by R. M. Olson
“You ready for this?” she asked quietly. He glanced over at her and gave her a quick, strained grin.
“Ysbel. I may have mentioned this before, but I don’t love getting shot at.”
“Well, let’s hope they don’t shoot at us, then,” she said.
The ship shuddered as Lena’s airlock hooked on. If it had been running, the Ungovernable would have held them steady. But besides the soft whir of the life support backup systems, their ship was as dead and lifeless as a piece of space-rock.
“Prepare to be boarded,” came a woman’s voice over the com. It was hard and cold, the voice of someone accustomed to being obeyed. “I warn you, do not try to fight. If you do, I promise you, I’ll blast your ship to space dust.”
“Are you ready?” asked Ysbel. Lev sighed and nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He came to stand in front of her, and put his wrists behind his back. She looped them together and pulled them tight, and he winced slightly as the cord cut into the skin of his wrists.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically.
He shook his head. “Don’t be.” He paused a moment.“Ysbel,” he said in a low voice. “I know there’s nothing I can do to take back what I did to you, and to Tanya, and to Olya and Misko. You have every right in the system to kill me after this is all over. But I—I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, and how many times I’ve regretted it, and how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about it, and I—” he paused for a moment, his voice choking, and she frowned. She couldn’t remember ever hearing Lev choke up.
“I’m sorry. That’s all. I’m sorry for what I did to you, to all of you. To little Olya. I just wanted you to know that, before—in case—” he broke off abruptly, head dropping to his chest.
His shoulders shook slightly.
Was he crying? Lev?
He took a deep breath and wiped his cheek against the shoulder of his jacket. “I’m—sorry.”
She stared at him, speechless for a moment, something uncomfortable twisting inside her.
How was it possible to hate someone this much, and at the same time care about them so much that watching them cry hurt?
She opened her mouth to say—something. She wasn’t sure what.
And then there was the sound of heavy boots along the corridor, and she pulled out her heat pistol and shoved him forward. He went down on his knees, and she placed the pistol against the back of his head.
And then the cockpit door burst open, and five armed figures burst through.
For a moment they stared at Ysbel and Lev, weapons raised.
“Drop your weapons! Hands up! Now!” the leader of the smugglers screamed, shoving through the others. Ysbel threw her heat pistol to the ground with disgust and raised her hands.
“That’s fine. As long as you don’t take your weapons off this scum.”
Two smugglers jumped forward and grabbed her, wrenching her arms behind her back and securing them with mag-cuffs. They patted her down quickly, removing another heat-pistol from her boot holster, then turned her around and shoved her face-first against the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see them doing something similar to Lev.
“Where are the others!” the leader shouted. “Tell me now! Where are they? I’ll shoot you both!”
“There’s no point,” said Ysbel, her voice heavy. “They’re gone.”
“Turn her around,” the leader growled, and two smugglers took Ysbel by the shoulders and shoved her to her knees in front of the woman. The hard knot of a gun barrel ground into the back of her skull, but she didn’t look down.
The woman stood in front of her. She was medium height, with pale skin and pale hair.
Not Lena, then.
But, judging from the look in her eyes and the arrogant tone in her voice, someone with some sort of position in the crew.
“Tell me,” she growled, glaring down at Ysbel.
“That man over there,” said Ysbel, jerking her chin towards Lev. “He killed them.”
The woman frowned. “He doesn’t look like he could kill a space jelly.”
Ysbel gave her a bitter smile. “As you can see, our ship was damaged in the hyperjump. The oxygen converter went down, and we only had enough oxygen for forty-eight hours, give or take. At least, with eight of us on board, that was all we had. We’ve been trying for the last day and a half to fix it, to no avail. And then an hour ago I came back from where I’d been working on the shields. And I found this man. Alone. It was a good thing I’d been gone. He vented sleeping gas into the cockpit where the others were working, and then he loaded them into the escape pods and ejected them. My—” She paused, swallowing hard. “My family was on those pods.” She stopped again, dropping her head. She had watched her family go to their deaths twice already, and the memory of it still sent panic racing through her veins and tears welling in her eyes.
“I wanted to kill him,” she said, when she’d recovered her speech. “But I knew you were on your way. And so I thought perhaps I could use him as a bargaining chip instead.”
The woman was watching her coldly. At last she gestured with her head, and two of the smugglers dragged Lev in front of her.
“Is this true?” she asked. Lev tried to raise his head, but the guard behind him forced it down again with the barrel of her pistol.
“Yes,” he muttered. “There was no way we were all going to survive, not with the oxygen as low as it was. With only two of us, there was a chance we’d last at least until you got here.”
“So you killed the others,” she said, faint amusement in her tone. “Well, boy, you may have miscalculated. My boss wanted them. There was one of them in particular she wanted badly.”
“Jez?” he asked, looking up finally. There was a weary expression on his face. “She’s long gone. She was killed by a piece of shrapnel about twelve hours back, when she was trying to get the power back online after a core meltdown. We let her body go into space.”
“Ah,” said the woman, her smile growing just a little. “And that’s why you didn’t mind killing the others. We heard from our informant that you and she may have had an—understanding.”
Lev didn’t answer.
The woman turned back to Ysbel. “So we’re here just in time to save you from suffocating. If that’s the case, you won’t object to being brought on board our ship, then.” She gestured to the smugglers holding Ysbel and Lev.
“Get up,” said the man behind Ysbel, shoving her forward. She almost lost her balance, but managed to stumble to her feet. Someone planted the nose of the heat pistol hard into her ribs.
She could, of course, grab it. With how close the man was standing, she could twist out of his way and grab the heat pistol in her cuffed hands, and then she could pull back the heat sink and set off an explosion that would kill every person in this room.
But instead, she bowed her head and walked forward, with Lev shoved along behind, out of the cockpit and down the silent hallways of the dead ship to the airlock, and on to Lena’s ship.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lena’s ship, Lev
Lev stumbled forwards, trying to keep his balance on the smooth flooring of the smuggler’s ship. After the blackness of the last twenty minutes, lit only by the dim glow of their com lights, the brilliant, cold lights of Lena’s ship half-blinded him. The smuggler shoved him ahead of her, the barrel of the gun a hard, dull pain in the back of his head.
“Keep moving,” she grunted, and at her sharp push he almost lost his balance again.
He caught only jumbled impressions of the ship they were passing through—harsh lines, stark panels, bare hallways. And then the woman grabbed his shoulder and shoved him up against the wall, his face pressed hard against the cold metal.
Beside him, another smuggler stepped forward, and with a soft hiss, the doors in front of him slid open. Lev’s captor jerked him around and pushed him hard, and he stumbled through the doorway, lost his balance, and fell hard without his hands to catch
him. He winced as his face slammed into the deck, and then someone grabbed his shoulder and hauled him into a kneeling position. She shoved the gun back into position, and he dropped his head at the pressure on what was shaping up to be an impressive bruise at the base of his skull.
From the corner of his eyes he could see Ysbel kneeling beside him, although he was pretty sure she hadn’t landed on her face on the deck first.
In front of him, the sharp sound of boots clicking off the hard floor approached. He looked up for half a second before his head was shoved back down.
A woman was walking briskly towards them. She was strong-looking, with straight black hair and sharp features and eyes that were as cold as deep space.
And even from that brief glance, he knew exactly who she was.
The footsteps stopped in front of him, and he stared down at shiny black boots.
“Where’s Jez,” the voice snapped, and there was a cold menace in it that sent a shiver down his back.
“Sorry, Lena. These were all we found. This one—” someone kicked him, and he almost lost his balance again. He gritted his teeth and drew in a long breath. “Apparently he knocked the others out and sent them out on the escape pods so he could conserve oxygen. He said Jez was killed earlier, when they were trying to deal with a meltdown.”
There was a long pause. Then something cold and hard pressed into the hollow under his chin. The pressure on the back of his skull eased, and the woman in the black boots tipped his chin back with the muzzle of a heat-pistol.
Lena.
She wasn’t tall—Jez would be a head and a half taller than she was easily—but there was something about the way she stood that demanded respect. He recognized her from pictures he’d seen, but none of them fully conveyed the hardness in her eyes, the sense of menace in her posture. There was a tension about her now, like a hungry dog that had sensed its prey.
“Where is she?” the woman asked, her voice soft with threat.
He allowed some of the strain of the last few hours to show in his face. “Jez? She’s dead. I put her body out the airlock myself.”
Lena’s expression didn’t change as she pulled the pistol out from under his chin and swung it sharply against the side of his head. His vision burst with stars, and he fell awkwardly, teeth gritted against the sharp, shocking pain. She let him lie there for a moment, then gestured, and the smuggler behind him hauled him upright again.
Something warm and wet trickled down the side of his head, and he had to blink to steady his vision.
“I asked you a question,” she said calmly.
“I—”
She hit him again, and again he went down, his ears ringing with the blow. Again, the smuggler hauled him back upright.
“Where is Jez Solokov?”
“No point in that,” came Ysbel’s voice from behind him, heavy with disdain. “She’s dead.”
Lena straightened and turned towards Ysbel. Through the blood trickling into one eye, he could see the thoughtful expression on her face.
“Tell me what happened,” she demanded. Ysbel narrowed her eyes.
“Jez died about twelve hours ago. The rest of them—” she took a deep breath. “The rest of them, this man killed, to conserve oxygen. He knocked them out with sleeping gas and put them in the escape pods. You can kill him if you want. I don’t mind.”
Lena glanced over his head at the smugglers who’d brought them. “Did you check this?”
The woman behind him nodded. “Two escape pods were launched, but I have people checking the ship now. They’re scanning for heat signatures. If there’s anyone alive on that ship, we’ll find them.”
Lena nodded, and crouched in front of Lev again.
“You must be Lev,” she said. “I’ve read your files. You’re a coldhearted bastard, aren’t you? If someone was going to kill the rest of the crew, it would be you.”
He tried to fight back a faint annoyance. It would be nice if people didn’t automatically believe that he’d spent his life patiently waiting for the opportunity to kill all his crewmates.
“But you didn’t think this one through. You have no idea how badly I wanted Jez. If you were as smart as your files say, you’d have saved the body to show me.”
He clenched his teeth and didn’t say anything, and a slight amusement appeared on Lena’s face.
“I’m sure Jez would have been a very enthusiastic lover, until she got bored of you. Was that it? My prison contact guessed the two of you were sleeping together. So you kill an entire crew, including two children, but you can’t bring yourself to hold onto your lover’s dead body to use as leverage? That was very stupid, Lev.” She pressed the pistol harder into the hollow under his chin and he strained his head back and shifted to ease the pressure.
She smiled. “Or is it something else? She’s still alive, and so are the others, and the two of you are trying to save them? You might want to re-think that. I’ve known Jez for longer than you have. If there’s one thing you can depend on about her, it’s that she’ll run. Not someone worth dying over.”
He didn’t answer, but there was something cold and angry stirring in his chest.
Lena, he’d discovered, was not someone whose company or conversation he enjoyed.
Lena leaned forward. “If there’s someone hiding on the ship, I’ll find them. I can make you hurt in ways you can’t imagine, and if I find anyone hiding, I’ll do it. And I’ll do the same to them. The government wants you. They want you bad. And I have a reward coming for proving I killed you. So if there’s someone alive and you want to keep them that way, better start talking now.”
“There’s no point in appealing to that man’s higher sentiments,” said Ysbel from behind him, disgust thick in her voice. “He doesn’t have any. When this dirty bastard looks at the system, all he sees is what he can get out of it.”
Lena glanced towards her, then back at Lev. She gave a small smile, then removed her gun carefully from under Lev’s throat. He almost relaxed. Then she swung, and again he fell awkwardly to the deck, his head singing with lighting pain. Lena crouched beside him, and through the blazing stars in his vision could see the expression on her face, a hard fury that she was no longer even trying to disguise.
“I wanted Jez,” she hissed. “And if I don’t get her, you and your friend will pay for it.”
She stood, examining him for a moment, then kicked him hard in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and Lena turned away.
“Take them somewhere you can watch them until you’re done searching the ship,” she said over her shoulder.
Lev was hauled to his feet and shoved, half-staggering with the pain pulsing in his head, out the door.
‘Somewhere you can watch them’ turned out to be a narrow room somewhere behind the main deck, with a couple uncomfortable chairs and a bare, stark metal table, welded into the deck. One of the smugglers pushed him into a seat and cuffed his ankles to the chair legs, and another did the same for Ysbel. Then the smuggler took her place in the doorway, heat pistol loose in her hands and posture that of someone who knew how to use it.
Lev blinked against the throbbing pain and shifted slightly in his seat. The woman raised her pistol a fraction, although he wasn’t entirely sure what she thought he was going to do—bite her to death, maybe, since that seemed to be the only part of him that was unrestrained.
It didn’t matter, though. He’d managed to shift so his wrist com was touching the back of his chair. He jiggled his leg, channeling Jez, and hoped it would be enough to disguise the faint tap of his com against the back of the chair.
Tae. Did you get enough of a visual through my com? I was doing the best I could, but it wasn’t much.
“Got it,” Tae’s voice whispered in his earpiece. “But I don’t think I’m going to show Jez that footage. Are you alright?”
I’ve decided I prefer not getting hit in the head with the butt of a heat pistol, he tapped back. But barring a concussion, I’m fine. I’v
e been going through my specs. I think this is a PKT class, probably a redwing model. Five, six years old.
“That helps,” said Tae. His voice was slightly distracted. “I’m going to pull Jez on and see what other info she needs.” He paused. “She’s probably going to swear at you. She swore at me. And Tanya. And Masha. And I think basically the system in general.”
Lev sighed. I think I can handle Jez swearing. Put her on.
Jez did, in fact, swear at him. Fluently and at length. When she finally seemed to run out of either breath or creative ways to curse him, he tapped, I got Tae some specs. He’ll send them on to you. Is that enough?
“You scum-sucking plaguing bastard,” she said through her teeth. “I can’t believe Masha told you. And I can’t believe you let her use sleeping gas on me, you plaguing—”
Jez.
“Fine. Yes, that’s enough. I’m not a plaguing egghead like you and Tae. Don’t need nearly as many specs as you all seem to.” She paused the familiar jaunty edge returning to her voice. “Lena’s losing her touch, by the way,” she said. “Guess losing her best pilot put her down in the ranks a bit. This ship is kinda crap, to be honest. Even with the fancy government mods.”
Is that all you need? He tapped out patiently. Because if it’s not, I can try to—
“It’s enough, genius,” she said, and he could hear the grin in her voice. “Trust me. I’ve been waiting for this for a long damn time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lena’s ship, Jez
Jez tapped her com off and glanced off to her side. Masha was crouched to the side of the small walkway beside her, her face set and slightly grim, but still, somehow, pleasant.
Of all the damn people in the damn system to work with. She’d much rather do the job alone.
Of course—she put out a hand to steady herself against the wall. Of course, when Masha had plaguing drugged her with plaguing sleeping gas, she’d basically put that option out of commission. Because it was surprisingly hard to stay steady on your feet when you were just waking up from being plaguing well knocked out by your plaguing crewmates.