Lyk had learned to trust his gut. A pirate who didn’t follow his instincts didn’t last long. “I hope I am being paranoid, but I want everyone on high alert. I’m on lead.”
Celdrake’s eyes widened. “You’re lead? But I usually—”
“This isn’t a comment on your abilities. You’ll run point for me. But something sketchy is going on and I’m going to find out what it is myself.”
Lyk stepped away from his console, signaling one of his most trusted men to take his place and ordering him to mind the ship in his absence. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the exit, waiting for the cyborg to fall in step behind him.
The boarding party was already assembled at the airlock, ready to invade the slaver’s ship. “Keep your eyes open. Rigellus is setting some kind of trap for us, and I’m not in the business of casually risking lives. Everyone stays alert. Everyone keeps their comms on. If you see something strange, say something. Don’t hesitate. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain!” Their response echoed in the tight quarters.
Lyk nodded and took the lead position, opening the hatch and approaching the outer door of the other ship. He knocked hard, wondering if Rigellus would open his hatch or if Lyk would have to order his men to rain more fire down on the vessel.
It seemed Rigellus wasn’t prepared to risk his life support as the hatch opened quickly. There were several men standing there in bright red livery. Lyk thought they looked like dandies, not at all like his own rough and tumble crew.
“Three of you are with me. Celdrake, you keep the others with you.” He turned to the lead dandy. “I want you to take my men to the cargo hold.” Addressing another man in red livery, Lyk packed his voice with authority. “Take me to Rigellus.”
The walk to the bridge showed Lyk exactly what kind of man he was dealing with. Rigellus was clearly obsessed with showcasing his wealth. For a cargo vessel, the ship was decked out in high-end furnishings made from the most expensive materials. Why outfit a practical vehicle with such luxurious trappings? Was Rigellus that wealthy or just status-obsessed?
They reached the bridge, his men brandishing their weapons more than enough to cow the assembled crew. Rigellus didn’t bother to stand, and Lyk wondered if he could even lift his bulk out of his chair if he wanted to. “Nice ship you got here.”
The fat Ivorian scowled. “Just take the goods and go. I want your men off this ship as quickly as possible.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be out of your mustache hair before you know it.” Lyk stepped up to one of the consoles. “What’s the access code?”
Rigellus blew out a huge breath, agitating his mustache tendrils. “What do you need that for?”
Lyk looked over his shoulder, a half-smile on his face. He jerked his head in Rigellus’s direction, and one of his men held a weapon to the fat Ivorian’s head.
“Okay, okay!” Rigellus said, holding his hands up. He rattled off a series of letters and numbers that Lyk typed into the console pad. The screen unlocked, and Lyk quickly pulled up the manifest.
“You’ve got quite a list of luxury items here. I’m sure those entitled suckers in the Rings are just dying to get their hands on wooden armoires from Killian and sculptures from Orion’s Belt. They should fetch a pretty penny.”
Rigellus said nothing as Lyk scrolled through the list. It was a good haul, but it wasn’t everything. Lyk could sense it. “What else have you got?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything is in the cargo manifest.”
“Sure it is,” Lyk said, bringing up a schematic of the ship. He looked for likely hiding places, for spaces that seemed not to fit the actual dimensions of the ship. He’d gotten his start in smuggling, so he knew exactly what to look for.
“Keep him here,” Lyk said to his men. “I’m going to check something out.”
Although he required his men to remain in pairs, Lyk didn’t hold himself to the same standard. He was fearless and independent. At least that was what he told himself. In point of fact, some would say Lyk had a death wish.
He’d never been afraid to throw himself headlong into danger. After he’d left Vartik, he’d taken on any job, no matter how perilous. His courage had earned him respect and a following. His men thought he was brave or crazy. They never would have guessed that deep down, he was lonely.
He was tired of living an empty life. Going from score to score, growing his fortune and his crew. But it was all meaningless without someone to share it with. His family had meant everything to him when he was younger. Now, he onlyspoke to Kara and only in his mind. It had been decades since he’d seen any of the Vartik royal line in person.
Maybe it was regret that drove him. Or maybe it was the expanse that yawned inside him, never filled, always aching.
Whatever it was, it made Lyk feel invincible. Which was why he strode confidently down the corridor of Rigellus’s ship, his eyes on the junction in front of him. Behind the wall, he was certain there was a small hold hidden. He knew he’d find some means of opening the panel and revealing it. Lyk walked closer, already smiling at his own cleverness.
He didn’t hear the noises behind him until it was too late. Lyk pivoted, swinging out with a kick, ready to sweep the legs out from under whoever was creeping up on him.
The problem was, the creature didn’t have legs. It had wings. Without hesitating, it opened its mouth and spit out a cloud of gas that dropped Lyk to the floor with a groan.
His body lay there motionless, even as his mind started to panic. Above him, the creature with veiny, miniscule wings hovered, its bulbous face inspecting him. The damn thing shouldn’t even be able to fly, yet it had managed to incapacitate the Raven.
“Celdrake,” Lyk tried to cry into his comm, but his lips refused to move. His throat wouldn’t work. No words came from his mouth.
