Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal)

by Nicole Morgan

  Derrick made another visual pass around the cavernous space, making sure everything was under control. The fifteen or so passengers were boisterous, but everyone was managing to stow their luggage without him having to hold their hand. Vienna, the navigator, was moving among the crowd, assigning quarters and answering questions. There wasn’t anything for him to do except wait for one of the roughnecks to throw a punch and start the inevitable brawl.

  Ivy had helped the girl who tripped to gather her belongings and was now leading her in Derek’s direction. Aw hell, she wasn’t bringing her over here to talk to him was she? He had no interest in making conversation with some hick.

  But no, she was leading the girl to the doorway on his left, which led to the main hallway and the rest of the ship. As the two women passed, he could see that the girl was definitely not a roughneck—she was so timid she kept her eyes fixed on the floor, too scared to even look up. He snorted. Maybe she was off an Ark. Well, if so, she was going to need to toughen up—and fast—if she wanted to survive out here.

  Someone bumped into Derrick from the side. One of the leathery, wind-beaten roughnecks; this one was tall and scrawny and probably all of nineteen. Derrick shook his head—he’d been that kid once, many years ago. Freshly signed on to the Company and deployed to a newly terraformed planet as a heavy equipment operator. It was a shit life. By contrast, being locked in this small tin can, endlessly propelled back and forth across the territory on the same circuit with precious little to break up the monotony was as close to heaven as a roughneck could expect.

  The small group was getting rowdy—but then, when weren’t roughnecks causing a ruckus? Their voices were raised—they appeared to be arguing. Great. He was going to have to break up a fight before they had even left port.

  It was going to be a long five weeks.

  Kyra tremulously climbed the gangplank of the rusty and rickety transport ship. It wasn’t the best transport money could buy, that was for sure. Every inch of the mid-sized ship appeared to be held together with pop rivets and hot welds. She could have splurged and bought a ticket on a fancier—and safer-looking—transport, but she would have had to wait several weeks for one to arrive. Better to save her money for when she arrived on New Dominica. Who knew how long it might take to find work, and there would be outlays for housing and food. She needed to make her slim savings last.

  She tripped over a rivet in the floor and went sprawling on the rough deck. Damn it! Boydren had always said she’d break her own neck; she had the special talent of being able to trip over air.

  Her face heated, and she peeked around, hoping no one saw her mishap. However, the ship’s engineer, Ivy, standing beside one of the largest men Kyra had ever laid eyes on, had clearly seen. She’d met Ivy briefly when she’d bought her ticket, and it was the younger woman’s friendliness that had convinced Kyra to take a chance on the ship. Now, Ivy’s cupid’s bow mouth was a perfect “O” of surprise, and her big, expressive eyes were wide with concern. Kyra locked eyes with Ivy’s companion. He was tall, much taller than her five foot two, and every inch of him bulged with muscles, from the biceps and chest straining to break free of his tight-fitting t-shirt to his thighs straining against the rough fabric of his work pants. Kyra’s eyes widened as a different kind of heat burned through her. Good God, he was beautiful. His face wasn’t particularly handsome, especially with the annoyed scowl he wore, but there was something compelling about his size coupled with the intensity smoldering in his eyes.

  The man guffawed, breaking Kyra’s trance. She was still sprawled on the floor and was staring, mouth open, at the man—and he’d laughed at her. Red-hot embarrassment burned her face, and she scrambled to her feet, mortified.

  To make matters worse, Ivy hurried over to help her. The younger woman’s grin made it clear she’d seen the entire exchange.

  “Are you alright?” Ivy asked solicitously, helping Kyra to right herself.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Happens all the time,” Kyra mumbled, retrieving the raggedy bag containing all her worldly possessions.

  Ivy flashed her a sympathetic smile. “Come on, let’s get you squared away in a berth.”

  To her chagrin, Ivy led her right past the big man. Too embarrassed to look at him, Kyra kept her eyes lowered as they passed. She heard him guffaw again, no doubt at her. Her face heated even further, though she wouldn’t have thought that possible.

  Ivy swatted the man good-naturedly. “Mind your manners,” she chided.

  Kyra lifted her eyes a fraction to peek at his chiseled face. The sardonic set of his mouth and eyes gave the clear message that he wasn’t impressed by much in life, and the relaxed way he leaned, arms crossed, against the wall belied the coiled, ready-to-spring tension evident in every line of his big frame. One member of a rowdy group of passengers bumped into the big man, and in a flash, he had the roughneck by the scruff of the neck. The movement was so fast that it seemed to Kyra that one moment he was leaning against the wall and the next he was holding the roughneck with nothing in between. For someone so big, he moved elegantly. That uncomfortable warmth—the one that had nothing to do with embarrassment—returned.

  Ivy noticed her expression. “That’s Derrick.”

  Kyra blushed again, hating how easily her face gave away her every thought. Boydren had tried to teach her to be a less of an open book—he hadn’t suffered deceit in his underlyings, but even he’d been exasperated beyond bearing by her guilelessness. “You are the saddest sack I have ever met,” he’d said to her every time she’d screwed up—and there had been many such times. At first, he’d sneered the words, but over time, his tone had changed to one of pity.

  Ivy steered Kyra to a spot below the open-grated catwalk that ran high across the end of the cargo bay. Set into the wall below the catwalk was a doorway that led to the main part of the ship. Above the catwalk was an identical doorway that led to the pilot house. Any minute, the captain would step out from that upper doorway onto the catwalk and address the passengers—giving them the flight plan and safety instructions. The cargo hold’s door had been secured, and countdown to departure had already started. Kyra shivered again, but this time with excitement. In less than an hour, she’d be heading toward her new life.

  A crewmember, another woman, came to stand on Kyra’s right. In complete contrast to Ivy, this woman was statuesque, with a cool, easy confidence and quietly assessing eyes. Somehow, she made the formless jumpsuit she was wearing look fashionable. “Don’t worry about him,” she said, nodding toward the object of Kyra’s staring. “Derrick’s the muscle—precious little brains, I’m afraid. But then, I don’t suppose it’s his brains you were admiring.”

  Kyra’s blush deepened. Good God, what did they think—that she was a bored tourist looking for ship-board entertainment to wile away the weeks to New Dominica? She supposed it might be her name—she’d taken great pains to pick it. Like all those born in settlements and in space, she’d simply been referred to by her occupation. As soon as she’d gotten clear of New Trinidad, though, she’d picked a new name, one that would break all ties with her former life. Ivy’s name signaled she was from a Second World—those citizens were always named after things from antiquity like plants and cities. Kyra had gone a step better than that—she’d picked an actual name, like the kind given to those who lived on First Worlds or on Arks.

  The other woman grinned and stuck out a hand. “I’m Vienna. Ship’s navigator—and the brains of the operation. Feel free to admire any part of me you’d like.” She winked and gave Kyra a smile—though her smile was more calculated and less open than Ivy’s.

  “So,” Ivy said, hooking her arm through Kyra’s, “you indicated on the log that you can cook.”

  “That’s right,” Kyra said, her stomach fluttering at the half-lie.

  Ivy and Vienna both smiled broadly.

  Kyra was saved from further inquiry as to her skills by Ivy pointing upwards. “Oh, Captain’s about to speak.”

  Ky
ra followed Ivy’s gaze to a man standing on the metal walkway above them. He was rather non-descript. Moderate build, brown hair, brown eyes, ordinary clothes. She was surprised to see that he was in his thirties.

  “Aren’t captains usually older?” she asked. From what little she knew of Company politics, captainship was a promotional rank, earned by moving up the corporate ladder through years of service. Captains were the lucky few among the class of perpetual space workers who could earn enough to retire to a First World—or earn a spot on an Ark.

  “Shhh… the captain doesn’t much like others talking when he’s talking,” Ivy responded.

  Kyra could see that. The captain was handsome enough, though without Derrick’s bulging muscles; however, there was a severity and a coldness to his expression that caused Kyra to shudder. This was a man who gave an order once and expected it to be obeyed. His comportment suggested there would be no second request; he’d just toss you out the airlock and go back to whatever he’d been doing before as if nothing had happened. She needed to make sure she stayed well clear of him. He’d have no patience for her mishaps.

  “Listen up!” the captain said, his voice not overly loud but still commanding. “I’m Hunter, captain of the Mercy. We’ve got a pretty light itinerary and should have everyone to where they’re going in short order. Our first stop is New Guyana, which we’ll reach in two standard days. We’ll be stopped over for two days. From there, it’s a four day jump to New Tortuga. We have a three-day layover there.” Mumbles of approbation rose up from the roughnecks. There must be notable amenities on New Tortuga.

  The captain shot them a quelling look and continued as if they hadn’t interrupted. “And then, finally, we’ll burn for New Dominica. It’s a two-week haul, and we’ll make a few short stops along the way—New Nevis, New Antigua, and the like—which will stretch us to three weeks.” His eyes searched the crowd and landed on Kyra. His gaze burned into her, as if daring her to argue about the length of the trip to New Dominica. Since she was paying steerage rates, she didn’t get to complain about the slow pace or how many stops they made. She gulped slightly as she nodded her agreement.

  Apparently satisfied that she wasn’t going to cause any trouble, the captain went on. “As regards raiders—if you’re Company personnel or if you paid for raiding insurance, we’ll defend you and attempt to go after you if you get taken. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

  Even the rowdy roughnecks grew sober at this pronouncement, and Kyra shuddered again. She didn’t hardly have two bits to rub together, as the old saying went, so she certainly hadn’t been able to afford insurance.

  “Are raiders much trouble along this route?” she whispered to Ivy.

  Ivy gave a half-hearted shrug and in a low voice replied, “There’s a non-sanctioned settlement out around New Nevis that sometimes gives us trouble.”

  Kyra grimaced. She didn’t much have the right to be picky about where she ended up—she’d grown up in one of the poorest settlements in the territory—but from what she’d heard, life in illegal outposts was abject misery for those that chose to be there; for those taken there as slaves by raiders, it was worse.

  The captain gave them all a critical once over as if looking for any signs of disagreement, then continued. “The crew will show you to your bunks. All of your baggage needs to be stowed in the lockers here or in your quarters. Anything left on the deck gets tossed out the airlock. It’s a safety hazard during slingshot—and it’s a damn nuisance and trip hazard underfoot anyhow.

  “Those of you who aren’t Company personnel paid for rough board, which means you’ll be expected to work. There’s plenty that needs doing, that’s for sure. If you can’t figure out a way to be useful on your own, ask a crew member.

  “Meals are served twice per day. Mornings is a meal kit. Evenings you have your choice to partake in a communal meal of a modified kit or to eat a single serve kit on your own. One meal kit per meal per person per day. Protein supplements are available anytime from the labeled cabinet in the mess.

  “You are forbidden from entering the engine room or the pilot house unless you’re on a work crew and under the supervision of a crew member—and anyone caught attempting to enter either without the aforementioned conditons will be locked in their berth for the remainder of the voyage and put off at the first port, regardless of where you paid to go. Any questions?”

  Kyra couldn’t imagine anyone looking at that stern face would ever dare to ask a question, no matter how pressing it might be.

  The captain seemed to agree because he didn’t wait for an answer. “Good. Stow your gear and get strapped into the flight deck. We push off at ten hundred Local Standard.” The man scanned the room, and even though he wasn’t looking at or for her, Kyra felt herself shrink under his assessing gaze.

  “Derrick!” he called. “Get those crates stowed. You!” He gestured to the roughnecks who had been causing such a ruckus moments before. “Make yourselves useful and give him a hand. And,” his voice turned as hard as the titanium plating on the hull, “that’s the last time I see any of you lay hands on anyone.”

  Apparently, the captain had seen the scuffle.

  “Do it again and I’ll put you out the airlock. Ain’t like anyone’s gonna miss you.” He eyes lingered on each of the laborers in turn to let the warning sink in. Kyra shivered at the chiseled hardness of his face. With a last glance at Derrick, the captain turned on heel and stalked off. As he disappeared into the cockpit, Kyra heard him barking orders to the pilot.

  Kyra tried to tamp down the sudden jitter of nerves. With her track record, she was sure to get on the captain’s bad side in short order. She just hoped he didn’t mix much with the passengers, in which case, she might be able to stay out of his way and make it safely to New Dominica in one piece.

  The walls began to hum—the engines warming up. Kyra’s jitter of nerves changed to a shiver of anticipation. Her whole life had been building to this. Just a few short weeks and she’d finally be somewhere she could call home.

  Ivy looped her thin arm through Kyra’s again and tugged her forward. They exited the cargo bay into a dark, narrow hall, barely big enough for them to walk two abreast. Vienna fell back to walk behind them.

  “The bunks aren’t big, but they’re clean and have private latrines. The mess is at the forward end of the ship, straight down the hall on the far side of the flight deck. Quarters are this way.” Ivy steered her toward the right hand branch of a four-way intersection. She pointed to a set of stairs along the side of the main hallway as they left it. “Up goes to the bridge. Down goes to the engine room Those are off limits.”

  The narrow side hall they entered was only wide enough for them to comfortably walk single-file; rust-colored metal doors speckled with black age marks lined both walls every few feet. In the narrow space, Kyra felt a bit like protein paste being squeezed through a tube.

  Ivy stopped in front of one of the doors. She keyed in a code to the number pad beside it and then turned to Kyra. “Thumb,” she said, indicating the pad. Kyra pressed her thumb to the reader. It beeped as it coded her thumbprint to the door’s security and then turned green. The door slid open.

  “There ya go!” Ivy said happily. “Home sweet home for the next five weeks.” Kyra smiled wanly as she stepped into the eight foot by eight foot space. The room mainly consisted of a long, narrow bed raised up high so luggage could be stowed beneath it on one side and a long narrow desk with a chair and a set of storage lockers on the other. A door in the back led to the tiny bathroom facilities. She tried not to grimace at the claustrophobic confines. The small size didn’t matter; she wouldn’t be spending much time in here, anyway. She needed to spend every free minute between here and New Dominica in the kitchen, learning how to cook.

  “Stow your gear,” Vienna said. “Everything needs to be strapped down. Slingshot will make a hell of a mess of anything loose. Then get to the flight deck—down the main hall to the center of the ship.”

&nb
sp; Kyra nodded, gulping hard. Her stomach jigged with nerves. The two women left as Kyra quickly unpacked. It didn’t take long; she didn’t own much. She double checked that the cupboards were securely latched and then headed for the flight deck.

  She managed to get turned around when she got back to the junction of hallways and go the wrong way, ending up back in the cargo bay. She turned around and hurried back down the hall; she was the last to arrive. As she stepped into the room, Derrick shot her an impatient look.

  He moved through the milling crowd, pushing people aside. “Come on, come on,” he said. “Get the hell out of the way.” Kyra wasn’t surprised he was irritated. No one seemed to be following the instructions they’d all been given.

  Derrick grabbed a protein bar from one of the techs. “No eating!” he barked. His mouth turned down in a deep frown. “Listen up,” he bellowed over the burble of excited voices. “For those of you who didn’t read the instructions: no food for six hours before slingshot, no water for two hours. We are in a large metal can behind which a bomb is going to be detonated to accelerate us to cruising velocity. Your eyeballs are going to be glued to the back of your head and your stomach is going to end up on the ceiling. You do not want to have to vomit during that moment.” He looked around at the wide-eyed faces. With a hiss of impatience, he added, “You’ll choke to death because the vomit can’t escape against the backwards force of acceleration.”

  “Yeah, we got it,” one of the techs, a heavyset woman, said, shortly.

  “Well, if you got it, why the hell are you still standing around? Get strapped in!”