“Get down!”
A strong hand grabs my arm and pushes me to the metal deck. Seconds later, a spray of gunfire tears into the bulkhead behind me. Instinctively, I cover my head as the projectiles fly.
“Bullets on a spaceship? What the fuck is the matter with them?”
Roy Chambers peeks over the cargo containers that conceal us. “I don’t think they care, Mel.”
“Who the hell are they?”
“They’re the real owners of that.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the large, coffin-shaped container behind us.
I frown as I consider the object, wracking my brain over what it might contain. The mystery has vexed me since it came aboard under questionable circumstances some days earlier.
I start to ask a question, but he raises a hand.
Mag boots click against the deck.
I cock a questioning eyebrow. “How many of them?”
He holds up two fingers.
“Shit! What the hell are we going to do, Captain?”
It was his turn to scowl at me. I never call him that, except to be sarcastic. He appears to be distracted by something.
“They’re jamming my cortical implant. I can’t raise any of the crew.”
“If anyone is still alive.”
I wonder how long we have left…
