but I’m still willing to consider releasing you if you fly me off this rock.”

“Love to, but I’m not sure about the status of my ship.”

A roar sounded in the distance, and Mick turned in time to see a sleek blue shuttle taking off. It flew straight up, no doubt heading to where the salvage ship waited.

“You didn’t go after that pilot,” Ariston said, sounding disappointed.

Mick winced, the ramifications sinking in. He had destroyed the other shuttle, and her ship looked like it wouldn’t take off again without a lot of repairs, repairs they might not have the resources to carry out here. Not only were they possibly stranded, but a bunch of their enemies were, too, men who would feel angry and vengeful that they were left behind.

“I started to,” Mick said, “but I heard gunshots. I thought my people were in trouble.”

She looked toward the Viper’s open hatch and spotted two yellow hoods peering out in her direction. One man pointed his gun toward Ariston uncertainly.

“That’s you over there, right, Captain?” one called. Woodruff. “Do you need help?”

Ariston grunted, probably amused at the idea of the little handgun doing something to “help” against his armor.

“We’ve got it under control for now,” Mick said, though she’d had little do to with it. In addition to the men Ariston had battered and hurled across the landing area, she spotted a couple others climbing to their feet and limping away.

“Guard this one,” Ariston said, shifting his burden to set the man in coveralls down. “I’ll try to round up the others before they escape.”

“Is it typical on your world for one prisoner to be charged with guarding another?” she asked.

“Captain!” Woodruff blurted, shifting his aim ninety degrees and firing toward the ruins.

Mick couldn’t see what he was firing at, but she ran in that direction.

Ariston dropped his prisoner and raced after her.

“Stop shooting, Woodruff,” Mick yelled, not wanting bullets ricocheting off her armor.

She ran around a clump of boulders and looked for his target. She didn’t see anyone. Had the person already fled?

“Did you see it?” Woodruff asked, a shake in his voice. What the hell had he seen?

“No.” Mick peered left and right, then looked at Ariston as he came up to her shoulder. “You see anything?”

“No,” he said, “and nothing’s on my sensors.” He gazed back in the direction they’d come from. His prisoner had disappeared. He sighed. “There’s one extra person to round up.”

“You sure you want to go back out there?” Mick asked, eyeing the deepening shadows among the boulders and the ruins. She found her gaze drawn to the top of the pyramid, to the dark stone temple or whatever it was up there. The shadows were especially thick under that roof, and she thought she saw something stirring in them. “This place is giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“The what? You flummoxed my translator.”

“It’s creepy. This place is creepy.”

“Ah. I don’t disagree, but we don’t want those men out there, thinking up trouble. When night falls, they might try to come up with ways to sabotage your ship.”

“My ship that’s the only way off the planet for anyone? Assuming we can get it working?”

Mick looked toward her people again—someone else had come out along with Woodruff. Someone with only a long stick for a weapon. Good grief, that wasn’t Dev’s soil sampler, was it? The two of them were gazing past Mick’s shoulder and toward the ruins, as if they saw something.

“I’d think those guys out there would rather stow away,” Mick added. “Or turn themselves in to get a ride.”

“They may expect the captain to send a shuttle back down to pick them up,” Ariston said.

“A shuttle we could possibly ambush and steal if we can’t get my ship working?” Mick winced at the question, hoping it was rhetorical. But she didn’t know and wouldn’t until she got the damage reports. Also, she was well aware that she wasn’t an engineer and couldn’t do anything miraculous when it came to repairs. She’d taken a class on simple repairs and keeping the ship running, but judging by those scorch marks and the dent in the engine section, it would need far more than that.

“Possibly.” Ariston tapped the side of his helmet thoughtfully. “The captain wouldn’t send a shuttle if his men were all captured, but he might if they’re still free. I’m not sure what they’re telling him, but the fact that I’m no longer receiving the comm chatter means I’ve been removed from the channel.” He lowered his hand. “I’d hoped to take them by surprise and move quickly, subduing everyone before they could report what exactly happened, but I may have overestimated my abilities.”

“I say we leave them running around, see if we can hack into their comm channel from my ship, and make plans according to what we hear.”

“Do you have a channel hacker?”

“And a jammer.” Mick smiled at him. “You should have asked for my help in the beginning. I could have kept them from contacting their mother ship.”

She thought he might have a quip or sarcastic response, but his gaze seemed troubled as he looked down at her. The devices had come with her ship, courtesy of the previous owner.

Belatedly, it occurred to her to wonder if such things might be illegal. But if they were, it would be in Confederation space, not way out here. As far as she’d heard, anything went in uninhabited systems.

“All right,” Ariston said. “I’ll take a look at your ship while you attempt to listen in on them.”

“Look at it? Because you want to see if it has a cell sufficient for storing prisoners or because you have some skills when it comes to fixing things?”

“I can answer both of those questions in the affirmative.”

He slung the strap of his bolt bow over his shoulder and walked toward the Viper.

Mick frowned after him, wondering if he truly considered her his prisoner and why. If he did, she would definitely find a way to disavow him of that notion.

She yawned as she walked, her eyelids gritty and heavy now that her blood was cooling. How long since she had slept? It didn’t seem like it had been an inordinately long time, but the afternoon’s events had left her weary.

She glanced toward the top of the pyramid again, thought she saw a dark figure lurking in the shadows, and hastened toward the ship. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her suit’s scanners detected a couple of people in the ruins, the injured men most likely, but did not register any life signs on or in the pyramid.