Rapture

by Jessica Marting

  He followed her up the ramp into the Rapture’s belly. He headed straight for his cabin, where the bed was still unmade. He shoved his few belongings into his duffel. He found her in the cockpit, filing a flight plan with Ishka’s transit control.

  “I mean it, you know,” he said. “I love you and I want to make this work.”

  “Kai.” She looked up from her screen. “I’m not going to argue over that with you, but I’ve been married before, to someone just as different from me as you are.” Before he could protest, she continued, “I know you’re not Dav. But I still don’t think this would work. We’re too different. This was the first time we’ve seen each other in over ten years and I’m not even sure you know the real me, just this fantasy you built up in your head.”

  “I do know you,” he insisted. “You’re incredibly strong, brave, resilient. You did what you had to do all this time to survive and you made it.”

  She offered him a weak half-smile. “You know that I’m doing what I do best, right? Running away?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  She shook her head. “I do, Kai. I need to sort my life out.”

  A flicker of hope flared in Kai’s chest at her words. That wasn’t an outright rejection. “Can we stay in touch?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  He pulled up her contacts list in the ship’s computer and added every transmit address he could be reached at. “Any time you need something, no matter how insignificant it might be, get in touch,” he said. “I’ll always help you, no strings attached.” He took a deep breath, fortifying himself. “And if you ever change your mind, let me know. I’ll be on the first shuttle your way.”

  “All right.” She made a few adjustments to her flight plan before uploading it to transit control’s computers. “I’m leaving now, Kai.”

  He had the distinct impression that if he tried to kiss her he might never hear from her again. He took a few steps back, and the relief on her face tore at him. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brya stared at her handheld. Her bank account balance glowed back at her. She had more money than she had in years, but the numbers displayed there were still bittersweet.

  She’d received more than she expected for the Rapture at the scrapyard, but that didn’t ease the ache in her heart. She’d poured her life and meager savings into that freighter, and to have it all stolen away … she gulped. It wasn’t just about the money, it was her independence. Independence she was now losing.

  She was hired at Renascent Galactic almost immediately when she applied a few days prior, and now she was aboard a shuttle bound for their shipyard on a moon colony smack-dab in the middle of Alliance space. The wages were decent and included room and board, and she now had all of her remaining possessions packed in the same duffel she brought with her when she fled Ra’lani so many years ago.

  Her heart gave another squeeze at the thought of Ra’lani and consequently, Kai.

  He deserved someone better than her. He should have a partner in life who didn’t have a history of using him and running away, no matter how much she loved him now.

  A part of her had hoped that she would see Kai again when Wethmore was put on trial, a spectacle she’d had every intention of seeing. But a trial was far off as the Fleet waded through piles of evidence provided by the former pirate’s crewmembers and his own files and effects, guaranteeing that it would be weeks before such an event would start. And Brya couldn’t bring herself to get in touch with Kai herself, not after the way she brushed him off back on Ishka.

  She tried to force all thoughts of Kai out of her mind and failed. She sighed irritably, resting her feet on the duffel in front of her as the shuttle began its descent to the shipyard landing pad. At least she’d stopped crying over him. Baby steps, Brya.

  But she knew, deep down, that she’d never truly get over losing Kai. She’d just get used to not living without him, and that pain in her heart would become second nature to her.

  First Kai, now the Rapture.

  She had been assigned to a C-class freighter for her first assignment at Renascent, a small boat with a shipment of glassware and cutlery bound for a warehouse on the other side of Alliance space. The information packet sent to her handheld contained the ship unlock code and a copy of her flight plan, already uploaded. She’d be taking a shortcut via two hypergates and was scheduled to be back at the shipyard in less than forty-eight hours. She’d be a glorified babysitter, she noted. There was precious little for a captain to do while a ship was in hyperspace.

  The company shuttle left her in at the shipyard and she walked through Renascent Galactic’s chilly beige-painted corridors to her freighter’s berth. The corridor was lined with windows that offered a view of the moon colony, all frozen, gray, and dark where the company’s exterior lights couldn’t reach. It was one of the most depressing places Brya had ever seen, and that included Ra’lani and the ship that brought her to Alliance space. At least her home world had sunlight and breathable air. Anyone leaving the safety of the company’s buildings would require an EVA suit out there.

  She punched in the code on the ship’s lock and walked in, then tossed her duffel in the single, tiny captain’s cabin and checked out the bridge. While even smaller than the Rapture, it was still a much newer and more reliable ship, and her pre-flight checks revealed a craft in top shape. Wistfulness gripped her as she thought of the Rapture, undoubtedly now in pieces, just like her heart.

  A voice crackled from Renascent’s transit control over the audio communicator. “Dennir? You ready? Your boat’s scheduled for takeoff in fifteen minutes.”

  She leaned over and spoke into the mic. “Dennir here. Yeah, everything looks good. Anything I should know about during the hypergates? I don’t think I’ve taken either of those before.” The Rapture’s hyperspace engines had died long before she was blackmailed by Wethmore.

  “The Larsen gate has a bumpy exit. Real bumpy. If you’re prone to space sickness, you might want to have a bucket handy. If you’re not, have a bucket anyway. Renascent’ll shit a brick if you bring a ship back with puke on the deck.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “No problem. Sit tight and wait for your signal to depart.”

  Brya leaned back in the captain’s seat, strapped in, and waited.

  ****

  “This is fucking crazy, Kai, you know that?”

  Kai knew, and didn’t care. James Anders—longtime colleague and friend, and now Brya’s defender against Wethmore on Ishka—looked around the Rapture’s dust-coated cockpit, disdain across his features. “It’s a Q-Bot,” Anders continued. “Even I know that’s a death sentence for a ship, no matter what kind it is.”

  “Yeah, well, only if the computer system can’t be replaced. Which this ship’s can be.” Kai had had the ship towed to a Fleet-controlled dock right in the center of Alliance space. He was paying through the nose for the Rapture’s berth and extra security to ensure the Q-Bot didn’t multiply and infect the station’s computers. Kai was pretty sure someone would find an excuse to space him at a later date if that happened.

  “Which brings me to my second point.”

  “I’ve already heard it.” Anders thought Kai was nuts for installing a completely new mainframe and system into the forty-year-old freighter. Truthfully, Kai had questioned his own sanity at such an undertaking as well. But it would be worth it to see the look of Brya’s face when she saw her old ship repaired, including its hyperspace engines. It turned out that the parts required came pretty cheaply at shipyards, at least on Kai’s salary and with his contacts.

  “Not the stupid amount of time and money you’ve spent pouring into Captain Dennir’s scow,” Anders said. “I mean Captain Dennir.”

  Kai paused, splicer in hand. His reflection stared back at him from the darkened monitor he was installing at the command console. “That’s none of your business.”

 
; “I know, but…”

  “Then stay out of it.” He raised his head and stared daggers at Anders.

  The other man held up his hands in defeat. “I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life. Just don’t be disappointed if she still rejects you.”

  That thought had occurred to Kai but it hadn’t deterred him from buying the Rapture at the scrapyard. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  It wasn’t just how he felt about Brya that motivated him. It was that she had tried so hard to do right in her life, to do the right thing, and that had been snatched away for reasons beyond her control.

  Kai knew—could sense—that she hadn’t wanted to leave him, that she pushed him away because of weird sense of honor. He would try once more to show her they belonged together, that he didn’t care what she’d done in the past.

  Wethmore had sworn up and down, both on Ishka and in Fleet custody, that he had nothing to do with the Q-Bot installation on the Rapture. Kai had managed to get his hands on some of Wethmore’s files used in the investigation against him and his band of pirates, and nothing in there indicated that he had ever used malware in his attacks on others. He’d always preferred direct, physical attacks and outright robbery.

  So who the hell installed it?

  He’d managed to isolate the program and studied it in the safety of his own firewalled system and came up blank. There wasn’t a signature in the program nor code that indicated its origins, nothing that indicated why a random, poor freighter captain should have her ship’s systems eaten by a malicious piece of software. There wasn’t even anything in there to disable the engines or throw life support offline. It was just a random, low-level, but incredibly destructive Q-Bot.

  What if the Rapture wasn’t the only infected ship?

  He set down the splicer and stood up. “You thinking about what I said?” Anders asked.

  “No, something else.” He walked through the ship, down her ramp to the berth. Anders followed him.

  “Kai, what’s up with you?”

  “I don’t think the Q-Bot installation on the Rapture was random,” he said. “And I believe Wethmore when he said he didn’t do it. He isn’t that subtle.”

  “Or smart.”

  “That, too. I’m going to connect to the Fleet network and do a little research into Q-Bot reports.”

  Anders stared at him, brows knitted together. “You think someone’s installing malware on small-time freighters?”

  “Yes. Think about it, James. Q-Bots are usually designed to cause an explosion or disable life support, something disastrous. They’re time bombs. This one wasn’t. Why the hell would someone install that kind of program otherwise? For fun?”

  Understanding dawned on Anders’s face.

  “Someone cut her fuel line,” Kai said. “That’s how she found out about it, after she checked her repair status. Someone wanted her to find it and sell her ship for scrap.” Another piece of the puzzle fitted itself together in his head. “And stop doing business on that ship.”

  “Shipping companies.”

  That was exactly Kai’s thought. He nodded. “I’m going to cross-reference Q-Bot attacks on freighters,” he said. “And see how many small-time captains sold their ships for scrap and were hired by one of the big shipping companies.”

  “The big guys get bankrupt employees who know all the shipping lanes and hypergates in Alliance space and beyond and who can’t afford to turn down assignments.”

  “Yeah. And I’m pretty sure Renascent Galactic is going to be the common denominator in all of this.” They were the biggest outfit in Alliance territory, absorbing smaller transport companies almost as soon as they started operating and stealing clients if refused buyouts. He recalled one of his earlier conversation with Brya: she’d worked for Angel Transport until that company was bought out by Renascent.

  Kai strode through the docks’ corridors until he reached the berth his own shuttle was docked in. “You need my help?” asked Anders.

  “Can you finish splicing that monitor on the Rapture?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. This won’t take long.” He palmed the shuttle’s lock and its rear door hissed open. “I’m just going to connect to the military network and maybe send out a few transmits. I’ll be back there soon.”

  Anders sighed. “You get all the good assignments.”

  Kai faced him, not bothering to hide his confusion. “I got shot the last time I was on official Fleet business. By a new recruit. That’s hardly a good assignment. And I’ll be flying a desk if the Fleet gets their way.” His re-enlistment was coming up soon. He had to decide if he wanted to take what the Fleet offered him for the next years of his life, or walk away.

  “Like I said, you get all the good assignments. I’m five years away from retirement, Kai. I want to fly a desk.”

  “You can fly mine when I’m done with this.” He walked the short length of the shuttle’s corridor to its small cockpit and signed into the military network. “But until then, could you finish that splice?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Brya halted when she saw the broadcast flashing across the vidscreen in the Crystal Station operator lounge. Everyone else standing around, including those who wore Renascent uniforms like her own, ceased conversation and watched the drama unfolding on the giant screen.

  “It has been confirmed that Renascent Galactic Shipping is under investigation for repeated use of malware on the ships of independent freighter captains,” the reporter was saying. “The malware is reported to be Q-Bots, a banned program in Alliance space. Eighty-four cases of sabotaged ships have been confirmed within the last four years, and many of those captains were forced to sell their ships for scrap and seek work with a major shipping company or leave the business altogether.”

  It took a few seconds for the weight of the newscaster’s words to hit Brya.

  The Rapture. Her whole life had been on that ship, and her employer deliberately destroyed it.

  A wave of dizziness washed over Brya, and she closed her eyes to fight it off. When she opened them, she saw the shocked looks of her fellow operators, many of whom had undoubtedly lost their ships to malware.

  “Gleda Naith was just arrested,” someone announced, holding up a handheld.

  Who? Brya’s expression must have given away her confusion, because the pilot standing next to her said, “Renascent’s CEO.”

  Oh, damn. This was big.

  Whoever delivered the news of Ms. Naith’s arrest shouted out, “Who wants to get in on a class-action suit?”

  The lounge exploded in a cacophony of angry voices and sobs. Brya slipped from the room before she could get sucked into legal talk, already knowing that such gestures would be useless. Even in the best-case scenario, she was unlikely to see any financial compensation for years, if ever. And it wasn’t just about the money, not for her.

  Did Kai know? He must, even if he wasn’t part of the investigation. She ached to get in touch with him but didn’t dare to.

  She was all wrong for him and they both knew that. Contacting him would only lead to more heartache.

  She realized as she walked through Crystal’s corridors that she didn’t really have a destination in mind. Should she return to the ship Renascent assigned her to? Leave their freighter here for them to deal with and hop on a transport shuttle back to one of the Alliance’s inner planets? She paused and leaned against the corridor’s cool wall and closed her eyes, trying to think of a plan.

  She might as well take the freighter back to Renascent’s headquarters, then find a ride back to Prime. She had no idea if she would be responsible for the freighter if she left it at Crystal Station and it was damaged, and judging by the angry shouts from the lounge that she could hear in the corridor, vandalism was a possibility. Or riots.

  It was best to leave before a war broke out between the Renascent operators and Crystal’s staff. It was a Renascent-controlled waystation as of six months ago, and people were pissed off.


  Brya hurried through the corridor to the station’s docks, relieved to see no one there except transit controllers in their fortified booths. She let herself on to her freighter and checked in with them, uploading a flight plan back to the Renascent’s moon base.

  The transit controller’s voice crackled through the cockpit speakers. “Denied,” he said. “The moon’s locked down.”

  “Seriously?” Brya launched the freighter’s automatic pre-flight checklist. Life support and fuel were optimal. Her latest shipment, this one of antigrav tools, had been offloaded and the manifest signed by Crystal’s foreman. There was no reason she should be detained.

  “I don’t know if you know this, but Gleda Naith’s been arrested.”

  “I heard.” Truthfully, Brya hadn’t known nor cared about Renascent’s CEO until news broke of her arrest. “And I don’t know if you know this, but every pilot in the lounge right now is crying for blood over the Q-Bot allegations.” Brya amended her flight plan to take her to Prime instead.

  After that, she would make things up as she went along. She wasn’t broke. She could afford to look around for a new job with a company that wasn’t out to completely fuck over their employees. She would settle for being fucked over only a little.

  “You planning on dropping off your boat at the Fleet’s base on Prime as evidence? Save them a little time?” The controller had received her amended flight plan, and Brya heard the smile in his voice. Despite the uncertainty ahead, she couldn’t hide a smile, either.

  “Why not? She handles hyperspace beautifully. I’d like to take one last trip before she’s confiscated.”

  “Fuck it, Captain, just change her ID code and keep her. Were you one of the poor sods whose ships were sabotaged?”

  “Yeah. Her name was the Rapture.” Brya activated the flight checklist, watching as each item ticked green as it scanned each function necessary to sustain life in space. “Am I cleared for departure?”