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He was cold.

Justin desperately wanted to throw a thermal blanket over himself to preserve his body heat, but the Sayatoga could detect that. Not that he knew where they were. They'd probably left already, thinking him dead, but he wasn't taking a chance. He hadn't remained alive all this time by being careless.

The Sayatoga's sensors were sensitive enough to detect any kind of body heat; he'd gotten the operator to confirm that when he became the captain. He didn't want any chance of a prisoner escaping and drawing attention to the Sayatoga.

And Tristan accused him of not knowing how things worked.

Tristan.

He growled, his teeth chattering.

This was his fault.

He had no idea how he'd done it, but he'd put that little team together, and gotten them to steal his ship. His brother was probably sitting in his chair, right now, looking all smug. It had all been a trick. Somehow he'd faked the drug's effect. He wondered if Isabel had been in on it, but dismissed the idea. She was too interested in seeing what chemicals did on the body and mind to care about Tristan's plans.

It had been Tristan and that bounty hunter. He should have realized it the moment she contacted them with the bounty, but Crimson had been a good value. That he'd ended up being Tristan's pet human had been too much of a surprise. Tristan didn't normally keep pets; he was the "use and throw away" type.

Pets were Justin's thing.

He should have gotten that bounty hunter assassinated the moment he'd had access to a coercionist. She deserved nothing else for delivering him onto the Sayatoga, but he'd wanted to make her suffer. Take away everything she valued. Her work, her reputation. He should have killed her after a few years of that, but he'd gotten busy running his ship and had forgotten about her.

Now that he thought about it, it made sense she'd been part of the rescue. She was probably another pet Justin hadn't known about--not that his brother normally went for women. That was another of Justin's things he was stealing.

It had all been arranged from the start. Not an accident that she'd taken him in instead of Tristan. She'd probably been the one to change the records so he'd match his brother; it wasn't like his brother was smart enough. He was all muscle and explosives. Tristan didn't have any finesse about him.

Still, he was alive. That was the important thing. Tristan had screwed up, but didn't know it. That gave Justin the advantage.

He shivered, and he didn't think it was entirely from the cold in the dark shuttle. He checked the mask over his face for any leaks. It had been expensive, but worth the money. Not many models were made to seal through fur. He pulled on the tube until the canister was in his hand and he shook it. Did it feel empty? Maybe his air was getting thin. How long since he'd changed canister? Too long, probably.

He felt at his belt and there was only one left. He cursed. Had the others somehow gotten loose and floated away? He felt for the light and sighed in relief. It was still there. If only he could turn it on...but the sensors could detect the faintest trace of power. He'd gotten the operator to admit that too.

He hated to admit it, but luck had played a part in his survival. He didn't know how they'd been able to void the hangar since the safeguards should have kicked in the moment he left the bridge and locked them out. The coder he'd brought in to look over the other coder's work had assured him that it would do that. Then he'd killed both to make sure no one would find out about it.

It hadn't all be luck, he reminded himself. Part of it had been training. After almost dying the first time Tristan blew up his station, he'd undergone intense training in void-survival. The luck part was that he'd been thrown at his shuttle, instead of away from it. He'd had an oxygen mask just by the ramp specifically for such an occasion, the moment he'd grabbed on to the ramp's frame, he'd snatched it and had it on.

After that he'd searched the ship by feel and gathered what he'd need to survive. He'd wanted to just leave, but knew propulsion exhaust could be tracked. He didn't remember how--that part had been so dull he'd felt like strangling that technician--but he knew it could be, so he had to hunker down and wait until they'd left.

There was no chance they'd find him unless he radiated heat or powered something on. He'd made sure this ship didn't have an override code, and that the tag was only on when he wanted it on.

He scratched at his arm and thought he felt the fur fly off. He had to be majorly stressed if he was shedding so much. Not that he should be surprised. He'd almost died, been exposed to vacuum longer than a mere human could survive, and they considered him inferior because he wasn't all skin. He shuddered.

Sure there was something sensual about running a hand over such soft surfaces, but to be furless? They could keep that.

How long until he could turn the heat on? Better yet, the gravity? He was tired of keeping an arm hooked around the chair to keep from floating away. He also needed the light to figure out where everything had floated away to.

More than any of that, he wanted the washroom. Fuck, he needed to take a leak so bad.