Uncle Damian picked up speed as soon as their shuttle was clear of the research station. Nick, standing in the main body of the shuttle, using the rope from their climbing machine to tie the Crown Prince of the Kreeth Dominions to a chair, lost his balance and stumbled a little. He caught himself and raised his gun again.

“You can lower the gun,” Prince Xatlan said impassively. “I’m not going to jump at the slightest chance of weakness.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you're going to do.” Nick pointed out as he looped the rope around the arms of a chair.

“Of course, but you’re a fool if you think that gun is what’s keeping me here,” Xatlan said. “Have you even fired a plasma gun before?”

“Yes,” Nick said defensively. He had fired a plasma gun dozens of times, if you were counting individual shots. If you’re counting targets, then it was six, and if you’re counting events it was one. Still more than zero.

Xatlan scoffed. Nick grit his teeth and stopped talking. He drew the rope around Xatlan’s chest, surprisingly muscular under the pile of medals pinned to it. Nick tried to work the rope through the medals to be tighter to the skin, but gave up. He tied off the rope, as tight as he could make it, and walked over to the bridge, standing in the door so he could still keep an eye on the prisoner while he talked to Damian.

“Everything all right?” Nick asked. 

“For now,” Damian said. “There’s no movement from the station.”

“How far to the… to our ship.” Nick glanced over his shoulder at Xatlan.

“A ways,” Damian said. “We want our guest back there to think we’re a two-man crew. This shuttle doesn’t have a hyperdrive, so we’ll pretend we stashed the ship somewhere near the jump point and transfer over. We’ll be out of the system by the time the prince can tell anyone where he is.”

“Will that work?” Nick asked.

“If everything goes according to plan,” Damian said. A light blinked on the control panel. “Wait, never mind. Plan’s gone.”

Damian jerked the control stick to the right and Nick held onto the doorframe to stay standing. Xatlan made a gagging sound, and when Nick turned around it looked like all the blood was rushing to his head. As soon as they were out of the right turn, Damian dove.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked.

“We’re being followed.” Damian pointed to the controls. There was a small panel that looked like a radar screen from a World War II movie. It had a dot in the center, representing their shuttle, and three triangles behind them, rapidly getting closer.

“Who are they?” Nick asked. A plasma bolt, a hundred times larger than the ones from a hand-held pistol, raced past the window, startlingly bright against the darkness of space.

“Not friendly, I’m guessing,” Damian said as he made another sudden turn.

“But we have the prince,” Nick protested.

Xatlan laughed. “That’ll be my sister. With me out of the way, she’ll be heir to the throne.”

“She’d kill her own brother just for the throne?” 

“What have you seen of their society to make you expect different?” Damian asked. “Really, was it the extreme militarism, the emphasis on hierarchy or a political situation so fractious they keep vital military secrets in a single, top secret black site?”

“Can we beat them?” Nick asked.

“Considering they’re in three star fighters and we’re in one luxury shuttle with no weapons,” Damian said, “I don’t like our odds.” He sent the shuttle into a spin that sent Nick tumbling. Nick wasn’t used to momentum pulling in one direction and gravity in another. His vision went blurry as he tried to keep from vomiting.

When Nick’s vision cleared, he was leaning against one wall, watching Prince Xatlan pull the rope off. He caught Nick’s eye and grinned, brandishing a small knife.

“Didn’t search me,” he said. “Very sloppy.”

Nick lurched to his feet as the prince ran across the shuttle. Xatlan swung with the knife. Nick ducked under his swing, shoulder catching Xatlan in the stomach, sending the charging prince over Nick’s back and onto the ground behind him. The prince fell through the air, hit the ground with one shoulder, rolling under the impact, and sprang to his feet. 

“Uncle Damian…” Nick said.

Damian glanced over his shoulder, sending shudders through the shuttle. “Shoot him, shoot him!” 

Damian’s sage advice was easier said than done, since Nick’s first tumble had sent his stolen gun sliding across the floor. It was now ten feet behind both Nick and Xatlan. They stared at the gun, then at each other, sizing each other up and making the leap at almost the same moment. Nick was closer, but Xatlan was faster, charging into Nick and sending them both to the ground. Nick army-crawled toward the gun, but Xatlan slashed him with his knife.

Xatlan’s knife was small, barely more than an inch long. It left a shallow but long cut on Nick’s left side, parallel to the curve of his ribs. Nick brushed the wound and his hand came back red with blood. 

“Damian…” 

Damian glanced back, then jerked the ship back and forth several times. Nick, sprawled on the ground, got dizzy while Xatlan, who had gotten up into a half-crouch, fell over again. Nick leaped over him, getting within inches of the gun before Xatlan grabbed his leg, and stabbed again with the knife.

“Aah.” Xatlan’s blade dug into Nick’s shin, scrapping bone. Nick thrashed, sending the knife flying, getting a few good hits to Xatlan’s face. Xatlan’s grip loosened, and Nick freed his leg. 

Nick scrambled the last few feet and grabbed the gun. He swung it up and around just as Xatlan was getting to his feet. They both froze.

“Here we are,” Xatlan said. “Back at the beginning.”

Something hit the side of the ship, sending a bigger wave through the shuttle than any of Damian’s maneuvers had. Something started thumping, probably some vital piece of machinery. 

“Not exactly the same place.” Nick drew himself up. He was kneeling now, injured left leg out with his weight on his right knee. He held the gun tightly and measured the distance. Xatlan was only a few feet away, close enough that Nick disliked the height difference between them. “Back up,” Nick ordered. 

Xatlan raised his hands, but didn’t move. “You think you’ve won.”

“I am the one with the gun,” Nick said. 

“A tool doesn’t matter if you’re unwilling to use it,” Xatlan said. 

Another blow glanced off the shuttle, less destructive than the first hit. 

“Why are you so certain I won’t shoot you?” Nick asked.

“You don’t have what it takes,” Xatlan said. “I can see it in your eyes. You aren’t willing to pull the trigger.”

Nick got to his feet, tall enough to look Xatlan in the eye. His shin burned and continued to seep blood. “Just back down, and I won’t have to.” 

“Of course.”

Xatlan moved faster than Nick expected. He stepped in close, grabbed the gun by the barrel, pointed it to the side, and kicked Nick in the injured shin as hard as he could.

“Aargh.” Nick screamed, but kept ahold of the gun. 

“You don’t have what it takes,” Xatlan said again. Nick head-butted him. His teeth left an imprint on Nick’s forehead, and his split lip gushed blood onto Nick’s hair.

“Ahh.” Xatlan recoiled, losing his grip on the gun barrel.

Nick pulled the gun back and shot Xatlan in the hip, causing him to scream harder. The prince fell to the ground and grabbed his burnt leg. 

“Damian, how are we doing?” Nick took several steps away from Xatlan, keeping the gun pointed at him.

“Not great, we…” there was a new sound in the cockpit. Damian grabbed his comm unit from his belt. “You what?” 

“Damian, what’s happening?” Nick asked. 

Damian got to his feet and raced out of the cockpit. He grabbed Nick’s helmet off a seat and tossed it to him.

“We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Nick asked. “Into the firefight.”

“Fight's over.” Damian grinned. “Fleith came through for us.”

“Fleith?” 

“Probably Triskar, he’s a better pilot,” Damian said. “Stargazer came through in the nick of time.” 

“Really? What about him?” Nick nodded at Xatlan. 

“Leave him.” Damian was already climbing up a discrete ladder in the far wall. He climbed into the air lock, leaving Nick behind with Xatlan.

“I guess I’ll be going now,” Nick said, grabbing the ladder.

“I won’t forget this,” Xatlan said darkly, from his place on the floor.

“I don’t think I will, either,” Nick said. “So long, Xatlan. Hope to see you never.”

Nick climbed up the ladder so fast he didn’t hear Xatlan’s reply. The airlock was small, like the Stargazer’s and possibly even more claustrophobic. When the trap door opened Nick was released along with a small cloud of gas. Damian, in his bright red suit, was floating just a few feet away.

“First space walk, kid,” Damian’s voice echoed in Nick’s helmet. “How do you like it?”

“Um.” Nick looked around. A debris field which used to be three Kreeth star fighters floated nearby, the closest just a dozen yards away. In the middle of the new, chaotic ruins, the Stargazer floated, blue paint reflecting the distant Gri sun. It looked sleek and deadly when viewed from space, its natural home. “It’s a bit chaotic,” Nick finally said. 

Damian nodded. “I’ll find a better opportunity to get you out in space. For now, let’s get back on the ship.”

Nick agreed. Damian kicked off the shuttle and floated into open space. Nick followed him. The pair floated for a time while the Stargazer slowly got close enough for them to grab the handles along the outside and climb in through the air lock. 

Fleith and RX-9 were waiting for them on the other side of the airlock. From the inside, the Stargazer was warm, chaotic and welcoming, far from the perfect war machine Nick saw from space, homier.

Nick was sitting on the table in the common room when Damian walked in, carrying a box under his arm. RX-9 was stitching up the cut on his side, having already cleaned and bandaged the stab wound on his leg. She was methodical and precise and Nick was thankful to her, even if her hands were literally room temperature.

“Ahh.” Nick bit his lip to keep from squirming.

“Don’t do that,” RX said. “It will interfere with my stitch work.”

“If you want we could stick her hands in the microwave,” Damian said. “See if that helps.”

“We have a microwave?” Nick asked.

“Eh,” Damian waved a hand at the monster-cabinet along the back wall, “that thing heats stuff. Kinda.”

“I don’t think that counts,” Nick said.

“And I don’t think RX is going to take off her hands to let us test it, so I don’t see the point.”

“You are correct,” RX said. “My hands will remain where they are.”

Damian walked into the room and sat in one of the chairs by the table, box in his lap. He stared up at the cut RX was closing. 

“Uncle Damian, I’m fine.” Nick could tell what he was thinking.

Damian sighed. “I know you are. This time.”

“This time?” Nick asked. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I didn’t think about how dangerous this was going to be,” Damian said. “I’m… sorry.”

“I’m fine,” Nick repeated. “It wasn’t that dangerous, things just got out of hand.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘able to get out of hand’ is what makes something dangerous,” Damian said, then held up a hand to block RX’s response. “And I don’t need clarification from our resident walking dictionary, thank you.”

RX turned back to Nick’s wound.

“Damian…” Nick sighed.

“I’m just,” Damian hesitated. “I’m starting to rethink letting you come out here with me. Last thing I want is to see you get seriously hurt because of me.”

“Damian,” Nick said it again, slower, “I’m fine. We’re all fine. We got out, free and clear. I want to stay with you. That mission was the reason I wanted to come to space. Adventure. Excitement. You can’t send me home now.”

Damian frowned. “We’re going on less dangerous missions,” he said. Nick’s heart soared. “No more infiltration and military espionage. We’re going to do something simple. And,” he raised a finger, “if I tell you to do something while on a mission, I expect you to do it. No arguing with me like you did in that computer room, understood?”

Nick nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

“Good,” he paused. “Then… I guess you’re staying aboard, for a while at least.”

Nick grinned.

“But if you ever change your mind, if you ever want to leave, you say the word and I’ll take you back to Earth in an instant, you understand?”

“Yes, Uncle Damian,” Nick said. “I understand.”

“Good.” He took the box off his lap and placed it on the table. “Then I’m going to let you explain our deal.”

The chrome box was about a foot tall, slightly wider than it was deep. It looked like a World War Two ham radio, plated in chrome and studiously maintained. Several rows of buttons gleamed beneath a small display screen. It was the still-intact twin of the machine on Nick’s shelf at home.

“Is this…?”

“A radio,” Damian said. “Or something like it. It conveys information through hyperspace by connecting to the ships hyperdrive. Even when it’s unsafe for a person to travel through hyperspace, it’s fine for information. I left a repeater beacon on Earth, near where I park the ship. With this, you can call home anytime you want, even if you’re thousands of lightyears away.”

Nick smiled. He ran his fingers lightly over the front of the box.

“And,” Damian pointed to one of the buttons, lit up and blinking, “someone’s waiting to hear from you.”

Nick looked at him. “They’re expecting us?”

Damian nodded. “I told them to wait for your call… just your mom and Sally. I guess your dad’s still a little upset.” Damian stood up and moved toward the door. “Oh, one more thing, if you could not mention how many times you’ve almost been shot at to your mother, I’d appreciate it. I like visiting home, and I’d like it a lot less if she tried to kill me every time I set foot on the planet.”

Nick grinned and promised to minimize the danger. With an answering grin, Damian left, and Nick answered his mother’s call while RX finished stitching his side. 

Nick ended up talking to them for hours, long after RX had finished her work. She left him in the common room, sitting on the table, talking to a large box. He had tears in his eyes by the time Sally and his mom finally signed off. He promised to call again soon.