Lyk wanted to scowl but he kept his expression neutral. Years ago, his men had started tattooing a little black bird on themselves as a way of marking themselves as members of the crew he led. Lyk considered it foolish. After all, he’d left his home world because he wasn’t interested in ruling over others.
How ironic that men now wanted to wear his mark and heed his orders of their own volition, without a title or a royal lineage to back him up. Just because they wanted to follow his lead.
Fools.
The viewscreen showed their tasty target, close enough to gobble up in a flash. “Everyone to their stations. Let’s do this.”
He trusted his men to carry out their duties. To a man, they were brave, ambitious, and ruthless when it was called for. He’d cobbled together a crew from his former conquests, offeringthem a spot with him, perhaps as a means of assuaging his guilt at taking away their livelihoods.
Lyk stood at the navigation panel, waiting for the exact right moment to strike. He turned to Celdrake and nodded, watching as the cyborg brought the weapons array online. Taking a deep breath and holding it, the Raven laid his hand on the thrusters, causing the cruiser to shoot out of its hiding place, rocketing toward Rigellus’s cargo ship.
Lyk knew they’d be showing up on proximity sensors as soon as they cleared the asteroid field, but by then, they wouldn’t have much time to get weapons online and aimed before they took damage. Celdrake was brutally efficient, his precision strikes aimed to take out their shields before they could get their weapons aimed and ready. Thanks to the information the cyborg got from Rigellus’s crew member, Celdrake knew exactly which areas to target.
“We’re almost in range,” the cyborg announced. “Just get me a little closer.”
Lyk increased the thrust, and they hurtled even faster toward the other vessel. “They’ve seen us,” he muttered when the white lights on the ship’s hull flashed red.
“Won’t matter,” Celdrake replied, engaging the weapons system. Beams of hot light shot toward their targets, their impact causing a chain of explosions. “Got it!”
With no shields, Rigellus’s vessel could not withstand the Raven’s full-on onslaught. Lyk smiled. “Make contact with that ship.”
The image on the viewscreen shifted, revealing the bridge of the other vessel. His bulk settled into a large chair, Rigellus blew out the ends of his aquamarine mustache in anger. “What in the seven-known galaxies do you think you’re doing?”
Lyk ignored his question, looking the man over. He was an Ivorian, his gray skin waddled in rolls over his body. Beady blackeyes sat over a broad nose with wide nostrils, beneath which the tendrils of his mustache moved of their own accord. His vast form was covered in expensive fabrics, and he had the air of a man who was used to getting his own way.
Not today.
“Your shields are down, and I’ve got an array of weapons just waiting to tear your ship apart. Don’t give me a reason.”
Rigellus frowned at Lyk’s cold tone. “You don’t know who you’re playing with, Territhian. If I were you, I’d turn my ship around and drag my carcass to some unknown colony in the Outer Rim. I’m a powerful man, and you will regret this.”
Lyk laughed. “I know exactly who I’m playing with. Rigel Rigellus, the Slaver. You might line enough pockets to keep your little side business flourishing, but I’m not afraid of your political connections. Whatever authority you think you can throw at me, I’m confident I can thwart. Now, if you’re done blubbering, you can unlock your docking port and let my men inside, or we can see how long your crew can last without life support. Your luxury goods don’t require oxygen. Only you do.”
His mustache was squirming like crazy, as if the tendrils would uproot themselves and crawl off his face if possible. “You insolent rat. If you don’t—”
“Mister Celdrake, target that ship’s life-support systems.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” the cyborg responded, his grin excited.
“Wait!” Rigellus held a chubby hand up. “Let’s make a deal. You can have my cargo. My men will even load it onto your ship for you.”
“How kind. That means you’re unlocking the docking port?”
“Yes. But I ask you not to board my ship. As I said, my men will bring you the cargo.”
Lyk laughed, a big belly laugh that was taken up by Celdrake and the other men on the bridge. Rigellus sank lower in his seat and the Raven stared him down. “I wonder what you’re hiding,fat man. You must have something really good stashed if you don’t want me on your ship.”
Rigellus licked his lips and looked away. “It’s nothing.”
Lyk leaned in, intrigued. It was obvious Rigellus was hiding something. Too obvious. He didn’t trust the slaver, even less now. If Rigellus didn’t want him on the ship, why would he as much as say so? Something smelled rotten, even worse than the giant centipede plant.
Putting in coordinates to dock the ship against the slaver’s, Lyk cut the communications feed. “Something’s up.”
Celdrake glanced at him. “Yeah. He’s hiding something on that ship and he doesn’t want us to find it.”
“Then why would he be so obvious about it? He’s laying a trap for us.”
Scoffing, Celdrake shook his head. “Rigellus isn’t that smart. And he’s got zero time to lay any traps. You’re being paranoid.”
