Mila's Shift

by Danielle Forrest

  The floor shook beneath her feet, vibrating the chair under her butt. “What the hell was that?”

  Tristan was already standing. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

  A klaxon blared and the lights flickered before turning red. The backup lighting system. They looked at each other in alarm and ran for the door.

  The engines.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They raced through the halls, expecting the worst. The floor continued to rumble beneath their feet. What the hell is going on? The captain ran ahead of her, his greater height and longer legs giving him an advantage. Plus, he actually knew the way to the engine room.

  Sabotage? An accident? After all, the ship was old. It could have just broken down, couldn’t it? But her heart told her that was just wishful thinking. No. This was no accident.

  They turned a corner and Mila skidded to a halt. A cloud of billowing smoke obscured the path forward. She slogged through it, coughing and holding her sleeve across her face to keep from breathing too much in. People raced past her as her eyes watered and burned. Where’s the captain? I can’t see him anymore.

  She stumbled against a hard surface and yelped, flailing her arms and reaching for anything to keep her upright.

  “May? Are you okay?”

  Good, he was just a few feet ahead of her. “Fine.” She coughed and covered her mouth once more. “Just tripped. Be careful. There’s debris on the ground. And I can’t see shit through this smoke.”

  “Maybe you should stay back.”

  “Not a chance, slick.”

  “Slick?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Get moving, sir.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said sarcastically.

  They continued on, watching each step, shuffling forward to avoid slamming a leg or foot into debris, to not trip as she had before. Detritus covered every inch of flooring, forcing her to make a circuitous route through the hallway. They still hadn’t reached the engine room.

  “Shouldn’t there be an exhaust fan or something?”

  “Yeah. Those systems must be down, too. At least the important stuff is still operational. Actually, I’m surprised the magnetics are still working. They’re controlled electronically.”

  “Right. And they’re not vital systems, are they?”

  “Nope.”

  And, as if on cue, she started to float. “Figures.”

  “Can you touch the wall, May?”

  She flailed around and found the grab bars that lined the walls and ceilings of the hallways. At any other time, she gave them no regard, but she whispered a thank you for them now. Her fingers ghosted across one, then she latched on with both hands. “I’m good. Got a hold.”

  “Good. Let’s keep going.”

  “Okay.” She continued, moving arm over arm, afraid to let go with all the smoke. If she lost her grip, she might not find another grab bar in the blinding cloud. She coughed, sucking in more and more smoke, unable to protect her lungs.

  “I found the doors. They’re mangled. Like they were blasted outward.”

  “I’m right behind you,” she wheezed. A few more movements and she bumped into his flank. “What now?”

  “I’m not sure we should enter the engine room with all this smoke. It’s huge and I have no idea what’s left of it.”

  “Well, we should at least look.” Mila leveraged herself to get ahead of him and held onto the doorway. “I think it’s thinning.” She squinted through her watering eyes as another bout of hacking coughs plagued her. She scanned around, the smoke shifting toward a few points near the walls. “I think we have depressurization.”

  “What?!”

  “Not major. Small ones. It’s clearing the smoke, which is a plus.”

  “Move over.” He nudged Mila aside and looked over her shoulder. “You’re right. This could be bad.”

  “I thought minor leaks weren’t a problem.”

  “They’re not, unless something causes them to grow, break open. Then this entire section of the ship would be lost. Hell, the entire ship could be lost.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Follow me.” And he pushed off.

  It took forever for the smoke to clear. Mila floated and watched while men repaired leaks, patching them to regain integrity. She helped by retrieving tools and floating between engineers, but she knew nothing about the engines of the ships she flew.

  Then the magnetics reasserted themselves and she screamed as she slammed into the floor.

  “May? You all right?” the captain said, racing over to where she’d fallen.

  “Fine,” she said, getting to her feet. “Just a new cut and a sore bum.” She examined the nick on her leg, but dismissed it.

  “Let me see.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s just a scratch.”

  “May, please?”

  “Fine,” she said, sitting down on a large chunk of scrap.

  She let him kneel in front of her and raise her pant leg, examining the cut, as she turned her attention to the state of the room. It looked like a war zone. She couldn’t recognize anything. Could they recover from this? Was it even possible? She saw nothing that remotely resembled an engine. Just scrap metal.

  “How are we ever getting moving again?”

  “We will. Don’t you worry.”

  She shook her head. “But this… it’s devastating.”

  He looked around, taking in the damage. “It sure looks that way. But until the engineers assess the damage, we’ll have no idea what we’re dealing with.”

  “I suppose that’s a better way of looking at it.”

  “Damn straight. Okay, you should be fine. Just be careful.” He tugged her pant leg down and went back to helping get them limping along.

  Well, at least the magnetics were operational again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hey, wake up.”

  “Huh? Wha—?” Mila jerked awake.

  “You fell asleep.”

  She shook her head and looked around the engine room turned scrap yard. “Yeah, guess I did. Any idea on the damage?”

  “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable. We’re just in the way here. The best people for the job are already on task.”

  “Good.”

  The captain pulled her to her feet, and half carried her back to his office.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t,” she said as he tried to dump her in a chair. “Maybe I should go take a shower.”

  “Oh, I don’t care about the stupid chairs, May. Sit.”

  He didn’t have to ask her twice. She was too tired. Exhausted and grimy. “I think I’m better off flying this POS. Being around you just wipes me out.”

  He smiled, exhaustion masking his amusement. “It’s been another long day, hasn’t it?”

  “They all seem to be long days lately.” She paused, too weary or too empathetic to want to continue. “So, any idea on the prognosis?”

  “We’re dead in the water. The engineers are hopeful. This is an old ship. The systems are hardier than they seem. They say the damage was done by some parts rupturing. But they think they can weld some of the scrap together, rebuild the engine.”

  “Impressive.” She didn’t have the energy to give it the enthusiasm it deserved.

  He shrugged. “Sometimes in deep space, you have to be.”

  “Yeah. How long till we’re flying again?”

  He shook his head. “That, I don’t know. We might never get it running again.”

  “That would mean we failed, they won.”

  “Yeah. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

  “What about communications?”

  “I haven’t checked yet. We’ve been focused on stabilizing the engine room, making sure we still have life support systems.”

  “How long will life support last?”

  He massaged his face. “Not sure on a rig this old. A few weeks?”

  “Long enough for a rescue?”

 
He nodded. “If we can’t get it up and running. And if we have the TAT. You should go. Get some sleep.”

  “No. I wanna help. We need all hands on deck right now.”

  “Yeah and you’re a pilot with no ship to fly. I think you can afford to get a full night’s rest.”

  “There are other ways I can help, sir.”

  “Please?”

  The exhaustion in his voice made her cave. “Fine. I’ll go. But you get some rest, too. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

  “In a little while.”

  “Soon?”

  “Yeah, soon.”

  A knock came at the door. “Come on in, guys.” Lieutenant Braddock and his head of security entered side by side. “Sit. Take a load off.”

  They both collapsed, more than happy to unwind.

  “I’m taking security off the search for the assassin. Our priority now is finding the conspirators. We can’t let this get worse.”

  “I agree,” Avery said. “If you want, we can put extra security on Trace.” Avery’s eyes lit with humor, hinting at something Tristan would not confront head on, especially not with his subordinates.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Of course, captain.” But the amusement didn’t go away. Instead, a smirk appeared.

  Tristan refused to acknowledge it. “Lieutenant. You and the rest of the upper ranks. We need to get ahead of this thing. Fast.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll divide tasks out by section. Oversee repairs, everything. Report back to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Avery. May and I have been going over background reports. It’s on my private directory. We’ve divided it out into people who might have unsavory connections and those we found no evidence thereof. I want you to bring these people in, interrogate them. I need answers. Now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Emergency lighting tinged every hallway red. Just before reaching his bunk for a much needed nap, four security officers stormed past him. He turned to watch them go, but kept his head down. He didn’t need them to notice him, not when success was breaths away.

  “Officer Fowler?” one of them said.

  He held his breath. Fowler was a friend, an ally. Be natural. Be normal. He hunkered down and listened, opening the door to his bunk so he was half in and half out, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

  “Yeah? What’s going on?” His friend seemed genuinely confused.

  Good. That might just save you.

  “You’re coming with us.”

  “What? What’s going on? What did I do?”

  They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him off.

  This was only the beginning…

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mila didn’t bother knocking. She shoved the doors to the captain’s office open and barged right in.

  “Think you own the place now, huh?”

  “Oh, I was just trying it out. What’s on the agenda today?” She tried to overlook the shadows under his eyes.

  “Going over video. I’ve got most of the ship working on getting various systems back up and running.”

  “By all means.”

  “I need a snack. The galley still open?”

  “Of course. People need to eat. Even when things get crazy.”

  “Cool. You want anything?”

  “Yeah, just bring me whatever.”

  She left the room and waited for her shadows to follow her.

  They’d been at it for hours. Skimming video of the hours before the explosion, checking camera after camera. The servers and computers shut down during the explosion. They’d had to boot them up again to access the video. They were keeping a single server up while power was at a premium.

  Still, they hadn’t seen much. They had gone through video of the two hours before the incident which had been officially declared foul play. That was one of the first things they discovered—a simple incendiary device attached to a pipe. Just cleaning chemicals, but they caught fire and heated the fuel, causing weak points in the machines to rupture or explode.

  Still, they were looking for the culprit, which meant finding who planted the device. They just had no idea when it was planted, thus hours and hours of video.

  “You guys hungry?” she said over her shoulder as she grabbed some quick snacks, snatching them out from under the bands that kept them from floating away.

  Neither replied.

  She shrugged and started back. Whatever.

  “Sir! I think I’ve got it.”

  He jumped up and moved behind Mila. “Let me see.”

  She brought it back a few minutes and hit play. This angle showed the pipe where the device would be planted. She couldn’t quite see where the bomb would be but the area before it was wide open. A man walked into the frame.

  “I don’t recognize him, but I don’t know a fraction of the people on this boat.” Mila paused it when the man placed the device.

  “I don’t either. We’ll get this to Avery.”

  Outside his office, the ship felt ominous. They were still on emergency lighting, lending everything a red tint, and the temperature had dropped ten degrees since the incident. Mila jogged beside the captain to get her blood pumping a little faster.

  They entered the security offices and the captain shouted, “Avery! Got something to show you.”

  Avery turned and stalked their way. “Yes, captain?”

  “We rummaged through the video. Found this.” He handed over Mila’s display.

  “Great, thank you. It needs to be enhanced. Thanks for the help, captain, Trace.”

  “Anytime,” he said.

  Mila just shrugged.

  They left the offices, Mila eagerly, not wanting to interfere.

  “What are the other pilots doing?”

  “Running. The communications systems are mostly down. Can’t call people from opposite ends of the ship. TAT’s working, but we’re keeping it on minimal power just to receive messages from home base.”

  “Guess I should be glad I got out of that assignment. Of course, if I were running around the ship, I might actually be warm.” She started shivering and wished she could shift extra muscle or fat or something.

  The captain engulfed her, rubbing her arm vigorously. “Any better?”

  “Worlds.” Holy crap. He felt like a furnace. She wanted to curl up into him and fall asleep.

  “Good.”

  They walked like that, lurching along the hallway, Mila conscious of the looks people gave them. Curiosity. Surprise. Knowing smirks.

  But warm trumped all, so she snuggled closer, burying her numb nose in his shirt, which made him laugh.

  Then, a loud crack echoed behind her. They spun around in unison. Another crack, and the captain fell to the floor. “Tristan!” Another crack and pain raced through her chest. Mila tried to take a breath, but couldn’t. She started coughing, but blood bubbled up, spilling over her lips. She sank to her knees.

  A pounding noise faded into the distance. Was that her heart?

  Chapter Twenty

  The shot cracked against the metal surfaces, hitting him and spinning him into the wall. He fell to the ground, stunned for a moment. Another crack sounded before he’d recovered his senses. He looked up, holding his injured arm as the culprit ran away wearing a security officer’s uniform.

  The other security officer lay on the floor, likely dead. He continued inspecting the scene. “May!” He half-stumbled, half-crawled to where she knelt, clasping her chest with shaky fingers. “May?” She collapsed as soon as his hands touched her. “Oh God,” he said, seeing the terrible wound. A large hole tore through her. He pressed his hand to it, knowing on some level it was too late, but not caring, not willing to admit it.

  “Don’t you dare die on me, May! Don’t you fucking dare!” He didn’t feel the tears on his face.

  “Someone? Someone help!”

  He leaned over her,
pressing as hard as he could on her broken chest. “Hold on, May. Hold on.”

  Her shallow breaths wheezed in, but never seemed to escape again. Blood pooled around his hands, her mouth, the floor. The distress he saw on her face matched his own.

  When her eyes closed, he screamed, “No!”

  “No, no. May, wake up.” He started gently slapping her face, looking for signs she wasn’t dead. But she didn’t move. He couldn’t even see her breathe.

  He sat back in shock and waited.

  For someone to come?

  For a miracle?

  He wasn’t sure.

  But he couldn’t leave her.

  He couldn’t look at her. It hurt too much. So he didn’t notice when she started breathing again. He nearly screamed when a butterfly touch glanced his shoulder. He spun around and stared gape-mouthed at her. “But you’re dead.”

  May looked down, examining the hole in her shirt with her fingers. He watched in shock as the hole revealed perfect skin, stained with blood but perfect.

  “I don’t understand.”

  As her gaze returned to him, the color drained from her face. Fear took over and she started scooting backwards, then trying to get up. But she kept falling. Between the blood-slick floor and recovering from dying, she just couldn’t stand.

  “May, please.”

  “I-I can’t,” she said as she slumped against the opposite wall.

  They stared at each other, neither able nor willing to end the silence. His head filled with all the possibilities, all the ramifications. He had no idea what she was thinking.

  He felt like he didn’t know her at all.

  Help eventually arrived and soon medical and security officers swarmed them. Someone was bandaging Tristan’s arm while a security officer questioned him.

  Mila couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Her gaze kept shifting between the body and Tristan. One because she felt she was to blame for his death, the other because she feared he would be to blame for hers.