Free The Choosing (The Pruxnae Book 1) by Lucy Varna Page B

and Ziri had jumped into.
    The Yarinska jolted as another ship attempted to lock onto her airlock. Likely, the first
jolt had been a near miss. Sweepers weren’t known for their ability to maneuver
their junkers in close quarters. If he was lucky, they’d take at least two more
tries before they aligned the two ships correctly.
    If he was really
lucky, the jolting was caused by two ships jockeying for position. It meant
more Sweepers, but it also meant each ship’s crew would be more preoccupied
fighting the other for salvage rights and less concerned with him picking them
off one at a time.
    Ryn leapt into a
run, racing down the main corridor to his bedroom and the armor he’d stored
there. He didn’t have time to put it all on, but the helmet would come in
handy. It would filter out the stench of the creatures trying to board the Yarinska and the infrared sensors embedded within it gave him a slight tactical
advantage. If worse came to worse, he could lash himself against one wall of
the cargo bay and blow the airlock. With the helmet on, he could breathe
through the resulting pressure loss, not for long, but for long enough. They
might lose a lot of supplies, but at least they’d be rid of the Sweepers so he
could maneuver the Yarinska to another jump point.
    By the swift
calculations he’d done before he’d left the bridge, the jump engines had just
enough juice left in them for a short leap into a nearby system. They could
find a safe hiding place and power almost completely down, waiting out the
Sweepers’ inevitable pursuit and eventual disinterest. It would be uncomfortable,
especially for Ziri, but it could be done.
    He retrieved his
helmet and slipped it on, stuffed extra battery packs into wherever he could
fit them, and strapped a half-ceg long knife to his thigh. That might come in
handy, depending on how many Sweepers there were, though he wouldn’t be able to
use it for long.
    As ready as he’d
ever be, he veered off toward the cargo bay, shutting everything out of his
mind as he went, the fear stabbing at him, Ziri’s wide eyes and the sweet taste
of her mouth, the knowledge of what would happen to her if the Sweepers found her.
He closed everything off and slipped into the cargo bay, determination steeling
his courage.
    Two Sweepers
huddled on the far side of the largely empty space next to the airlock, their
misshapen forms clearly visible against the flat gray of the Yarinska ’s
exterior wall. Bile shot up Ryn’s throat, searing the back of his mouth. He
swallowed it down and crept into the bay, his boots nearly silent on the hard
floor. A third Sweeper shambled out of the open airlock, its hulking form
swaying on thick, humanoid legs, its tentacles swirling around its back in
languid sweeps. This one had two eyes, large ovoid discs as big as Ryn’s hand
set into a pointed skull above a gaping maw filled with row upon row of tiny,
pointed teeth.
    Those eyes fixed
on him. A nasal roar escaped the Sweeper’s mouth as its back arched in a
primitive display of domination. Tentacles writhed and twitched, their ends
searching for the threat the Sweeper had sensed. Its roar echoed around the
cargo bay, and the other Sweepers scuttled across the floor, well out of its
reach. The Sweeper’s head lowered and its bulbous feet swept from side to side.
    Ryn aimed his
gun and braced himself. The Sweeper bunched itself into a tight ball, then
launched itself upward, arcing through the air toward Ryn. He followed its path
through the cargo bay, waiting, waiting. The Sweeper hit the highest point of
its jump and began a controlled descent, its tentacles splayed out around it,
flattened against the air rushing past them.
    Twenty ceg,
fifteen.
    When it was ten
ceg away, Ryn fired, bim, bim, bim . Three short pulses flashed out of
the gun’s barrel, each one hitting the Sweeper in its armored chest, rippling red
bursts of energy over the unwieldy alien. Its tentacles went limp and it
bobbled, teetering onto