“You didn’t steal me, you won me in a card game.”
“I cheated. So, you’re stolen.”
“And you love me.” A sniff. “Besides, without me, you’d be lost…or dead.”
Eos raised a brow. “She has a point.”
“Don’t agree with her, Eos,” Dathan pleaded. “She’s not really a girl, you don’t have to stick together.”
Eos turned away from him. “BEll, can you display a map of old Earth, please?”
“Someone with some manners. So refreshing.” A map appeared on the screen.
Eos pointed. “From what Nik and I have pieced together, the derringer has a fascinating history. It was utilized by an assassin who used it to kill Abraham Lincoln. From what we know about Lincoln, he was a great man and a great leader. The assassin…I think his name was Booth, but I can’t corroborate that yet, shot Lincoln while he was out watching a play.” Eos’ face came alive, as it always did when talking about Terran history. “The assassination took place here.” She stabbed a finger at the map.
Zayn leaned forward. “Washington D.C. That was the capital of the United States before it became the United Countries of America.”
Nik stepped in. “Correct. The theatre later became a museum, and the derringer was housed there. It was feared destroyed during the nuclear devastation of the Terran War. But while the world was fighting over everything, even over whether they should call the planet Earth or Terra, rumors have always persisted that the derringer and other presidential treasures were smuggled out of Washington D.C. by loyalists. That they possibly made it to the Pacific Federation capital in Sydney, Australia—” he touched a spot on the map, then another “—or maybe were stolen by the Northern Federation. But after that…nothing.”
Zayn frowned. “Until our mystery female treasure hunter appears saying it’s in the Devil’s Nebula.”
“We have to find it.” Eos’ voice was firm.
“It must be worth a huge fortune,” Dathan said.
She shot her husband a sharp look. “This is an important piece of history. I can’t bear the thought of one of the guilds having it. Wasting it. Wrecking it.”
Dathan smoothed a hand over her shoulder. “Okay, okay. Then we’ll get it back.”
Zayn resisted the urge to kick the holo-table. “So we just wait around for the mystery woman to make contact?”
“I’m running some searches for blonde females from the Devil’s Nebula, seeing if I can identify her.” Nik shrugged. “But it isn’t much to go on.”
“For now, we stock up on supplies.” Dathan looked at Zayn. “Have theInfinitasready to fly at short notice. If the woman makes a move, we’ll be ready.”
Zayn nodded. “Mal and I did some maintenance on the engines. And I’m just finishing upgrading the gravity plating. She’ll be ready.”
“So, we wait,” Dathan said.
Not something Zayn was good at. Twenty minutes later, he headed to his quarters. He wasn’t good company and the edginess inside him was driving him crazy. He felt like a million Argent fire ants were crawling all over him.
He considered taking theInfinitasfor a run, but it would just be a waste of fuel. Maybe he’d take out the smaller space runner he’d been rebuilding in his spare time.
He flopped on his gel bed, trying to enjoy the undulations beneath him. The runner still needed work and wasn’t ready for much action yet. He snatched his entertainment visor from the bedside table and slipped it on. Maybe a little simulation would take his mind off things.
Instantly he was in the cockpit of an old Earth fighter jet. He’d always been obsessed by them when he was young. He saw them as an early precursor to the Talons he’d flown with the Strike Wing. Sleek, sexy, and powerful.
The engines fired and then the plane was racing down the deck of a ship. He pulled at the controls and then he was airborne. The plane soared out high over a vast expanse of azure water. All Zayn could see was ocean, all the way to the horizon. They said what was left of Earth today still had oceans—but they were black with sludge and full of mutated sea creatures from the nuclear fallout of the war.
The plane roared through the sky, and he turned it into intricate maneuvers.Speed. It fueled his blood, made him forget. He pushed the plane, feeling the G-force pushing him back in his seat. Modern starships could adjust for acceleration forces, so flying wasn’t quite as physical as it had once been. But reflexes were still important and his were honed superfine.
But none of that had helped him when he’d needed it most.
The simulation, linked to his thoughts, morphed. He was back in his TH47 Talon. Ahead, he saw a neon-red haze fill the sky. The ocean beneath him turned into the impenetrable dark of space, dotted with bright, white stars.
The Devil’s Nebula enclosed him, trapped him.
Ahead he saw Lucifa, the hunk of rock the criminals, slavers, thieves, and killers called home.
