I pressed the button.
A distant thump echoed through the habitat, and the emergency beacon screen printed out a series of words:
Beacon launch successful. Estimated rescue time: 11:59:32
“Three hours, my ass. Lying corporate bastards.” I muttered. Mostly to myself. The wrench definitely sympathized.
I checked the oxygen readout. 20%.
I stood there in the dim emergency lighting, listening to the habitat groan around me. The wind outside howled like something dying. Twelve hours. I had to survive twelve hours in a station that was actively trying to kill me, hoping the rescue ship arrived before whatever else was lurking out here.
Pirates it was. They definitely would get here faster than anything else.
Every deep-space scientist knew the stories. Beacons were public broadcasts—distress signals that anyone could pick up. Including the ships that made their living taking people who didn't want to be taken.
I ran to the airlock and slipped into an evac suit, catching a glimpse of myself in the viewport's reflection—wild copper hair escaping fromwhere I'd pinned it back, pale skin flushed from exertion, green eyes a little too wide. I looked exactly like a woman whose day had gone catastrophically sideways. I connected to the habitat’s mainframe and checked the oxygen levels.
15%
Shit, balls, fuck!
This day was going from bad to worse. I sealed my suit’s helmet, and the eighteen-hour internal oxygen supply countdown started. Well, at least I could cross off freezing and choking to death. I’ll take the win.
I reached for a wall as the ground trembled beneath my feet. My eyes snapped to the glass viewport above the airlock. A massive silhouette drifted through the storm clouds overhead. The screen on my helmet displayed the vessel’s signature:
ZORATHI CORSAIR-CLASS VESSEL
A ball of ice filled my stomach, and I stumbled forward. The pirates were already here. They must have already been in-system and micro-jumped as soon as the beacon launched. I picked up my wrench and wrapped both hands around it. I might not be as strong as they are or have a blaster, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Human Researcher. We have received your beacon. Your habitat’s life support systems have failed. State your condition.”
That had to be the captain—too confident, too calm, and just a little too amused for the chaos I was living through.
I toggled my mic. “Like you care. You’re just going to kill me or do other terrible things to me, so take your fake concern and shove it right up your ass, pirate scum!”
“Human Researcher,” another voice said. Kinder, gentler. “I am Lyrin, theStarbreakersmedic. I apologize for Captain Torvyn’s tone. We are here to help. I promise, no harm will come to you. I have locked onto your evac suit, and its readings are concerning me. Has your suit been damaged?”
“This is a waste of time, humans are trouble!” The first voice interrupted.
“Captain,” a deeper, smoother voice said, “I’m reading her scientific transmissions. She is… impressive.”
Well, that recognition was nice.Is he single?Wait, why am I thinking about that? I feel dizzy. What’s that sucking sound? I ran my hands down my suit legs and stopped. There was a golf ball-sized hole in my right suit leg.
“Guys, I think I am in trouble.”
“I thought you said she was intelligent?” The Captain said.
“Hey, you, I am smart. I’m a doctor. You're just a pirate,” I coughed out a sharp laugh. “Argh, matey. Let loose the main sails, you scaliwags!”
What was I saying?
“Captain,” Lyrin said, his voice tight. “She is suffering from oxygen deprivation. We need to rescue her now.”
“Fine, but I don’t trust her. For all we know, this is a trap. Land the ship. Kaedren, as soon as we touch down, pick her up.”
"You can't just—I didn't ask to be rescued by pirates!" I said, my voice thin and reedy. Even I could hear how ridiculous that sounded.Yes, please let me die with my principles intact. That'll show them.
"Fine by me. You can turn into a human-shaped ice cube for all I care. Prepare for the upper atmosphere."
