The pilot of the Red Mutineer studied her quarry on the hull view screen. Her initial disappointment of the Nisseri vessel's identity was quickly replaced by curiosity. The ship before her was not the one she'd been tracking, but it was special. There was only one live Nisseri on board but it was not the only life sign. The mystery provided a welcome distraction for the frustrated pilot. Daphne Glouschester had met one dead end after another for the past few months. On a whim she opened communications, sending an oratory message to test the waters.

"This is scout ship 5X91, what is your destination?" She gave the Pathosian designation Titus provided her before leaving port. Her ship could pass as a scouting vessel for a few races, but any Pathosians operating out here would be considered neutral agents. There was only one planet in this branch of the system belonging to the empire, a mining planet that consisted of penal colonies and a few scattered solitary citizens. The Nisseri ship was on a trajectory leading away from this world, straight into Barlok space.

"Heading to Keyos?" she murmured aloud as she waited for an answer. She tapped her chin, a theory forming. She considered the few facts she knew. A smile tugged at her lips. No, this crew wouldn't answer a message from a Pathosian scout ship, but they might respond to a different tactic. Daphne activated her bracelet, concealing her guns and donning her goggles as the nanites crawled along her scalp. She felt the itch and faint vibration; the color of her hair shifted. Once presentable, she opened communications again, this time hacking into their view screen to show her image.

"This is the Red Mutineer. Do you require assistance?" Moments passed before an unpleasant face filled her screen, a sneering parbreed male oozing superiority. Was that blood dotting his face?

"Greetings, pilot. We are stable and on course. Your assistance is unnecessary." She studied the man, watching the subtle shift of his eyes. She spoke to a brusque mouthpiece, the parbreed clearly taking cues from who knew how many others off screen. She clicked her teeth at the dismissal, sighing as she lifted her goggles from her face.

The man's eyes widened. Between the goggles, cropped hair, and concealing vest she wore, it was difficult to discern her gender through the filter of the view screen until she showed her face. "Let's try this again. I humbly request to board your ship and peruse the data logs."

The parbreed leered at her, she had his full attention now. "Now why should we allow that?"

"Two reasons." Daphne held up two fingers, leaning forward. The movement was strategic, her shirt tightened over her chest, giving him a hint of her curves. His eyes shot straight to her chest and back to her face, before hovering somewhere between. "I believe this ship had extensive interaction with the Nisseri clan I seek," she paused, waiting for her words to sink in. The parbreed shook his head, looking her full in the face once again.

"And the other reason?" he asked.

She smiled, noticing a few faces now looming behind the parbreed. "You'll allow me on your ship because I'm gorgeous." She cut the communication and sat back, counting in her head.

At thirty, she received the clearance to dock. The portside hold opened, releasing unsecured cargo into space. She rolled her eyes as she maneuvered her ship to land. These men had no idea what they were doing. Did they even know how much merchandise they accidently jettisoned?

The Red Mutineer settled on the docking platform. She threw the engines into standby, set up a quick exit if or when things went south. The interior atmosphere stabilized. Securing a holster under her vest and at her hips, she exited the ship. A small group waited for her, including the parbreed she'd spoken with. She stepped forward, extending a hand in greeting. The man stared at it blankly until she clasped his forearm, giving it a shake.

"Constance Mallory," she said, spouting the first name she could think of as she observed the room with her peripheral vision. Dark, ugly, red smears tracked across the floor of the hold. Bright red spots dotted the garments of her welcoming party. There was a metallic tang to the air. This ship fell to a bloody coup, a fresh one, and the unsettling hunger in the men's eyes made her rethink her decision to come aboard.

"Erik Hals'th," The parbreed said. His eyes roved over her figure with masculine appreciation. She could deal with this man, he didn't appear a breath away from snapping his mental leash like the others crowding around them.

"Well, Erik, care to lead me to your main control room?" She looped her arm around his, letting her breast graze his bicep. The parbreed took a breath, a little unsteady as he led her to the doors. They opened to a blaring alarm. She paused. These men didn't know how to shut off their own proximity alarm? How had they managed to turn on their view screen? She pulled free from Erik's arm, sauntering over to the control panel on the wall. It gave her enough access to the ship operations to cut the alarm.

Returning to Erik's side, she threaded her arm back through his, tugging him into motion. "Where were we?" The corridor leading to the control room bore signs of the same sloppy clean-up as the cargo hold but she maintained her oblivious attitude. Ignore the violence, it was her best survival tactic for now.

"What reason would a young lady have to seek a Nisseri ship?" Erik asked her. The men following them watched her closely, their stares causing her shoulders to twitch. She didn't pause with her answer, her instinct told her what these men needed to hear.

"They stole my brother. I'm hunting them down," she said, ice in her tone. The men responded immediately, visibly relaxing. Erik stood a bit straighter, clearly enjoying her company.

"Miss Mallory-"

"Call me Constance."

"Constance, what are you hoping to find in the data logs?"

She smiled sweetly, scrunching up her nose at him. "I'll know it when I see it."

They reached the bridge, roughly fifteen men lounging about the room since none of them appeared to know how to operate this ship. Who was driving this hulking pile of scrap metal? She approached the central control panel, truly shocked for the first time since she entered the ship.

"What happened to the chair?" She glanced around, "And the wall?" The parbreed gave a nervous shrug.

"Happened during the fighting," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. She stared at him, sliding her smile back into place while hoping the person responsible for the mangled bits of metal went down fighting. She turned to the controls and noticed an immediate problem.

She had to get back to her ship and get the hell out of here now, maybe come back when they finished killing each other. This is what she got for being so cocky.

"What is it, Miss Constance?"

She cringed, licking her lips. She debated telling them, or not. It was a gamble either way, this situation could get ugly fast. "Were you aware your system has been locked out from the engine room?"

The parbreed's eyes glazed over with rage. "That treacherous dog," he snapped, gesturing for several men to follow him.

"You should have ganked the merc when you had the chance," one of the men grumbled.

"Shut up," Erik snarled, before grabbing her arm. His grip bruised her, the allure of her charm evaporating under the heat of his anger. He spoke through his teeth. "You come with me. The rest of you stay here. Shoot anything coming through the door."

She cursed silently as he dragged her through the ship. She should have turned around the moment she saw mutiny fresh in their faces. These men hadn't come down from their bloodlust yet and she wandered in like an idiot. She wasn't quite sure what the parbreed intended to do with her until he shoved her at the control panel outside the engine room.

"Get it open," he ordered. Erik fell back with the five men he brought. They were intent on murdering the poor bastard behind the door, and her refusal to help would do nothing but significantly shorten her lifespan. She fiddled with the panel and prayed she could duck and cover before they laid into each other.

The code sealing the door was a complicated mess, far beyond her skill level to crack. So she did what her favorite drinking buddy taught her and tore out the wires behind the panel, cross connecting them until she overloaded the electric lock.

The door slid open.

She caught a glimpse of the surprised Barlok who yelled something in Nisseri, but a glimpse was all she needed to act. I have the strangest luck, she thought. Daphne dropped into a roll, arms tucked in to snag the guns under her vest. Jerking her shoulders to tilt her body, she landed in a crouch facing Erik and came up firing.

She took them all by surprise, including the Barlok. The sound of gunshots crashed and echoed through the metal walls. One of the men dropped with a hole in his chest. The Barlok jerked, scrambling into action at the control console as she kept firing. The others were equally slow to react and she had a gun ready in each hand. She dropped another of Erik's men before they had the sense to dive out of the way. She clipped a third in the shoulder as the door slid closed again.

Daphne holstered her guns as four thick arms swept her up, crushing her against an iron wall covered in silky fur.

"Hello to you too, Thrack," Daphne said, her voice muffled by his furry chest.

"You insane female," he growled at her, squeezing her gently before he released her.

"I should have guessed it was some ornery Barlok denting the walls of this ship," she grinned up at him.

Thrack nodded toward the door. "I'm surprised you remembered that trick."

She snorted, holstering her guns. "I wasn't that drunk, mister."

His smaller eyes looked her over while his upper ones read the control panel beside him, one hand typing in codes, while a pair of arms crossed over his chest. She always did admire his ability to multitask. "I would ask what brings you here but I assume you're still tracking that brother of yours?"

The laughter left her face. "Something like that. What are you doing on the wrong side of a slave revolt?"

Thrack sighed, scratching the top of his shaggy head. "My mission went awry and my attempts to escape have met with unexpected complications." Daphne caught the one eye glancing behind her. She turned, dropping to her haunches to peer under the control station.

"Oh Thrack, you big softie," she said, extending an open hand to the little girl. The kid looked to Thrack first, who spoke in rapid Nisseri, before she took Daphne's hand. "Well, look at you, not a stitch in sight."

"You know what she is?"

"The Nisseri dialect kind of gave it away, big guy," said Daphne. She gently pulled the girl into her arms, lifting her up. The kid stared at her a moment with a pair of big silvery grey eyes, before burying her face in Daphne's shoulder.

"She likes you," Thrack said, sounding like he spoke with a throat full of gravel.

Daphne frowned at him. "Of course she does, I'm a paragon of charm and grace."

The Barlok coughed, pulling up a map of the ship on the control panel. "Where is your ship docked?"

"The third hold down from this room," she said. Her fingers played with the braids in the girl's hair. She felt the tension drain out of the girl's small body, continuing her soothing ministrations. "So, what did you name her?"

Thrack appeared a bit thrown by her question. "Agnellus."

Her face softened. "Your little lamb?" She looked down at the girl. "I'll call you Agne for short."

His eyes nearly crossed. "You speak Barlok now?"

"I've been chasing leads for months. There is nothing to do in space but avoid debris and get to learning." She shrugged, shifting Agne to her hip. "You have any bright ideas for getting past the brutes outside?"

"Well that depends," Thrack's upper eyes glanced at her.

She tensed, squinting at him. "On?"

"I need a charming and graceful distraction."

Daphne set Agne on her feet, covering the girl's ears with her hands. "You rutting, brew guzzling, son of a Sawlak."

Thrack turned all four eyes on her, awed she threw such a vile curse in his face. "Do you remember everything I taught you?"

"I wasn't that drunk!"