Rapture

by Jessica Marting

  “Sure,” he replied. “For what they’re charging me, the water’s included.”

  That was a relief. She closed the door and left Kai’s shirt and a towel on the small vanity and ran a bath. While the water was running, she finger-combed her hair and made a face at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and she hadn’t, not really. The night before she docked the Rapture at Karys she had been roused from sleep at three hundred hours by a bunch of kids goofing off in their parents’ shuttles on the Landen star lane. She had no idea how they managed to find that back route, and they had set off her intruder alarms and fueled her panic. Little bastards.

  The tub full, she turned away from the mirror and stripped off her clothes. She climbed into the hot water—heavenly—and tried to turn off her brain for a few minutes.

  ****

  Kai didn’t want to go to the Fleet base on station in case Brya’s pursuers followed him. Instead, he sent a transmit and notified his commanding officer on the Starspot of a possible major smuggling operation.

  Captain Setroff and Commander Darby stared at him through the transmit vidscreen. Kai braced himself for an onslaught, and he received it.

  “You’re supposed to on medical leave!” Setroff roared.

  “I am,” Kai said. “But wouldn’t you be doing the same thing if you ran into your ex-wife?”

  “Well, no. You don’t know my ex-wife,” Setroff said.

  “She needs help, and I believe her story about this Wethmore,” Kai persisted. “We have a chance to nail this guy. He’s transporting slave labor, for gods’ sakes. He abused her and lets his crew members die.”

  “Why didn’t she go to the Fleet before?” Darby asked.

  Kai explained Brya’s reasoning. Darby nodded. “Good points,” he agreed. “The Fleet could file charges, but if she has evidence like you say she does, she would receive immunity. Has she told anyone else about this?”

  Kai shook his head. “Not a soul until I ran into her on the commercial strip.”

  “Good. The Fleet will take care of it, and if she’s telling the truth, she won’t go to a prison colony or undergo a mind wipe. But if she’s lying about anything…” Darby glowered at Kai through the monitor.

  “She isn’t. You know me and you know what I can pick up. She’s terrified, and she isn’t lying.”

  “You sure you’re not an empath, Lieutenant Toric?” Setroff said.

  “I’m not a full empath. You know that.”

  “She would have to be sweating buckets for Toric to pick that up,” Darby pointed out to the captain. Setroff sighed and nodded.

  “Okay, we’ll help you with this. Send her out to wherever this petrik’s supposed to go, and we’ll ambush whoever is on the receiving end,” Setroff said. “We’ll notify the Fleet and the Starspot will get the assignment. Are you sure her ship can handle that kind of cargo?”

  Kai nodded. “The Rapture’s holds are fortified. Her husband died in an explosion in a cargo bay a couple of years ago, and I think she’s pretty paranoid. I’ll still check her ship’s specs before we depart Karys Station.”

  Kai told him what little he knew of the flight plan, with a promise to keep in touch. “We’ll send her our transmit address on the untraceable links,” Setroff promised.

  “No need,” Kai said. “I’ll tell her myself. I’m going with her.”

  Setroff and Darby were silent for a moment. “You’re on medical leave!” Setroff yelled. Darby flinched.

  “You already yelled at me for being on medical leave.”

  “Watch it, Lieutenant. You’re still my subordinate. And I yelled at you for getting involved in this without notifying the Fleet base on station.”

  “Captain, I told Brya I would stick with her until this is over, and I intend to.”

  Realization dawned over Darby’s features. “Well, Kai, you do have a reputation to keep up,” he said.

  Apparently both of them had forgotten that their commanding officer was present, because Kai shot back, “Fuck off, Lukas,” he snapped, using the commander’s first name. “I’m not that much of an asshole. I wouldn’t try to seduce her.” Though in another lifetime, maybe… “She’s in trouble.”

  “Language, both of you!” Setroff shouted. “You’re on a military channel. You are not Captain Bartha, you’re not in a bar, and this is not shore leave. Show some fucking respect.” The captain realized what he had just said, and pursed his mouth in a tight line. Despite the situation, Kai felt a bubble of laughter surge through him, and when he glanced at Darby through the vidscreen, he saw the commander was fighting the same thing.

  “Permission to speak freely, Captain?” Kai said.

  “Granted. Provisionally,” Setroff added.

  “With Captain Bartha’s retirement, the Fleet needs another hard-assed, foul-mouthed captain. I think you fit the bill.”

  He and Darby erupted into gales of laughter. Setroff glared at both. “Zayna Bartha was one of the finest officers I had the pleasure of serving with, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. “She knew what she was doing.”

  “Setroff threatened to show an admiral the airlock from outside when he tried to reprogram the comm badge channel to factory specs,” Darby revealed. “Couple of days ago.”

  “Sir, you are the new Bartha, sir,” Kai said. “And thank you for keeping my program in place.”

  Setroff muttered something in his first language, one that was spoken in Alliance territory closer to the Rims. Finally, he said, “Okay, Lieutenant, permission to accompany Miss … whatever her last name is on this mission.”

  “Dennir,” said a voice from the bathroom. The door was open, letting humid air escape, and she was finger-combing her damp hair in the mirror.

  “Brya Dennir,” Kai repeated to the vidscreen.

  “You’ll depart tomorrow as scheduled, and both of you will get in touch with the Fleet over the military channels,” Setroff commanded. Kai nodded, and they signed off.

  “They didn’t want to talk to me?” Brya said.

  Kai turned to face her. His shirt hung nearly to her knees, and she had slipped back into the pants she was wearing earlier. She had found the room’s provided toiletries and was now brushing her teeth. She caught his glance and said, “What?” around a mouthful of toothpaste.

  He took her being nearly dressed a cue that he would likely have to sleep in his clothes—probably a good thing, and could diffuse any awkwardness later on—but shucked his sweater, revealing his t-shirt. “Nothing.”

  “I like this place,” Brya said. She set the toothbrush next to the sink. “My ship is half lasers and half water. Do you ever get stuck using cleansing protocols on your teeth?”

  “No, the military isn’t that cheap. Just in the showers.” He turned on the vidscreen by the bed and scrolled through the available broadcasts. Brya hovered near the replicator and flicked through the menu screen with her fingertips.

  “It feels a lot cleaner when you’re using water,” she continued. “Do you want anything?” she asked. She ordered a cup of tea.

  It so reminiscent of their brief life together, the comfortable friendship that once made him imagine could develop into something more. Except they had maintained separate bedrooms. “No thanks.” She sat down on the bed, carefully holding her teacup. “Tell me about your boat,” he said.

  “The Rapture? She’s a used F-class freighter. She has her problems, but she’s built solid and the cargo holds are reinforced like I told you,” Brya said. “I liked her because she has three holds and her previous owner modded it so one person can pilot. Eventually all the consoles and wiring will have to be replaced, but I’m not thinking about that right now.” She smiled wistfully.

  “What about weapons?”

  “A non-functional laser cannon that I can’t afford to have charged,” Brya said. “But it’s not like hauling spare parts across Alliance space is particularly dangerous.” She sighed and drained her tea. “The water distrib
ution sucks, like I said before. The guy I bought her from installed that cleansing protocol I told you about, and that makes up for it. But the replicator is fucked and I haven’t been able to fix it, and the hyperspace engine makes grinding noises when I hit a gate. Or it did the last time I went through hyperspace. That sound scared me and I haven’t since. Intership communication works about seventy percent of the time. I occasionally have trouble uploading flight plans.”

  A hyperspace engine was easily fixed if one had the money, which she clearly didn’t. A laser cannon could be charged for the same reason. He could repair the replicator and possibly the water system without any trouble, but he wasn’t an engineer. He wasn’t touching anything that could kill them if something went wrong.

  She sank back into her pillow, blissful expression on her face. Concern spread through him at the sight of it. “Please tell me you have a captain’s cabin on the Rapture and you’re not sleeping on the deck of the cockpit,” Kai said.

  She turned over on her side and glared up at him. “Of course I have somewhere to sleep. I’m just enjoying not worrying for my life for a few hours. Did you find any good vids?”

  “A couple of films and a few news broadcasts. That’s it.”

  “One of the films, then.”

  “One’s targeted toward the, um, lonely gentleman. Is the horror one okay?”

  Brya laughed. Kai felt some of his own tension radiating from him, and something else. A rightness and familiarity he hadn’t experienced since leaving Ra’lani. He didn’t know until then how much he had missed her.

  Chapter Five

  Brya didn’t want to wake up, and she squeezed her eyes together to fight off the encroaching light. She pulled the blanket over her head and snuggled deeper into the bed. Better. An arm snaked around her side and pulled her more tightly against him, and she sighed, content. She felt something hard press against her backside, warm breath against her hair, and her eyes flew open before she turned around in bed to face a still-slumbering Kai.

  Oh, gods.

  He woke up at her movement, his arm still carelessly splayed across her hip. His eyes widened. “Good morning,” he said, and quickly withdrew his hand.

  “Morning.” She sat up in bed. She kept her eyes focused on the replicator across the room as the lights slowly cycled on.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to grope you in your sleep.”

  She nodded. “I figured.”

  “That … happens in the mornings,” he explained.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Brya fought the urge to giggle, knowing Kai probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Dav hadn’t, not in all the years they had been together. “What time did you set the alarm?” she asked. “The lights are already coming on.”

  He checked the clock inset in the wall. “Another half hour. I was going to get up early and go to a travel agency.”

  Brya relaxed and settled back in the covers. “So it’s not imperative that we’re up at five hundred hours?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” She drew the blanket back over her. “Any idea of when the Fleet will be getting in touch?”

  “Not until later in the morning, and we’re not contacting them on your ship until we’re out of communication range with Karys Station.”

  “So I can sleep for another hour?” They’d gone to bed early by her standards, but she hadn’t slept so well in months. Even waking up with Kai’s arm wrapped around her protectively had been a nice surprise, although she couldn’t admit that to him.

  “If you want to.” He reset the alarm and ordered the lights off, and Brya nestled back into her warm cocoon of blankets. Kai moved to the other side of the bed, no doubt remembering his accidental wake-up call.

  Sleep eluded her, and she could tell by his breathing that he was still awake, too. “Kai?” she whispered.

  “Yeah?”

  “How safe is all this? I’m used to being chased and everything, but it’s never been officially sanctioned by the Fleet.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  She sighed and sat up again. “I don’t know.”

  He rolled over and in the dim nighttime lights she saw him make a face. “We’ll both be fine, I think. I wouldn’t have volunteered otherwise, not in my condition.”

  “Will doing this make things worse? The Rapture doesn’t have an infirmary, just basic first aid equipment, and it’s a few years out of date.” A few decades was more like it. Her boat was forty years old.

  “No,” he said. “I have some regenerators and pain patches with me, but the worst is over. Anyway, there won’t be a lot for us to do between here and when the Fleet steps in. I can fix your replicator and take a look at your water system.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No,” she protested. “I won’t allow it. You’ve already done so much for me and I don’t want to take advantage of you anymore.”

  “You’re not taking advantage. I offered to help you, and I’m offering to fix your replicator. I have something to lose if it doesn’t work, too. I like eating regular meals and showering in hot water. The Fleet spoils me that way.”

  Brya remained tight-lipped about that. She felt guilty enough for imposing herself when he was supposed to be recovering from laser strikes without letting him tinker with her ship.

  “Besides, I eat a lot,” he continued. “Do you have enough food on there for two people?”

  He had her there. “Shit,” she muttered.

  She got out of bed and padded through the darkened room to the replicator. “I don’t think I’m going back to sleep,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

  “There’s a big breakfast option on there,” he said. “I want that.” He ordered the lights on and got out of bed, stretching. The muscles in his arms and back flexed under his t-shirt and she couldn’t help but stare for a moment, breakfast temporarily forgotten. He caught her looking and smiled. She felt herself flush and turned back to the replicator to tab in their orders.

  He turned on the vidscreen, picking up a Karys news broadcast, and they ate in bed. “We used to do this on Ra’lani,” Brya recalled before she could stop herself.

  “Yeah, in the master bedroom. The vidscreen there had the best reception.” Vidscreens and galactic broadcasts were looked down upon on their home planet, but had been slowly gaining acceptance by the time they left. He eyed the two full breakfast platters on the bed. “Are you sure you can eat that much?”

  “Definitely.” Brya helped herself to a plate of eggs. “I can’t believe this is from a replicator. It tastes like the real thing.”

  Kai gestured to a dish of meat. “You want my sausage?”

  “Pervert.” She laughed. It was a such a Kai thing to say. It was good to know the Fleet hadn’t deprogrammed his personality out of him.

  They cleaned their plates and were on their second cups of coffee when the computer chimed an incoming transmit. “Fleet,” Kai said, glancing at the screen. They both stood up and straightened their clothes before he thumbed the “accept” tab. Brya hovered in the background as Kai spoke with someone in a Fleet uniform loaded with insignia before she was commanded to speak.

  He introduced himself as Admiral Falta, and listed off a stream of credentials and areas of responsibility that Brya promptly forgot. Finally, he said, “Please tell us of your association with this Captain Wethmore. Everything we’ve looked at indicates that he’s a law-abiding freighter operator.”

  “It’s easy to make people think that when most of your deliveries are to the Rims,” she said. “It isn’t that difficult to fly under the Fleet’s radar when you’re rarely in the Alliance’s inner worlds. It’s totally different there and worse in the Outer Rims.”

  Admiral Falta stared at her stonily through the screen. “I’m not trying to insult the Fleet,” Brya said. “It’s just that it’s easy to not get caught, especially when your operation is so big.”

  “With all due respect, Miss Dennir, why should we believe yo
u?”

  “You don’t have any reason to, I get that,” she said. “But I’m willing to cooperate in any way the Fleet wants, and I promise I’m telling you the truth.” She knew Admiral Falta didn’t believe her, and she couldn’t blame him.

  “You were willing to cooperate with Wethmore,” the admiral pointed out.

  Anger flashed through Brya. She held up her left hand. “He cut off my fingers when I stopped,” she snapped. “And I’d appreciate if you looked at this from my point of view.” From behind the desk, Kai shook his head, but she soldiered on. “I arrived in Alliance space twelve years ago from the Abela Galaxy, from Ra’lani. Do you know how things work over there?”

  “I have a working knowledge of that part of space, yes.” She could tell Falta was fighting to keep his temper in check, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t one of his minions, and she knew she had precious little to lose. Except your freedom, a voice reminded her in the back of her mind, but she tamped that thought down. She was not going to let this admiral push her around.

  “Well, it’s ass-backwards,” she spat. “It’s like living in a bubble. Most people never leave. Kai—Lieutenant Toric—and I were forced into marriage when we were seventeen and kicked off the planet when we were eighteen. Neither of us had any idea how to live when we left. Joining a freighter crew seemed like a good idea to me, and I found out the hard way that it’s more isolating than living on Ra’lani. To be honest, Admiral, these two years on my own were the first where I’ve truly been in charge of my own life, and I’m learning a lot, also the hard way. I’ve never dealt with the Fleet. I don’t have a clue as to how to. So, yeah, I cooperated with Wethmore, because I didn’t have a choice. I saw what he can do when he’s pissed off.” Falta opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “I can tell you everything I know. I have names and copies of manifests in the Rapture’s databanks.” Assuming Wethmore’s hired thug hadn’t decided to take a look around her computers and delete those hidden files, but she didn’t tell the admiral that.