by MB Panichi
The aching emptiness felt like her soul bleeding away. But she couldn’t give up. Someone has to tell Morgan’s dad what happened.
Shaine lifted the comp pad with shaking hands, rechecking her direction. She was so close. The homing beacon was here, somewhere. According to the GPS, she was practically on top of it. After a couple more meters, the pad beeped loudly.
She dropped to her knees in the sand and started digging. Her vision blurred and tunneled. She blinked. Barely able to think coherently, she scrabbled awkwardly, her strength almost inadequate to move the gravelly sand. Finally, a half meter down, she saw the flat blackness of the container holding the homing beacon, a small shelter, water, energy bars and a first-aid kit. Just finding her cache gave her enough energy to dig it free.
She dragged the plastic box out of the hole and managed to pop open the case. She initiated the homing beacon’s retrieval call and removed the ultralight shelter and shook it out. The stays sprung into place, creating a person-length tube. At the top end, she’d have almost enough head room to sit up.
She knelt in the sand, staring blankly and zoning out for a few seconds before she blinked and forced herself to grab the package of supplies from the container and drag it with her. She crawled into the shelter, managed to twist around and zip the seal shut. She willed herself to stay conscious long enough to suck down the contents of a water pouch before she stretched out and collapsed facedown, letting exhaustion close over her.
Chapter Thirty
Morgan leaned back in the reclining acceleration chair, her fingers laced behind her head, her legs stretched out with her ankles crossed.
Garren had followed her to the main cabin and stood studying the options on the food processor. He chose a button. The machine produced a beverage container. He looked over his shoulder. “You want something to drink?”
“Naw, I’m good, thanks.” She closed her eyes. The exhilaration of her jaunt out the air lock had worn off, leaving her emotionally drained and physically exhausted. No word yet from Shaine. Nagging worry pulled at her guts.
Garren dropped into the seat to her right. “I hate this,” he muttered. “Rogan said he hasn’t gotten a final report from Brodderick, so I don’t know what the damage is at the site, how many injured or dead. Damn it. I should be there instead of being dragged away like a child.”
Morgan turned her head to look at him. “You could have refused to leave,” she said.
Garren snorted. “You ever try to tell my father or Rogan no?”
She shrugged.
He sighed, sprawling in his seat with a depressed, frustrated expression.
Morgan let her eyes close again. I’d have refused to go. Shaine would have too.
She tried to remember ever being afraid to say no to her dad. How many times had she and Vinn Rahn gotten into it when she was a wild teenager? Usually the argument ended in her bull-headedly going ahead even though Vinn was as pissed as hell. He let her make her own mistakes, though, telling her she was stubborn like her mother. Maybe she was. Either way, she didn’t let anyone tell her what to do.
“Morgan.”
She opened her eyes.
Tarm Maruchek leaned into the cabin. “We picked up the signal from Shaine’s call beacon.”
She couldn’t stop her grin. “Someone’s going to go and pick her up, then?”
Maruchek smiled. “I thought we would do it since we’re more or less on the way.”
She found it hard not to jump up and down and dance in her seat. She managed to limit her excitement to a nod and a widening of her grin. “Thanks.”
A little later, Morgan leaned forward, her fingers locked on the back of the pilot’s seat while Reed guided the shuttle down through Earth’s atmosphere.
He leveled off just above the cloud layer. “ETA about ten minutes,” he said. “Everything’s holding together.”
She smiled, glad she had been able to do something to help.
The co-pilot, Loh, flipped a couple of switches to his left. “Damn, Reed, this is the most excitement we’ve had in a long time.”
“Yeah. My wife’s gonna go nuts when she hears this stuff. My kid, on the other hand, is gonna think it’s great.”
The shuttle sliced through the wispy clouds.
Loh nodded at a small monitor on his right. “I’ve got long-range satellite visual on the homing beacon. No motion detected in the vicinity.”
Reed throttled forward, banking slightly.
Morgan stared at the living map of land and sea.
Reed tapped a monitor to his right and the surface below appeared on screen, marked with a small red dot near the center. He pointed. “That’s where we’re headed.”
Morgan asked, “The middle of the desert?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell was Shaine doing in the middle of a desert?”
“Killing people,” Rogan answered flatly from his seat at the com station. “And if she actually made it out alive, then she did her job.”
Morgan turned a glare on him. “You’re a bastard, Rogan.”
“I know how to use my resources.”
She clenched her jaw. Her knuckles turned white from her grip on the seat in front of her. She wanted to pound Rogan’s stupid ass into the ground. Shaine wasn’t a “resource.” And Rogan didn’t have the right to use her. The man didn’t even have the balls to do his own dirty work.
The shuttle swooped in over the desert.
Reed throttled back as the shuttle dropped lower. He watched his instruments. The desert whipped past beneath the ship, almost too fast for Morgan to focus on. The shuttle slowed abruptly and dropped. Reed set the ship on its landing gear with a slight flourish.
Morgan let her knees flex with the bounce, turned, and made her way out of the cockpit, brushing past Rogan.
Garren had barely opened the hatch before she dashed outside, not waiting for the ramp to lower. She jumped to the sand and ran to the small, sand-dusted shelter, dropping to her knees when she reached the zip-sealed opening. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Shaine?” Anxiously, she worked the zipper, shoving the thin material out of the way.
Shaine lay half curled on her side, unmoving. One hand clutched an empty water pouch. Dark stains covered the back of her survival suit from a jagged, bloody tear behind her shoulder.
“Shaine!” Morgan scrambled into the small shelter, practically crawling over Shaine’s body. The tall woman’s skin was hot to the touch, dry and feverish. Her chest barely moved.
Morgan leaned close enough to feel short, shallow breaths puff through Shaine’s cracked lips, felt along Shaine’s neck to find a pulse beating fast and light.
She backed out of the shelter and turned toward the shuttle. Garren and the two crewmen hurried across the sand. “Bring a med kit and a gurney!” she shouted to them. “Hurry!”
She ducked back into the shelter on hands and knees. “Baby, come on, wake up,” she murmured, gently stroking Shaine’s face. She found another water pouch within reach and popped it open, wetting her fingers and running the dampness over Shaine’s cracked lips. “Please wake up,” she whispered. “I need you.”
She wanted so badly to gather Shaine into her arms and hold her, but was afraid to move her, not knowing her injuries. She hoped to hell the two pilots knew at least some basic medical first aid. Guilt mixed with fear and worry while she waited impatiently for the others. Tears rolled down her cheeks. This is my fault. You’re here and hurt because of me. I’m so sorry, Shaine. I’m so, so sorry.
Chapter Thirty-One
Awareness made itself known through increasing levels of discomfort. Shaine’s head throbbed in time to her heartbeat. Sharp, deep pain drove through her right shoulder blade when she shifted. A constant throb pulsed in her thigh. She had a vague memory of getting her survival tent set up, but no memory of getting inside or blacking out.
Cool air wafted against her face, making her wonder if night had fallen. The desert day had been stiflingly hot and
breathless.
She sensed light behind her closed eyelids. She blinked slowly, squinting against the harsh glare sending blinding pain across her temples. She waited out the discomfort. After a few moments, she focused on the white metal ceiling barely a meter above her. Bulkhead. I must’ve been picked up. She turned her head and almost blacked out from the dizziness. She stilled, concentrating on breathing, slowly opened her eyes again, and very carefully rolled her head to take stock of the situation.
She lay in a bunk in a very small cabin. By the snugness of the sheet around her body, she could tell she had been safety-netted in place. She noticed a slight weight on her arm and a spot of warmth. She looked down. Under the netting, a hand rested on her forearm. She followed the hand to someone else’s arm, then to a dark tangle of hair resting on it.
Her breath caught.
The dark head snapped up from the edge of the bed. Wide gray eyes behind tousled bangs met her gaze.
Morgan! Shaine’s mouth moved to form the syllables, but all that came out was a weak breath. But you’re dead. Maybe I’m dead too—or hallucinating. She closed her eyes, trying to relieve the band of pain tightening around her head. A different kind of pain contracted around her heart. Please, don’t tease me like this!
Gentle fingers traced her jaw, helping her focus. “Shaine?”
She stared at the apparition in front of her. “You’re dead,” she whispered hoarsely.
Morgan shook her head slowly. “No, I’m right here. And so are you.”
Shaine sighed. A small smile turned up her lips as her eyes fluttered closed again.
* * *
The following morning, Shaine leaned against the pillows of a hospital bed in the med facility in the Mann-Maru corporate compound. She had only been in the med unit since last night, having arrived in the shuttle with Morgan and the others at dusk. Now the chronometer on the wall said the time was barely past dawn. The bed was absurdly comfortable. Diagnostic and monitoring equipment lined the walls, humming and beeping quietly. To her right, Morgan sprawled half asleep in an oversized recliner positioned close to the bed. Behind the recliner, windows overlooked the New York City skyline.
She shifted, easing herself more upright against the pillows.
An IV fed fluids and antibiotics into her system, but on the whole, she didn’t feel half bad. Her leg and shoulder hurt like a bitch, but the other aches and pains had faded. The badly damaged bio-mech prosthetic had been surgically removed. The trauma surgeon told her that he’d repaired the connection site below her knee to prepare for a new prosthetic. She didn’t know when she’d be able to have that done. The doctor who checked in on her said she was badly dehydrated, suffering mild heat exhaustion and a concussion.
From her point of view, none of it mattered except Morgan wasn’t dead. She didn’t know yet what had actually happened and hadn’t been awake long enough to ask. For the moment, it was enough to know she hadn’t lost her. Maybe she hadn’t failed in her mission after all. She rolled her head toward Morgan. “Hey, you can take a nap, you know, or go get some real sleep.”
Morgan smiled placidly. “I’m fine. You need anything?”
Shaine managed a grin. “No, but thanks. I’m probably more comfortable than you.” She lifted a hand. “You could join me—there’s room.”
“Tempting as it is, I don’t think I want to hurt you.”
Shaine sighed dramatically. “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer.”
Morgan smiled. Her gaze shifted to the window, following the flight of a heli-jet across the horizon.
Shaine let the comfortable silence settle between them, too tired to break into Morgan’s thoughts. She was surprised Morgan hadn’t asked about her mission in the desert. Rogan had barged in while she’d been in the trauma bay and got a very brief, semi-coherent version of what had happened in the compound before she lost consciousness again. He hadn’t been happy about the complete destruction of Charun’s compound, and was angry that the destruction left no proof of Charun’s tie to the pirates.
Shaine didn’t really care what he thought. The assignment was done. Charun was gone, the threat eliminated. She and Morgan were still alive. The rest didn’t matter. Someone would put a spin on the story for the media. Someone always did. Maruchek had people who excelled at such things.
She reached out and caught Morgan’s hand, grimacing when she jostled her shoulder, but needing the contact, wanting the reassuring warmth of Morgan’s fingers tangled with hers. Feeling that way seemed odd, but she couldn’t deny the rush of contentment when Morgan squeezed her fingers gently.
She had no idea what would happen next. She wasn’t sure how long Maruchek and Rogan would try to keep her here, and she knew that having her prosthetic replaced would involve some time in the hospital and rehab. If it were up to her, she would pack up right now and go back to Moon Base to try and reclaim her hard-won life. She didn’t know, either, what Morgan planned on doing. She couldn’t see Morgan staying with Maruchek and leaving her dad and her friends, but stranger things had happened, and how was she to know? The bigger question, though, was if Morgan still wanted to be with her. I don’t want to lose you.
After a while, Morgan spoke quietly into the silence. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but what happened out there, Shaine?”
Shaine turned her head to meet Morgan’s gaze.
Morgan regarded her seriously. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”
She took a breath. Did she want to talk? Did she want to confess to ending all those lives? Because although many had evacuated, she was certain there had been far more than just Charun killed when the compound blew. She hadn’t personally set off the destruction, but she killed Charun and his death started the countdown. Besides, she’d intended to blow the place before he’d beaten her to it. In her mind, that made her as guilty as if she’d hit the button herself. She sighed. Better if Morgan knew what she was capable of.
“There really isn’t much to tell,” she said. “I got dropped off in the desert, walked through a sandstorm to Charun’s compound and snuck in through the ventilation system. On my way to find Charun, I discovered the compound was a pirate command base and they were attacking one of the mines. I heard some stuff, maybe about you. Then Charun and one of his buddies bragged about killing you, so I kind of freaked out. I killed Charun. He was wearing a bio-monitor and his death initiated the self-destruct system on his compound. All that’s left is a massive crater and a pile of bodies in the desert. I would’ve blown the place if it hadn’t gone up automatically.”
She heard the flat, emotionless tone of her voice and forced down a wave of guilt. She had to shut away her emotions over the deaths she’d caused. Sometimes she found gaining that distance harder than other times. Being a trained killer was like that.
“Not much to tell,” Morgan repeated softly.
Shaine nodded. Part of her wished she could, somehow, justify what she’d done. “I was supposed to eliminate the threat to your life.” Her words came out in a rough whisper. “Then it seemed I was too late and you were already dead.” She swallowed and sucked in a breath. “After that, it was just another mission I wasn’t sure if I wanted to live through.”
“Damn, Shaine,” Morgan murmured. She rose from the chair, crawled on the bed, and carefully embraced her, snuggling close.
Shaine leaned into the warmth, clinging to Morgan with her good hand.
Morgan kissed her lightly. “I’m so glad you came back,” she whispered.
“Me too, baby, me too.” Shaine closed her eyes and rested her head against Morgan’s hair. So close.
For a long time, she and Morgan just held each other. Finally, she eased away. Her shoulder had started to scream from her position.
Morgan helped her lie back on the pillows and shifted so she rested facing her. Their bodies still touched. Morgan twined their fingers together. “You did what you had to do. Charun and the pirates had to be stopped.”
“You killed Charun. It’s not your fault his death set off the auto-destruct.”
“Morgan, I would have done it anyway.”
Morgan swallowed visibly. “You would have done it to stop the pirates, not because you enjoy killing people.”
“Does it matter?”
She met Morgan’s gaze, and saw uncertainty there, but not disgust or hatred. Morgan didn’t look away, only shook her head slowly. “You did what you needed to. Leave it at that, Shaine. Just leave it at that.”
Shaine desperately wanted to do just that—let it go. She squeezed Morgan’s hand and lay quietly with her eyes closed, struggling to rein in the tempest of emotions and guilt. After a while, she asked, “Why did they think they’d killed you? What happened?”
“Well, it all kind of started because Lissa tried to kill me the night you left and—”
“What?” Shaine jerked upright, her anger eclipsing the pain. “I’ll fucking strangle that bitch!”
Morgan gently but firmly guided her to lie back on the pillows before settling next to her, the dark head pillowed on her good shoulder. “You can’t,” she said softly. “She’s already dead. I shot her.”
Shaine blinked, speechless.
“She came into the suite with a holo album she said was from Maruchek, but I’d already gotten it from him, and there was just—I don’t know—something not right. Next thing I know there’s laser blasts going past my head. I pulled the trigger and she was on the floor, dead.”
Shaine traced her fingers gently along the woman’s face. “God, Morgan, I’m sorry you had to do that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
Morgan kissed her palm. “It’s okay. Not your fault.”
She nodded slowly, not quite believing, but accepting for now. “Then what?”