Jeth smiled. “She’s fast, too.”
Cora’s eyes widened, exposing more of the whites and making her look closer to ordinary. “Oh, can I see? I want to go fast.”
Jeth chuckled. “I’m sure we will soon.”
A huge smile broke across Cora’s face, but it wasn’t directed at him. Lizzie had arrived, carrying a struggling Viggo in her arms. Cora leaped up and raced over to them. Seconds later, she had managed to wrap her arms around the yellow-furred cat.
Lizzie convinced Cora to set Viggo down in the most open area in the room, not far from the door into the galley. The position placed them far enough away that Jeth decided he could ask Sierra some of his questions without being overheard.
“You really had no idea the Donerail’s been missing so long?”
“No, not at all.”
“But how’s that possible?”
Sierra shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “You saw the damage. How’s any of it possible?”
Jeth frowned. Her response seemed believable enough, but her words sounded hollow. He could tell she was hiding something. But before he could press her, Sierra asked, “So what do you plan on doing with us now?”
“What do you mean?’
She rolled her eyes. “There’s no reason to act innocent. I know you didn’t rescue us out of the goodness of your heart. You were hired to find that ship. Probably because of that secret weapon you mentioned.”
Jeth sat up straighter in his chair. It was true, but he didn’t care for the way she described the situation, like he was just some unfeeling mercenary. Well, he was a mercenary when it came down to it, but he cared about some stuff. His crew for one thing, and definitely his sister. “How did you know we were hired?”
She smirked. “You didn’t expect me to believe you were just wandering around the Belgrave for the hell of it, did you?”
“No, I suppose not.”
Her expression suggested she wasn’t surprised by this admission. “So, who do you work for?”
He debated whether or not to tell her the truth, but saw no reason not to. “Hammer Dafoe, governor of Peltraz Spaceport.”
Sierra arched one eyebrow. “You mean the crime lord?”
Jeth scowled. She was far too knowledgeable for her own good. Or for his own good, rather. And this conversation wasn’t going at all like he planned. He was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions. “Yeah, that’s right. What of it?”
“Are you going to hand us over to him then?”
“I—” Jeth broke off, suddenly aware of how defensive he was getting. He shut his mouth and breathed in deep through his nose, trying to regain his focus. Ever since he’d found these people, he’d felt as if the floor beneath his feet had been tipped sideways.
Loud giggles on the other side of the room distracted him for a moment. It was a musical sound, oddly harmonic and soothing.
Fixing his gaze on Sierra, he said, “You’re right that we were hired to find your ship, but you’re a complication I hadn’t planned for. All the passengers were supposed to be dead.”
She swallowed. “We really have been missing for a long time, haven’t we?”
Jeth nodded. “Matter of fact, I was under strict orders not to board the ship at all, which means I’ve no idea what to do about you three now.”
Sierra met his eyes, her expression thoughtful. “Are you saying you’d rather your employer not know we were on board?”
“Yeah, I suppose I am.”
A bright smile crossed Sierra’s face. If he’d thought her pretty before, she was stunning now. Jeth blinked, feeling his face grow warm.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Sierra said.
Jeth tilted his head sideways, more of her story coming into focus—a passenger on a smuggler’s ship, the kind of smuggler who didn’t ask questions about who you were or where you were going so long as you could pay. “So, who are you running away from? Or what?”
It was Sierra’s turn to look surprised by his knowledge. “I . . .” She hesitated, uncertain, then her expression hardened. “It’s complicated, and frankly, none of your business.”
Jeth grinned, amused once again by her feistiness. He leaned back, assuming his most charming manner. “Okay. Then I guess you’ll understand why—”
Crack.
Jeth jumped up, his stomach doing a hard dip. He looked around. The loud noise seemed to have come from everywhere.
Crack-crack-crack.
Pinning the direction of the sound, he glanced up. Sierra dashed across the room and picked up Cora, as if to protect her from incoming danger.
“What was that?” Lizzie said.
“It’s happening here,” Sierra said, her panicked gaze locked on Jeth. “Just like on the Donerail.”
All the air vaporized from inside Jeth’s lungs. Lightheaded, he turned and sprinted out the door and up the stairs to the passenger deck. Sierra had to be wrong. What had happened to that ship couldn’t be happening here. Not on Avalon.
Jeth glanced down the row of crew cabins at Celeste and Shady emerging from two of the rooms. They stared at him with matching stunned expressions. Farther down the row, Milton and Vince stood in the doorway to sick bay.
“Did that noise come from up here?” Jeth called. He was careful not to look at Vince, afraid of the comprehension he might see on his face.
“No,” said Celeste.
“Check the other rooms,” Jeth said. Then, swallowing back fear, he continued up the stairs to the bridge.
He froze mere steps into the room as the cracking sounds echoed again, punctuated by a flash of light so bright it blinded him for a second. When his vision cleared he saw that four perfectly symmetrical holes had appeared across the front of the nav station control panel. Each was the size of his fist. Panic rose up in his throat at the sight of them. The nav station monitor was dark, the system offline.
This couldn’t be happening. He charged over to the nav station and started pressing buttons. Then he slapped it with the palm of his hand, desperate for the screen to power on. Without a functioning navigational system they could wander around lost in the Belgrave forever, never finding their way out again.
Jeth heard footsteps behind him and several gasps of fright.
“It’s just like the Donerail,” Vince said, his voice a low, ominous rumble.
Jeth turned to look at him, his terror a wild animal thrashing around inside his chest.
“We need to get out of here,” Vince said. “Before this ship is torn apart.”
CHAPTER
12
BUT AVALON WASN’T GOING ANYWHERE.
Jeth had known it even before Flynn crawled beneath the nav station to take stock of the damage. He stood by, watching Flynn’s feet twitch back and forth as he worked and bracing for the worst. Only a few short minutes had passed since the holes appeared, but each passing second felt like hours.
“Crap oh crap oh crap,” said Flynn as he crawled out from underneath the nav station. “We are so screwed. I mean, screwed-screwed. Like, get-into-the-lifeboats-’cause-this-ship-is-going-down-screwed.”
“Flynn,” Jeth hissed, crossing his arms. “This isn’t the high seas. This is the middle of space. We don’t have any lifeboats, and we don’t need panic. We need solutions.”
Flynn stood up, glaring. “I’m not a miracle worker, Jeth. We’re light-years from the closest outpost or relay, and without a nav computer we can’t calculate a safe path for the metadrive to jump us. Which means we’re stuck here. Forever.”
Jeth scowled, trying to ignore all the worried faces watching him right now. The bridge was entirely too crowded with everybody congregated there. “Thanks for enlightening us with the obvious. I’m sure we all feel better now.”