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Following him, Rann secured the seals. His hands knew the sequence without needing his attention, which left far too much of it free to wonder what was happening aboard the other ship.

How long had B been alone with those males? Had they kept the females together?

He checked the next fastening harder than necessary.

Jex handed him his weaponry as they walked. Taking each piece, Rann secured it with the ease of long practice. Ahead of him, the cyborg’s massive shoulder-mounted guns lay dormant behind the Scorperio suit’s shoulders, folded like wings over his shoulder blades.

Humanity had made that.

He still struggled with the thought sometimes. They’d built something so perfectly suited to war that it would destroy its own pilot. All that firepower, all that armored strength… and the poor bastard inside could burn out trying to use it. Jex didn’t have that problem.

“I’ve identified the best place to board, but they’re running some kind of jamming countermeasures so I can’t get access to their main computer or recover a deck layout until I’m actually aboard.”

Rann nodded, checking his weaponry. He didn’t question whether Jex could get access once they were aboard. None of them would.

The cyborg came from an entirely different reality, where he’d been some kind of general when he’d been alive… No. When he’d had a body. Jex was very much alive, and Rann wouldn’t care to be the male who suggested otherwise within Jesh’s hearing.

Now he was a CPU housed inside the Scorperio suit’s shoulders. But it hadn’t slowed him down any.

According to Jesh, her brother was fleet-enabled, which meant exactly what it sounded like. Given access, Jex could seize control of a whole fleet of ships and operate them himself. Getting him aboard Joe’s vessel would be a very good start.

Rann checked his knife last, his thumb brushing the sheath before he dropped his hand. Every step brought his breathing closer to normal. The ache behind his eyes was easing, and the corridor no longer felt quite so long.

The cutter waited ahead.

So did the rest of the Reapers.

Ryke stood nearest the tunnel, already armored, with Covak’s hulking form behind him. Jesh, Anson, and Davis were ready as well. No Mira but Spot, her little drakeen core, was stationed near the cutter controls. He smiled and lifted a hand to Spot, knowing she would be looking through its eyes.

Ryke turned toward him.

“Sitrep,” he ordered. “Spot, start the cutter.”

Machinery came alive beside them. Rann moved clear of the controls, putting himself where he could see Ryke and the tunnel entrance without having to turn.

“Six females,” he replied. “They were on the run, and their past caught up with them. This ship belongs to a male named Joe. They’re all scared of him.”

Ryke’s expression tightened. “Why were they running?”

Rann shook his head. “No idea, but I assume good reasons. They all seem to be females of good standing fallen on hard times. One is pregnant. One is mine.”

“Yours?” Ryke asked.

Jex shifted beside him. “Pregnant?”

Rann nodded. “Mine is not the pregnant one. The pregnant one seems to be ex-military. Names are Blythe, Stevie, Layla, Callie, Hope, and Myla. Callie is pregnant. Blythe is mine.”

Ryke nodded, his expression grim as he activated his helmet and stepped into the cutter tunnel. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

Blythe nearly went over on her ass at the first corner.

Before she could hit the deck, a broad, furry shoulder caught her thigh and shoved her upright. Another goat moved past on her other side, keeping her clear of a man sprawled across the deck, moaning and bleeding.

He reached for her leg as she passed, which was a bad idea. The answering kick sent him skidding into the wall, where he stayed.

“Cheers,” she told her escort, tightening her grip on the crowbar.

Whoever had enhanced these goats had either really fucked up or was a total criminal genius.