Hierax jogged from engineering on the Zi’i warship toward the bridge.

Despite Dr. Tala’s unwillingness to prescribe an eight-hour nap for him, whatever drug she had injected him with had, as promised, made him perky. Three hours of tinkering with frustrating alien technology in the engine room hadn’t fazed him. He might drop into a coma when the drugs wore off, but with luck, they would be heading out of the system by then. Of course, the next system over was the one full of human-hating Scyllans and human-eating Zi’i, but he would pretend he only had the one problem for now.

The corridors of the warship were empty. Hierax had told Nax and Woo to get some sleep, since they had been working as long as he had, and he wasn’t the tyrant Sagitta was. He had come over by himself.

He curled his lip at the scent of wet fur and fermented araykai, which lingered in the passages like body odor in a locker full of unwashed gym clothes. He’d thought it might dissipate after the Zi’i had been kicked off their ship, but no such luck. Maybe he should have kept his armor—and his air-filtering helmet—on. He’d brought his suit over in case of emergency, but it was in its case by the airlock for now. He hated working in his armor. He’d done it the last time he’d been over here, because he’d worried Zi’i warriors might have eluded the scans and be lurking in maintenance shafts somewhere, but as the days passed, he deemed that less and less likely.

When the double doors opened to the bridge, he found Lieutenant Asan, the officer who was usually the nightshift helmsman on the Falcon 8, snoring in a folding seat someone had brought over.

Hierax couldn’t find it within himself to berate the man. Since Gunner had died on duty a few months earlier, Asan and Zakota were the only dedicated helmsmen on the Falcon. That worked fine when there was only one ship to fly, but spreading two helmsmen between two ships didn’t leave a lot of downtime.

At least the bridge smelled better than the corridors. And someone had cleaned up the blood and dead Zi’i bodies since the last time Hierax had been up here. A definite improvement.

He stopped beside the helm and poked Asan on the shoulder. The lieutenant woke with a start, his fluffy ball of curly red hair swaying and trembling like a shrub in a windstorm. It was the most unmanly haircut Hierax had ever seen, but since the helmsman otherwise weighed two hundred and fifty pounds and claimed axe-throwing as his most beloved hobby, people didn’t tease him about it often.

“You’re about to have work,” Hierax said when the lieutenant’s eyes focused on him.

“Is this the work I’ve heard about?” Asan stood up to check the stats on his console—someone had taped Dethocolean labels over most of them. “The impossible work that could end up with both ships crashing to the planet? Or perhaps crashing into each other in a spectacular fashion?”

“I’ve run the numbers and tweaked the Zi’i engines. My plan should work. If it doesn’t, we can drop the gate and fly free without crashing into anything.” Hierax winced at the idea of dropping the gate. It was their only way home, and even if the gates were durable enough to continue working for countless millennia in space, he doubted one could survive a fall from a great height. Or even a modest height.

“I feel like dropping and breaking an ancient Wanderer artifact would get me kicked out of the Star Guardians,” Asan said. “And fined so heavily that my great-grandchildren would be paying my debts.”

“I don’t think you can get fined for something that happens outside of Confederation space.”

“Want to bet on that, Chief?”

“No.” Hierax popped the display on his logostec into the air. “I’m going to send you the new estimates for available engine power.”

“You’re sure we’ll now be able to easily tow the gate into space?” Asan reached forward and tapped a device sitting on the corner of the helm.

“Easily? It’s going to be a fuel burn from Hades, and I’m worried about the Falcon 8’s ability to get home afterward, but if things go perfectly, we may make it.”

“Comforting.”

“Is that a gaming station?” Again, Hierax couldn’t imagine himself chastising the lieutenant if it was. Asan had to be bored between the stars over here by himself.

“An air filter, sir. Didn’t you notice the smell in here?”

Hierax sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

“Exactly.”

“Ah.”

“I’ve got a cooler back there with vitamin drinks, and a cot set up, too, since nobody’s been volunteering to relieve me.”

Hierax eyed the indicated spot. “Vitamin drinks?”

Asan smirked. “Naturally, sir. I wouldn’t bring contraband aboard the Falcon. You know how the captain feels about anything except approved rations. And beverages.”

“Uh huh.” As long as the lieutenant wasn’t drunk on duty, Hierax didn’t care. He tapped a holographic button. “Transmitting the engine stats.”

The bridge doors slid open, and Hierax spun toward them, dropping a hand to the stunner on his belt. He’d left his tools in engineering, so it was all he had if defense was required. Not that it should be. A Star Guardian team had used manual searches and life-form scanners to ensure all the Zi’i had been deposited in that shuttle they had launched before leaving the Scyllan System. Currently, the warship was flying in a parallel orbit with the Falcon 8, linked via the ships’ airlock hatches, a tube stretched between them so men could come and go. Only fellow crew members should be visiting.

Not that crew members couldn’t be trouble. What if the captain had come to resume his nipple chat?

To his surprise, Indi walked through the doors. She carried something wrapped in a towel. Angela, Treyjon, and one of the svenkars came in behind Indi, though Hierax barely noticed them, other than to note that Angela carried Dr. Tala’s violin.

He grinned at Indi and caught himself waving like a goofy kid.

Despite his invitation, he hadn’t expected her to come over to the warship. There was no true reason for her to be here, as far as he knew. He’d just wanted—well, he wasn’t sure exactly. Her company. Down on the planet, he’d come to appreciate it. And all right, he’d appreciated that kiss too. Maybe in the back of his mind, he’d been thinking that they would be far more likely to find a private—intimate—moment alone over here than they would on the ship. He always had a gazillion duties over there, and it was even worse now. It had been days since he’d been able to relax on his cot and play Razor Wars. If he were to invite Indi to engineering—had it been his imagination that she hadn’t been horrified by the idea of a date taking place there?—he wouldn’t even have time to trade riddles with her.

“You forgot something,” Indi said, shifting the towel to reveal the disabled drone that Lieutenant Ku had dropped off in sickbay.

“I didn’t think I would have time to tinker with it until we got the gate off the planet,” Hierax said. “Or is there something I don’t know? Did someone look at it and find something useful?”

With Nax and Woo off duty and likely asleep, he couldn’t imagine who that might have been.

“Dr. Tala looked at it—” Indi smirked, “—and said, ‘Get that thing out of sickbay or I’ll throw it in the garbage compactor.’”

“Huh, I thought she had more of an appreciation for science than that.”

“She was afraid it would regenerate itself and start zapping people.”

“That seems unlikely, but I’ll take it. Lieutenant Asan needs a matching paperweight to go with his air filter.” Hierax walked over and accepted the drone, their hands brushing as he did, something that was much more appealing now that neither one of them wore armor.

A low growl from the side distracted him from appreciating the sensation fully. The svenkar prowled onto the bridge, leaving a puddle of drool where it had been standing.

“Should I be concerned about that?” Asan asked, watching the four-hundred-pound creature circle the bridge.

“The svenkar or the drool?” Hierax asked.

“It’s mostly the svenkar’s fangs that have captured my attention.”

“Lulu doesn’t like this ship,” Angela said.

“It stinks of Zi’i,” Treyjon said, “and she knows those are enemies.”

Hierax frowned at him. “You don’t suspect any of being on board, do you?” Why else would the captain have sent his tracker—and tracker in training—with one of his beasts? “I thought they were all routed out days ago.”

“They should have been, but the captain wants us to take another quick pass with Lulu,” Treyjon said. “Just to make sure. It would be extremely inconvenient for a Zi’i to sabotage the ship while we’re trying to get the gate into space.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Nobody told me it was possible that some Zi’i remained,” Asan said, his voice a touch higher than usual as he glanced toward his cot. He had to be thinking about the times he’d been sleeping, the only human on the ship. Alone and vulnerable.

That notion would scare Hierax too.

“It’s not likely.” Treyjon waved a dismissive hand. “We did a thorough search before. This is just a precaution.”

Asan didn’t appear that reassured.

“I guess that explains why you two—three—are here,” Hierax said, nodding at Treyjon, Angela, and the svenkar. “Did the captain send you, too, Indi, or did you just come because I asked and you couldn’t resist my charm?”

“He said I could come.” Indi smiled at him but, sadly, didn’t confess that his charm was irresistible. “So I can be close to the gate when it’s time to play the musical commands.”

Now that she wasn’t holding the drone, Indi turned toward Angela, who handed her the violin.

“Juanita was envious,” Indi added, still smiling.

Hierax almost pointed out that she could have played the instrument over the comm from either ship, but caught himself. He wanted her over here. For quiet, intimate moments. Granted, finding a quiet spot for intimacy might be more challenging with the svenkar panting its fetid breath at them. Would Treyjon, Angela, and Lulu stay over here the whole way out to the broken gate?

Hierax supposed it was unprofessional to think of such things now. There would be time aplenty for dates in engineering once they got out of here.

Assuming the Falcon 8 wasn’t able to take the women straight home. They had to at least go back to Dethocoles and check on their home world first, right? Hierax wouldn’t wish for a war, but it wasn’t bad to wish for delays, certainly. Bureaucratic kerfuffles that allowed time for dates.

A growl came from one of the stations ringing the bridge. The svenkar had her snout to the deck, sniffing and baring her fangs. Her leathery tail stuck straight out.

“Does she think she’s on the trail of something?” Angela asked Treyjon. “That’s her tracking tail, isn’t it?”

“Yes, she probably just smells the Zi’i that worked there.”

“I think one died in that spot,” Hierax said. “When we rushed in to rescue the captain, he’d killed three or four of them single-handedly. He makes it hard to charge in heroically. All I got to do was pick up his helmet for him.”

“Let’s take her through the corridors,” Treyjon said, watching the svenkar. “See if there are any fresh scents to pick up.”

Asan grimaced.

A concerned look creased Indi’s forehead. She probably hadn’t imagined Zi’i warriors in hiding when she’d volunteered to bring the violin—and herself—over here.

“I doubt there are,” Hierax said to her. “They would have come up and snacked on Lieutenant Asan days ago if they were here.”

“Gee, thanks, Chief.”

“Lulu,” Treyjon said. “Want to go for a walk?”

Lulu whined and thrust her snout under a console, her tail swishing in the air behind her. The svenkar had probably found dried blood it wanted to lick up. However disgusting that was.

Treyjon draped an arm around Angela’s shoulders and turned toward the lift.

“Come, Lulu,” Angela said more sternly, her chin high.

The svenkar’s tail swished a few times before she lifted her head and gazed across the bridge at her handlers. The big predators never appeared to be fully under control to Hierax. He wouldn’t be surprised if one day one or all of them randomly decided to eat Treyjon. And Angela.

“Come,” Angela repeated, her eyes full of steel as she held the svenkar’s gaze.

Lulu yawned, then trotted over to her side. All three of them walked into the lift together, the doors sliding shut behind them.

“That is one odd couple,” Asan said. “Er, trio.”

“I think Angela and Treyjon are perfect for each other,” Indi said.

“And the svenkar?” Asan asked.

“I think the svenkar stays in her kennel when they’re… coupling.”

Hierax shook his head, having little interest in others’ mating practices. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d realized Treyjon had found a mate until that day.

“You have those new numbers entered, Asan?” he asked.

“Almost, Chief.” Asan bent over the console.

Hierax suspected “almost” meant “I haven’t started yet.”

His logostec beeped.

“You ready to go down and get that gate, Hierax?” the captain asked, presumably from the bridge of the Falcon 8. He was probably breathing down Zakota’s neck even more than Hierax was pestering Asan.

“Almost, sir.” Hierax smirked wryly, knowing he was echoing Asan. But he’d done his job. He was just waiting for adjustments at the helm. “Ten minutes.”

“I’ve got the helm programmed now,” Asan said. “We’re ready here. This shows that the Zi’i ship will tow eighty-one percent of the weight and that the Falcon 8 will pull the rest. That gate is a monolith. Even with the engine modifications, we’re going to be cutting it close.”

“I know.” Hierax predicted that more than a few systems would blow when they made the final push. He wanted things blowing on the warship and not on his fire falcon. “Once we get into space, the fire falcon can tow the ship without trouble. If the warship doesn’t make it…” Hierax shrugged. He suspected the captain wanted to take it home as a war prize, but Sagitta might have to be happy with getting the Falcon 8 home.

Hierax gave Indi a bleak look. He hadn’t been thinking about the possible dangers when he’d invited her over here, but maybe it would be a good idea to send her back.

“Should I have stayed on the other ship?” Indi asked, reading his mind.

“You probably should go back now,” Hierax said. “You can play the notes from the bridge of the Falcon. And it’ll be safer for you over there. The Falcon isn’t expendable.”

“What happens if the warship poops out while you and Lieutenant Asan are on it?”

“We either get forced to land, and the Falcon comes back down to get us once the gate is free of the planet’s gravitational pull, or we suit up in our armor, shoot ourselves out the airlock, and hope to be rescued later.”

“Does your armor have a parachute?”

“No.” His mouth twisted. “I’ll do my best to make sure we’ve escaped the planet’s gravity first.”

“And if that doesn’t happen?” Indi asked, her eyes grave.

“Well, depending on how far we get before the ship dies, it’ll probably take a long time to fall all the way to the ground. There’s a chance the Falcon could finish with the gate, zip down, catch us in their tow beam, and save our lives.” Hierax hated to depend on others, so he would do everything possible to make sure the warship reached escape velocity. With the damn gate in its clutches too.

Indi’s expression turned from grave to horrified. “How long?”

“Would we have to fall? If we made it up to geosynchronous orbit on this planet with its gravity…” Hierax paused to run the equation. “Almost four hours.” He patted her on the arm. “That’s a long time for rescuing.”

“Unless you have a heart attack while you’re falling,” Asan muttered.

“I’d call you a wimp, but I’ve seen your axe collection.”

“I should have brought a few pieces over to threaten you with in case you start contemplating scenarios that will result in us falling four hours to the ground.”

“It’s against regulations for lieutenants to throw axes at commanders, especially commanders who are chiefs of engineering.”

“Sounds like a dumb reg.” Asan took a deep breath and rested his hands to either side of his console. “I’ve been coordinating with Zakota. We’re both ready to do this.”

“Good. Find whatever passes for an intercom on here, and tell Treyjon to finish up with the svenkars. Given the risk, there’s no good reason for him and his trainee to stay over here.” Hierax turned to Indi and wondered if Asan would say anything if he hugged her. Did Hierax care even if the lieutenant did say something?

“I would like to stay,” Indi said, startling him. “I brought over the armor you lent me in case I needed it. Granted, I was thinking of something happening to the ship’s environmental control system, not falling four hours to the ground, but… I’d like to stay.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

She hadn’t even wanted to leave the Falcon 8 to explore the city when the ship had been set down right on top of it. Admittedly, she seemed to have gained some courage since then—or maybe it was confidence in herself and her ability to be useful out here?—but she would be deliberately choosing to put herself in a dangerous situation.

“First off,” Indi said, “for whatever reason, I seem to be the alien AI’s chosen conduit. If we get in trouble, maybe the AI will scan me again and deposit some useful information. Preferably without causing me to have another seizure.”

There was some truth to that possibility. Hierax wouldn’t count on the AI caring what happened to Indi now that she was no longer on the planet, but maybe it would help them all the way out of the system.

“And second,” Indi said, her voice much lower, “I’d like to make sure you don’t do anything suicidal. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you’ve been watching out for me since we first left the ship. Maybe my presence here will give you more of a reason to find a way to make everything work out all right.”

She glanced at Asan, maybe thinking he might object that she would matter more to Hierax than he would, but Asan and Zakota were muttering to each other on their own channel. The view screen at the front of the bridge had shifted from showing space to showing the surface of the planet, the city where they’d been earlier.

They were going in to pick up the gate. It might already be too late for Indi to leave.

“All right, then,” Hierax said. There was no point in arguing now. “Want to accompany me down to engineering? If the chariot splatters shit everywhere, that’s where it’ll land.”

“That’s an interesting expression,” Indi said.

“We Dethocoleans are interesting people.”

“You are, at least. Quite interesting.”

“That’s what all the ladies say,” Hierax said.

“Yeah, before they proclaim him a freak and run away,” Asan muttered.

“What was that, Lieutenant?”

“Nothing, sir. Just talking to Zakota.”

“Just so you know, lieutenants go out the airlock first.” Hierax extended his arm toward the lift. “Join me, Indi?”

“Of course.” Indi walked into the lift with him.

When the doors closed behind them, she said, “You’re not a freak.”

“Just interesting?”

“Quite interesting.” She rose on her tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, and wrapped her arms around him for a hug.

It surprised his brain so much that all his thoughts stuttered to a stop. That never happened. Fortunately, some primitive instincts kicked in, informing him that this was a good thing and that it would be even better if he hugged her back.

As the lift descended into the ship, Hierax wrapped his arms around her, relishing the way her body molded to his, the way she felt in his arms. Thoughts of kissing her sprang to his mind. The hug was nice, especially the way she seemed to want to physically reassure him that he was not a freak, but he would love to do more, to touch his lips to hers, to taste her, to breathe in her scent.

The lift doors opened, and she lowered her arms. With great reluctance, he lowered his, wishing the ride had taken much, much longer.

But he couldn’t be too disappointed. She thought he was interesting, and she liked that. What could be better?