No matter what happened, I became a liability, at least in the eyes of my father.
So I did the only thing I could: I ran. Thanks to the team leader I knew where we were, and the map in my head snapped back into place. The next time we came to a cross hall, I waited until the lead soldier had cleared it, then I bolted.
“Stop!” the second soldier shouted.
I ignored him. I doubted Richard had given them permission to kill me, and while I’d seen a stunstick, I hadn’t seen a stun pistol, so they’d have to catch me the old-fashioned way. With them weighed down by their armor, I was faster.
The light stick cast weird shadows on the wall as I ran, but I could see and that was all that mattered. The video drone followed me. I swiped at it but missed and nearly lost my footing. I decided one problem at a time was all I could handle, and right now, distance was my friend.
Footsteps pounded behind me, closer than I would’ve liked. I darted left at the next hall and hoped Loch hadn’t left yet. With a long straightaway in front of me, I sprinted.
I might not be infinitely capable, but I could run. It was a skill that came in handy more than once over the last two years. I’d chased down thieves and outrun mobs, and, in one memorable case, did both at the same time. I’d also had a few close calls with House von Hasenberg security where literal running was the only way to escape.
And nothing motivated quite like imminent capture or death.
The video drone paced me, but the footsteps fell farther and farther behind. Running blindly when there could be more soldiers lurking ahead wasn’t ideal, but I was out of options. I had to get to that ship.
I turned left and ran down the short hall that would take me back to the main hallway. A right and another thirty meters or so and I’d be there. Please let the ship be there.
I glanced left as I turned right into the main hallway to see if the soldiers’ backup had arrived yet. My body found what my peripheral vision had not—I slammed into a wall of muscle that barely gave under the impact. An arm clamped around my waist to prevent me from rebounding to the floor, and a blast pistol went off behind my head.
The video drone exploded in a shower of sparks.
Loch had already pulled me back into a run by the time my brain caught up with the fact that he hadn’t left. And he was wearing clothes. He looked so much like a merc that it took me a second glance to process that it was really him.
When he pulled me into the port leading to the ship, I resisted. “We need to open the doors. The manual overrides are out here,” I said, trying to pull back. It would be easier to move the moon.
“No time. We’ll blast them,” he said. The doors that enclosed the bay were wired with explosives that could be activated from the escape ship. But that was truly the last resort because it failed as often as it worked.
When Loch didn’t stop to close the port door, I dug in my feet. “The door!”
“No time,” he snarled.
I shook myself loose. “I’m making time. I won’t be responsible for depressurizing half the ship. You go on.”
He left me.
I cursed him silently while I pulled the heavy door closed. If we blasted the outer bay doors with this door still open, every unanchored person in the cargo bay would be ejected into space. And with the ship’s power partially down, I wasn’t sure the safety doors would close to protect the rest of the ship.
While I had no love for the Rockhurst soldiers, they were just obeying orders. The mercs could go to hell, but it would be nice if Captain Pearson’s family could recover his ship in one piece.
I turned and ran for the escape ship. Loch was already closing the door, the bastard. I slid through the narrow opening and kept going. Once I made it to the bridge I realized the ship was already powered up and ready to fly.
Loch shouldered past me and took the captain’s chair. Of course he did. His hands flew over the console with obvious skill, though, so I held my comments. Mostly.
“Stop grumbling and strap in,” he said without looking up.
I dropped into the navigator’s chair and clipped in. A quick look showed that we already had a destination plotted. Before I could check the stats, the outer doors blew and Loch cursed. I looked up from my console and saw that only one of the doors had blown. While the depressurization had slightly opened the other, it was going to be a tight squeeze.
Warnings started blaring as Loch’s hands raced. He unclipped from his seat and moved to the rarely used manual controls.
“What are you doing?” I asked, alarmed.
“Computer won’t take us out,” he said. “Going to have to do it manually.”
I swallowed. I knew how to fly a ship manually—all pilots did in case of emergency. But most pilots practiced just enough to pass the test and to be able to land a damaged ship in a large open field or to dock to a station with docking assist. We did not learn how to finesse an escape ship out of a partially open bay door without tearing a hole in the hull.
“Can you?” I squeaked. I cleared my throat. “Do it manually, I mean. Without killing us.”
His eyes glinted as he glanced at me and his lips curved into a smoldering grin. “Don’t worry. I’m good with my hands.”
Heat flushed through me as I imagined those big hands on my body. Criminal, I reminded myself. Killer. He’d almost left me behind. But he didn’t, an internal voice whispered. It sounded a lot like my neglected libido. Two years on the run didn’t leave much time for fun.
While casual hookups were common in the Consortium, at least then you knew what you were getting—and you’d likely known the person for years. Hooking up for a one-night stand with a stranger wasn’t usually my style, but looking at Loch, I might be willing to make an exception.
“Hold on,” Loch said.
He opened the docking clamps and nudged the controls. The ship slid sideways by a meter. Proximity alarms blared faster than I could silence them.
“Touchy,” he muttered.
My burgeoning confidence in his ability plummeted. Dying in space was not high on my list of ways to go. But at least my father would be pleased that I’d chosen death over capture.
“Do you want me to—”
“I got it,” he said without even letting me finish.
With nothing else to do, I checked our plotted course. We were jumping to the only settled planet in range, Tau Sagittarii Dwarf Nine. The ship’s computer had little information about TSD Nine. It was Yamado-controlled, which was nice with a Rockhurst on our heels. It seemed to be a mining planet.
The most interesting thing about the planet was that it was in synchronous rotation with its sun, so rather than having a typical day/night cycle, one side of the planet was always day and the other was always night.
The screech of metal on metal pulled my attention back to the window. We were nearly out of the docking bay, but our escape had not gone unnoticed. A half-dozen fighters spread out before us and a larger retrieval ship was en route from the Santa Celestia.
I started the pre-FTL sequence. The engine noise increased and heavy shutters covered the bridge windows. Screens flickered on, showing us the same view we’d had before, but now via video. All three Houses had tried removing the windows in various ways over the years, but those ships never sold as well as their windowed counterparts. Humans liked natural sight.
“Incoming communication,” the computer chimed.
“Declined,” Loch and I said at the same time.
I had no doubt that Richard already had someone hard at work on overriding our ship’s system. It was much harder to do because override codes didn’t work remotely, but it was possible.
Another metallic screech and we cleared the Mayport. Diagnostics showed that we had sustained only minor hull damage—nothing that would prevent us from jumping. It took a second for it to sink in.
“I can’t believe you did that without killing us,” I said. “Well done.”
He grunted as he swiveled away fro
m the manual controls. A few seconds later, alarms blared. I watched on my screen as he overrode the safety warnings and prepared to jump.
The lights flickered and my stomach dropped.
Normally I wouldn’t condone jumping so close to other ships, but desperate times called for desperate measures. FTL drives required enormous amounts of energy but weren’t 100 percent efficient. Some of the energy escaped at the initial jump point and caused a shock wave. For a little ship like this, the shock wave most likely didn’t do any damage, even to the fighters nearby. But a large ship could easily destroy smaller ships when it jumped. It was why jumping close to a station was heavily discouraged unless you wanted to start a war or get blacklisted.
The engine steadied and the window shutters retracted, leaving a clear view of the vast emptiness of space. And for the first time, the magnitude of what I’d done hit me. I was alone on a tiny lifeboat, in the middle of nowhere, with a man twice my size. And he was a known murderer.
Without the adrenaline driving me, fear crept in.
Chapter 5
Loch turned to me. “Do you want to explain why Richard Rockhurst wants you enough to board a merc ship for you?”
“No,” I said. It didn’t surprise me too much that he’d figured out which Rockhurst was after me—the Santa Celestia was distinctive to anyone who knew ships.
He grinned. “Fair enough, but you should’ve told me it was Richard from the beginning. You could’ve saved yourself a pile of credits. I would’ve helped you escape for free just to see the look on the bastard’s face.”
“You two have history?”
Loch’s expression went cold and flat. “You could say that,” he said. His tone did not invite further discussion and for once, I obliged. He unclipped from the manual controls and disappeared behind me. I steadied my nerves and idly played with the control panel when what I really wanted was to back up to a wall and keep him in sight. Preferably while holding a gun or two.
I heard him rooting through a container. I checked on our navigation. We were six hours out. I would love to get some sleep, but I wasn’t sure if it was prudent or possible.
“I’m going to shower,” Loch said.
The door to the bathroom hissed open then closed. When I didn’t hear anything else for a few seconds, I risked a peek. The room was empty. I sighed out some of my anxiety.
With Loch contained, I used the time to stand up and look around. My knowledge of this ship was minimal because none of my training had included a scenario where I’d be on one. The bridge and the main room of the ship were basically the same. The back of the room had a tiny bathroom tucked in the port corner, a short hall connected to the exit, and the hatch to the lower engine level.
Each side of the room had two columns of fold-down cots mounted to the walls. The cots were stacked three high, so there was room for twelve people to sleep. When they were all folded down, a narrow aisle down the middle of the room would lead from the bridge to the back of the ship.
With the cots folded up, a bench ran the length of both sides of the room. Harness points were embedded in the underside of the lowest cots, so the survivors could be strapped in for takeoff or landing. The black harness straps stood out against the gray of the rest of the room.
After two years on bland gray stations and ships, I missed the blue and cream walls of my old bedroom. One of these days I was going to have to decide on a planet and settle down and stay put, if only so I could paint my rooms something other than metallic gray. I hadn’t tried it yet because in order to completely disappear, I’d have to cut all ties to my family, including my sisters. That wasn’t a step I was quite ready to take.
I was so caught up in my dreams of family and colorful walls that I missed the bathroom door opening. Movement in my peripheral vision jolted me out of my thoughts. I spun around then froze.
Loch had shaved the stubble from both his face and his head. The newly revealed skin highlighted a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips. His black shirt clung to his broad shoulders and clearly outlined the flat planes of his chest. He narrowed at the waist, but still the shirt clung tenaciously, hinting at the defined abs underneath.
I loved that shirt.
His legs were encased in standard-issue merc fatigues in dark gray camouflage, and he’d found a pair of black boots. He’d looked dangerous before, but now he looked deadly. It took all of my training not to flinch and back away when he approached.
“Your turn, darling,” he said. “There are extra clothes in the locker.” He jerked a thumb at the vertical storage locker across from the bathroom, then gave me a once-over. “Though I don’t know if there’ll be anything that fits.”
I was tall and slender, though I liked to think of myself as lithe rather than gangly. I had a fair bit of muscle, but nothing compared to most mercs.
“Thanks,” I said. “And my name is Ada.”
Loch crowded into my personal space, but I steeled my spine and refused to give ground. His slow smile did all sorts of terrible things to me. “I know your name, Ada,” he murmured. It was the first time he’d said my name without the derisive, mocking lilt, and it was far more devastating than I’d imagined.
I suppressed my reaction and smoothly stepped around him. “Excellent,” I said. Dodging handsy lordlings without giving offense—or getting groped—had made me something of an expert at extracting myself from these situations. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten,” I tossed over my shoulder.
When the expected response didn’t come, I glanced back at him. He stared at me with intense focus. The look made me want to freeze and hide, but I continued on to the storage locker. I couldn’t afford to let him know just how much he was affecting me. One hint of weakness and he’d pounce.
I dug through the locker and luckily came up with a set of men’s clothes that would fit. I also grabbed a rucksack for my old clothes, since they were the only other set I had. I could do laundry once we landed.
I could feel eyes on me, but I refused to glance his way. I stepped into the bathroom and locked the door. I slumped against the tiny counter. Excess adrenaline made me shaky. I took deep breaths and listened for movement. I heard nothing but the constant low hum of the engines.
Loch could easily breach the door. Even if he couldn’t just unlock it with the ship’s system, which he could, he could probably knock it down. It was a flimsy illusion of safety, but one I clung to.
I wanted a shower, dammit.
I undressed quickly. I had blood smears around both wrists where Loch had grabbed me out of the access tunnel, and my left arm was bruised. My nanos would be hard at work repairing the damage, but it remained tender to the touch.
Nanobots were so expensive because they were crafted specifically for each individual’s DNA. Cheaper generic versions had been tried, but since the infinitesimal robots circulated in the bloodstream, the body often saw them as foreign invaders and attacked. The results were not pretty.
The nanobots were supposed to be good for life, but I’d gotten boosters every year with the latest and greatest new versions. When I left home, the boosters stopped. I couldn’t afford them on my own, so now my nanos were two years out of date. I hadn’t noticed any side effects, but it made me a little paranoid. One often didn’t notice the silver spoon until it was removed.
I unbraided my dark hair and ran my fingers through it. My hair hit just below my shoulder blades and was wavy enough to have a mind of its own. It had been longer when I lived at home. Cutting it had hurt, but long hair was more of a liability than an asset when you lived on stations and ships.
I wet a washcloth in the sink and stepped into the circular shower stall. A ship this small didn’t have a water recycling system. I had to settle for a sonic shower, but it was better than nothing. I hit the button for the longest possible shower.
The shower screen advised me to lift my hair and close my eyes. I did both and also held my breath. Scientists swore up and down that the cleaning
fluid was nontoxic, but I’d still rather not breathe it.
Warm mist ghosted over my skin from the nozzles encircling the shower. A chime indicated I could open my eyes. My skin tingled as the sonic waves agitated the cleaning fluid. I helped it along with the washcloth.
An additional round of cleaning started for my hair. A sonic shower would never compare to a real water shower, but at least I’d lose the grimy feeling on my skin. My hair was another matter. Even with the extra cycles, it wouldn’t get completely clean until I could wash it properly. Sonic showers just weren’t designed for women with long hair, though they tried.
Two rinse cycles and a warm blast from the overhead dryer and I was done. I took a deep breath to prepare for anything, then opened the opaque shower door. The bathroom was empty and my clothes were exactly where I’d left them. Tension drained out of me. Showering was a risk I’d purposefully taken, but I hadn’t realized just how wound up I’d been.
I pulled on the boxer briefs that were my only option for clean underwear. They were surprisingly comfortable. Sadly, there’d been no extra bras, so my dirty one went back on, followed by the black shirt and dark camo pants. I was glad to see that my shirt didn’t cling as much as Loch’s had. Even so, I looked like his mini-me.
A quick rifle through the bathroom cabinets produced a grooming kit with a wide-tooth comb. The shower had applied a detangler to my hair, but it didn’t help much. I worked out the worst of the tangles then left it loose to finish drying.
I transferred the two knives and two extra energy cells to the pockets of my new pants, even though I didn’t have a gun. Being prepared had saved me on more than one occasion. I bundled up my old clothes and shoved them in the rucksack, along with the comb—Loch wouldn’t need it.
That done, I squared my shoulders and shored up my defenses before stepping out of the bathroom. Loch was sitting in the captain’s chair, staring out into space. He half turned at the sound of the door but didn’t speak.
I set my bag on the end of the starboard bench and then read the directions on how to lower the upper cot. It was as far in the corner as I could get on this ship, and it would give me a view of the entire room.
Polaris Rising Page 5