by M. D. Cooper
Do we? Kylie didn’t know what Ricket’s plans were once the mission was complete.
“I’m going to need more out of you than that,” Kylie whispered, barely keeping her anger under control.
“Yes, Captain.” Ricket struggled to get the words out and then took a deep breath. “I’d just like to remind you what’s at stake. You have an AI; I’m sure you wouldn’t risk Marge’s life to go on some foolish crusade. Would you?”
Before Kylie could reply, Ricket turned around and stalked out of the engine room, her hands slapping her thighs as though she were brushing something nasty of them. Kylie breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been afraid she was going to have to order Ricket back to her station aboard the Barbaric Queen.
Kylie said to Marge.
Immediately, Kylie was flooded with a feeling of warmth from Marge.
Kylie almost smiled at Marge’s little joke.
Despite the certainty of her words, Kylie had little hope of convincing Paul of anything. Once, they’d shared a bond, but how could it still be there after everything? What she really wanted was to look him in the eyes and ask, ‘Why?’.
Rogers sighed as he turned back to the console and began reassembling it. “Communications should be back online once I’m done. I’ll run a test and a quick diagnostic.”
Kylie nodded. “Give the engines a test burn, too. I noticed you hit the cowling with your shots from the BQ. Then we can get the last leg of this journey underway.”
Rogers flipped the test-unit over in his hand. “Ricket was out of line. I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t know she felt that way about the mission.”
“You’re not her keeper, Rogers. You might be…whatever it is you two are, but that doesn’t mean you’re responsible for her choices. Any more than I was responsible for Nadine’s.”
And, boy, was that a good thing.
“I’ll talk to her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything foolish.”
Kylie wondered if Ricket would contact the Transcend without her permission. Given Rogers’ expression, it seemed she wasn’t the only one who suspected she would do that. “I need this time, Rogers. Make sure that when we make contact with the fleet, Ricket sticks with the plan.”
Rogers nodded. “I will, Cap. You have my word on that.”
Kylie smiled at her pilot, glad that she never had to question his loyalty. It was nice to know there was someone who would always have her back.
“I’ll leave you to it. I need to head back to the BQ and make sure our guests are comfortable.”
Rogers snorted as he walked deeper into the engine room. “Good luck with that. Those cells are cramped—I know, from the time Kingfisher locked me and Winter up in one…. You know, I think I actually miss Winter.”
So did Kylie. When Winter betrayed her, at least she knew what to anticipate. With Ricket…Kylie didn’t know what to expect.
Not yet, at least.
THE MAN IN CHARGE
STELLAR DATE: 12.16.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Outside Chimin City Hospital, Chimin-1
REGION: Chimin Asteroid Group, Hanoi System (independent)
Winter stepped off the lift and approached the crew that was working overtime to finish up the structural repairs on the asteroid. They were in the home stretch, and in a few days, the habitat would be safe and secure once more.
He never thought he’d adjust to the idea of running an installation such as Chimin. Him as a director…mayor…maybe governor? Maybe marshal was more like it.
Winter wasn’t sure which of those things he was, but he’d never thought he’d be any of them. He was a salvager, a smuggler, an illegal-weapons dealer, and a thief.
Nothing in his past had prepared him for life on a rock like this, sitting behind a desk, telling people what to do. Luckily, it turned out that running Chimin required very little sitting. In fact, Winter spent most of his time running around, making sure a thousand different things were actually getting done. On the bright side, he had discovered that he really liked telling people what to do.
OK, maybe I’d known that all along. He just never expected to be in a position where people actually did the things he asked.
“Mr. Winter!” Geoff, the foreman for the lift’s reconstruction project, straightened up when he saw Winter coming and gave a salutary nod as he left the organized chaos behind him.
Winter slapped him on the back. “Geoff, seriously. It’s just ‘Winter’. How’s it going?”
Geoff nodded, looking pleased. “Been working around the clock these last two days. We’ll finish on time as projected.”
“The first part is what bothers me. Don’t kill yourselves just to meet a date. We don’t need any accidents. You get me? You and the people of Chimin, you’ve been through enough.”
Geoff shrugged. “We’re managing just fine. Problem is, we don’t have a large enough crew to work in shifts, and it’s more work to secure the site then start back up the next day. Don’t worry too much, though, we get downtime—a person or two now and again. We’re not robots. Even we need naps.”
Winter nodded. “We’re doing our best to find more help. Soon as the Silstrand reps get here, we’ll see what we can do about getting more hands on the repair rigs.”
And on getting the mining operation back on schedule, plus the oat and barley farms; one couldn’t get the brewery back on track without having the grow-op in production again. The whole damn place was a house of cards, and the longer Winter thought about it, the more stressed out he got.
So he tried to just keep moving, tried not to think a whole hell of a lot about what could go wrong. Let’s face it, I already have years of experience at that.
Winter started, but she swiftly interrupted him.
He winced inwardly.
A good wink generally worked well with the ladies, but not with Cassandra. The woman’s Link avatar gave Winter a stern glower.
And I’ll tell them what? He didn’t know when help would arrive, nor when they would get the fertilizer and the equipment they wanted. Though everyone on Chimin was well aware that the raging douchebag terrorists who’d nearly killed them all had either ruined their supplies, or used them all up in their experiments, it was a reality that everyone was having trouble accepting.
At least Geoff was easygoing. Winter finished his conversation with the man and his team and walked down the passage, doing his best to avoid the entrance to the hospital wing.
The only people he wanted to avoid more than the farmers and the miners were the hospital staff.
“Winter, is that you?”
The voice froze him in his tracks.
Slowly, he turned around and saw Dr. Grace coming up behind him, a walking stick in one hand, tapping the floor as she approached. Staring through—rather t
han at him—she laughed. “I knew that smell was you.”
Smell? He had showered just that morning. “I hope it wasn’t a bad one.” He did have the bean plate special for dinner.
“Oh, quite the contrary. It’s like a spicy aftershave mixed with…bark. Quite pleasant, but very unique to you. Plus, your footsteps have a particular clump-thump to them.” She paused and gave him a smile. “I was hoping I’d run into you…so we could talk supplies. Last time we spoke, you said—”
He held his exasperation in check. “That I was working on it. I know. I’ve been sending messages to Battia and am in talks with a representative. I wish I could say they were being forthcoming….”
“I can hear the regret and apology in your voice, so please spare me your explanation. Have you heard the rumors? That Battia was behind Chief Raynes and what he did? To drive us to either join them or destroy us?”
“Everyone’s heard that…plus a dozen other tales. People talk, doctor, especially when they’re afraid. Once Silstrand’s military arrives, we’ll get our supplies. They won’t let this installation fall.”
“The SSF? No offense, but I assumed you wouldn’t be the biggest fan of their space force.” She cocked an eyebrow like she wasn’t either.
“I’m not, trust me, but these people know their shit. Plus, I have some friends in high places.”
“Do you?” Grace’s voice carried a note of laughter, and Winter didn’t get what was so funny.
“For now, I’m holding us together the best we can. There’ve been no pirates we haven’t been able to scare off. No scavengers have set foot on Chimin. For now, we’re doing OK.”
“For now,” the doctor repeated. “Don’t let whether Chimin gets its supplies turn into a political power play, Winter. The people who’ve made their lives here have been put in the middle of struggles between Hubei and Battia for far too long. The downworlders never suffer, but we do.” She turned on her heel, her walking stick clacking against the ground sharply as she marched back toward the hospital entrance.
Winter blew out a sigh of relief. Well, at least he had survived that. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d actually be glad the cavalry was on its way. If only the SSF would arrive already—and maybe one of them could convince the doctor to get new eyes.
A quick check on the incoming ship’s status confirmed that the Polis Fury would arrive soon.
Less than twelve hours to go.
He just hoped that when they showed up, they would accept that he was in charge and knew what these people needed. Come hell or high water, Winter—not Ranstock and her Coalesce Legion—was their spokesperson.
What a bunch of sorry saps they all were.
DEPARTURE
STELLAR DATE: 12.16.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Barbaric Queen
REGION: Interstellar Space, Velorum Rift, Fringe
In the brig of the Barbaric Queen, Kylie surveyed her three very sullen and decidedly miserable prisoners.
Though it was not the first time she’d come to look them over, Kylie couldn’t help but notice that the captain, Chassea, was far sexier than she remembered.
She was lying on her bunk, the fitted one-piece silver suit highlighting her curves, and her hair was now in a long braid that rested on one shoulder.
After a moment, the woman opened her eyes and sat up, her almond eyes simmering with rage and holding a spark hinting at a keen intellect.
In the next cell over sat Jacob, who had a very devil-may-care look about him. He wore a black vest with fringes hanging off the shoulders, fingerless gloves, and what appeared to be leather pants. Unlike his captain, he sat on the floor of his cell, legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees.
Kylie had been suspicious of his apparent compliance, so when Marge had confirmed that he had tried to hack into the cell’s locking mechanism several times, she hadn’t been surprised. Nor had she felt bad confining him to mental solitary—such as it was.
In the third cell, Elizabeth was stretched out on her bunk, arm over her eyes, waves of blue light cascading down the length of her hair. Unlike the other two, she didn’t acknowledge their visitor’s presence in any way.
Kylie folded her arms across her chest as she walked along the row of cells and gave them all a dark look. Chassea’s eyebrows rose when Kylie passed hers.
“What’d you do to Jacob? His head is still spinning.”
“He shouldn’t go snooping around in places he doesn’t belong. He’s no match for our AIs. Removing his Link did him a favor.” Kylie leaned against the wall and eyed the captain.
“You’d try something too, if you were trapped like a rat in a cage,” the freighter captain mumbled, straightening her legs out and leaning her elbows back on the bunk. The look Chassea threw Kylie was both indignant and arrogant.
“When do we get something to eat?” Elizabeth asked. “Drink? We’ve been cooped up in here forever. You’re the first person we’ve seen all day except for…that freak.”
“Don’t be mad at Bubbs just because she beat you at your own game. Also, she’s not a freak. She just has an exceptional arm.”
Elizabeth snorted, mumbled something under her breath, and looked away.
“Look, I know none of this is ideal—it isn’t for us either. I have things to do, places to go, and it’d be easier to do that without prisoners. Thing is, I really don’t like killing people if I don’t have to. So I’m going to keep you alive—but keep in mind, I can change mine anytime I want…if you become a liability.”
Kylie pushed off the wall and started on her way to the door when Jacob called out to her. “It’s a mistake,” he said in a low, deep voice. “A mistake to let us know you don’t want to kill us. I’ll slit your throat while you sleep.”
The hair on Kylie’s neck stood on end. she said to Marge as she continued on her way out of the brig.
* * * * *
“Mad at me?”
The sound of Ricket’s voice startled Rogers where he lay under one of the fuel lines, testing the emergency cutoff valves. He had been in his own little world, not expecting anyone else to be there. Hopefully, she hadn’t heard his humming; their relationship was still new, and Rogers didn’t think they had reached the singing-in-the-shower phase yet.
He rolled out on his board and peered up at the beautiful woman before him. From his position, he could peer right up her nose if he wanted, but instead, he focused on the soft curve of her breasts. Wearing only her Mark X FlowArmor base layer, Ricket’s curves had curves, and Rogers definitely enjoyed the view.
“Why would I be mad at you?” Rogers asked as Ricket offered him her hand, which he accepted and pulled himself up. “You questioned the captain’s orders in front of me, second-guessed her choices, and, oh yeah, threw the whole dead daddy thing in her face. You think I have a reason to be mad?”
His sarcasm carried a hard edge that he didn’t bother to soften. As he said the words, he realized he was mad; the anger had centered in his chest and was really hard to let go.
The look in Ricket’s eyes—an expression of hurt and vulnerability—made him feel even worse. But he turned away, striding to his tool-case, where he put his gauges away before grabbing a rag to wipe his hands.
“Jim,” Ricket said softly. “I’m a Hand agent. We have orders, a mission…. Going around redeeming every Rhoads we find isn’t the job.”
She had a point, but Rogers wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. “I know you work for the Hand. I know you’re loyal to them, I just thought you were also loyal to Kylie and the Barbaric Queen. And to me.” Rogers shrugged and felt a deep hurt simmer inside him as he turned to gaze into her eyes. Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe he felt so angry because he knew that—if push came to shove—Ricket would stand opposite from him.
Whatever it was, it didn’t feel good.
Ricket took a
step forward and placed a hand against his cheek—the soft touch feeling far better than it had any right to. “I’m more than loyal to you. I want to stand with you.”
“Do you?” Rogers’ tone came out more accusatory than he’d meant it to.
“Of course I do. Where’s all this distrust coming from? I thought we were solid.”
Rogers shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it and wasn’t ready to discuss what would happen when their mission was over.
Ricket gave him a level stare. “Look, you’re right about a few things. I shouldn’t have aired my concerns in front of you. It undermines the captain and…puts you in a bad spot.”
It wasn’t fun, that’s for damn sure, he thought to himself.
“I don’t want to do either of those things. The moment got away from me. I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” Ricket asked, and her lips began to look mighty fine as they edged closer to his.
Rogers kissed her gently and then pulled her in for more than just a few dainty pecks. He’d rather focus on how good they were together than on the nagging questions he had about their future—not just as crewmates, but as a couple.
“You apologize to the captain, and yeah, I’ll forgive you. I’ll do more than that.”
Ricket laughed. “I’m sure you would. I look forward to giving you the chance.”
Rogers grinned. “Just…when you talk to the cap, maybe don’t kiss her the way you kiss me.”
“Which way should I kiss her, then?” Ricket swung her arms around his shoulders and the two of them swayed to a silent beat as if music played, even though there was nothing to hear.
“Funny.” Rogers nuzzled her cheek, their breathing rising and falling in time with each other as he moved to kiss her again.
“Jim,” Ricket whispered, “I really like your humming. Maybe one day, you’ll sing me a little song.”
Shit.
* * * * *
Kylie stepped onboard the Solidarity and sealed the airlock, double-checking its seal in an attempt to assure herself that the rickety ship wasn’t about to spring a leak.