“Yes.”
“Then you need to reroute to a public dock.”
“Which one?”
Sean already had the information up on a screen in the holo-controls. “If she’s headed toward Sinder Isle, then Abigail Landing is her best bet. It’s a small municipal dock, but it’s close enough that the reroute will be simple, plus the local contractors’ guild is within a few kilometers.”
“Hang on. Sean’s sending you the coordinates for Abigail Landing.”
David waited.
“Got them.”
“Good. Let the auto-pilot make most of the adjustments for now. It will be too difficult to free fly a ship as big as the Thrall. Your inertia alone will be fighting against you. That freighter won’t maneuver like the Bard, but the principles are the same. It’s the landing that’s going to be touchy.”
“I have to land this thing? By myself?” Her voice pitched higher in rising panic.
“I’ll guide you when the time comes,” he said. “This will be easy for you. I’ve never met anyone who could take to navigating and piloting like you, and that includes most of the fleet recruits I trained. You’re smart, Mari. Maybe the smartest person that I know. All you have to do is remain calm and we’ll do this together.”
She offered silence in reply. David and Sean shared a concerned look. If Mari couldn’t hold it together, they might lose her. Then a loud exhale sputtered through the comm, and Mari launched into a systems check with the confidence of a seasoned pilot.
“Navigation is go. Life support, go. Comms systems…except video, go. Auto systems are a go.”
David grinned, and Sean actually gave him a half-smile in return.
She finished with, “Systems check complete. I’m go on all systems.”
“Now reroute your arrival to Abigail Landing.”
“Rerouting.”
They waited.
“Reroute confirmed.”
“How close are you to reentry protocol?” David asked.
“Looks like fifteen minutes.”
“Good. Check your harness one last time.” Every muscle in David’s body was tense, but he had faith in Mari. He meant it when he said she was a natural at piloting.
“Hmm.”
“What is it?” David asked.
“There’s another transmission coming in.”
“From Abigail Landing?” It made sense that the dock would be pitching a fit about an unscheduled freighter knocking at their door.
“Can’t be,” Sean said. “I’ve been trying to raise them the whole time to give them a warning, but haven’t gotten through.”
“It’s from an Armadan gunship.”
David’s heart sped up and his mouth went dry. If the dock felt the Thrall was a threat, they’d call in the Armada. His mind went to the destruction of that UTV over Tampa One a year ago when he’d been ordered to take out the threat.
“Mari, open a channel to Abigail Landing and the gunship, then say this exactly. ‘Armadan gunship, this is Thrall 7 requesting an emergency docking at Abigail Landing. I am an unarmed civilian pilot.’ Did you get all of that, Mari?”
“Yes.”
The small affirmative was all he got before his comm link went silent.
“She’ll get it right,” Sean said, as though to affirm it to himself as much as to David.
David agreed, but said nothing in the tense silence.
“David, the gunship has a message for you.”
“For me?” Had he heard her right?
“Yes, but I’m not going to repeat it because it’s not very nice. Something about this serves you right for picking them so young. What does that mean?” Mari’s tone hinted that she already understood the implication.
Sean snickered.
Relief flooded over any irritation or embarrassment David might have felt. “That means when you land, you get to meet my brother, Ben.”
“The one who annoys the shit out of you, isn’t that what you said?”
For the first time since this whole ordeal began, the mood lifted with tentative relief.
“That’s exactly what I said.”
“I like him already,” Sean said.
“You haven’t met him yet,” David said.
A muffled explosion ripped through the comm, crashing the mood.
“Mari, what’s happening?”
“Dale just blew the door to the brid—”
The comm went dead.
TWENTY-SIX
Mari screamed as the explosive wave rippled through the bridge, making her ears ring. The acrid odor of fried circuitry and melted plastic punctuated the detonation. She swiveled in the nav chair, the holo-orb rotating with her. Through the transparent glow of its orange and pink controls, she spied the damaged door. It had only opened a few centimeters, but bulged at its center from the blast. This warping would make a forced manual opening impossible. Dale still shoved against the twisted metal with both hands, but he would need a lot more muscle to move it. Several other hands joined his.
He pushed them away with a crazed shriek and managed to squeeze his left arm through the opening. As though under a spell, Mari simply stared at his contorted body trying to push past the equally twisted metal door. He was shoving his left leg in when he stopped to look at her. She could only see one crazed green eye and part of his mouth.
In between labored breaths he said, “When I get in there, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Then the comm blasted back on, so distorted Mari couldn’t tell if it was David or someone else on the other end.
“David?”
Nothing coherent, just white noise.
To adjust the comm, her fingers flew over the airscreen inside the holo-controls, blurring her view of Dale’s struggle with the bridge door.
A new alert bleated within the din of the breach alarm and sizzling comm. The ship took on a steeper angle and a slight pull of g’s tightened around Mari’s skin. Several thumps and curses came from the door area as Dale’s men slammed into each other and into him, crushing him within the confines of the door.
She recognized the fear on his face as he also realized what was happening—the Thrall 7 was initiating atmospheric reentry.
In a dizzying whirl of holo-controls, she spun the chair back to face the viewscreen. Tampa Deux’s marble of blue and white filled her vision.
Reentry was the most critical part of a flight. The last thing Mari needed now was a crazy man distracting her. The auto-pilot had committed them, but perhaps the Thrall could save her from Dale, too. Her finger hovered above the little black button which would override the auto-pilot and return manual flight to her.
“Just press it.” If no one else was around to encourage her, she’d have to depend on herself, something she’d been doing since last year.
She pressed the button.
The entire orb of holo-controls flashed an angry red, warning her that manual flight had been engaged.
She had expected the ship to buck or list or start spinning into the awaiting planet. But nothing felt different. Somehow that seemed unnerving, as though any second the whole ship would shudder and break apart.
“Don’t invite misfortune.” She murmured the phrase her mother always used. Growing up on Deleine Mari had always felt that someone must have invited a shipload of misfortune onto her family.
As if on cue, a flashing message alerted her that the angle of trajectory was slipping away from forty degrees and their speed was picking up. She felt the extra g’s press her back further into the sour-smelling pilot’s chair until she had to pant for shallow breaths.
She evened out the angle and velocity by making little adjustments with fingertip controls built into the nav chair. Thankfully someone had thought of this design perk, though someone who had probably never dreamt up her current scenario.
She heard clambering and cries behind her but couldn’t lose focus as she put the Thrall‘s hull shields against the burning and rumbling atmosphere of Tampa Deux
. Waves of flame roiled past the viewscreen. She swore she could feel its heat as sweat formed along her brow and wet her palms. The light was beautiful, but so brilliant she could barely look at it. She probably should have put the outer shield down, but with Dale moving in, she had had to act fast.
Her approach was like a woozy bird, so she corrected, actually overcorrected. Doubt took root in her mind. She was in over her head. What if she crashed them?
The thought brought a rush of adrenaline, but not out of fear, out of an epiphany. That’s how she’d take care of Dale upon landing—she’d crash the Thrall. Just a little bit.
Once they broke through the atmosphere, she edged their nose down a bit, sending new alarms blaring through the cabin and warnings flashing across the holo-controls. There were so many now her brain just ignored their pleas.
The Thrall‘s auto-pilot kept kicking in, trying to level out the ship and engage airbrakes, but Mari kept enacting the override. She felt faint, either from the pressure or the stress. Maybe a little of both.
The altimeter counted down at a sickening pace, and the ground enlarged like zooming in on a vid screen. Mari suddenly thought this was a terrible idea—her heart pounded, she fought for breath that wasn’t there. The silver grey docks of Abigail Landing filled her viewscreen. She squeezed her eyes shut just before impact because she was afraid to see her own death.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Get a call out for an extra medical team…what’s happening on the other decks…the ones still alive should be taken into custody…search for survivors on the bridge….”
Mari heard a man’s voice fading in and out. Then she realized it was her that was fading in and out. Trying to force consciousness back with a deep breath, she only managed to choke.
“I’m here,” she croaked out.
After another coughing fit, she called again. “Here!”
Dust thrown up from the crash stung at her lungs. Or was that smoke? The smell of scorched plastic and the snap and pop of circuitry, which burned outside of her vision, gave her the answer.
A man in blue fatigues, a grey t-shirt, and navy flak jacket stepped through the settling smoke. He lowered his battle rifle and slung it into his shoulder harness as he picked his way over debris to get to her position.
This trooper looked so much like David in the eyes that Mari couldn’t help but stare. His hair was much shorter, the military cut emphasizing his forehead, but the shock of rich brown was thick like David’s. This guy’s jaw wasn’t quite as squared, but he certainly had the same build and bearing.
“You’re Ben, aren’t you?”
He crouched down next to her. “And, you’re the woman who’s been kissing my brother.”
Her surprise had to show on her face, as the blush that crawled down her cheeks and neck…past all the dirt and grime. She pulled at the harness trapping her in the nav chair, but Ben placed a halting hand on her arm. “Let’s wait until I get my medic over here to be sure you’re not injured, okay? You did just crash a freighter.”
Ben’s Yurian accent was stronger than David’s, and his voice had a slightly richer tone. “Hans, over here,” he yelled toward the back of the bridge.
She closed her eyes and wished it were David’s hand on her arm. As the adrenaline seeped out of her body, she felt weary and distracted.
“Mari?”
Her eyes flew open at the sound of her name.
“It is Mari, right?” Ben asked, rubbing her arm.
She shook her head yes.
“I want to see those pretty eyes open, okay? We need to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
Just then a dark-haired man with olive skin, who could have been mistaken for a contractor if not for his hazel eyes, introduced himself as Hans. Ben made to leave, but Mari snagged his hand. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Ben was the closest she could get to David right now, and that gave her comfort.
Ben whispered something to a female trooper near him, then stooped down and held Mari’s hand with both of his. “Did David teach you how to fly?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She smiled a little.
“I can tell he taught you how to land, too. This is just how his first flight ended.”
She and Hans both laughed.
“He must have gotten much better at landings by the time I served under him on the Protector,” Hans said.
“David was your captain?” Mari asked.
“Yes. He was a good captain. I respect him for how he handled his command. A lot of us do. He’s missed.” Hans checked her pupil dilation with a small light.
Until now Mari hadn’t thought of all the troopers who must know David, or know of him, because he was their commanding officer. It made her proud. “He’s pretty great,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that my entire life.” Ben smiled like she’d seen David do so many times. “But I can tell you some stories from when we were kids that will make him seem a little more human.”
“Like how you bit him and left that scar.”
Ben laughed heartily. “I forgot about that. I’m surprised he fessed up to it instead of saying it was a battle scar.”
“He showed me his battle scars, too.”
“I have no doubt he did,” Ben said.
Hans cleared his throat and tried to hide the smile on his face. “You’re good to go. Just some lacerations and bruising, but you’re going to be sore and stiff for a while.”
“That just means David won’t be showing you his scars any time soon,” Ben said.
“Uh,” Hans stood up and shifted uncomfortably. “If you don’t need me here anymore, Sir, I’ll check on the prisoner.”
Mari sobered, remembering the man who had put her in this situation to begin with. “What’s going to happen to Dale?”
Ben worked on the straps holding Mari into the pilot’s chair. “He’ll be remanded into custody. The question right now is whether into ours or the local contractors’ guild.”
She heard a groan from the other side of the bridge as two troopers secured Dale on a stretcher.
Even after what he had done to her, Mari felt sick knowing it was her actions which had broken Dale’s body. Then she remembered Carlos as though a dam to her memory had burst. She choked back a sob.
Ben maneuvered his body into her sight line so she couldn’t see Dale as they removed him from the bridge. She found his eyes and whispered, “I killed Carlos. I blew out the hydroponics bay….” she choked on a sob. “And he was inside.”
Ben was silent as he unsnapped the harness around her waist. He slid the shoulder straps down her bruised arms and whispered back, “You didn’t kill anyone.”
She looked at him in shock. “Did Carlos—”
“Carlos was the victim of an unfortunate accident. In your attempt to escape you had no idea that there would be a breach in the hydroponics bay. Let alone that Carlos would be inside it when that happened.”
“But I—”
“Mari.” Ben touched a hand under her chin and all she saw were David’s eyes, eyes she trusted. “The record will show what happened in the hydroponics bay was an accident. Dale shouldn’t have cut corners.” Ben tried to smile, but it twisted into an angry set of his jaw with his next words. “And the son of a bitch shouldn’t have abducted young women to sell to a psychopath. Carlos was part of that. He chose his fate. Don’t ever doubt it.”
Ben’s conviction calmed Mari and allowed her to remember the abuse she had endured at Carlos’ hands.
A female trooper with sculpted cheekbones that Mari envied interrupted their conversation. “Lieutenant Anlow, we got a call from the Embassy. We’re to turn over Zapona and his crew to the contractors working Abigail Landing.”
Ben shot to his feet. “Bullshit. This is a fleet issue. Who the hell gave this order?”
“Rainer Varden, the Sovereign’s Head Contractor, and he claims that it’s not our jurisdiction because the freighter has permission to cross planetary lines.”
> “Dale Zapona was transporting an abducted person against her will. That’s all the jurisdiction we fucking need. Plus this guy is wanted for questioning in an Armadan matter. Get Varden back on the comm. I want to talk to this idiot.”
“Are they going to let Dale go?” Mari asked.
Ben stopped his ranting at the sound of her small voice. He smiled David’s calming smile. “It will be okay.” But just like his older brother, the anger burning behind Ben’s eyes said something different.
She took a deep breath and attempted to get out of the nav chair, but the angle was awkward.
Ben caught her as she tumbled over. And before she could help herself she was hugging him tight and crying.
TWENTY-EIGHT
When worlds collide.
Seeing Ben escort Mari out of an Armadan gunship was one of the most surreal sights David could have imagined. Even with an oversized jacket in fleet blue draped over her shoulders and buckled up black combat boots, Mari’s vibrancy contrasted sharply against the stolid grey of the ship.
For this one single instant, here on the only dock not cordoned off at Abigail Landing, David’s past and future meshed as the sun drew pink rays along the clouds on its way over the horizon. Under different circumstances he might have appreciated the whimsy. But there was nothing light-hearted about how they had all come to this moment—at the hands of some privileged asshole who was free to mess with other people’s lives due to some kind of bullshit Embassy cover up.
When Ben first told David that Dale would probably walk, that the contractors in charge of the investigation didn’t even bother to take Mari’s statement, David hadn’t said a word. Ben said enough for both of them, used every last filthy epithet he could dig up to describe the injustice. Not that it made either of them feel any better.
David held back as the rest of the Bard‘s passengers welcomed Mari home amidst the organized chaos of fleet soldiers, medical teams, and contractors milling about. Mari had done a pretty good job with the landing, only causing damage to one end of the narrow dock. When Ben had first told him Mari crashed on purpose, David was stunned, but he hadn’t been there, hadn’t gone through what she went through, so wouldn’t judge how she handled it. She was alive. It was all that mattered to him.
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