Nightchaser - Amanda Bouchet Page 0,2

I asked, knowing what Jax would probably answer.

He winced. “Even short jumps to stay away from the warship would drain our reserves faster than the solar panels could build them up again.”

I winced, too. “We’ll end up a floating duck.”

He nodded.

“We already have a target on our back, and this is the end of the line.” Usually softly lilting with Sector 10’s melodious accent, Miko’s urgent words flooded the bridge with the near panic I was trying hard to keep at bay. “What choices do we have?”

Bad ones. Without recharging, our already crippled capacity for warp speed would fizzle to nothing in no time, and simply flying away wasn’t going to work, either. A Dark Watch vessel could chase a lot faster than a cargo cruiser could run.

The red com button flashed again before I could even begin to analyze our terrible options, and Bridgebane’s clipped voice came through to the Endeavor’s bridge as clearly as if he were sitting right there. “We see you have three cargo holds and a vacuum attachment that looks like the lab that was recently stolen from the Lyronium System. Prepare your starboard port for a boarding party. Any lack of cooperation on your part will be taken as hostility, and we will not hesitate to fire to recover the lab by force.”

The communication went dead, and my heart slammed so hard against my ribs that it left me short of breath. I leaped out of my chair as I switched to a mapping screen on my console to get an idea of just how close they were.

My eyes widened. Dark Watch 12 was right behind us—and looking straight at the stolen lab.

“Jax! Power up with what we’ve got. And tell Miko her jump range the second you know it,” I said.

“It won’t do any good.” Jax started flipping the necessary switches anyway. “They’ll just follow us and start shooting.”

I glanced at my controls again, at the terrifying digital image of the mammoth battleship hovering on our tail, and then pressed my lips together, trying to hold back what was probably the worst decision of my life. “Then jump us closer to the Widow.”

“What?” squeaked Miko. “We’ll get sucked in.”

“Well, don’t jump us that close!” I kicked the lock on my chair and shoved the whole thing back and out of my way. I didn’t plan on sitting down again while taking four other lives into my hands and also protecting the vaccines that could save thousands of people from the diseases that still ran rampant in the galaxy’s civilian populations.

I watched to confirm that Miko’s hand was flying over the navigation controls before I punched my own hand down on the yellow internal communications button. “Shiori! Get to the bridge. Fiona! You, too! Do not stop to collect your plants. This is an emergency.”

I swung my eyes back to Jax, nerves riding my spine like an icy comet. “Tell us when we’ve got the juice.”

“We’re good to go,” he answered. “At least to Miko’s new coordinates.”

I nodded. Now we waited for the other two. Usually, I’d just have told them to brace themselves for a jump, but right now, with the Dark Watch threatening to fire on our back end, I wanted everyone up front on the bridge.

The bridge was also where we could access the ship’s escape pods, if it came to that—not that I believed they’d do us much good.

Every second lasted an eternity with the warship DW 12 and Captain Bridgebane breathing down the Endeavor’s comparatively minuscule neck. I stood there. I didn’t shake. I didn’t move. My head felt numb. But I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. Not in fear, although there was plenty of that, too. No, it was rage boiling in my chest.

Shiori rushed through the bridge doors, her fingers gliding along the wall. Miko ran to her grandmother and quickly guided the older woman toward my abandoned chair. With her good arm, Miko practically threw the tiny Shiori into my captain’s seat, strapped her in, and then locked the chair back down, not leaving me much room at my console.

Miko raced back to her navigation controls. Shiori reached out to me blindly.

“I think I got us into big trouble,” I said, taking her fragile hand.

Her skin felt paper-thin and dry and looked almost unhealthy, the creamy tan shade of it having faded into something pasty from lack of sunlight. The veins stood out, and her tremor seemed worse, but Shiori squeezed my