it into the doorframe. I lunge to my feet, grab the twisted strut of metal, and give her a hand. We lean into it, Saedii silent, me grunting softly with the strain. But between the two of us, we pry the cell door open in a few seconds.
The corridor outside is almost pitch-dark too, every terminal fried. But like I said, I’ve studied Terran ships since I was a kid, and despite the black around us, I know exactly where we need to go.
I reach out in the dark, grab Saedii’s hand.
She immediately snatches it free.
“I did not give you permission to touch me, Tyler Jones,” she snarls. “Do it again at your peril.”
I glare at her in the gloom, but I can’t see her face.
“Well, how about this,” I snap back at her. “I give you permission to touch me. I know the layout of this ship like I know my own name. So you can stumble about in the dark by yourself, or we can buckle up and run.”
I hold out my hand in the black.
“Lady’s choice.”
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the thrum of the Folding engines. Rising alarms. Running boots. I see laser sights cutting the dark at the end of our corridor. I can see Saedii’s silhouette now, black curves against the distant light.
She breathes deep.
She presses her hand into mine.
And, hand in hand, we run off into the dark.
· · · · ·
Eight minutes later, Saedii and I are in a supply closet, trying to ignore each other as we strip down to our unmentionables.
The space is small and the lighting is dim, supplied by a flashlight slung under the barrel of a disruptor rifle. The male owner of the rifle, along with a tall female comrade, is in the supply closet across the hall, minus the uniforms we stole. We accosted the two marines in the middle of their security sweep, overpowering them before they could get a shot off. The element of surprise helped. Having a master of the Aen Suun fighting alongside me didn’t hurt much either. Both marines got beaten to within inches of their lives—if I hadn’t been there to stop her, Saedii would have beaten them all the way.
“Keep your eyes to yourself, Terran,” she warns me softly. “Or I will pluck them out.”
“We’re in a life-or-death situation here. I think I can keep my mind on the job.” I fix my eyes on my boots as I drag them off. “Besides, I’ve seen bras before, and trust me, yours isn’t that spectacular.”
She pauses midway through inspecting the female marine’s tac vest. “I wear the garments of an Unbroken Templar, boy. They are not meant to be spectacular.”
“Well, good,” I say, unbuttoning my cargoes. “They’re succeeding admirably.”
Her glower is almost enough to burn a hole in my chest. I do my best to ignore it and her. And I’m down to my boxers, and she’s wearing very little in the way of those Unbroken Templar garments, when the first blast strikes the ship.
Hard.
Saedii grabs hold of a supply rack to steady herself, but I’m too slow. Slung across the closet like a kid’s toy, I crash right into her. She spits a word I know has a four-letter translation in Terran, and we both go down in a heap. I find myself on my back, Saedii lying on top of me, her long black hair tumbled around us, our faces just a few centimeters apart.
“What was—”
“Silence!” she hisses, her head cocked.
We lie there for a few moments, and Maker’s breath, I’m really, really trying to ignore it, but there’s two meters of Syldrathi warrior princess lying on top of me in nothing but her underwear. And while the Aurora Legion probably doesn’t make a medal for it, I still genuinely think I deserve one for what I say next.
“Get off me.”
“Be quiet, Tyler Jones!”
I lie there in the dark with Saedii stretched out on top of me, staring at the ceiling, hands pressed firmly at my sides.
Think unsexy thoughts.
Think unsexy thoughts.
“I heard that,” she whispers, glancing at me.
“Look, I know I gave you permission to touch me, but this is pushing the—”
Another impact strikes the ship. Thunderous. Running through the metal beneath us. Saedii’s eyes find mine, lit with triumph.
“There,” she smiles.
I frown up at her, mind racing. “That sounded like a—”
“Syldrathi pulse cannon.” She presses her tongue to one sharpened canine. “They are here.”
“ALERT,” cries the shipboard PA, as if on cue. The distant wail