Adiron (Corsair Brothers 1)

Or put on pants.

It was either go in fighting or try diplomacy. Kaspar wanted to go in fighting, of course, but Mathiras wanted diplomacy. As the tiebreaker, I chose diplomacy. Much as I love a good fight, I remember what the females at the cantina said about the lord and his army of a'ani clones. We can take out a small crew easily. An army of clones is an entirely different matter—and sa'Rin's ship is three times larger than ours.

Unfortunately, we didn't even get the chance to try diplomacy. Once the larger ship locked onto the Little Sister, they sent a pulse through our ship, knocking us to the floor and freezing us in place. I don't know what kind of weapon that is—some kind of shock-collar for an entire ship—but I know we've gotta get one for ourselves.

Now we're here, aboard Lord Straik's massive ship, and captive. Not our finest moment. At least I left Zoey the message I did. Maybe she'll find it someday.

We keep our hands on our heads as the clone bodyguards lead us through the ship. I glance over at Kaspar, but he's not looking at me. He's looking around at anything and everything, clearly spoiling for a fight and just waiting for the right moment. Picking a fight with at least ten guards around us—all of them armed and us not—would be the height of stupidity, but Kaspar loves stupid odds. Even I know this isn't smart. Using my tail, I smack him on the ass to get his attention.

Kaspar turns and glares at me. "What?"

"Let's just see why we're here before we try staging a breakout, huh?"

One of the guards nudges me in the shoulders, a silent command to shut up.

"Isn't it obvious?" Kaspar hisses. "We're being robbed. Considering that we rob people for a living, you think you'd recognize the signs."

I scoff. "Look at this keffing ship, you noodle-brain. You think this guy needs our little ship? Think again."

"Will you two be quiet?" Mathiras snarls. "I can't think when you're arguing."

This time, the guard walking behind me gives me a shove, and Kaspar gets the same. "All of you keffing shut up or you get shock collars."

I shut up. Kaspar glares at me, but his gaze wanders to our surroundings, and I suspect what I told him is sinking in.

It's obvious to me that whatever Lord Straik wants, it isn't our “riches.” The Little Sister's a decent ship thanks to our constant work on her, but to the rest of the universe, she looks like a piece of junk. She's also a Class IV freighter, which is usually a passenger ship. No one's going to think we're hiding a ton of snazzy cargo somewhere on board. As far as robberies go, we'd be a shitty target. And this ship we've been dragged aboard is of a much finer make than ours.

Lord Straik's ship is cutting edge technology. The metal walls of the corridor are cool and pristine, without old scorch marks from blaster fights or dents from, say, getting into a noogie-fight with your brother. The endless hallways we've been dragged down are large and airy and well lit, the temperature comfortable, and to me, that says more than anything else that this is run by a male that doesn't care about credits. If he knew how much it'd cost to change out the air filters on a ship like this, he'd run something smaller. The Little Sister, for example, has tight, short hallways because the less living space that has to be climate-controlled, the better.

He's definitely not after us for our credits. Especially not a corsair that can afford to feed an entire score of a'ani bodyguards as well as a crew. So then…what does he want?

We're led down another hall, and at the far end of this one, double doors are flanked by uniformed, red-skinned clones. One nods at our guards and taps the door panel, then steps aside. We're then brought into a large chamber, and I stare at my surroundings in utter surprise. I expected a war room and this…looks more like a keffing fancy retreat. There's art on the walls, old paintings of important-looking nobles, tapestries from distant colonies, and a few golden-looking weapons that are clearly for show and not actual defense. In the corners of the room, expensive flowering plants curl around wrought trellises, and I swear I can hear the tinkling of a fountain somewhere. On one wall, there are several large star maps pulled up on-screen, and across from the screens there's an enormous window that looks out on deep space. Right now it's full of the V'tarrian moon's dark side, but I imagine it's a nice view most times. There are vases and books on elegant shelves, which is kind of ridiculous in a spaceship that can lose gravity control in a solar storm, and I spend a happy moment imagining those expensive vases flying through the air and landing on our captor's head. At the far end of the room, near the wall of vid-maps and star charts, is a huge desk made of impractical wood and covered in ornate carvings. It looks very heavy, very expensive, and completely ridiculous. There's a marble bust of a mesakkah lord on the desk, and it only adds to the realization that stupid amounts of credits have been spent on this male's room, a room that would be completely destroyed in a single battle.