“YOU HAVE TO undo the straps,” Amye commands.

“JC told me to just speak.” Michelle eases back a single step.

“Because she thinks I attacked her.”

“Amye, you did attack her.”

“Michelle,” Amye drops her voice as close to motherly as possible, “there’s a Sandman onboard. I attacked JC, wanting her to blast it from my thoughts.”

“So you attacked her, because you couldn’t say, ‘Use your mind powers on me’?”

“You got it.”

“Why would she mentally blast you if you punched her?”

“I gambled. I didn’t think she was as skilled as me and would have to use her mind to fight. Now help me stop the Sandman.”

Michelle tugs on the strap to release it. As she fishes the leather through the buckle she asks, “Why didn’t you report me running away?”

“I would have tried to escape, too. You’re a captive. Somewhere in your mind you still don’t fully trust us. I wouldn’t either.”

“I trust you.” The leather strap pops free. Amye reaches over to free her right arm.

Michelle slides two steps back. “Does the Sandman still control you?”

“No.” Amye reaches for the straps around her ankles. “They phase into our reality and leave, unable to stay long. We’ve got to move before it comes back.”

••••••

BEFORE ANYONE PROTESTS Amye being released, collision Klaxons blare. She loses her footing in the half second gravity adjusts when Scott banks to avoid the Throgen battle cruiser emerging from under the ocean surface.

Kymberlynn needs to be our pilot.

The cruiser dwarfs the view screen.

“Full power to shields!”

“Return us to outer orbit!” The hitch in Australia’s voice could be defined as panic.

“NO.” Amye slides into the weapons station, clicking the harness into place. “Tuck in close to the hull. They won’t be able to bring cannons to lock.” Amye fights her urge to tantrum about no one listening to her. She fluctuates the scanning sensors.

“What are you searching for, smerthette?” Doug asks.

“Indication of Reynard’s presence. I doubt that cruiser revealed itself to destroy us.”

Michelle digs the seat belt from the couch cushions. Locking it into place as the gravity shifts again. Samantha crawl-stretches from under the couch. Michelle scoops her up, placing her on her lap.

“Scott?” Australia’s voice now has concern Amye’s never detected before.

“I’ll have to re-align the damping system.”

More reason to have stayed in dry dock. The whispering voice chirping at Amye’s ear no longer belongs to Kymberlynn. Amye ignores the distraction as her sensors locate what she was searching for. “Is the transporter operational?”

“It won’t transport through our shields.”

“Prepare to drop them.” Amye flings off the harness. She slaps Doug’s shoulder. “I may need your assistance.”

“Amye, you were in restraints. You have no authority—”

“I have a target lock on an escape craft caught in a tractor beam. I think it’s William.” She exits.

Scott and JC both glance toward Australia with a what-do-we-do-with-her-now stare.

“Prepare to drop shields, and keep in close to the cruiser to avoid the weapon’s lock,” Amye orders.

••••••

AMYE SLIDES INTO the bench seat at the transporter’s control station. She ignores Doug as she retrieves the information from her scans. “What’s wrong with these controls?”

“It was damaged in the crash. Scott rewired the system.”

“That’s why it keeps shorting out. I didn’t realize those flaming sparks were a feature.”

Smoke seeps from under the transporter pad.

“You’ve got another issue.” Doug points to the life scan detection. “One of your targets is Osirian, but there is a second humanoid signature I’ve never seen.”

“Draw your weapon,” Amye commands.

Doug slides the sound-emitting pistol from his holster. “It will damage the transporter.”

“Then you better hope it’s Reynard with a friendly.” Amye slides her fingers across the activator switch.

The blinding white light blocks out the transporter cage. Amye closes her eyes. Doug shields his with his forearm.

Reynard crawls to the carpet before the control console. His lungs burn like hot peppers. Gagging, he coughs up pink fluid. The jelly streams from his nose as he heaves more from his lungs. Rolling to his left side, he allows more goop to snot from his nose.

Leeka drops the leather jacket on the transporter floor, leaping to check on Reynard. Pink jelly coats the sides of her mid abdomen as if she is leeching the material directly from her lungs. Amye draws her blaster, aiming at the nude girl’s face, but her eyes focus on the jacket—Reynard’s jacket.

He touches Leeka’s knee. Nitrogen doesn’t affect her? Reynard hacks up the rest of the pink phlegm. Why’s every alien species I encounter so much better evolved than me. Reynard grips his throat.

“Master.” She points to the two-armed crewmates.

“Master. This should be smerth’n good.” Doug smirks.

Amye pops Doug in the arm. “Shut up.” She shifts her eyes back to the naked girl, glaring at her as if she were peering over the top of her glasses. “Commander, beaming you both off the fighter has overloaded the transporter.”

Gravity shifts as the Dragon escapes the planet’s atmosphere.

Short of breath, Reynard asks, “What’s…wrong…with my…ship?” He spits out the last of the gel. “Help me…to the medical bay.”

Amye offers her arm to help Reynard to his feet. “You need to be on the bridge.”

“I need to vacuum out my lungs.”