“You f**king awkward piece of shit,” he hissed after his last attempt failed. Sweat rolled down the hollow of his spine as his onboard ticked away the seconds. His sense of dread increased. “Believe me, if anything happens to Milly, I’m gonna find your core and introduce you to some ZX-fourteen. Let’s see how you cooperate with all your memory crystals fried, shall we, hmmm?”
As if it could hear his threats, the last combination worked and the screen cleared to allow him access to the sensor system. The code scrolling over the screen would have been incomprehensible to any human looking at the screen, but the part of Johnny’s brain that wasn’t human easily deciphered the gobbledygook.
Quickly he maneuvered around the system, triggering several displays of various corridors until he found movement on one of the sensors. An image of the bridge displayed before him, two men he’d never seen before moving across the camera’s field of vision. A frown creased his brow as he noted their appearance. Dock loader’s uniforms, not particularly good ones either. Even he could see that the color was slightly off compared to the station ones, the blue a shade too dark.
His breath caught as one of them disappeared out of frame for a second, then returned, dragging a smaller figure with him by the scruff of the neck. As he approached the other one, he shoved his captive forward so she sprawled over the deck. She rolled and came back to her feet with her fists up, but Johnny could already see the darkening bruise over one side of her face where she’d been hit.
His heart lurched, all but stopped for a second before it kicked up a notch, adrenaline and murderous rage flooding his body. The screech of metal drew his attention away from the screen and he looked down at his hands. Blood welled across the ruined desk, his fingers wrapped around the sheet metal, crumpling it as though it were paper. His gaze flicked back up to the screen in time to see one of the men backhand Milly again.
He stood. They were going to pay.
In blood.
She was going to die.
The instant the lift started to move again, adrenaline poured through Milly’s system. Someone had control of the lift from the bridge, the same someone who was piloting her ship out of dock and into space. Whichever way she cut a situation like this, one thing was for sure, it wasn’t going to end up well for her. She didn’t know many hijackers who looked after the crews of the ships they took or put them off at the nearest planet, moon or asteroid with thanks and a nice little survival basket. No, most hijackers just herded them into an airlock and vented it to space. No crew, no bodies to stink the place up, no problem.
“Shitshitshitshit.”
The muttered refrain rolled around the small enclosure as she looked around in the vain hope she might have missed something she could use as a weapon the fifty other times she’d scanned it. The blank walls and empty floor mocked her. She was screwed, six ways to Sunday and back again.
The lift pulled level with the doors. Her heart pounded, fit to burst from her chest as she eyed them with something near panic. Her only hope was to burst through them as soon as they opened and take whoever was on the other side by surprise, a course of action that would have one of three possible outcomes. She would manage to escape, slipping past whoever was there to the bridge proper and beyond into the corridors of the command level…she could wrest some kind of weapon from them—although, knowing her luck, they’d be carrying nothing more dangerous than a breakfast pastry and the morning news-flexi…more likely was that she’d be caught, marched down to the airlock and introduced to cold, hard space.
She gathered herself, crouched low with her legs bunched under her. Her body ached, buzzing with the energy pouring through her as she watched the doors like a Quolaxian hawk.
They opened. With a wordless bellow, she launched herself through them.
“Frigging ‘ell!”
She collided with the person on the other side. Armed and male, he was taller than she was by at least a foot. Face grim with determination, she wrapped her hands around the pulse shotgun he carried and tried to twist it from his hands.
“What the f— Oh no, you don’t, you little bitch,” he muttered, fighting her for possession of the weapon. The struggle was short lived, her strength no match for his. With a grunt, he jerked the gun from her grasp and lashed out.
The butt of the gun crashed into her cheek. Pain flared across her face as her head was slammed back and stars to rival the most beautiful space scene exploded across her vision. The coppery, metallic tang of blood filled her mouth as hard hands grabbed her. Even though she couldn’t see properly, her attackers face hidden behind starburst nebulas in green and purple, she fought like a wildcat. Kicking and screaming she lashed out with her nails and fists and tried everything she had to get loose.
“Oh, you’re a wild little thing, aren’t you? Fucking well hold still.”
“For god’s sake, Welch. Would you keep it down over there? Some of us are trying to friggin’ work here.”
A new voice broke through the sounds of the scuffle. Milly managed to twist a little in her attacker’s hold. Another guy, dressed like this one in a loader’s coverall, sat in the pilot’s chair, his pale gaze unwavering on the screen in front of him as he piloted the Starflame out of station dock.
He flicked them a glance and the look in his eyes chilled her to the bone. If she’d harbored any notions about appealing to the hijackers better nature, it died a quick, painful death at that look. It was the sort of look that said he’d gut her just to see what her intestines looked like as they cascaded from the ruins of her abdomen.
A fist slammed into her face again, the knuckles creating a burning ring of pain around her eye. The force of the blow knocked her to the floor and she struggled to breathe through the agony in her head. The skin throbbed in time with her rapid heartbeat and she could feel the area starting to swell. Within seconds it started to close her eye. Survival instincts kicked in and she tried to scramble away, but it was no good. Her attacker was on her in a trice. Grabbing hold of the hair at the back of her neck, he hauled her to her feet and dragged her across the bridge.
“What do you reckon, Vos? Pretty little thing, ain’t she?”
Welch shoved her hard, so that she stumbled and fell to her knees in front of the man in the pilot’s seat. He flicked that cold gaze over her again and she shivered.
“Pretty enough. Don’t mess her up too much, I don’t want sloppy seconds.”
His fingers tapped over the console built into the pilot’s seat as he transferred his attention to the main view screen again. Risking a quick glance, the view told her that they were almost out of the system. From there it was a short distance to the jump points and she was f**ked. No one would be able to track the flame once it jumped.
Welch grinned as he reached for her again. Her eyes watered as she let him pull her up again by her hair, but this time she was ready for him. Her legs under her, she pushed off as he yanked her up, lifting her knee to slam it into his groin. He was too fast for her, twisting aside with a curse and shoving her away. His heavy backhand caught her unawares, spinning her around and dumping her on the deck plates again.
Blood dripped from her bruised and battered face as she tried to get to her feet, her energy waning as despair filled her heart.
“Fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that. Welch’ll take it out of your ass. Literally.”
Welch grabbed her and hauled her upright again, but all the fight had gone out of her. She was alone on the ship, apart from the Aries, and she knew better than to expect the android to help her. As far as it was concerned, it would return to her quarters, and not finding her there, would simply wait until she returned.
Propelled across the bridge toward the conference area at the back, Welch threw her across the table and slammed a hard hand across her face to hold her, bruised cheek down, against the cool metal surface. His other hand moved to the back of her waist, shoving the stretchy pants and panties she wore down over her h*ps and exposing her nether regions.
“No no no no,” she whimpered, tears pouring down her cheeks as she felt about the table frantically. She was going to die in the next couple of hours, but she knew she’d wish for death long before it actually came.
Her fingertips brushed over something, but with her head turned the other way she couldn’t see what it was. A thin ray of hope broke through the clouds filling her head and she tried again, desperately reaching for it as the sound of Welch’s pants zipper reached her ears.
“You got a real nice cunt, all pretty and pink.” He leaned over her, hot puffs of breath washing over the side of her face as he panted. “I’m gonna split you in two with my cock, bitch. Make you pay.”
The object rolled into touch, her fingers closing around the slim metal barrel of a pen. Archaic given the computers built into the Starflame’s design, but right at that moment, Milly could have kissed her first officer, Cain, for his retro tendencies.
Spinning the pen in her fingers, she got a good grip on it and shoved her ass backward sharply. The thick, hot length of Welch’s c*ck stabbed into the back of her thigh, eliciting a masculine grunt of pain and leaving a slick trail of pr**um that made her feel sick. She ignored the feeling, twisting to slam an elbow into his rib cage and biting his finger as his hand slipped. More blood filled her mouth, but not her own. Spitting it out, she bucked him off and stabbed backward blindly with the fist that held the pen.
Smack. Pop.
She felt the impact of her fist against his side and the snick as the pen-point broke through the skin and slid within. Wet warmth flowed over her hand as he screamed in agony. But she didn’t let up, snaking a hand between her thighs to grab his c*ck and hold him still as she stabbed back again and again.
Only one more blow connected as he hammered her back and head with heavy fists. Her face slammed into the metal table again and her vision started to gray out. Grim satisfaction filled her as the bloody pen slipped from her fingers. At least she’d done something, not just curled over and given up like a good little victim. This bitch had left scars.
“Fuck you! Bitch stuck me. I’ll f**king do her for that!”
Regret filtered through her as Welch stumbled away and she hovered on the edge of consciousness, listening to the roar of anger behind her. She should’ve taken up Johnny Ram’s offer of dinner, and to hell with the consequences.
The blows stopped and she braced herself, expecting the roar of the pulse gun any second, the agony as the bolt hit her and the blessed relief of death before they could inflict anything else on her. But it didn’t come.
Frowning, she slid from the table, turning and sitting in the ruins of her own blood-soaked pants to survey the rest of the bridge, trying to focus on the bellows of anger and rage.
The Aries was there, his face a mask of fury as he held Vos suspended above the pilot’s chair. The hijacker’s body shook, the legs doing a jig as blood and other fluids stained the blue fabric down to his boots and dripped off onto the floor. Even from where she was, Milly could smell the urine. There was a mop in the bridge closet just to the left of the main viewer, she thought absently, ignoring the clamoring in her head beyond the grayness of her obviously concussed state. She’d have to tell the Aries where it was so he could clean the blood and piss up.