Page 7 of Alien Devil's Prey
Tamsin's face went white. "If it finds us?—"
"It won't." I was already moving toward the weapons locker, pulling out a portable disruptor. "Keep working on the hyperdrive. I'll handle this."
The probe was small, about the size of my fist, but its sensor package could identify ship signatures from a thousand kilometers away. I watched it drift closer through theDrifter'sairlock porthole, a sleek black shape threading through the dead ships.
I armed the disruptor and waited.
The probe paused fifty meters from our position, its sensors sweeping back and forth. I could almost feel it probing for signs of life, electromagnetic signatures, anything that would mark us as survivors.
Then it moved on, continuing its search pattern deeper into the field.
I lowered the disruptor and returned to the repair bay. Tamsin looked up as I entered, question marks in her eyes.
"We're clear," I said. "For now. How long until we can jump?"
"Two more hours, maybe three." She turned back to her work, but I caught the tension in her shoulders. "Assuming nothing else goes wrong."
I settled beside her in the cramped space, picking up tools and components as she called for them. The work was methodical, almost meditative—the kind of focused activity that pushed everything else to the background.
But I remained aware of her beside me. The competence of her hands as she worked. The way she bit her lip whenconcentrating. The scent of her hair when she leaned close to examine a damaged circuit.
Partnership, I told myself. This was partnership born of necessity. Nothing more.
Even if it was starting to feel like something else entirely.
TAMSIN
My hands shook as I connected the final hyperdrive coupling, exhaustion and adrenaline warring in my bloodstream. We'd been working for hours, and my father's ship was finally responding like she was supposed to. TheDrifterhummed around us, systems coming back online one by one.
"Hyperdrive motivator is stable," I reported, watching the power readings climb into acceptable ranges. "We can jump, but I wouldn't recommend anything ambitious. One long hop, then we need to find somewhere for proper repairs."
Talon nodded, checking his own displays. "The nearest inhabited system is six hours away. Can she make it?"
"She'll have to." I wiped sweat from my forehead, leaving a smear of grease. "The question is where we go after that. Any port with decent repair facilities will have Conclave connections."
"Leave that to me." He was studying something on his scanner, his expression thoughtful. "There are places the Conclave doesn't reach. Expensive, but secure."
I wanted to ask what he meant, but a proximity alarm interrupted the thought. Not the sharp wail of immediate danger—just a soft chime indicating something had entered sensor range.
"Contact bearing two-seven mark fifteen," I called up the display. "It's... big. Ship-sized."
Talon moved to look over my shoulder, his presence warm against my back. I tried to ignore the way my pulse quickened at his proximity. Adrenaline from the repairs, nothing more.
"Conclave cruiser," he identified, studying the sensor signature. "Search and rescue configuration. They're looking for survivors."
My blood went cold. "How long until they reach us?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe less." His voice was steady, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. "Are we ready to jump?"
I ran through the final checklist, praying nothing critical had been overlooked. "As ready as we're going to be. But if we jump now, they'll detect the hyperspace wake. They'll know someone survived."
"Better than letting them find us here." He moved toward the pilot's station. "Plot a course for... anywhere. We'll refine our destination once we're clear."
I slid into the navigator's seat, my fingers flying over the controls as I calculated jump coordinates. The mathematics were complex, made worse by our damaged sensors and uncertain position. One mistake could drop us into a star or leave us stranded in deep space.
"Course plotted," I said, though the word 'course' was optimistic. "It's not pretty, but it'll get us out of here."
"Execute."
