DUTY-BOUND

Year: 2364

2 parsecs from the Dorado constellation

Kiros glared at Drys Lyons across the bridge. The man had saved his life too many times to count, and Kiros should be counting. Such debts he would need to repay.

Now Drys paced with furious energy, his gray hair brushing his shoulders as he rubbed his salt and pepper beard. "Something don't feel right, y'know."

The implication that Mick Danvers deceived him was preposterous, downright laughable. The kid was too sweet and naïve, yet in the last six years had developed a reputation for finding rare alien creatures. True, Kiros hadn't liked talking to an avatar, but it wasn't unheard of to use such means to retain anonymity. Hell, all the soldiers answered to Solomon in public, confusing any would-be assassins. To each his own.

Kiros folded his arms across his chest and watched his confidant pace. "He's a good kid, Drys. I had a hand in raising him."

"Then why use the avatar with an old friend? And his voice? Manipulated. My brittle bones aren't happy. We're walking into a trap."

Kiros wondered the same thing. His welcome disturbed him. Then again, it was eleven years since Thomas Danvers's funeral. Kiros should have reached out to the kid, been there for him. Had he failed Thomas? Kiros rolled his shoulders, hoping to ease the burning tension. He expected the same-old Mick to greet him with a hero-worshipping smile like he used to. But the kid had hesitated in his responses, almost as if seeing Kiros scared him. On that, Drys was right to be suspicious.

They'd received Mick's beacon, and soon enough, Kiros would get to the bottom of this. "Have we set course to intersect his trajectory?"

Wyatt, their ace pilot, waved a hand instead of responding. Somewhere in his mass of dreadlocks were his earbuds playing yet another audiobook; his focus intense as he navigated the Sentry toward Fornax.

"Think the kid will split the payment?" Drys trailed Kiros to the mess.

"I don't see why not." He paused, his shoulders brushing the sides of the narrow passage. "Before you say anything more, he won't suspect the ruse. Like I said, naïve and sweet."

Drys grumbled under his breath. "His reputation is the perfect diversion. While he hunts for 'evidence,' we'll snatch a creature. The Followers are more than happy to pay double if the kid grabs a live sample too."

Kiros grinned. "If we find rare minerals, De Beer Mining will compensate us for our data. Overall, it's a lucrative project any way we look at it."

"Using the kid's ship is genius." Drys filled a cup with coffee-flavored sludge and poured in too much sweetener.

"I know, and our history won't raise suspicion either. It would be like old times when Thomas hired S.o.S for hostile excursions." Kiros bit into a protein bar and left the mess.

Drys's overactive instincts unsettled Kiros, and as he strolled to his quarters, he frowned. Something was off with Mick. Had he caught wind of S.o.S's other endeavors? Kiros shook his head. Impossible. The kid didn't run in the same circles. Drys's paranoia was rubbing off on Kiros.

His door slid across, and he slipped through the growing opening, too impatient to wait. As captain's cabins go, this one was bigger than a bunk but not by much. A rectangular prism seven feet by ten meant he could install a larger-than-normal bed to accommodate his height. Grooves in the metal crisscrossed a wall from which he could summon a small galley, a shower, a toilet, or a table with a chair. All slid out of sight at a push. A sterilizing aerated closet held his clothing and linen. This was a luxury he had earned from the sweat of his brow and the blood staining his hands.

Tearing off another bite of the protein bar, he flipped onto his bed and folded an arm behind his head. "Access gallery." The screen in the ceiling flickered on, and a directory appeared, divided into many more. "The year 2348."

A robotic voice—neither feminine nor male—said, "No files for that date."

Was it longer than sixteen years since he last photographed Mick? "Display last images taken before 2348."

"Two images located."

The first image was of the S.o.S band. Solomon Burger laughed while sharing a dram of whisky with Thomas. Mick was in the background and in profile, his cheeks hairless. The kid must have been twelve. His spindly arms had yet to develop muscle.

The second image held the smiling Mick he remembered. Kiros had one arm thrown over the kid's narrow shoulders. The skinny runt looked almost feminine. Dark brown hair cropped short, pale skin, umber-colored eyes; a striking contrast to Kiros's mocha skin and walnut-brown eyes.

"Eli says we need parts." Wyatt's tinny voice cut through the bulkhead.

Glaring at the fine holes where the sound traveled through, Kiros said, "I told Eli to hold off on repairs."

"You said that in Andromeda, Kiros. I checked ahead. Eridanus has what I need." Eli's distinctive drawl meant he cornered Wyatt on the bridge. It must be urgent. He didn't like confrontations unless it was in battle. Eli was a tried and tested mechanic, who lived life to the fullest with gung-ho aggression. The meaner the treatment, the better.

"Fine, we'll burn hot to get there, but that fuel's coming out of your cut." Kiros tossed his biodegradable wrapper on the floor, watching a bot slide out to clean it. He kept his quarters spotless, but he often made a mess to give the poor machine something to do. "You will not repair shit until we dock on the Jinsei. Understood?"

"For how long will the Sentry be stationary?" Eagerness saturated Eli's voice, spiking it.

"The journey between Fornax and Cetus." Wyatt's bored tone drowned Eli's grumbling whose voice faded as he left the bridge.

Kiros sighed. "Give me two hours, Wyatt, and I'll cover you tonight." The quiet of the bridge, while the crew slept was the only peace he could find onboard the too-small rapier-class ship. Their band had grown too fast, and they hadn't found a larger ship more suitable to their needs and pocket.

"Roger that, Kiros."

Silence settled once more in Kiros's quarters.

Mick's image remained on the ceiling vid. He didn't need any delays. Something urged him to hurry, to meet the boy sooner. Before Fornax was preferable. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and released it in a slow exhale.

"Kiros, we got company." Wyatt's voice jolted him awake.

Kiros growled, exhaustion adding lead to his limbs and making his movements sluggish. Had he slept for a second?

He rubbed his face. "What is it?"

Wyatt chuckled. "I think we struck it lucky. The manifest has it as a cargo carrier with crates of cabbages. Sec-comms has it flagged as a slave ship with its trajectory Ursa Minor."

"Scan for life forms." Kiros swung his legs off the side of the bed and rose to his full height. He stretched, clicking his back and neck. Relief was instant.

"Clumped together as expected of a slave ship." Wyatt gasped. "Over seventy prisoners."

"What's the bounty?" Kiros jogged along the passage, passing a few of his men en route. They trailed him, eagerness for a fight in their easy smiles.

"Hefty," Wyatt said. "Might be worth veering off course."

"No." Kiros burst into the bridge to lean over Wyatt, analyzing the info on the vids. "We'll board and plant a few men to retake the ship. Deliver it to Kapteyn, and claim the bounty. Either hire a vessel and meet us at Fornax, or await our return."

"That could be weeks." Aidan tossed worried glances while he picked at a scar across his left eyebrow.

"We'll wait a Prime Earth day at Fornax. Any longer is unacceptable." Kiros stared down each man. "Need me to lead?" He hid a grimace. If they said yes, he'd have to travel to Kapteyn. But he had made the offer, half implying they were lost without him.

"I got this." Lanek tugged on his threadbare 'lucky' gloves. "Aidan, Seth, and Ruben, you're with me." He swept up his shoulder-length blond hair into a ponytail.

"Action, at last." Ruben rubbed his palms together, a grin splitting his cheeks. His chewed matchstick clung precariously to his bottom lip.

"We had action last week," Seth said, tapping his blaster to check on its power banks. His buzzcut and slashing eyebrows hinted at dark-brown hair, and a jagged scar rippled down the right side of his face.

"That wasn't fun; they knew we were coming. These guys have no clue what's about to hit them." Their arguing voices faded as Lanek led them to the airlock.

Wyatt banked the Sentry alongside the cargo carrier and extended the arm with the men inside. Once it latched onto the carrier's hull, the seal would open, and they could either force their entry or Ruben could work his magic. Kiros didn't know of anyone with his talent—the opening of any locked, sealed, or coded door. The latter was the preferred approach. They would need the ship operational to deliver the prisoners alive.

"This don't feel right," Drys said, shaking his head. "Too coincidental."

"I'm beginning to think you see danger in everything." Kiros chuckled. "It could be an easy takeover, or worse, we kill them and scuttle the ship."

Drys grinned. "True." He flipped a switch on the console. "Status?"

"Ruben's working on the door," Aidan said. "Are they aware of our presence?"

"They haven't changed course, and no heat signals await your entry," Wyatt said, his fingers flying across the console.

"How can they not have picked up on the Sentry's approach?" Kiros scowled. "Drys's right. This is odd." He pressed the comm button. "Lanek, proceed with caution."

No response followed except for the firing of blasters, thumps of falling bodies, and the heavy tread of hurried boots. "Ambush," Lanek growled. "Moving forward."

Silence followed. Kiros clenched his jaw, wishing he'd led the team. Lanek would replace him when he retired, and the ability to trust him and all Kiros had taught him was harder than anticipated. This was a simple takeover, regardless of the complications.

The Sentry tilted, a creak and whine pierced the bridge, and the engines strained to maintain their position. Wyatt grabbed the lever, cursing a blue streak. "Quit taking a stroll, Lanek. They're attempting to shake off the Sentry."

"Heading to the bridge." Blasters, screams, and cursing filled the Sentry's bridge.

"Can you tap into their sec system?" Drys arched a brow, his shoulders tense.

"There isn't one. The life system is struggling and the engines sputtering. The ship shouldn't be operational." Wyatt sucked in a breath. "This is a too-elaborate trap. Who have we pissed off?"

"Recently?" Kiros smothered a laugh, finding it inappropriate for now.

"Die, bitches," an unknown voice yelled.

Blaster shots sounded.

Lanek grunted in pain. Kiros glanced at the team's stats. He released a breath. None had died.

"A flesh wound," Lanek said, his voice strangled. "Bridge cleared. Aidan, scan the ship. Confirm the authenticity of the life forms."

"Two levels below," Aidan said. "The heat signatures are jumpy."

"Shit," Seth grumbled.

"I don't like this either," Lanek said. "Aidan, hold the bridge."

"Acknowledged."

Heavy breathing set the soundtrack for their trip down two levels, along with a few blaster shots.

"Ruben, you're up," Lanek said.

"Friggin hell, I hate this," Kiros said, keeping his voice low.

"Suck it up." Drys smirked. "Solomon went through the same shit with you."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Kiros said, but the tension stiffening his back eased a bit. He missed his former boss and mentor. They had dropped him off at Moon Station. And with a wave, he disappeared into the causeway crowds, fading into obscurity. That was the way of things, and Kiros expected to do the same when his time came.

"Oh, frig," Ruben said. "Confirmed sighting of the prisoners."

"Shit," Lanek said. "Seth reassure them. Wyatt, give us ten to check the state of their stores."

"Done," Aiden said. "They're fully stocked. Enough for a few trips to Fornax."

"Excellent. Good work, team." Lanek coughed. "Detach, Wyatt, and we'll rendezvous at Fornax. And Seth, get me some medical aid, would ya?"

Wyatt retracted the arm and tilted the lever to the right.

"Happy now, papa bear?" Drys teased, chuckling as he left the bridge.

"Full burn to Eridanus." Kiros hesitated and dropped his hand on Wyatt's shoulder. "Want me to take over?"

"I got this, boss." Wyatt flipped a switch, and a droning voice recited a novel, filling the bridge.

Kiros returned to his quarters, bed, and blessed sleep.