Free FreedomofThree by Liberty Stafford Page A

beautiful glass dome on top of the Ratt Pirate building.
    Down below, an area had been cleared in what used to be the library, all the books having been burnt years ago. From what she could see, the sturdy bookshelves had been the saving grace of that room and had stopped the roof from caving in completely. Although unsafe, obvious even from that distance, a table had been dusted off and around it sat twelve of the highest ranking Ratt Pirates. Each of them wore the black uniform with skulls made out of jet on the pockets. One had an eye patch. Another had a robotic claw for a hand. Obviously a room filled with battle- worn men.
    A deep wave of hatred, embittered by the years and sad stories of the ravages of war told around rebel campfires, Brandana set the detonator for fifteen seconds. Before she initiated the sequence, she checked her escape route and shook her head. This was probably the stupidest thing she had ever done. She pictured her brother, thankfully safe up in his ship, her mother, and then the image of Devon formed, a mental picture which made her melt inside. When she thought of him, she thought of love and of peace. This was no time for either wonderful emotion.
    Brandana flared her nostrils and cleared her mind. Pushing the button to begin the countdown sequence, she armed the bomb and dropped it onto the table below. As much as she would have liked to revel in the looks of surprise and terror upon the Ratt Pirates’ faces, if she wanted to live, she had to go.
    Using every fibre of muscle in her thighs and shoulders, Brandana sprinted like an Olympic athlete and grabbed the rope which she had untied from the grappling hook. Wrapping it around her wrists and hands as she belted along, Brandana reached the edge of the building and jumped.
    Even in mid-air, her legs were still running. Tighter and tighter she wrapped the rope around her wrist as she felt the nauseating dropping sensation in her stomach. With a twang, the rope tightened. Brandana cried out as her wrist snapped in the gnarly clutch of the rope. As she yelled, the sound of her voice was drowned by the almighty explosion of the Ratt Pirate building which crumbled in a cloud of thick, acrid, grey smoke.
    Her body slammed against the rough stone exterior of the derelict home where she had hidden earlier. As her feet slid against the walls, she began to climb, detritus from the exploded Ratt Pirate building hitting her like bee stings all over her body and head.
    At last, Brandana was back by the small window from where she had spied to begin her mission. Something in her mind made her look back and smile. Frantic Ratt Pirates ran everywhere. She was too high up and too quick for them. She also had a loyal ally. A rope dropped down. Hans’ ship was hovering above. Another rope was all Brandana needed. Her right wrist ached incredibly and there was no way it had the strength to support her weight again. She latched on with her left hand, not her strongest, but it was her last hope.
    Hans was in the doorway, hauling at the rope, aware that she was hurt, his shoulder muscles burning with lactic acid but yet he would not stop. Not until she was safely at his feet, dragged inside, and he could whisk them away before other ships were sent to destroy them.
    He hauled his sister into the craft and ran to the cockpit. Throwing himself urgently into the pilot’s seat, Hans rocketed out of Populus’s orbit before any Ratt Pirate ship had a chance to lock onto their whereabouts. As he soared away at warp speed, Brandana sat on the floor by the closed hatch, nursing her aching wrist.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Nineteen
    History Repeats Itself
     
     
    Another day, another dollar for Devon, whose reputation as a most excellent masseur was spreading like wildfire throughout the hotel and onto other planets where satisfied holidaymakers had returned. But something had changed. Devon was unhappy. Yes, it had been fun at first, feeling worthwhile,