Free The Last Horizon by Anthony Hartig Page B

hold.
    “Good luck, Nikki.” He sa id sullenly, then stepped into the lock.
       The thrusters of the Moria Balá burned radiantly in the blue-black void of space, and I could see their flicker reflected off the surface of the cockpit anti-glare panel. I looked up through the glass canopy and saw the retro-jets on the bottom of the Moria’s massive hull firing in an even pattern to slow down as they loomed over us. I also noticed a ball gun turret with the twin barrels of a pulse cannon trained at my cockpit. We were at cruising speed but the chase was over.
       I sighed and I punched in my code to initiate the self-destruct sequence and set it for a silent countdown. All that was left was the voice command…

Chapter 7
    I flipped the drives to idle and they slipped into a quiet hum that was ghosted by the drone of the thrusters. The Zephyr was damaged and wouldn’t be able to take a pounding like that again.
    “ Cut your main burners, pilot.” Seinz’s voice ordered coldly through the cast.
    I reached forward and hit the toggles and the jets began to shut down.
    “Aviator, engage your auto-pilot and maintain cruising speed. Keep the gravity cells enabled and prepare to be boarded.” Another male voice commanded on my headset.
    The seconds ticked by painfully slow. I took a deep breath and cringed at the thought of what lay in store for me in the time I had lef t. Scotty should be ejecting soon. I hoped he would be able to get safely to the shipping lanes.
    The Zephyr’s cargo bay had a simple lay-out; there was a small overhead crane on a track running above a narrow center aisle. The floor was a grated poly-alloy that allowed for the cross- ventilation of cargo. The containers of cosmetics were stacked on each side of the aisle in two rows twenty feet high from front to back for fast, easy unloading.
    A minute later a small shuttle had deployed from the Moria and descended to the right side of the Zephyr where the docking port was located. There was a heavy clang as it clamped to the port collar and the decon chamber in my ship began to depressurize.
    The stainless steel locking bolts of the port hatch beeped electronically and opened with a mechanical whirr. The neoprene seals hissed softly and the thick hatch swung open as light from the foreign ship flooded the chamber. A faint whine of fans penetrated the silence as a small airborne reconnaissance drone hovered into the compartment and paused to survey the area.
    T he sensor for the bulkhead door to the cargo hold chirped twice, a LED status light mounted above the entrance blinked green, and the door automatically slid open. The probe hung in the chill for a few seconds, then crossed the threshold. The Zephyr was officially invaded.
    The automaton floated six feet above the floor and drifted slowly into the Zephyr’s dark hold between the crates. Suddenly, the drone projected a thin, pale blue light and began to scan the cargo hold from the grated floor to the perforated ceiling panels as it glided forward in the direction of the cockpit.
    S econds later, shadows emerged through the door of the chamber and the gloom was pierced by thin red beams from the laser sights of assault rifles. Three figures appeared and slowly moved forward through the dim compartment single file.
    Scott stretched out on top of a group of crates located in the middle of the cargo hold. He inched forward to the edge of the container and peered down as the probe hovered past him. He controlled his breathing and closed his eyes as he reached down and pulled a Black Raven automatic pistol from a nylon holster strapped to his leg.
    He watched in silence as he sized-up the bandits when they passed below him. Scott could tell from their silhouettes that two of them were wearing night vision goggles, but all of them were trussed in ballistic vests. He could also see the plumes of breath being expended from their rebreathers.
    The pirates knew how to move through unfamiliar space to an