Stealing the Dragon’s Heart by Kiersten Fay

8

With ten minutes until the start of Phase Nine, Aidan was finally beginning to feel the first sparks of what could be excitement running through him.

Entering the Dragoon’s bridge, he gazed upon the pilot’s helm. A slow drip of anticipation rippled in his chest, and the ghost of adrenaline haunted his blood. He tried to stoke it to life, but it was a weak apparition. Weaker than it should have been this close to the start, like damp kindling where there should be raging flame. If he’d truly lost his fire, could it cost him the win?

His navigator, Zeek, was already at his station, downloading the schematics for Phase One. His co-pilot, Asher, was manning his station as well, waiting for Aidan’s command. Strangely, after insisting on being on the bridge at the starting line, Lear had opted to relax in the mess hall. Vin was in the engine room, ensuring a smooth launch, while Priya armed the artillery. This would be the only time in the race when all the ships would be so densely packed together. Once the race officially began, the opportunity to take out the competition always proved too tempting for some of the overzealous players.

A sense of the upcoming danger twisted knots of dread in Aidan’s gut. The unknown obstacles stationed throughout the race both intrigued and worried him. Hazards lurked at every turn, pitfalls and threats designed to hobble and destroy. If he wasn’t vigilant, one or more of his crew could be killed, if not during each dangerous phase of the race, then at the required stops where challenges were issued in exchange for vouchers that shaved off time from the mandatory wait period between each phase.

At the helm, he met the gazes of Zeek and Asher. In turn, they inclined their heads, indicating their readiness. Outwardly they were calm, but the rigidness in their shoulders and the tightness in their jaws telegraphed the nervous mixture of restlessness and anxiety that plagued them.

They all knew the risks, yet they had agreed to aid him in this race without protest. They were a dependable crew. His friends. He’d be damned if he lost even one of them.

Through the front viewport, he watched the massive hangar door slowly rise, revealing an expansive view of space wide enough for a volley of jettisoning ships to burst through. He imagined the spectator’s raucous cheers as they gathered impatiently around view screens, the announcers fueling the thrall with inciting commentary.

“You guys ready to make history?” he called. Aidan intended to take first place at the start and never let go. Just like last time. The memory was the most bittersweet of his life.

Asher replied, “Ready, Captain,” while Zeek announced, “We’re not going to make history, we’re going to break it.”

There had never been a two-time winner of Phase Nine. If Dragoon crossed that finish line first, Aidan truly would be infamous, but they had a long way to go. Each phase of the race was like a mini competition all on its own. The ship that reached the first stop ahead of everyone else potentially claimed a huge advantage. Those time reduction vouchers were generally easiest to win in Phase One.

Aidan cracked his knuckles. “All right, Ash, light it up.”

Asher tapped a sequence of buttons. A very slight vibration indicated the engines roaring to life. It crackled through Aidan like a vibrant caress, somewhat calming him. He relaxed in his seat, even as his pulse spiked. He sensed the exact moment Dragoon became airborne, hovering just above the cool metal of the hangar.

Flying a ship was similar to flying in his dragon form. Natural. Intuitive. Exhilarating—or it used to be. It used to be the only time he felt truly peaceful. It had been so long since he’d been at peace.

Hopefully that would change, and soon he’d escape into that blissfully mindless place where instinct met skill, where his body and the ship became one, where a singular focus took over and all other thoughts were suspended.

Aidan connected to Priya’s com-link. “Priya, how’d we do on acquiring that extra ammo?” Since that thief had pilfered the last of Aidan’s credits, Priya had resorted to bartering supplies to bolster their artillery.

“All set, Captain. We owe some favors, though. On my way to the bridge now.”

Aidan checked the time. Five minutes and counting. He switched to Vin’s com-link. “Vin? How are the engines doing?”

“Golden. Those new parts are working great.”

Finally, he checked in with Lear. “Lear, if you’re finished lounging around, you’d better get up here if you want a front row seat.”

“That’s okay, we’re all set back here.”

Aidan felt his brow crease. “We?”

“Yes, myself and our two new crew members.”

Asher and Zeek both shot Aidan a what the fuck? look.

“What do you mean, two new crew members?” Aidan demanded.

“The young reporters who have been assigned to document our journey.”

Aidan’s heart jumped into this throat. “What reporters?”

“The reporters sent by the coalition.”

Full-on adrenaline crashed through Aidan’s system. The coalition had never sent reporters out on assignment with Phase Nine participants before. If they’d planned to this time around, Aidan would have heard about it. “Where are they?”

There was a pause. Did Lear register the sudden steel in his tone? “We’re all in the mess hall.”

Aidan severed the transmission, set the ship to idle, and pushed away from his console.

“But we need to get to the starting line,” Zeek reminded him.

Priya entered the bridge just in time for Aidan to order, “With me,” as he passed her on his way to the door.

Confused, she followed, matching his swift pace.

“You armed?” he asked.

“Always. But why should I be?”

“We have strangers on board. Lear let them on.”

Priya cursed.

A deep voice came from behind Priya. “I am armed.” It was Asher. Both he and Zeek were trailing them.

“What are you two doing?” Priya inquired. “Get back to the bridge.” Priya was one of the best security officers and gunmen in the quadrant. She likely didn’t appreciate the unrequested backup.

Asher retrieved a blade from a sheath at his waist. They all carried a blade somewhere on their person, even Zeek, a habit from their old mercenary work together. “These men aboard could prove dangerous if they mean us harm.”

Zeek added, “Without pilots or gunners, I don’t see why I should be left out of a scuffle.”

Aidan didn’t argue. If there was about to be a scuffle, he preferred the numbers to be on his side.

“Why would Lear let a couple of strangers on board?” Priya demanded, clearly as annoyed as Aidan.

“Apparently, they told him they’re reporters from the coalition.”

“And he believed them?” Zeek snorted.

“You think we’re dealing with saboteurs?” From somewhere on her person, Priya had retrieved a set of double-barreled pulse guns, holding one in each hand.

Zeek eyed Priya’s weapons incredulously. “Where did you even find room to hide those?”

“Trade secret.”

With Aidan in the lead, they exploded into the mess hall.

Lear was casually sitting at the table, smiling fondly at a curly-haired brunette. The woman appeared startled by their entrance. She pushed to stand and began wringing her hands. Where was the second intruder? Aidan surveyed the room.

And then he saw her, perched on a counter, one smooth leg crossed over the other as she idly nibbled on a protein cake.

Her eyes widened, catching the light and making them appear to flash as slivery-white as the glossy tendrils of hair that tumbled over her right shoulder.

A mixture of shock and outrage froze Aidan in his tracks. Something primitive surged inside him, and he didn’t even recognize his own voice when he roared, “You!”