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Once Upon A Time

In Space

BY

Heather Massey

EXCERPT

Chapter Five

    Alarms and chatter thundered across the bridge as the crew attempted to determine the status of the mysterious development.
    “What is it?” Nick asked. “What’s wrong?” Then he became annoyed with himself for displaying such panic, and promptly shut his mouth.
    “Working on it!” announced Janice. Shoulders knotted with tense muscles as she analyzed her data. “Looks like we’ve got company. Damn! I can’t raise the Niña or the Pinta. They jammed everything…radar, all frequencies…we’re blind and deaf.”
    “Who’s jamming us?” Nick asked, adrenaline raising the hair on his neck. Shit, he felt absolutely useless, and it goaded him to no end.
    “Someone who’s got nothing better to do,” Twitch supplied. He cocked his head toward the main view screen.
It flickered erratically, but Nick didn’t need military training to tell him the situation was changing for the worse.
    As the static faded, the laughter began. Faintly at first, then louder. A woman’s voice. Teasing them. Mocking them. Louder. Deeper. Softer. It echoed throughout the bridge, wrapping each man and woman in a web of fear and danger.
    Sultry.
    Sensual.
    Deadly.
    After a few deafening moments, the hellish peals climaxed and then eventually waned. The screen turned dark. Nick felt tense with anticipation, but also stimulated in a way he didn’t think was appropriate to the situation at all. Something about that voice…
Gradually, an image formed. What could it be? He knotted both hands in a defensive posture while gasps arose from his crew. At that moment, every screen, whether large or small, displayed the same foreboding image:  The maniacal grin of an eye-patched Jolly Roger.
    The skeletal image taunted them with its empty leer. Nick glared at the theatrics. The perpetrator couldn’t possibly be a military vessel. Space Defense Corps soldiers acted first, and didn’t ask questions later. They didn’t need scare tactics. Indignation made his blood hot. The journey had barely started, and already some jackass was trying to interfere. Who’s doing this? What do they want?
    As if in answer to his thought, the Jolly Roger image abruptly disappeared. An uneasy silence gripped the bridge.
Then Twitch shattered it with a shout. “What the hell is this crap?”
    “Scanners are back online,” Janice reported. “Let’s see what we…hang on….” She punched an image through to the main screen. “Whatever it is, it’s too close for comfort.”
A muddy picture emerged, but enough details came through, revealing a long, sleek, dark hulled vessel. If there were any markings, they couldn’t be seen from this angle.
“Oh, my god—pirates!” Janice turned to Nick with a fearful expression. “They’ll gut us good.”
    “Shit!” Twitch punched his right thigh in frustration. “We shoulda been cloaked. That’s it. We’re done for.”
    “Hey…hold it steady,” Nick ordered. Standing, he gestured toward the screen. “Maybe we can negotiate.”
    “Not a chance,” said Gideon. “I know that ship.”
    “Yeah, me, too,” Twitch said. “It’s the Deathraven—”
Gideon cut him off. “I’ve heard of her captain…they call her ‘the Siren.’” He wiped the sweat from his face. “I heard she makes her crew drink cocktails of gunpowder and blood to prove their loyalty.”
“Well I heard she cuts out your tongue and keeps it as a souvenir,” said Twitch.
Nick interjected. “Guys, we’ve got a big problem here, so let’s focus.” He turned to Twitch. “Can’t we just outrun them?”
    The navigator’s left eye flickered rapidly. “I suppose we could try, but we oughta get word or a signal to the others. I—what is it, Janice?”
    She was waving her hands frantically in the air for their attention. “Mines! Dozens of them!”
    “Are you shittin’ me?” Twitch bolted to her station, Nick on his heels.
    “They must have deployed them while our radar was out of commission. Look, we’re surrounded. All three ships.”
    Nick stared at the screen. Miniscule green blips indicated a dense field of explosives that now formed a deadly barrier. He suppressed a shudder. Who knew what kind of damage even one could do? What did this “Siren” pirate want? At any rate, one fact was certain—they had to escape. Immediately.
    Nick clamped a hand upon his pilot’s shoulder. “Can you navigate through the mine field?”
    “Through it?” Twitch frowned. “Well…I can try. But I ain’t promising anything.”
    “Do whatever you can!”
    They returned to their respective stations. Twitch laid both hands on the wheel, rock steady. “Hit me up, Janice!”
    She studied her screen intently. “Okay, I see an opening. Eighteen degrees starboard. Easy does it.”
    Twitch shifted the wheel ever so slightly. As though plucked by invisible hands, Nick felt a slight pull as the ship tilted. “Easy does it” was right—those mines were clustered so thickly that just one degree of misjudgment would cost them their lives. Excruciating tension licked at every nerve while sweat poured from his brow. But if they could make it through quickly, they might give this Deathraven the slip. He hoped the other captains would follow his lead.
    “Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” Janice shouted. “Abort it, Twitch. Abort! The mines…they’re moving!”
    Twitch immediately locked the wheel and threw both arms above his head.
    “Remote controlled,” said Gideon. “Gotta be. I’ll see what I can find out.” He punched at the console before him, muttering, “Those underhanded scurvy rats!”
“Dammit!” Nick slapped the arm of his chair because he couldn’t do anything else. “What about a jump?” he asked.
Gideon shook his head. “The energy buildup would probably draw the mines closer. I don’t advise exploring that option.”
Nick clenched his teeth. They were horribly, irrevocably trapped.
“Communications is back online,” Janice announced. Then she suddenly gripped her earpiece. “She’s hailing us!”
    All eyes shot toward Nick.
    He froze. Thus far, the crew had handled the journey admirably without him. But now, when danger reared its cantankerous head, they clearly expected him to take the initiative. That’s right. I’m the leader here. He stared at his console, an array of perplexing switches and lights. So lead, he imagined it saying, none too sympathetically.
    “I….” he began, and then stopped. Hell, this is easier said than done. To buy himself time, Nick studied their faces, ones full of hope. Hope that he would act decisively, show no mercy, or maybe pull some magic trick from a hat. What had that Dr. Raj been thinking, recruiting him for this mission? Suddenly, his two feet of space in prison looked mighty inviting, even if they meant a torturous labor sentence.
    No, came the swift, intrepid response from some unexplored depth of his being. Nick banished the image of his old life from his mind.
He was here because Earth was being slowly strangled to death. No matter how difficult he thought his life might be, there was always someone who had it worse. Right now, it was a crew that had nothing left but some guy related to a famous dead explorer—and hope.
    Nick crossed his arms. “I don’t know about you guys, but I hate suspense. Let’s see what she wants.”
****
    “Patching it through,” Janice said. “Sammy and Lillian have the same feed.” She alerted Nick with a hand signal right before the image of the Deathraven’s captain jumped to life on the screen.
    Nick stared. The Siren stared back. He had heard tales about pirates, but obviously, they were hopelessly inaccurate. He certainly hadn’t expected the stunning beauty before him. This particular outlaw sat astride her command chair so lithe and sure it was as though she had been born a pirate. Clearly, she was a woman accustomed to being in charge.
Thoroughly enchanted, Nick swept his gaze up and down her body. A black eye patch was slung across her right eye. Her good eye, dark and smoky and brimming with danger, seemed to pierce his soul to the core. Long, wavy black hair framed her face, capped by uneven bangs that lent her a savage appearance.
But there was more. Save for a blood-red ascot at her neck, she was dressed all in black. The material hugged her skin so tightly it stopped his breath. Dark lines hinted suggestively at shapely curves beneath. Especially her breasts. His thoughts galloped away from him, and he imagined how he’d slowly peel the suit from her body, inch by inch, fully savoring the tender, supple flesh beneath. The body of a woman like this demanded freedom, freedom he wanted desperately to lavish upon her. These and other speculations transported him to a state of enthrallment he hadn’t known existed. Pirate woman, who are you?
Then there were her lips. At the moment, they were set in a firm line. But being so red and gorgeously shaped, Nick knew they were capable of far more than just sternness. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from her exquisite face to take in the final detail. A skull and crossbones motif carved into the top of the chair completed the seductively treacherous vision. Nick suppressed a groan. This Siren person had completely obliterated everything he thought he knew about pirates—and women.
    His next thought was as wrong as wrong could be:  I want you.
He gripped the armrests. The more he fought his attraction, the stronger it grew. What the hell? Was this why they called her the Siren? How many men had met their deaths at the hands of this feral beauty?
Still, though, she said nothing. Still, they stared at one another. Nick narrowed his eyes. Maybe this intimidating stance was how she began all of her raids, but some instinct in him doubted it. She seemed almost…preoccupied. A forbidden thrill rose in him, causing muscles to tighten where none should be stirring. Preoccupied with me? Is the attraction mutual?
New movement drew his gaze southward. Nick watched hungrily as long, slinky legs crossed gracefully. He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but…God have mercy! He ached to split her thighs and drive himself between them. Then a bout of common sense slapped him with a vengeance. What was he thinking, fantasizing about becoming involved with a pirate? Especially this pirate. If he had to pick the worst way to betray the mission and his crew, that reckless notion topped the list. Nick challenged himself to remember precisely what was at stake here:  billions of lives.
The Siren chose that very moment to speak, her voice melodious, but cold. “I trust you’re savvy enough to have detected our mines. Prepare for boarding. We’ve come to appropriate your cargo.” The way she held up a tiny control box in her left hand, with the thumb poised over a button, indicated to Nick it was some sort of remote detonator. The striking outlaw delivered one final message. “Resist at your peril.”

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