Contingency Plan

by Robyn Bachar

  “Got it, boss.”

  The engines whined in protest as Jiang shoved the shuttle into the air. The ship shuddered as they punched through the atmosphere but settled once they reached space. She peered out the front viewport before turning her attention to the command console. The patrol was too far and too small to see with the naked eye, but the ship’s sensors displayed their approach on the display screen.

  Jiang snorted as she spun the ship away from the patrol. “How many Russian curses do you know?”

  “All of ’em, I think.”

  “Feel free to tell them off.” She glanced at Ryder and saw his grin turn vicious. He opened a comm channel and launched into an impressive array of expletives, questioning everything from the legitimacy of the Soviet pilots’ parentage to their lack of sexual prowess.

  Jiang smiled as she concentrated on her next move. Their shuttle was fast, but despite its pirate enhancements it was still a civilian vessel. The Soviet ships with their military specs would eat up the meager lead the shuttle had in no short order. She called up the nav data for the Arzamas system.

  “Perfect,” she murmured.

  “What? My accent?” Ryder asked.

  “No, your accent is atrocious. I found cover for our exit. We’re going to lose them in the asteroid belt.”

  “Umm, boss? That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

  “Do you trust me?” Jiang glanced at him, and they shared a heavy look. If he’d lost faith in her after seeing her image on the research footage, now would be the time to admit it.

  “Yeah, I trust you.”

  Relief trickled through her, and she smiled. “Good. Because this is a recipe for greatness.”

  Ryder nodded gravely. “Truly they will tell of this day for generations to come.”

  “That’s the spirit, Kalani.”

  Many solar systems contained the remains of a planet that didn’t make it, and Arzamas was no different. A ring of rubble marked where the system’s fifth planet would’ve orbited, if some ancient disaster hadn’t befallen it. Bad news for the planet, but good news for her. She dumped power from the shields into the engines—they’d be cooked if the patrol caught them, so shields were a luxury they didn’t need at the moment. Besides, an asteroid would punch through their shields like a bullet through tissue paper.

  The shuttle surged forward and she dove into the chaos of the asteroid belt. “Give me running updates on the status of the nav computer and the hyperdrive.”

  “Aye, boss. Nav calculations are at seventy-two percent. Hyperdrive is at thirty percent.”

  Jiang clenched her jaw—the hyperdrive wasn’t spinning up fast enough, but she didn’t dare shunt more power its way. She concentrated on weaving a tight path through the asteroids. Her effort was rewarded when a ship indicator winked out on her screen. One down, five to go.

  WARNING. ENEMY SHIPS CLOSING TO FIRING RANGE.

  “I told you to shut her off,” Jiang said.

  “I don’t know how. Do you know how many damn buttons this thing has?”

  “Myriad.” She lunged past him and muted the ship’s comm with an angry slap of a switch. “Here we go.”

  The patrol ships opened fire, but their attacks were wasted on the surrounding asteroids. Jiang grinned, but her smile vanished when a deafening bang rattled the ship. A chorus of proximity alarms screeched to life. The flight controls jerked in her hands, and she struggled to maintain control as they swerved dangerously close to an enormous chunk of rock.

  “What the hell was that?” Ryder asked. “Are they using torpedoes on us?”

  “Nope. That was Mother Nature.”

  “Mother Nature is a bitch,” Ryder exclaimed.

  Jiang glanced at the ship’s system readouts. “Minimal hull damage. Mother Nature only scratched the paint this time.”

  “Let’s not let her do it again. Nav calc is at ninety-one percent, hyperdrive at forty-eight.” Ryder grimaced as another barrage of Soviet fire barely missed them. “Can we shoot back?”

  “It’ll slow us down. I’ve dumped everything into the engines and hyperdrive. You can hurl some more harsh language at them if you like.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jiang hauled back on the controls and pulled the ship into a steep climb. Two of the pursuers failed to change direction fast enough and slammed into each other. Three down. Three left.

  “Nav calc complete. Now we just need the hyperdrive to cooperate.”

  The ship rocked and rolled as one of the Soviets scored a hit. The flight controls nearly jerked out of her grip and Jiang wrestled to steady them. A panel hissed and sparked above them, and the cockpit was filled with the acrid scent of burning electronics.

  “I’ll get it,” Ryder said.

  “No,” Jiang snapped. “Don’t unstrap. We’re almost to hyperdrive engage.”

  “Not if the cockpit is on fire.”

  “Give me the percent, Kalani.”

  “Sixty-four percent.”

  The ship bucked from another hit, and a set of warning alarms blared to life. Jiang needed a new tactic, and an insane idea popped into her mind as she spotted an asteroid shaped like a donut spinning lazily through space.

  “Let’s see if you Russkie bastards can do this.”

  She swerved toward the ring, and Ryder shook his head.

  “Boss, no way.”

  “It’s fine. Just like threading a needle.” Her tone was calm and reassuring, but Ryder braced as though he expected to be ejected through the viewport.

  She looped the shuttle through the center, and a shriek of screeching metal echoed through the ship. A second set of alarms joined the first, warning that they’d lost a sensor array. Two of the patrol ships weren’t as fortunate, and they crashed into opposite sides of the asteroid. Amateurs.

  One ship left—either he was smarter than his comrades or spectacularly lucky. Jiang rerouted power to the shields and weapons, then wheeled the ship to face her pursuer.

  “I like these odds a lot better,” she said.

  “Damn right,” Ryder said. “We’re up to eighty percent. Waste this guy so we can go home.”

  Home. Right.

  This close she could see the patrol ship through the viewport, looming larger as it closed in. Jiang inhaled a long, slow breath, and fired as she exhaled. Ryder whooped in victory as she scored a direct hit and the enemy ship exploded.

  Ryder grinned. “Best damn pilot in the galaxy.”

  “Probably not the entire galaxy.”

  “I stand by my assessment. Hyperdrive’s at full power, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter Six

  “Okay. Almost done,” Jiang said.

  Ryder nodded as Jiang removed the last connection holding his gauntlet together. She cracked the armored segments open with a sound disturbingly similar to a cooked lobster being parted from its shell.

  He sighed at the paralyzed prosthetic. “Yeah. That’s definitely offline.”

  “How do you want to handle it?” she asked.

  “Can run some diagnostics. It might just need a new power source, though I doubt there are spares tucked away on this boat.” His lip curled in disgust at their pirate-scented surroundings. He couldn’t wait to get back to the familiar comfort of his quarters on the Mombasa.

  Jiang patted the bulkhead beside them. “Don’t disparage our girl. She worked hard today. Maybe we should name her.”

  “The captain’s probably going to name her,” he said. “Something that goes along with Mombasa. Like Nakuru.”

  Jiang’s smile faded, and Ryder could almost see her powering up her emotional shields. Shit. What had he said wrong?

  “It’s going to be okay.” Ryder reached for her with his left hand, and she shied away from his tou
ch.

  “Okay?” she repeated. Her voice leaped a strained octave. “Okay? I was part of some crazy Soviet experiment in a top secret research facility. There’s nothing okay about any of this.”

  “Point taken.”

  “And they’ll know I was there. My palm scan was logged.”

  Ryder nodded and stopped himself from voicing the observation that somebody in the KGB already knew she was active. They were the ones sending her orders via spiked tea, and they were the ones who acted on the mission data she unknowingly sent them. But the last thing Jiang needed right now was another reminder of Erik’s death—that wound was still raw and bleeding.

  “We’ll know more once Maria analyzes the data fragments we found.”

  “No. I can’t go back there.” Jiang rose and backed away, shaking her head. Shit. She was going to melt down—it was damn impressive that she’d held together this long. He’d seen hardened, battle-seasoned marines crack under this kind of pressure.

  “Where, then?” he asked. Jiang froze, hugging her arms to her chest. “Give me a destination and I’ll plot a course.”

  “I don’t know. I just...” Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t put them in danger. The ship, the crew, they’re all I have. I can’t lose them like I lost my family.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You don’t know that!” Jiang snarled and kicked an empty metal cup that had shaken free from the galley during the fight. It bounced across the deck and clattered into an equipment locker. “Did you see that facility? Whatever they did to me was complex and expensive. They’re going to want me back.”

  “They’ll have to go through me first.”

  “They already have. You’ve lost two hands on this mission.”

  Ryder looked down at his prosthetic. Piece of junk. He pressed the pressure points to release it, and pulled it free from his arm. He set the device next to his disassembled armor and the tools Jiang had used to remove the gauntlet. Ryder squared his shoulders—this was the first time any crew member other than the Mombasa’s doctor had seen him without a prosthetic.

  “It’s just a piece of equipment,” he said. “Like armor. It’ll be repaired, and it’ll be good as new. I’m still here, Jiang. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Why? How can you stay? You saw that footage. You know all the things I’ve done. I’m...shit, I really am some kind of Soviet super weapon. Not the one we’ve been looking for, but still. I’m dangerous.”

  “No—”

  “Yes,” she said. “You should drop me somewhere. Maybe a C3 world, somewhere there isn’t a bounty on my head. You can take the ship and the data back to the Mombasa without me.”

  Ryder opened his mouth to argue further, but he wasn’t going to win this fight. Instead, he changed tactics. He shrugged nonchalantly and sat back. “Or I can transmit the data, and you and I can keep the shuttle and head somewhere else.”

  Jiang blinked. “What?”

  “Find somewhere to bunker down until the captain gets this all sorted out. Like being undercover. A nice tropical planet. Sandy beaches, fruity drinks. Nobody gets hurt.”

  Suspicion clouded her expression as she studied him. She’d see right through his ruse—it was one of her many talents—so he smiled.

  Jiang scowled and shook her head. “Very funny.”

  “I’m picturing you in a bikini. It’s a lovely picture.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Do I get to picture you in one?”

  “Nah. I only visit nude beaches.”

  Jiang laughed, and Ryder rose and slowly approached her. He reached up with his one good hand and wiped away a tear. His chest tightened—he’d never seen Jiang cry, and he wanted to take on the entire Red Army for being the cause of it.

  “You’d really run away with me?”

  Would he? Ryder had signed on with the Mombasa out of a sense of duty. Tomas Nyota had saved his life, and he owed the man a debt that could never be repaid. But Tomas didn’t need him like he had when he and his sister Lindana first bought the ship.

  “Running away won’t fix this,” he said. “We need to stand and fight.”

  “What if we’re fired?” she asked, her voice low and strained. “What if they don’t want us back.”

  “You can’t fire family. Believe me, I’ve tried. My younger brothers can attest to this.” Ryder put his arms—well, arm—around her and held her close. Jiang had so much strength that it was easy to forget it was wrapped in a petite package. “Besides, who’d be crazy enough to fire the best pilot in the galaxy?”

  * * *

  The Stryke Zone had begun as an asteroid mining facility. Only miners who were crazy or desperate were willing to work in an asteroid field due to the high fatality rate, but the profits were amazing. Or at least they were amazing for the corporations who ran the mining colonies. In the case of the Stryke Zone, the miners became fed up with corporate interference, revolted and declared themselves independent from any business or political alliance.

  After the uprising one of the lead miners, Prudence Stryker, became the queen of the operation. Under her guidance, the facility grew into the Stryke Zone, a tangled rat’s nest of junk ships, space stations and ground facilities burrowed into the larger asteroids. It was part black market, part trading post, part pirate paradise. Jiang had never liked it—there was no law in a place like this, and she didn’t trust Prudence’s “goodwill” to keep them safe. In theory, the Stryke Zone was a safe port for the Mombasa and the Novosibirsk, and the rest of their growing pirate navy. Prudence Stryker had a strict “no bounties” policy—she figured that if one of the superpowers wanted you dead, she’d decide for herself if your life should be forfeit.

  Jiang didn’t buy it. In her opinion the denizens of the Stryke Zone would turn on them if the price was right, and it was only a matter of time before someone made an offer large enough to tempt the Strykers into betrayal. Not that she could throw stones in this situation. One sip of a spiked liquid, and Jiang would become the evil Agent Kwan again, ready to sell out her crew.

  “I don’t like this.” Jiang scowled at the control panel as she completed docking with the Mombasa.

  “You did mention that, boss,” Ryder said. “A couple of times. It’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course I do. I’m chief of security. It’s my job.” He grinned, and the anxious knot in Jiang’s chest eased a fraction.

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  Ryder shrugged. “I wish I had your roundhouse kick, but I’m just not that flexible.”

  “We could work on your flexibility.” She realized all of the wicked ways that her words could be interpreted the moment after she said them, and Ryder waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Brat,” she muttered. “Docking complete. Let’s go.”

  Jiang powered down the shuttle, plunging the cockpit into darkness. They headed to the airlock, and as the decontam cycle started she reached out and touched Ryder’s shoulder.

  “Hey. If something happens...” she said.

  Ryder took her hand and squeezed it. “I know. I got you.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled and her stomach fluttered. Nerves, she thought. Anxiety about returning to the Mombasa after she’d fled it in shame. Definitely not a lustful reaction to having Ryder Kalani hold her hand.

  Captain Lindana Nyota waited with her brother outside the Mombasa’s airlock. Lindana eyed Jiang, her face set into stern lines.

  “Lieutenant Chen. I don’t recall approving your mission, or authorizing you to take the shuttle.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” Jiang said.

  Lindana raised her hand to silence any further explanation and turned to Ryder. “Chief Kalani, I also don’t recall authorizing you to join
the lieutenant on this mission.”

  “Sorry, Cap. Lieutenant Chen needed someone to watch her six.”

  “That’s my decision, not yours. I’m in command. I’m docking both of your pay for the time spent on your unauthorized mission. You’re lucky we don’t have a brig to throw you in for insubordination. Don’t do it again.”

  Ryder and Jiang replied “Yes, Captain” in unison, then much to Jiang’s surprise Lindana grabbed her in a crushing hug.

  “We’ll work this out. We’re family.”

  Jiang slumped with guilt before returning the hug. “Thank you.”

  Lindana turned to hug Ryder as well, and he swept her off her feet in a bear hug. “Ryder. You’re crushing me.”

  “Sorry, Cap.” Ryder immediately turned and hugged Tomas, crushing him instead. The two men were similar in height, but Ryder was broader and more muscular.

  Lindana sighed but smiled. “You two fix Ryder’s prosthetic. Jiang and I are going to bring the data you recovered to Chief Watson.”

  Tomas turned to Jiang. “I want to examine you later, since you seemed to think it’s fine to expose yourself to dangerous levels of radiation.”

  “Only minimum exposure,” Jiang said. “And it was necessary.”

  Tomas scowled. “A likely story. I’ll see you in the med bay.”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  They parted ways, and Jiang followed the captain. “Status report,” Lindana said.

  Jiang inhaled a steadying breath and embraced the familiar routine of life aboard the Mombasa. “We downloaded what we could from their databanks. Most of the info was wiped thanks to blank grenades, but at least one was a dud. Or poorly placed.”

  “Lucky.”

  “Sloppy. But so were we.” Jiang scowled. “We tripped a security alarm while we were searching for additional data. The system sent out an alert that brought in Soviet patrols. We barely got out in time.”