back of her sleeve, her gaze locked on the pool of shadow widening beneath the console. Dr. Vance was dead, his brilliant mind reduced to a wet stain on Sterling’s leather footwear

...blade. The high-pitched whine died, leaving only the deep, rumbling thrum of the ship’s failing hyperdrive.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her

...rust-colored light filtering through the cracked viewport.

"A waste of good DNA," Sterling said, his voice as smooth as silk and twice as cold. He deactivated the vibro

Sterling didn’t kick her, though she saw the muscle leap in his jaw. Instead, he slowly lifted his boot, tilting it to watch the crimson smear catch the dying star’s rust

low, mechanical purr that vibrated through the deckplates beneath her boots.

She spat a copper-tasting glob of blood onto the pristine obsidian floor, right at his polished leather boots