“They’ll hang you, too, once there’s none of us left.”

—The Pirate Lord Almus Almazar’s final words, spoken to the mercenary captain Dras Andaga

The empty darkness of space drifted by. Zaina Quin stared through a hyper-glass pane and watched the stars; they lazily floated past, each seeming to take longer in meandering across the window of her fallen friend’s ship.

I thought this trip was supposed to be quick.

A sharp, frustrated sigh escaped her nostrils. Her eyes fell to her hands. Dirt, blood, and sweat had built up everywhere after her last adventure on Demelia—beneath her cuticles, on almost every inch of her dark brown skin and all her clothing. She couldn’t help wrinkling her nose whenever she got a whiff of the odor emanating from beneath her arms.

Her eye caught her blurred reflection in one of the ship’s sensor panels; her violet eyes, her long, thick black hair, and thin face were all the same. The blackened skin around her eye, the Mark of the Recalcitrant—the curse laid upon her by the Eldritch—filled her with dread. It had stopped hurting once the Eldritch was destroyed, and the whispers that plagued her mind were barely a dull buzzing in the back of her head now; but it was still there, and that worried her. Gir, the lancer who sacrificed his life for her, had warned her the galaxy wasn’t terribly accepting of those bearing the Mark.

It had been two days since Zaina and Gizmo departed from the wreckage of Demelia, her homeworld; in that time, she’d barely slept—the floor of Gir’s ship was very uncomfortable—and she hadn’t showered or changed her clothes. There was no point in the latter until she scrubbed all the grime off herself.

The shoulder wound she’d sustained fighting Beni throbbed. It was getting better, but she still didn’t have much use of the arm. She tried moving it every so often, but the jolts of pain took their toll.

She turned to Gizmo, who was in low-power mode while piloting the ship. When it wasn’t jerking around in the air and short-circuiting every time it tried to say something, the little glyph was actually kind of cute. As bored as Zaina was, she decided to let it sleep for as long as possible.

Not like he’s a master conversationalist anyway.

Buttons on the cockpit’s dashboard flashed to life, flickering on and off. A sensor above Zaina emitted a high-pitched beep while flooding the ship’s interior with intermittent yellow light. There were too many buttons, knobs, vis-screens displaying readouts—it was all too much for Zaina.

This looks way too complicated. I wonder what it all means.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an odd whirring noise. “Zzzzzrrrrrppppttttt—low—power mode deactivated. Hello, Z—Zzz—Zaina!”

“Hey, Gizmo. How’d you sleep?”

“Power res—zzz—erves—zzz low. Alert level: high. S—zzz—trap in, Z—Zzz—Zaina. We may have encountered friends—zzz.”

She blinked, then swiveled toward the flashing displays on the monitor. The biggest screen had big words colored red and surrounded by a black border, reading: Proximity Alert: Unregistered Ship.

Zaina’s stomach sank as her heartbeat went wild. Oh. That’s what it meant.

“Gizmo,” she said, trying to sound calm, “what does ‘Unregistered Ship’ mean?”

“All s—zzz—pace-rated craft mus—zzz—t be regis—zzz—tered with the proper intergalactic authorities—zzz. Failure to do s—zzz—o can res—zzz—ult in a fine or impris—zzz—onment. Mos—zzz—t unregis—zzz—tered craft are us—zzz—ed by pirates—zzz or marauders—zzz.”

The glyph’s words only heightened Zaina’s dread, sharpening it to a point hanging over her head. After clicking her magnetic seat-strap into place, she asked, “So—what do we do?”

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“There’s—zzz not much we can do. This—zzz craft has—zzz no weaponry. It was—zzz—n’t des—zzz—igned for combat. Evas—zzz—ive maneuvers—zzz are our only option.”

“Then do that!”

“I’m on it, Z—Zzz—Zaina! Als—zzz—o, I would advis—zzz—e putting on your breathing mas—zzz—k in cas—zzz—e of a s—zzz—udden pressure drop in the cabin.”

Zaina reached for her mask, fumbling it as the ship jerked to the left—the mask fell out of reach behind her. She stretched out her hand, scraping the tip of her finger against it until the ship twisted, sending it careening to the back of the ship.

Well, that’s great.

Signals and warning signs were flashing all over every display. Zaina prayed to every god she remembered the name of as they lurched again.

“Gizmo, what’s happening?”

“Unfortunately, their ships—zzz are much fas—zzz—ter than our own; s—zzz—o, I’ve notified the authorities—zzz of the neares—zzz-t world. Luckily, they have a planetary defens—zzz—e forc—zzz—e for this—zzz very reas—zzz—on.”

Zaina cursed and held on. Their ship swerved, and the floor fell out from under her for a moment; then, they fully rotated. Her stomach lurched and went cold, and with a painful cramp and the sting of bile, vomit ejected into Zaina’s mouth. With a choking gasp she swallowed it back down.

After a minor coughing fit, she choked out, “Maybe a little fucking warning next time!”

“S—zzz—orry, Z—Zzz—Zaina. S—zzz—iphon miss—zzz—iles—zzz incoming. Evas—zzz—ive maneuvers—zzz imminent.”

Before she could decipher what he meant, the ship bucked and twisted. Zaina grabbed the safety bar with her hand and closed her eyes. Her grip, strengthened by anxiety, crushed the hollow metal bar.

I knew going into space was a bad idea.

“Brac—zzz—e for—”

A thunderous crash rocked the ship—Zaina’s head slammed into the wall, darkening her vision. The only lights were the stars, spinning out of control—

“S—zzz—iphon miss—zzz—iles—zzz impacted. C—zzz—eles—zzz—tium engine output falling. Entering into des—zzz—cent mode.”

Shaking her head, she snapped out of her stupor. “Output falling? What the hell does that mean?”

Another impact knocked her forward. Pain surged through every inch of her body, radiating from her shoulder. The force pressed her wound against the magnetic seat-strap—a shriek ripped up out of her throat. A deafening ringing filled Zaina’s ears. Once that stopped, it was replaced by a sharp hissing at the back of the ship.

She blinked until the cabin came into focus again. The stars were still, the engine’s hum had faded, and most of the lights and displays had powered down. They were dead in space. An alert flashed on the camera-feed screen—the sensors had a visual.

The enemy ship was massive, at least ten times bigger than Gir’s. Most of its mass was taken up by a cylindrical body, with enormous engines attached to either side and two pairs of sharp prongs in the front. The behemoth was mostly gray, though strips of white, black, and green paint were spaced between dents, pockmarks, and scratches.

Two cube-shaped craft, much smaller in size, zipped around the larger ship; a third craft, much closer, streaked across the vis-feed every few seconds, flying circles around their powerless vessel.

“So—what now?” she asked, dreading the answer.

We’re going to die here. This—this isn’t how I pictured it.

“Well,” Gizmo replied in a calm tone, “it’s—zzz likely that they want to tow us—zzz to their main craft. Bring us—zzz aboard, s—zzz—o to s—zzz—peak. Otherwis—zzz—e, they’d have us—zzz—ed a lethal payload.”

“Great,” she said. It was better than dying in an inferno in the middle of space. How much better remained to be seen.

Zaina unbuckled herself and stood up. The ship rocked, and an ear-grinding metallic click broke out above. She grabbed the safety bar, which snapped in half and spilled her to the floor.

“Gah!” She struggled to her feet. “What the hell was that?”

“It s—zzz—eems—zzz I was—zzz correct, Z—Zzz—Zaina! Tow cable has—zzz been attached to the c—zzz—entral port.”

The ship lurched toward the enemy’s cruiser.

Okay, she thought, closing her eyes and clenching her fists. Okay, I’m about to get into a fight, probably. Have to be ready.

Peeking her eye open, she glanced at her empty hands.

Now would be a great time to summon my cipher.

Zaina stretched out her arm and focused. She tried to drown out the noise—her thumping heartbeat in her ears, Gizmo’s frantic play-by-play, and the rumbling groans of the ship breaking down—it was all a distraction. Her mind dwindled them away until nothing remained but Zaina and her cipher. There was a flash of light—

Her eyes opened and fell to her hand—nothing. She raised a hand to cover her face—Gizmo had turned his front-light all the way up.

“Z—Zzz—Zaina! I’m los—zzz—ing power pretty quickly, I’m afraid. At this—zzz rate, I won’t be able to function for much longer. The Otmoz—zzz—an Defens—zzz—e Forc—zzz—es are on their way. I don’t know how much longeeerrrrrzzzzzzz—”

“Gizmo?” Zaina grabbed the glyph. “Gizmo? Gizmo!”

Its lights went out, along with every remaining light in the cockpit. Zaina was alone in the darkened transport.

“Gizmo,” she said in disbelief. Her gaze fell to the ground. “I—I guess that’s it, then. No cipher. No scrapshot. I’ve got nothing.”

All because she got the taste of adventure and came all the way out here. It was foolish, really. She had no idea what she was getting into. Her father always told her the galaxy was a harsh place. Now it was about to swallow her whole.