Break Out - By Nina Croft Page 0,4

Al watching him and raised an eyebrow in query.

“Poser,” Tannis muttered.

Rico caught a grin on the boy’s face, which was quickly wiped away when he saw Rico watching. The kid wasn’t as downtrodden as he pretended to be, which begged the question—what was he hiding? He made a mental note to find out, but not right now. He turned to Tannis. “You just wish you could look half as good.”

“Yeah, right. And put some dark glasses on. We don’t want you frightening off the client. She sounded the nervous type.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Chapter Three

Skylar peered out of the viewer as her shuttle drew close to the larger ship. A Star Cruiser Mark 3. She was very impressive and very beautiful, with elegant lines. Wide at the rear, tapering to a sharp point at the front, the sleek shape was mirrored by twin propulsion units, which sat on either side. She was also entirely black, except for her name painted in silver script along the hull: El Cazador de la Sangre.

She’d never heard the ship referred to as anything other than El Cazador. Skylar didn’t recognize the language, and she quickly accessed her AI system. She blinked her eyes as the information came up on her internal monitor.

“El Cazador de la Sangre”: The language, Spanish, originated on Earth and hadn’t been used in nearly a thousand years. The words translated as Blood Hunter.

A shiver of unease rippled through her. She’d come across some strange, dark rumors regarding the owner and pilot of El Cazador while doing her research, but nothing that could be substantiated. Still it had piqued her curiosity enough to select this ship and crew over others who had been just as suitable. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if giving in to that curiosity had been wise.

She mentally shrugged. It was too late to change her mind now. She had ten days to complete this mission, and it would take at least eight to reach Trakis One. No time to find a replacement.

But she hadn’t realized how isolated she would feel once she cut the link to the others. Mostly she liked it, and she knew that when the time came to re-mesh, she would regret the loss of privacy. All the same, she occasionally missed the sense of being part of something larger, and at times like these, it would have been nice to know she wasn’t entirely alone.

The shuttle gave a small shudder as it locked into the docking bay of the ship. The hatch closed behind her, and Skylar unstrapped her harness and stood, wobbling precariously on her high heels.

“Goddamn, stupid shoes,” she muttered. Why would anyone voluntarily wear such things? She caught sight of her reflection in the blank screen and scowled—she bore a remarkable resemblance to an unregistered pleasure provider from the dark side of Trakis Two. Not that she’d ever actually been to Trakis Two, but she’d heard plenty about it—the planet where ‘you can party forever, because the night never ends’ with more pleasure providers than the rest of the universe put together. No doubt all looking just as ridiculous as this.

But wasn’t that exactly what she’d been aiming for?

Grabbing her small silver bag, she pressed her other hand to the door panel and stepped out, the tap of her heels on the metal floor echoing in the cavernous docking bay.

This was her first time on a pirate ship, and she was impressed despite herself. She’d been expecting something a little bit seedy. Instead, the area was spotless, the ship gleaming silver and black, the air fresh—no stinting on recycling here. No one came forward to meet her, and she stopped in front of a security camera angled over the doorway, almost twitching with nervous tension. She’d planned this for so long, her whole future depended on success, and now she just wanted to get things moving.

“Follow me, please.”

At her feet, an automated guide hovered just above the floor, spherical and matte black with no markings.

Skylar had been on a Mark 3 cruiser before and knew the ship consisted of three levels. The lower level housed the cooling and recycling systems as well as the engines. The middle section held the docking bay and a small cargo area—though this ship wasn’t built to carry cargo. She was a fighting machine, sleek and deadly.

The upper level housed the bridge and the crew’s living quarters. She guessed this was where they were heading as she followed the guide through the bay, up a ramp,