Starlight Cowboy

by Stephanie Beck

  Chaos, controlled and deliberate, reigned behind the doors. Supplies and parts were ferried around to each bay door, except Bay Three. He caught the eye of one of the soldiers, and waved.

  “Hey, what’s up with Ship Three?” he asked.

  “We finished up with this one last night, so it’s good to go. My supervisor left a checklist for the new captain,” the younger man said.

  “Nicely done. I happen to be the new captain. Mind grabbing the list so I can check it out?”

  “Yes, sir.” The young man strode away, but Shields was more than happy to use the time to inspect his new-to-him ship.

  He preferred aircraft with proven sky time, as opposed to right off the factory floor. Too many bugs in the new boats. The soldier returned with the checklist, but hustled to his post near the main door. Showtime approached—and everyone in the hanger was on their toes.

  Shields headed into his rig. With shy of a thousand square feet to work with, the supplies were packed tight and labeled. In minutes, Shields checked everything off in the room. He moved on, the hall a series of doors and compartments, all filled and organized as necessary. This hub staff knew their job.

  “Oh hell, yes,” he muttered as he caught the first glimpse of his command center. The technology had simplified after the space program restarted decades ago. Instead of thousands of buttons, requiring dozens of crew members, the control panel worked off three touch screens. He’d have the master control at his chair. He sat and grinned. This was the life.

  He pulled up his control screen, the directional buttons firing with a touch. The computer gave all the details of the ship—temperatures, power supply and usage, water locations and states. Everything was perfect.

  Within thirty-six hours he’d be out among the stars. It had taken two decades for Shields to understand his father’s passion for the skies. But now that he did, Shields could forgive his father for some of his failings. Not all. But some.

  He left the control center and tossed his gear in the first apartment. The two tiny rooms were the private living space. The shared recreational area had games, books, and simple art supplies, along with tablets and computers. A brain needed more than a screen. He’d have everything he needed to stay sharp for an extended journey.

  “Captain Albright? Are you here?” a faint female voice called from the bay door.

  Shields winced. That wasn’t Annalina’s voice, and it wasn’t Anderson’s. The short walk from Helm to Cargo had never been so long.

  “Hi, shipmate.” Amy’s bright smile threatened to blind him, and her squealing voice sent the hair on the back of his neck straight up. Her luggage, more than technically allowed, piled at her feet, she squeezed him in a tight hug. It was unprofessional for him to look at her blonde hair and peaches and cream complexion and want to hand her pom-poms. She was a well-trained pilot who deserved respect, and would do a professional job.

  This couldn’t happen. Shields couldn’t do it. Behind her, Annalina strode by, a single pack on her back and chewing tacks. He’d never witnessed such silent, contained fury, but he’d rather face her than the cheerleader.

  “What’s my first duty?” Amy asked, eyes wide.

  “Grab your shit.” He sidestepped his crewmate, and hustled out the corridor. “Annalina? What are you doing?”

  He caught her before she could blow into Bay Two. Her eyes flashed, the dark brown deeper than he’d realized. Hazel and shades of brighter green blazed.

  “I’m crewman to Anderson’s captain,” she gritted out.

  “Bullshit.”

  “That’s what I said.” She shook her head. “But we’ll make it work.”

  His mind turned with possible solutions. “Where is Anderson now?”

  “On board already. The son of a bitch found out before I did. I walked in, and they said, ‘You’re on Ship Two with Anderson.’ End of story.”

  “Fuckers. Okay, are you ready to go?”

  Annalina’s eyebrow shot up, but she kept her mouth shut, as Amy approached.

  “Shields? Is there a problem?” Amy asked.

  “Yes, Anderson needs help. Take your supplies with you—I don’t want them accidently loaded elsewhere.” he added.

  “Of course.” She rushed off. Amy glanced over her shoulder. Shields thought she might question him, but she stepped through the hatch.

  Shields turned to Annalina. “Do you have everything here?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Get your shit on my ship, and let’s go.”

  Annalina stared, unsure she’d heard him correctly. She’d been so locked in anger over the Anderson decision, but he offered a way out. Was Shields—ladies’ man, accomplished fighter, and known asshole—better than her ex-boyfriend?

  “Your ship is ready?” she asked.

  “Yep, I finished the walkthrough. We can leave now. I think we’d be doing each other favors with this.”

  “You don’t want to go with Suzy Sunshine Fangirl?”

  He winced. “I don’t want to spend the next two years with her. Help me out, Annalina.”

  “I don’t want to be first mate.”

  “That’s too bad, because you don’t have the navigation experience I do. But, I am willing to teach you, and I promise to treat you as an equal when possible.”

  She ground her teeth. If she clenched her jaw any harder, her teeth would break. She hated that he was right, and worse, was behaving as the professional she didn’t think he was. Still, this could be the real Shields—a mix of reason and fire. Breaking the law, going against direct orders…she was in.

  “Last chance. The cheerleader will be back soon.” He held out his hand.

  Two choices. Anderson or Shields. The two she’d asked not to go with. She had two years to spend with someone. Anderson promised condescension and misery. Chances were, if she went with him, she’d be tried for murder at the end of the mission. A slap on the wrist for not following orders was better than life in prison for killing her captain.

  She grabbed Shields’ hand. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Three

  The communication system blinked and beeped, announcing a call from home base, but Annalina chewed her thumbnail instead of answering. Hadn’t she gotten a massage for the purpose of being cool, calm, and relaxed to start her adventure? They were three hours from base, three whole hours before the admirals had figured out they were gone and hadn’t followed plans. She checked over her shoulder to where Shields fussed with paper maps.

  “You don’t use the computer?”

  He shrugged. “I do a lot, sure. But I like paper, too. It’s good for the brain to see and touch something real.”

  She examined the maps, recognizing the constellations, directions, and notes. But they weren’t as she remembered from school. “Where are these from?”

  “I inherited them from my father. He was fond of the old navigation systems. I like his path to the Jup moon, so we’re going to take it.”

  She liked the path as well, but noticed a distinct change from what command had ordered.

  “Why aren’t we going to Mars?”

  “Well.” He tapped the maps. “I’d rather not. We’re equipped to make the trip to the Jup moon in a straight shot. Mars is a short stop and close to Earth. I think we’re better off going straight to the moon.”

  “Someone sure likes to break the rules.”

  He shrugged. “Might as well get used to it. I’m not stupid. I’m going to assume you’re not stupid. You aren’t, are you, Annalina?”

  “Not usually.”

  “So, I think we’ll do fine. If we don’t stop, we save a shit-load of time. This time of year, with the orbits as they are, it takes almost a year to get to Mars. If we do a straight shot to Jupiter, we shave three months off our time. Do smart people waste time or do idiots?”

  “I feel like you’re setting me up, and I feel like your plan is very dicky.” She pointed to the path beside the one he had highlighted. “Is this the one the others are tak
ing? What’s the point of getting to our destination before them?”

  His eye twitched, and all her warning bells rang. Shields was a man on a mission—his own. Did he want to avoid Mars, for some reason?

  “If we get to the moon first, we can start the tests and wait for the others. Once they arrive, they’ll do their battery of tests, and we’ll all head home together.” He glanced toward the still-buzzing call system. “Were you going to answer that?”

  “Do I look like a fucking secretary to you?”

  His gaze raked across her body. In her military issue uniform she was well covered in appropriate layers and nothing was too tight. She could bend and reach and fight if necessary. Yet with a single glance, he made her feel naked.

  “Not so much the secretary. You know, I think I’ll take the first call. I’m the captain, so it’ll be smoother from me.”

  “Lots of experience in stretching the truth?” She followed behind him to the communication center.

  “We can turn around,” he offered. “You and Anderson can enjoy your little love nest—”

  “Okay, I apologize. Just, yeah. Let’s get this call over with, so it’s not hanging.”

  “I hear ya.” He pressed the button to accept the call. “This is Captain Albright.”

  “And this is Admiral Bunting. Return your vehicle to bay.”

  Shields grinned over his shoulder. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, Admiral. We’re already locked in on course, and I feel it would be an unnecessary waste of supplies to turn back. Especially this far out.”

  “You have the wrong crew person. Captain Williams is supposed to be on Ship Two,” the admiral snapped. “She is facing disciplinary action.”

  Shields turned to her. “Annalina, are you listening? Didn’t your papers say Bay Three?”

  He knew very well she was supposed to be on Two. She shrugged. “I can double check.”

  “Yeah, you go get the orders.” He waved her out. From behind her, he continued on. “My apologies, Admiral. I read through her paperwork and told her to come aboard. I’m the ranking officer. If there was a mistake, it’s mine. Do you argue her ability to work with me?”

  “We preferred other arrangements.” The admiral’s cool voice turned brittle.

  Annalina paused in gathering her papers. Why was her being on Ship Two so darn important?

  “Well, I appreciate your preferences. But I believe this will, in the end, prove to be the better arrangement. Captain? Papers?”

  She handed them over. Shields gave them a cursory look. “The penmanship on this is terrible.”

  The admiral scowled. “Yes, yes, Admiral Jennings does the paperwork and was tired. Are you saying this was a clerical error?”

  “I am, ma’am.” Shields winked at Annalina. “Unless you had nefarious purposes, Captain?”

  “Of course not.” The closer she looked, the more the ink blurred. Shields had found a hell of a scapegoat.

  “We will accept the apology and explanation. I am approving you two to continue on.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be in communication.” Shields disconnected the call and jumped to his feet, hand held up. “And we win.”

  “Exactly what have we won?” She slapped his offered palm, but crossed her arms again. They were professional pilots, not on a sports team.

  “The honor of sharing a ship the next two years on our way to Jupiter moon eight-five-eight. That’s what. For a bonus, we get to fly back together as well. Now, I’m going to check all the levels and unpack my shit. If you would do a system’s diagnostics, and then see to unpacking your shit, that would be great.”

  “Yes, sir.” She watched him walk away, his strong, tight ass filling out his uniform pants in the very best ways. Good thing she’d had her massage. It made it much easier to lie to herself about how much she wanted to bite Shields’ ass.

  Chapter Four

  “Annalina? Did you finish panel three? I have panel forty-six marked and ready. Get a move on.”

  More and more Shields’ orders sounded like nails on chalk boards. The man loved digging into wiring boxes, finding them not to his liking and ordering to ‘fix this crap’. At the rate they were going, she’d need to ask one of the other ships for zip ties. Still, she said she’d listen to him and following orders was part of the job. She grabbed her utility bag, having lost count of how many times Shields had hollered her name to come and fix something to suit his style.

  Day fifteen on ship and she’d barely felt the need to murder Shields in his sleep. Other than Shields being the ass she’d expected, her time had been a dream.

  They had daily check-ins with base and the other ships. Ship One, dubbed “Flying with the Oldies,” was making great time. Ship Two, quietly called “The Flying Pile” by her and not so quietly by Shields, also seemed to be fine.

  “Panel three is finished, and I’m here to tamper with panel forty-six.” Annalina looked around the command center where said panel should be. “Shields, where the hell are you?”

  “Down here.”

  She rounded the center console to find only legs, the rest of him tucked in what she assumed was panel forty-six. She took in the angle of his leg—wedged between the panels and console. How had he forced his big body in such a small space?

  She crouched for a closer look, holding back a laugh. “Are you stuck?”

  He growled. “Just pull, damn it.”

  She set down her bag. “How the hell did you get stuck? And what were you doing down there anyway?”

  “I didn’t like the wiring out in the hall. So I figured this was terrible, too,” he said. “Now, get me the fuck out of here.”

  She shook her head. “I feel like I need to enjoy this.”

  “You say ‘I feel’ a lot. This has nothing to do about feeling and everything to do with grabbing my feet and pulling.”

  “No room to grab your feet. You’re wedged in there, aren’t you?” She stepped over his feet, but there was no room to pull him by his ankles. “You know, if you had to squish to get in, you can’t just magically get out without something giving.”

  “I hate this,” he muttered.

  “I bet you do.” She pulled out her screwdriver and eyed the panel blocking in Shields’ broad shoulders. “What’ll you give me if I get you out?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Nope. I feel this one goes a bit beyond the line of duty.” She could have him out in thirty seconds or less. Two little screws and he’d be free, but he wouldn’t be able to see that with his head stuck in the panel.

  “What do you want?”

  “Hm.” She sat beside him on the floor where angle would be better to get the screws. “I need a model for my paintings.”

  “Fine. I’ll be your model. Now get me out of here.”

  “Nude model.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing. So, she wanted to see him naked. It was bound to happen. How often would she have the advantage in the next two years? She’d take it while she had it.

  “Fine, just get me out of this.”

  He’d agreed much quicker than she’d anticipated. “You promise?”

  “You have my word.”

  His word was good enough for her. She spun her screwdriver and freed him. He reared back and groaned, working his shoulders and knees.

  “How long were you in there?” she asked.

  “What time…hell. Twenty minutes.” His face turned red.

  “You could have called me sooner.”

  “And admit I got stuck in a panel? It was bad enough to say something after twenty minutes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing, before meeting her gaze for the first time since emerging from the ship’s underbelly. “You paint? How did I not know this?”

  “That was a lovely change in subject, but I’m not going to be forgetting this anytime soon.” She shrugged. “Fine art is one of the hobbies they promote at flight academy now. It’s good for a break from technology. I like it. Want to start tonight?”<
br />
  “Sure. I at least was able to mark the wires the way I want them while I was stu—I mean, while I was waiting, so you should be able to tie them up and finish here. I’m going to shower and get food ready. Then, where do you want me? My room or yours.”

  She cleared her throat. He sure had a way of changing the subject. His tone hadn’t even altered between talking about wires and being naked. Maybe the upper hand was out of her reach. She’d thought he’d protest or at least pretend being naked for a painting was a big deal. Seeing him squirm would have been fun.

  “Um, in the common area is fine.”

  He shook his head. “We eat there. I’m not going to ball the place up—at least not this early in the trip. You can come to my room. It has better lighting.”

  He strode off. The jackass did like to have the last word, and damned if he wasn’t great at it. Ball the place up? Who the hell said something like that? And how was the lighting different in his room? She’d made it a point not to invade his space, but her curiosity about his space—the only square inches of the ship she hadn’t seen—had been high since day one.

  She grabbed her ties and pliers and shimmied into position. The carpeted floor still held Shields’ heat. Poor guy had been stuck a while. In the grand scheme of things, they were both stuck. Only together, with more room to wiggle. Who was to say they couldn’t find a way to wiggle their parts together? He had an amazing ass. So his face missed the handsome boat in favor of rugged island—she still found him attractive. His tiny bird lips added to his facial weaknesses, but his candy-apple ass made up for it. In a pinch, she could close her eyes and let her palms check the territory.

  She bundled the wires the way Shields preferred. She understood, kind of, why he liked them together. It made for a quick, specific pull of non-essential systems. However, the line of airships had never had problems with the electrical systems. Better safe than sorry…she guessed. It beat running the same diagnostics over and over again.

  The scent of spicy food pulled her out from under the panel. Due to limited physical activity, they ran on limited calories. Supplement bars for breakfast and lunch were fine, but she looked forward to the real meal, supper.