Page 3 of Sheltered in the Storm

With N’vors’s body now safely out of sight, I uncovered the child’s wide, wild eyes. Through their bright blue tears, they stared up at me in fear and wonder. And thank all the godsabove and below, they finally released my bloody tentacle from their pinchers.

“La ka na?” the child asked, their voice trembling.

I had no idea what the child asked—I heard only their hopeful tone. For that reason alone, I nodded.

The child’s silent blue tears spilled over and became sobs.

The volume of voices outside the opening increased and the half-dozen webbed hands moved frantically. The Bordians must have heard the child crying. I thrust the child into their waiting hands.

“La ka na!” the child wailed, reaching toward me.

My hearts lurched. The building rumbled once more. The rescuers retreated with their young charge, leaving me alone.

As the child’s wails faded into the distance, I pulled a cap from the pocket of the maintenance uniform I had donned as my cover and put it on to hide my white hair. I changed the color of my tentacles to match my gray coveralls and make them less noticeable. Hopefully, the chaos outside would allow me to slip unnoticed through the onlookers and make my way to a chartered ship bound for Guard Headquarters on Fortusia.

Once I filed my reports, I would be free.

I slipped through the opening in the rubble and into the shadows, moving slowly until I reached the edge of the crowd. And then I walked away, heading to the closest port?—

—And my future, whatever it might hold.

CHAPTER 1

FIVE YEARS LATER

CALLA

One of these days,a deep space raider would be the death of me.

“But not today, you soulless bastards,” I said aloud over the reassuring hum of my long-range fighter’s single remaining engine. “Not today.”

At least I’d kept both myself and my ship in one piece, despite the raiders’ best efforts to blow me to atoms. I might be limping back to Outpost 60 on less than half power, with no comms, minimal shields and weapons, and life support hanging on by few frayed wires, but I was in better shape than the three raiders who’d attacked me. They were, I assumed, currently in the presence of whatever gods they worshiped, explaining how one lone human pilot managed to kill all three of them and live to toast their deaths.

I raised my flask of moonshine once more to their memory,took a swig, coughed, and screwed the cap back on so I didn’t drink too much. Need to stay sober enough to get myself back to base. One of my squadron mates came from a long line of Probytian moonshiners. She knew how to turn a few ingredients into liquid fire that could strip the coating off my fighter’s hull and had a kick like a Gandarian mule ox.

With a groan, I rolled my stiff neck, returned the flask to its hiding place under my seat, and tried to let the adrenaline rush seep away. Even for a pilot with more than a hundred missions under her belt, that was a tall order after a prolonged battle.

Not that long ago, routine patrols along this stretch of frontier rarely turned out so exciting or potentially deadly. Local raider squads had recently instituted a bounty system for killing Defense pilots and destroying or capturing their ships. The bloodthirsty attacks had turned our quiet zone into a shooting gallery. To pilots in our squadron, the bounty system meant patrols should consist of two ships instead of the customary single pilot per mission, but the Alliance Defense brass had yet to approve that measure. They reacted slower than a Foridian slug these days.

And since Epsilon Squad Captain Proos wouldn’t take a shit without orders from one of the Alliance Defense admirals, I’d had no backup when these raiders showed up. I planned to get in his face about it the minute I got back to Outpost 60.

“Pompous little green asshole,” I muttered, and pictured my fist making contact with the center of Proos’s eminently punchable face.

Even for a Raxian, Proos was particularly insufferable. The fact he’d managed to achieve Squad Captain rank despite his utter lack of courage or initiative made me think he had some kind of blackmail material against one or more of the admirals. I would have put money on it. No other explanation made sense. Now his refusal to double up patrols in the wake of the raiders’ bounties had damn near gotten me blown to bits.

A quick check of my navigation system revealed I was approaching the planet Jakora. While the planet wasn’t part of the Galactic Alliance, its neutrality and location near the edge of Alliance space allowed for pilots of various allegiances to land for shore leave and maintenance as long as they followed the planetary laws.

Hmm…Icouldat least get my comms, shields, and weapons systems repaired and send a report to Captain Proos about the attack. I didn’t like the idea of having neither defense nor offense and no way to call for help if I ran into another raider on the way back. Those mangy sons of bogworms had gotten brazen and turned up even in strong Alliance systems.

Come to think of it, I had some leave saved up. I recalled a particularly nice resort near the Jakoran port where the drinks flowed freely, the lavender ocean offered safe swimming day and night, and pilots of all sexes and genders could easily find bedmates to ease the stress and loneliness of the job. After all, Captain Proos could hardly complain about the delay if my ship couldn’t make it all the way to Outpost 60 on one engine. All I’d have to do was bribe a mechanic to report my ship as not space-worthy and claim a backlog would delay repairs, and I’d be free to enjoy some well-earned rest.

Decision made, I slowed to near-planet cruising speed and prepared to enter Jakora’s thick atmosphere.

The universe, of course, had no intention of letting me off that easy today.

An impact sent my ship careening off course and spinning away from the planet. Alarms blared and red lights activated. Icy shards of terror ripped through me from fingertips to toes.

My training kicked in, shoving my fear aside as I fought to regain control of my ship using the manual control joysticks. Through the cockpit’s windows, I caught whirling glimpses of stars and Jakora’s purple-white atmosphere through a shower of sparking chunks of debris I recognized as parts of my ship. Halfof my starboard wing had sheared off. I must have clipped something floating in orbit around the planet.

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