The Gravity of the Situation Read online

swallowed by his big arms. “Okay, now I’m going to put my arms around both of you. Pura, put your hands on my arms.”

  Nerves made Syrah almost trip over the wiring on the floor. She wrapped her arms around Barran’s wide shoulders, taking a deep breath. She couldn't close the circle, but she'd never needed to before. Of course, she'd never quite done this before, either. She closed her eyes, and concentrated.

  Nothing.

  An alarm shattered Syrah’s concentration. The ceiling was caving in at five points. The gravity net pressed down. Their air was about to abandon them to the void.

  She concentrated again. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She imagined a ship hold, with space for a shuttle, and atmosphere.

  Something tore. The gravity net breached the hull, and around the heavy gravity discs, the air hissed out in a rush. Anger flooded Syrah, hot and syrupy. She looked at Pura’s bowed head.

  “If you’re going to do something, now would be the time.” Barran’s voice vibrated through his back, into her chest.

  Now.

  The air smelled of recycled oxygen and atmosphere filters. It was the sweetest smell Syrah had ever smelled. She looked around wildly to see they were in an enormous hallway. She heard the familiar sounds of big engines driving a ship through space. She let go of Barran and took a step back, soaking in her new surroundings.

  Pura jumped out of Barran’s arms and into hers. “You did it!”

  Barran swore in a language Syrah didn’t’ know. “That was cold!” Steam rose from his body.

  “Couldn’t be helped. Tell your people to fly.” She hugged Pura back.

  “Okay, okay!” He turned and jogged, leaving Syrah and Pura to follow.

  “What about comms?” Pura whispered to Syrah.

  “It’s a bad idea when people are looking for you, kid.” Syrah said.

  The cockpit held a concerned looking human. He was small and thin, and didn’t look like a smuggler at all. “Jeez, Barran, where the hell were you?”

  “At the Kozlovs. With their leather and their politics.” His expression changed when he saw his ships console. He leapt into the pilot’s chair and started fiddling with controls. “What did you do?”

  “You needed my help. I tried to figure out how to make it pick up the shuttle.” He looked at Barran, then Syrah, then Pura, then back to Barran. “Who are they?”

  “Garret, this is Syrah, and..” He paused . “Jillian.”

  Syrah cocked her head at Barran at Pura’s new name. He gave her a significant glance, so she held back her questions.

  “I rescued them from the Kozlovs. We’re giving them a ride.” He looked at Syrah, whose expression clouded over. “Well, they helped.”

  Garrett gave Barran a similarly questioning look. Syrah wondered who she’d crawled in space with.

  “Welcome to the Sternenlicht.” From his chair, Barran swept his arms out grandly to indicate the ship.

  Jillian ran to the ship’s front screen, which showed the view just outside the heavy hull. “It’s so beautiful!”

  “And the course is laid in.” Barran looked to Garret. “Think you can fly her for a while?”

  “Where are you going?” Garret asked suspiciously.

  "The med bay. Can't you see the lady is injured?" Barran pointed to Syrah's side.

  "You're leaving her?" Garret looked over at Jillian, who was staring at the stars.

  “She’ll be all right. Mommy and Daddy have things to discuss. Keep an eye on her.” He offered an elbow for Syrah to lean on.

  She grabbed on for the sake of appearance, and let Barran lead her out of the cockpit. Once they were out of earshot, Syrah asked. “Jillian?”

  “The faster she forgets her slave name, the faster she forgets she was a slave. It’ll be good for her.” Barran assured her.

  She let go of his elbow and walked on her own. “Seems like you’re asking her to forget who she is.”

  “I am.” Barran was unapologetic. “She’s going to bounce back. That's not really what's important here. I'd like to discuss your incredible abilities."

  The Sternenlicht was enormous, and the halls echoed hollowly. Syrah remained silent on the subject for a while, wondering why such a big ship had so few people.

  “Well?” He prompted. "You said you'd tell me, and we've survived."

  Syrah sighed. “Its alien tech, and Kozlov had me captive to find out the specifics. I didn't get to see the notes. It’s not reliable, either. If it was, I wouldn't have been caught in the first place.” She admired the clean lines of the ship. It wasn’t a model she was familiar with.

  “Glad you left that part out before bringing us aboard." Barran gave her a hooded look. "I’ll tell you what. Share this tech with me. I'll help you sell it to the high rollers, and we'll be rich.” His eyes burned with hunger.

  “No.” Syrah shook her head.

  “Oh, come on! The only way to prevent what happened to you is to surround yourself with people who can do the same thing!” He looked so earnest, it was hard to tell if it was an act.

  “What happened to me almost killed me. I’m fine now, but I spent weeks in agony, with no one able to help me. The people kind enough to help me did end up dead. I didn’t remember my name when I first came to. You don’t want to risk it.” Syrah heard the words tumble from her mouth, an unintended confession.

  He blinked.

  “But you survived! I'd suffer the same thing if it meant getting what you got. It's a small price to pay.

  “I’m the only one who’s survived it, Barran." Syrah wished she hadn't said anything.

  "What's your plan, then?" He asked.

  Syrah sighed. “I need to take out Ari. He's going to end up cracking this, and killing a lot of people before he's through."

  “I can’t help you with that.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s against my policy to make enemies with the Houses.”

  “A ride will suffice. Where are you going?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Caserne is close. We’re aiming for Crux. You have your pick.” Barran offered.

  Caserne was three months travel, Crux a year. Then it dawned on her. It didn’t have to be.

  “Let’s head for Caserne.” She let some of her tiredness show. It was less an act than not showing it had been. “Could you show me a room? I’m exhausted.”

  “Sure.” They walked in companionable quiet, until they got to the berths. Barran hit a button, and the door slid open. “My lady.”

  “Could you send Pu…Jillian by? I want to get her cleaned up too.” Syrah asked.

  “Of course. You rest, and we’ll talk more later.” Barran smiled and shut the door behind her.

  She waited to hear the electronic lock, but it didn’t take. Surprising. Then again, he knew what she could do. She wished it had worked in Ari’s compound. The drugs he’d given her… It was too awful to think about. She lay down on the bed, determined to stay awake and rest. She woke when Jillian walked in.

  “This ship is so big!” Jillian smiled warmly. “I love it!”

  “Well, we’ll be leaving it soon.” She sat up from the bed.

  “No!” Fire flashed in Jillian’s eyes. “I love it. I don't want to go.”

  Syrah felt an unexpected jolt. She’d grown accustomed to having Pura, now Jillian around. But Syrah had a bounty on her head, and that was no life for a young girl. She nodded. “I promised to get you free. So, it’s your choice. I am leaving this ship. If you want to stay, stay, but you have to behave for them. And be careful.”

  Jillian nodded. “Thank you. I will.”

  “Thank you.” Syrah gave her a hug.

  She let go of the girl and looked at her. “I like your name, by the way. Now, why don't you go find your quarters and get cleaned up? We've had a long day."

  "Good idea," Jillian said, and skipped from the room, looking pleased.

  Syrah let that image stay in her mind, and as soon as the door closed, she closed her eyes and called on her abi
lity. She opened her eyes when she felt a breeze on her cheek. She felt dizzy and out of sorts. She stood on a dirt street, with carts running up and down the roads, drawn by horses or logranth. The big lizard-like aliens ignored her, but the horses whickered and shied when she appeared.

  People stared at her. Syrah wondered if it was the rapid appearance, or just her blood-stained clothes that made them seem so unfriendly. They were wearing simple clothes and gear, nothing more technological than a knife or a sling at their hip.

  She found refuge in a small shop with a shingle. The shingle had a needle and thread on it.

  The seamstress looked up in surprise at Syrah's entrance. One of the customers muttered “Kozlov” like it was a curse.

  “Excuse me,” she began, uninterested in their opinions. “I’ve had a hard day. You see, I have things to attend to, and nothing to wear.”

  To follow Syrah on her further adventures, we invite you aboard “The Corsican”

  now available for the Kindle and in print.

  To learn more about the author, visit Tina’s blog at:

  https://tinashelton.com/

  For more information about Anacrusis Press, please visit our webpage at:

  https://www.anacrusispress.com/

  Thank you for reading books on Archive.BookFrom.Net
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