Class-M Exile by Raven Oak

Author:Raven Oak [Oak, Raven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: prejudice, sci-fi, science fiction, space opera, space adventure
ISBN: 9780990815754
Publisher: Grey Sun Press
Published: 2015-06-15T22:38:40+00:00

7

I FOUND US A SHIP

When the crickets chirped and the temperature bellied out, I gave up waitin’ behind them crates. I stretched and peered out into the shadows when I seen someone movin’ up ahead. Limpin’. Until I saw a bit of braid stickin’ outta her hood, I thought it was maybe our mystery tourist.

As Mel got closer, a splatter of blood painted her boots and the bottom of her jeans. I’d moved out from beneath the shadows before I’d done thought it through, but no one trailed behind her. Not that I’d blame ’em—somethin’ scary lurked in her eyes as she limped back to me.

She ain’t seen me, even when she stood less than a foot from me. I touched her shoulder, and she stopped mid-step. “Get-off-of-m—” She paused, her eyes busy focusin’. “Eerl.”

“You smell of blood and fear. What happened?” I tried pullin’ her back toward the crates, but she shook her head. “We need to be less visible.”

“No, this way. I found us a ship.”

“Mel, wait,” I said, rushin’ to catch up with her. Even with a limp, she was truckin’ it ’cross the alley like hell itself was on her tail. It was surely on mine as I followed. What was with the blood? How’d she gotten us a ship with nothin’ more than a shiv? I shivered, and it had nothin’ to do with the settin’ sun neither.

She led me through a maze of streets, every one of ’em empty. Once I caught sight of someone standin’ on a porch, but they ducked back inside with a hiss and a door slam. Another alleyway, and there it was.

A small speeder.

Wasn’t the best ship for long range, but it would get us to Ryddar, assumin’ it had enough fuel and workin’ parts. I’d never set foot in a ship that small, but I supposed there was always a first time for everything.

The hatch opened with the slide of a battered ident card, and my brows twitched. When no one greeted us inside, my brows danced with my forehead. “Mel,” I said, grabbin’ hold of her arm. “Wait a second, what’s going on? Whose ship is this? How’d ya get ’em to agree—”

“There wasn’t any agreement.” She sneaked a peek at her shoes before steppin’ into the ship’s bow. The hatch closed, and I stood there, one chump up shit creek.

By the time I’d gotten feelin’ back in my extremities, the ship was already airborne. Mel was alone in the cockpit. And she was pilotin’ the ship.

“Put it on auto-pilot.”

She flinched at the growl in my voice. “Can’t. Not until we’re free of the gravitational pull.”

“See, how do ya know somethin’ like that? When did ya learn to pilot a ship?”

I slid ’cross the cockpit and grabbed hold of an overhead grip as we done pulled further away from the planet. My skin felt oddly light for a mite before it settled into its rightful place. We were free of the grav. She slapped a button with the butt of her hand, and the computer beeped in response.

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