DarkShip Thieves Read Online Free PDF Page A

a high kick at the gun and getting ready to fall again, entrechat, and kick his groin on the way down.
    It should have worked. It always worked. But his hand met my foot, held it. Sending me spilling backward, my head hitting the floor, hard. Dazed I looked up, to catch again that brief look of appreciation at what my split-up slip revealed.
    Oh, yes, he was male. And human. Very. But the expression of interest passed as soon as he'd shown it, his—warm, vise-like—hand let go of my foot, and he seemed to jump back. Or rather, he seemed to fade out and appear further back. Quickly. "Up," he said. "Up. Don't try that again. Next time I'll fire. I swear I will. Up."
    He looked discomposed, which was odd, because he'd stopped my kick just in time. Why did he look like he'd suffered an unexpected blow? What was he afraid of?
    Whatever it was, it wasn't my fast moves. And I wasn't stupid. If at first you fail, you don't try and try again in the same manner. You fall back and think of a better way to succeed. So I walked past him—as dignified and composed as I could be—into a narrow corridor, where the walls appeared to be made of some hard, poured material, ceramite or perhaps dimatough, in an iridescent, pearly grey. At least that's what I thought the color was, which was hard to tell in the almost-darkness.
    As I walked on, ahead of him, I smelled the vague, rancid smell of long-distance ships. Not as bad as in the Circum harvesters, but worse than in Father's cruiser. Not too bad, though. Not nearly as bad as that lifepod, with my sweaty self in a far too small space.
    The floor under my feet felt carpeted. Plush carpets. Living quarters? He walked me round and round. Ramp. We were taking our way up somewhere. Didn't he have stairs or anti-grav wells? Of course he must. Somewhere. But only an idiot would take a prisoner up stairs or anti-grav wells and give the prisoner the advantage of high ground. Instead, we were following a spiral corridor along the outside of the ship, climbing up and up. Till he said, from behind me. "Left, sharp. Don't try anything funny."
    I didn't feel even vaguely humorous. I remembered that move downstairs. He was faster than I. I'd never met anyone faster than I. And I didn't want to die. I'd got lucky he had grabbed me with his free hand, instead of blasting me with his burner.
    "Is that gun a burner?" I asked.
    "No," he said. "It's just a flashlight. What do you think?"
    I swallowed. "I rarely think about—" I said.
    "Noted," he said. "Only an idiot would take a ship like that thing back there through the powertrees. I've half a mind to space you and save you the trouble of committing suicide going back in that."
    "Going back—" I said blankly.
    "When I'm done collecting and not a minute sooner," he said.
    We were following another corridor, and it opened onto a large, circular space. I had to blink to realize it was a bedroom. It wasn't just the darkness, but it seemed so odd to find an utterly human bedroom—bed, chair, closet doors on the wall, a sensi cabinet, a gem storage unit, in this creature's lair.
    He grabbed me. For the space of exhaling, I saw images of women captured by space monsters of . . . But he threw me down on the chair. The hard, straight backed chair. Then he moved again with unreal speed. Tying me to the chair.
    There are very few things I truly can't stand to have done to me. Being tied up is one of them. As he tied me with something elastic and fabric-like at middle, legs and chest, I panicked and tried to struggle. But he was fast, and I hadn't a chance.
    When he finished tying me, he pocketed his gun and grinned at me in the dark. "I'll let you go once I'm done harvesting," he said. "I really can't afford to be on autopilot anymore. We could blow at any second." He got a strip of fabric from his closet. "Just an extra precaution."
    "No," I said. "Do not blindfold me."
    "Why?" he said. "Because it will make it harder for you to get free? Good."
    And then he