Angela gripped her stunner so tightly that she could see the whites of her knuckles. She willed herself to relax her hand—the damn thing might accidentally go off with the way she held it now—and she focused on not making any noise as she followed Treyjon through the main corridor of the ship.

It wound in a circle, with heavy metal hatches lining it on both sides. Here and there, stubs of corridors opened to their right, toward the interior of the ship. From the map Treyjon had pulled up earlier, she knew the ship was shaped like the number eight, with the bottom part representing the big cargo hold and the top half everything else.

A hatch opened to Angela’s left, and she stumbled back as a man came into view. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

Treyjon had already passed the spot, but he whirled back. He jerked his stunner up to fire, but he seemed to think he might catch Angela with the nimbus if he did so. She hesitated to fire for the same reason. The man jumped out, lunging for Treyjon.

He dodged a punch and grappled with the crewman. Angela scooted back farther so she would be out of Treyjon’s way if he wanted to fire.

Someone grabbed her shoulder. “Who are you?”

“Housekeeping,” she blurted.

Angela tried to whirl toward the person, but a hand went around her throat and squeezed.

She twisted her arm and fired under her armpit, having no idea if she would be affected as well. Blue energy flashed around her, and the nerves in her back sizzled as if she’d been struck by lightning.

The hand fell away from her neck, but she stumbled, her legs wobbly. She caught herself on the wall and used it to push herself around. The man who’d grabbed her, a hulking guy with a huge belly and flapping jowls, was also stumbling. She fired again.

He fell backward, hit the deck, and didn’t move.

Angela turned, ready to help Treyjon if he needed it.

He’d already knocked out his foe and was dragging the man into the cabin he’d unexpectedly emerged from. She was surprised he hadn’t waited on that to first make sure she didn’t need help.

He must have guessed at her thoughts when he looked toward her. “I knew you could rescue yourself.” He winked.

“I guess it’s a burden being me too.”

He grinned as he belted the man’s wrists behind his back. He passed her and dragged the big one toward the same cabin, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulging as he did so.

“Remind me to get turned on by that later,” Angela said.

“Large enemies that jiggle as they’re dragged across the deck?”

“You and your pretty arms.”

“Ah.”

The big man was in something akin to pajamas and didn’t have a belt on. Treyjon sighed and simply stuffed him into the room with the other man.

“They’re going to start waking up soon, and we’ll have problems,” he said, pulling the hatch shut.

“We better find the captain quickly.”

“Yes. This way.”

Treyjon jogged as he headed up the corridor again. He glanced back at her as she followed on his heels.

“Pretty?” he asked.

“What?”

“My arms. I was hoping they would be considered manly. Maybe handsome. I’m not sure about pretty. That’s for girls, isn’t it?”

“Do you really want to discuss that now?”

“I’d hate to die, thinking I was pretty instead of manly.”

“How about pretty manly?”

“I guess that’ll have to do.”

Treyjon stopped at the third to the last hatch in the corridor. Up ahead, their passage ended by opening into a larger space, and Angela glimpsed glowing indicators on control panels and also a window, or maybe a view screen, that showed a black starry sky. Had they already left the planet and entered space? How would they get back?

Treyjon shoved open the hatch to their side and jumped into a cabin, his stunner pointing all around. But he soon lowered it.

“He’s not here,” he whispered, stepping out. “No secret orders written on parchment lying on his desk, either.”

“Were you expecting that?”

“Just lamenting that it isn’t done that way anymore.”

He also glanced toward the opening at the end of the corridor. The bridge? Someone up there spoke, and someone else answered, but Angela couldn’t hear the words. She also couldn’t tell how many people were in there.

“If we shoot the pilot,” she whispered, “does the ship crash?”

“Probably not immediately—nothing to crash into out here. But I can’t pilot it back, if that’s what you’re wondering. That’s beyond my training level.” He grimaced, looking a little disappointed to have to admit that to her.

As if she’d expected him to be able to fly.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty manly,” she whispered.

He smiled, held a finger to his lips, and trotted up there, his boots not making a sound as he moved.

Angela trailed after him, but paused when a stench assaulted her nose. Treyjon ran past an open hatch door, frowning as he glanced in, but continued on to the bridge. She peered through the hatchway and found the source of the stench.

A svenkar chained against the back wall of a cabin snarled at her. The cabin was free of furniture, carpeting, and the dog-bed equivalents the svenkars on Treyjon’s ship had. Feces and puddles of urine stained the deck in one corner. The bare walls held what looked like cattle prods that could deliver an electrical charge. The svenkar itself was a big male with sores and lacerations marring its leathery skin. That skin lacked the healthy sheen of the ones in Treyjon’s care. The svenkar snapped at the air. It didn’t look happy with her or its condition.

“I wish I could free you to eat your keepers,” Angela whispered.

She eyed the thick metal ring fastening the svenkar’s chain to the wall. She could have reached in to unhook the animal, but not without getting close enough for it to bite her. Though she liked to think she had a knack with animals, she didn’t have any delusions about a strange predator believing she was a friend.

She did spot a cabinet to the right of the door with a jar that looked like dehydrated liver treats for dogs sitting on the top. There was also something in a can that reminded Angela of spray cheese. She had no idea what the label said, but there was a picture of a steak on the front.

Though she doubted she should waste time, she stepped inside and opened the jar. Maybe if she tossed the creature a few treats now, it wouldn’t snap at her if they met up later. And maybe if she had some treats in her pocket, she could use them on the svenkar in the cargo hold. She assumed she and Treyjon would have to leave through the cargo hold once they figured out how to make the ship land. They would have to deal with that female eventually.

The slavering, snapping svenkar ceased its aggressive posturing as soon as she picked up the jar of treats.

“Some things are universal,” Angela murmured, unscrewing the lid.

She tossed three treats to the svenkar, doubting she had time to do any actual training or to establish a rapport. It snapped its mouth so fast that it plucked all three out of the air before they hit the deck.

“Favorites, huh?” she whispered, stuffing a number of them into the pocket in her dress. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much of a pocket, and the treats would fly out if she had to run.

She grabbed the spray can, figuring it would be easy to hold in her hand. To test it, she raised it and pointed it toward the svenkar. The male sat on his haunches and tilted his head attentively. She pulled the trigger, afraid whatever it was would dribble out and plop on the deck in front of her. But whoever had designed it might have anticipated shooting it across a room into a svenkar mouth. A string of brownish red goop arched across the cabin with impressive velocity.

“Okay, more like Silly String than spray cheese,” Angela said as the svenkar snapped at the strings of goop.

Some of them got past even the lightning fast snout and splattered onto the deck as well as its hide. It promptly licked up both spots. At least it would have something to do instead of drawing attention to her and Treyjon sneaking around in the corridor. And more importantly, if she sprayed it at the loose svenkar in the cargo hold, the female might go for the treat instead of her and Treyjon.

A shout came from the bridge, followed by a thump.

Angela rushed back into the corridor, the spray can in one hand and the stunner in the other. She thought Treyjon might need help, but he was already walking out of the room. Two men and a woman lay unconscious, either crumpled in their seats or down on the deck.

He looked down at the treat can. “I’ve never had my backup charge into a room, carrying a can of Treat-Tak.”

“I’m unique backup.”

He smiled. “Yes, you are.”

The smile dropped as he glanced at his logostec. “If we don’t find the captain in about five minutes, we’re going to have to go back to the cargo hold and start finding a more permanent way to take care of the people we’ve knocked out. I doubt a freighter has a brig, but that would be convenient.”

Angela was surprised he said we would have to do these things. So far, she hadn’t done much to help him. She wished she could do more.

“Can we put them in a cabin and lock the door?” she suggested.

“The locks are electronic. They’ll respond to the crew instead of me.” As they left the bridge, Treyjon looked into the cabin where the svenkar was still licking the deck. “The captain was going to meet the ambassador in the mess hall, wasn’t he?”

“I think so.”

“This way.” He tilted his head, then returned to one of the short stubs that they’d passed.

The hatch at the end stood open. Angela didn’t think it had been that way before.

Treyjon went first, his stunner ready.

Voices floated out of the room—the mess hall?—and he paused a few feet from the open hatch.

“…as long as you’re willing to talk to your people, that’s all I ask,” a man said. He sounded like he was close to the hatch. The captain on his way out after the meeting?

Treyjon flattened his back to the bulkhead and waved for Angela to do the same.

“Of course. I am intrigued by your offer.” That was the Zi’i, the words sounding as snarls and growls before Angela’s chip translated them in her ear. “I believe they will be intrigued too. But my chiefs will also point out that you are nobody of import in your world and you don’t have the right to offer such a prize.”

“I’m not offering the planet, just the location of it. It’s not covered by the treaty, so if you want to swoop in and claim it—or harvest hordes of the billions of humans that live there—while the government is dithering around here, then nobody can object. If they do, they won’t have legal legs to stand on.”

Angela felt her mouth drop open. Billions of humans. Were they talking about Earth? And harvesting humans? Her family? Her friends?

Treyjon looked toward her, his face grim.

“It could start another war,” the ambassador said.

“Maybe, but you could get in and out quickly if you wanted, and my government might never find out. My resources tell me that they’re voting not to have anything to do with the planet, so they won’t be in communication with the leaders there. The people will be on their own, and from the intelligence we’ve gathered, it doesn’t sound like the planet has the means to fight off a space attack. The handful of tiny ships they have don’t leave the orbit of their own planet.”

They were talking about Earth.

“They wouldn’t be able to fight back or escape,” the man continued. “You could take your young warriors down to the surface for the greatest hunt they’ve ever known.”

The Zi’i made a rasping noise that raised the hairs on Angela’s neck. The chip translated it as laughter.

“You are enticing me, human, but it’s my government you must sway, not me.”

“But you think they’ll agree? What we ask is so small. Your people aren’t even using that moon. I’ll give them the coordinates to Gaia, and they sign a treaty with me, promising that our company can harvest plants and manufacture—”

Noisy sniffing interrupted the man.

Treyjon lifted his stunner again.

“What is it?” the man asked.

“Humans are listening to us. Have you no privacy from your crew?”

Treyjon leaped into action before the captain could peer out at them. He sprang through the open door and fired the stunner.

A thump sounded—the captain hitting the ground?

Treyjon whirled toward a second target, firing again. But he either missed or the stun technology didn’t work on Zi’i. The massive alien slammed into him, hurling him ten feet into a wall. Treyjon cried out, and Angela heard something that sounded like bone crunching.

“Shit,” she whispered, rushing to the hatchway.

Treyjon roared and fought back, but the alien had to weigh as much as a svenkar, and seemed just as muscular and powerful. It smothered him against the wall.

Angela fired the stunner, her only thought that it was better to knock out both of them than neither.

But the blue nimbus of energy hit the Zi’i and did nothing.

Fortunately, none of it seemed to get through to Treyjon, and he continued to fight. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to matter. The alien had caught him by surprise, and he was in a helpless position.

The Zi’i threw back its head in what looked like a roar of pain. Treyjon also roared. It sounded like a battle roar. Good.

The alien reared back on two legs like a bear, almost cracking its big head on the ceiling, and Angela glimpsed Treyjon. His face was bloody and contorted with pain, but he gripped a dagger in one hand.

He lunged in, slashing at the alien’s exposed stomach. But the Zi’i dropped down to protect itself and also to ready another attack. Its haunches bunched, and it sprang.

Treyjon dove to the side, rolled, and came up with his back against the wall near the door. He glanced at Angela as the Zi’i spun toward him.

“Get out of here,” he barked. “Get on the comm. Call the capt—”

The alien sprang again, and he didn’t get to finish. This time, instead of dodging, he rushed in, leading with the dagger. The blade moved so quickly it blurred, and it sank into fur and flesh. But the Zi’i pushed into him even as it cried out in pain. Its huge arms gripped Treyjon, and claws tore into his vest—and his flesh.

Feeling utterly helpless, Angela lifted the stunner in her hand. But there was no point in firing again. She looked at the treat can and laughed without humor. That wouldn’t do any good, either. Not unless she could use it to convince the svenkar to attack the Zi’i. That might even the odds.

And with that thought, inspiration came.

The Zi’i had its back to her now. Treyjon must have stabbed it more times, enough to make it loosen its grip, because he was free, ducking and dodging as it swiped at him with deadly claws.

Angela aimed carefully and sprayed the steak-flavored stuff all over the alien’s back. She expected the ambassador to whirl and lunge at her, but it either didn’t feel it or it judged Treyjon the bigger threat and didn’t look at her.

“Your mistake,” she whispered, then raced down the corridor to the svenkar’s cabin.

The beast started to snarl when she ran in, but must have seen the can, or maybe it remembered its earlier treats. She tossed a few more to it just to remind it that it liked her. Then she grabbed the clip attaching its chain to the hook on the wall and unfastened it.

She dropped it and called, “This way,” waving the can as she backed out of the cabin.

The svenkar followed so quickly, those saliva-dripping fangs closing on her, that her heart jumped into her throat. But the creature didn’t attack. It looked at the can.

Not wanting it to decide to take it by force, Angela turned and ran toward the mess hall. Treats flew out of her flimsy dress pocket. That wasn’t a bad thing, since the svenkar paused to lick them up instead of bowling her over to get at the can.

When she ran into the mess hall, the fight was still raging. Treyjon flew through the air, landing on a table and bouncing off. Somehow, he twisted to come down on his feet. He yanked a throwing knife out of a leg sheath and flung it across the table. It sank into the alien’s eye, and it froze, roaring in pain.

The svenkar rushed past Angela, knocking her to the side in its eagerness to get into the room. Treyjon looked at her, and his hand twitched, as if he could help her from way over there.

She found her balance and started to say she was fine, but the alien’s roar drowned out everything. It was looking at the svenkar flying through the air at it. The Zi’i bled from a dozen wounds, and the hilt of the throwing knife stuck out of its eye, but it lunged at the svenkar, meeting it before it landed. The alien rammed a fist into the svenkar’s chest. The animal flew backward, despite its mass.

It landed on its feet. Instead of jumping again, it ran straight in, snapping at the alien’s leg. The Zi’i tried to back up, but the svenkar was too fast. Its sturdy jaws locked around the alien’s leg, and bone crunched audibly.

Treyjon ran to Angela’s side as alien and svenkar battled like pit bulls in some illegal street fight.

“I told you to get out of here,” Treyjon blurted, grabbing his side. He wasn’t bleeding from as many places as the alien, but his face twisted with pain.

“We’re on a spaceship flying out of orbit. Where would I go?”

His face froze somewhere between startlement and laughter. Just as the latter started to win out, an ominous snap echoed through the room.

Angela turned, afraid the svenkar had been killed. It had just wanted treats, and she’d tricked it into this battle. If it died…

But it was the Zi’i ambassador that lay dead on the deck, its neck broken. In a parody of sanity, the svenkar stood meekly beside the alien, licking the sprayed gunk off its fur.

Treyjon, jaw dangling open, looked from the svenkar to the can clenched in Angela’s hand.

“I guess I shouldn’t have joked about backup charging in with Treat-Tak,” he said, recovering from some of his shock to smile at her.

She might have smiled back, but the ramifications of her actions were sinking in. For the second time, a svenkar under her control, however mildly, had killed someone in front of her eyes. True, the four-legged, furry Zi’i ambassador didn’t seem quite the same as a human being, but he’d spoken and clearly been intelligent. Was it truly any different from killing a human? And for that matter, could she even consider the Zi’i ambassador a bad guy?

He’d seemed willing to go along with what the captain had proposed, the captain who was only unconscious, despite apparently being a mastermind in a plot that could have ended up with Earth being overrun by carnivorous aliens that feasted on humans.

“He’s the one who should be dead,” she whispered, glowering at the man.

“Nah.” Though he was clearly injured, Treyjon reached down and hoisted up the unconscious man. “He’s going to have a lot to answer for under truth drugs. And we want that, otherwise we have to explain how we came to kill a planetary ambassador.” He grimaced deeply. “As much as I think your move was brilliant, and I appreciate you coming to help me, that’s—the political ramifications, not just for me but for humanity as a whole… We could be in fucking big trouble for this.”

“You and me, or all of mankind?”

He shook his head grimly. “Yes.”