Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1)

by Ben Patterson

  To get her mind off her losses, she studied Archer who sat near her.

  “I have some ideas about my new leg,” she said with a sly smile.

  Archer lifted his eyes from his book. “Yeah? Like what, sis?”

  “Instead of a holster, I want a pistol hidden inside my leg. The kind of thing where a door flips open and out pops a weapon.”

  “That could work,” Archer said, “but why not go with both? Aside from the one hidden in your leg, sling a gun on your left hip. You wear that look well.”

  Ericca lit up. “I like that.”

  “Cool. Consider it done.”

  She nodded. “Tell me. How long was I out?”

  “Two weeks. Docs induced a coma to repair your arm and leg, uh, terminates, he calls them.”

  She patted her hip. “Now this, I’d like to look as real as real can be. I want to look good in shorts.”

  “Building a pistol case into your thigh for quick access and make the seam invisible when closed will be tricky. But Dr. Emory says such things are possible. You’ll already have access ports to adjust the internal, uh, whatzits. He says those will be invisible, so why not go all the way? Gun and all.”

  “Good. If he can do it, I’d like that.”

  “Whatever you want, sis.”

  Her arm was gone. The damage there had been extensive. A new chromed mechanical construct formed her shoulder and upper half of her arm, terminating in mechanical connectors—levers, gears, and rods. “I have some ideas about my arm as well.”

  “Doc says once you get used to the mechanical limb, he can give you a prosthetic that’ll look natural. And check this out; the metal understructure he’s using is tyrillium.”

  She looked up at him quizzically, and then gestured to the fake arm lying on the chair next to him. “That’s tyrillium, like my knife?”

  “This isn’t. But he said your new limbs will be. They’ll be virtually indestructible.”

  “I like that.”

  Riley smiled.

  She gestured to the metal arm. “I think I’d like it to look just like that. Can’t that be done?”

  He reached back and brought the artificial arm to her. “Like this? You want your new arm to look like this? Seriously?” Barebones, the metal arm was nothing to look at. Rods, gears, pistons, and pulleys, but little else. Its titanium surface was a dull grey.

  She took it from him to examine, and pondered it for a moment. “What if I like this one’s look? Can he build it to lo look like this?”

  “What? You mean instead of a realistic looking prosthesis, you want grey metal?”

  “Chromed, actually, and polished to a mirror finish. To me that would look awesome. I think this sort of thing looks cool. Don’t you, Archer? Picture me walking into a bar wearing this as a bit of bling? If that doesn’t turn a few heads, nothing will.”

  Befuddled, he looked at her, at the arm, then at her again. “You serious?”

  “Sure. Picture shiny, mirror-like shiny. This thing would be sweet. It’ll make me look over-the-top tough, don’t you think? Can’t you just see me backhanding some grab-and-tickle dillhole with this?” She swung it as if it were a club. “Bam!”

  Though she was indeed serious, Archer had to laugh. “I don’t know what to say. The doctors tell me that this one lacks tactile sensors. It won’t give you any feedback when you touch something.”

  Her mouth was dry. She smacked her lips, cleared her throat, and looked around for the jug.

  Aware and attentive, Archer jumped to his feet, took a cup from her nightstand, filled it with water, and handed it to her.

  She took a sip, then considered him for a moment more. “Thank you. I don’t understand what you mean by ‘feedback’.”

  He set the pitcher down and retrieved the robot arm. “This—all of this—is wired directly into your brain. The synthetic skin membrane covering your new arm will be wired in as well. Baring pain of course, you’ll be able to feel everything just as you would if these limbs were flesh and blood.”

  “Oh?”

  “Better still, to the degree, you’ll be able to sense hot or cold. You’ll know when someone brushes against you, touches you, or grabs your arm. You’ll even be able to feel things others can’t. Pretty cool stuff, really. Emory says if he were to sprinkle salt in your palm, blindfolded you’d be able to tell exactly what its chemical makeup was. Dr. Penko says Dr. Emory’s tech is light-years ahead of everyone else’s. In the field of biomechanics no one else’s comes close. Penko tells me that getting nerves to reattach to themselves is a bear, often impossible. Getting nerves and other tissue to bond with metal used to be futuristic fantasy, but Emory seems to have beaten it.”

  “Yes. I see. So . . . when I backhand some jackanapes in a bar, I’ll feel that too?”

  Archer laughed again. “I’m certain you will, but not as much as he will.”

  She turned it one way then the next, flexed its fingers, elbow, and twisted and bent its wrist. “Still. I like the look of this one. Too bad they can’t make one that feel things as well.”

  He smiled. “You know? I’ll just bet one day Emory will be able to do just that. Just give the man time. Maybe even someday soon.”

  “Really? I hope so.”

  He shrugged. “We can ask.”

  Ericca’s face rose as one who tasted sweet victory. “I’d like that, Archer. I’m curious though. Think anyone would ask out a girl with a mechanical arm.”

  “Sure they would. Wait! What?” He scowled. “What am I, a potted plant?”

  “You? You’d ask out a girl with . . . prosthetics? With bio-whatzits?”

  “If what had happened to you, happened to Darsea, and she made the decisions you’re making, I would in a heartbeat. Trust me, sis, there’s a guy out there just waiting for you to notice him.”

  “Umm. I don’t know. I am getting on in years. A little long in the tooth. I don’t know if a guy would want to date such an old woman.”

  He chuckled. “You are mean to yourself, sister. Long in the tooth, indeed. You’re only twenty-one. In what realm is that considered old?”

  Contented, she sighed. “My mechanical gizmos won’t put a guy off.”

  He smiled, and returned to his chair. “I happen to like over-the-top toughness in a woman. Personally, I find it sexy. A lot of guys do.”

  Archer’s eyes were bright and subtly cheerful. He had such a handsome face—deep dimples when he smiled. His square, masculine jaw with its end-of-day stubble made him look rugged, tough, and sexy. Darsea had a real catch in snagging him. Ericca grinned playfully. “Kiss her yet?”

  He blushed, but didn’t turn away.

  “You want the milk, fella, you’ll have to buy the cow.”

  “Oh, sis. I’ve wanted to buy the cow since the first day she and I met.”

  Ericca looked at him quizzically. “Since she was twelve? Really?”

  “Come on now. I’ve always treated her with respect. I never made any advances until we were of age. You know that. But you have to admit, that even at twelve, Darsea was something to behold.” He frowned. “That sounded better in my mind.”

  She shook her head. “Got a thing for twelve-year-old girls, huh? Hmph!”

  “I’m going to stop talking now.”

  She grinned and giggled. “I know, bro. I was just messin’ witcha.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Six months later.

  Laughing with childlike giddiness, Ericca hurried from the dancehall and down the steps to the sidewalk with Tyson in hot pursuit. She turned and stopped him with a stiff finger pressed to his chest, and raised a coy grin. “You never could take a joke.”

  “Have to admit it’s been a good party, so far. You though, you had everyone laughing so hard . . .” He took her hand in his. “I was an idiot, okay? I should never have walked away from you.”

  She pulled her hand from his and turned away. “We have history, you and I.” She turned to face him. “I thought of all people, I could cou
nt on you. But when I needed you most . . .”

  “I walked away. I’m sorry, Ericca. I wasn’t that strong.” He retrieved her left hand and kissed her chrome knuckles. The shiny metal robotic arm gleamed in the light of the sconces. “You really like this, huh?” he said, then kissed her chromed knuckles again.

  “I do. It’s that one bit of bling no one else has. And look here.” She lifted her frilly sheave up her shoulder so he could see what she had engraved there.

  It read, “For one pretty Penny, I earned this.”

  “That you did, my love.” Gathering her hands in his, he kissed the knuckles of each. First the smooth, polished chrome of the one, then the warm, tanned flesh of the other. “Coredei’s been good, but I’ve missed you. I’m looking forward to returning to Rhone now that things have settled down.”

  Ericca pulled her hands from his. “Rhone is off limits to you. Period. Now, no more questions about it.”

  “Fine.”

  She peered up into the night sky. Most considered Coredei one of the more beautiful planets in the galaxy. Ericca believed it was unequalled. She sighed. “I came here to negotiate a war pact treaty between our two governments, Ty. If you tried to deceive me, why should Saigus believe you’ll honor his pact?”

  “Oh, Ericca, I said I was sorry. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

  “I’ve already forgiven you. You got Archer and me through the most devastating time of our lives, and I’m glad I met you. But . . .

  “I’d be a fool to trust you.”

  He sighed. “So . . . no marriage?”

  “No marriage.”

  “So I’m being relegated to ‘friend’ status, huh?”

  “‘Fraid so.”

  Now he sighed. “Fine. I screwed up, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I’m not out of the running yet.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder and laughed; not to be mean, but she was amused by his pleading expression. She turned back to the starry heavens. “You’ve been a good friend, Ty. I don’t dispute that, but you haven’t proven yourself trustworthy, let alone the marrying type. Now, what assurances can you give me? If Saigus is ever attacked, where will you be?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “I suppose you’ll find out when you call on me for help. I have nothing to offer you but my word.”

  Ericca turned to him. “So, we won’t be able to count on you. We’ll call for help, and just see what you do when the time comes.”

  “And then you’ll know,” he said. “My flying to your aid then will hopefully settle the matter.”

  “And if ever you’re attacked, King Blackhart, we’ll come running.”

  “I believe you. And therein lies the difference, huh? Your word is gold. Mine is mud.”

  “Not my fault, boss. You should have considered that when you first tried to deceive me.”

  At the sounds of nearby conversation, Ericca turned. The voices sounded familiar. “Come,” she whispered, tugging Tyson’s hand. They sneaked up an embankment to peer through bushes near the mansion’s grand hall.

  Buck and Katherine had slipped away from the party just as Ericca and Ty had. Like Ericca, Buck and Kathy appeared to have stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and to enjoy Coredei’s landscape. Down the hill, the lights of the distant village nestled bright and beautiful in the dell. Kathy, now seven months pregnant, was round under her dress. Even so, she looked like a real princess.

  On the steps that led to the dirt lane, a man leaned against a lamppost. Dressed as a ships’ captain—large overcoat, thigh-high boots, and gun slung low—he seemed more a costumed caricature than the real deal. He pulled a long-stemmed pipe from a pocket, flipped open its bowl cover, pressed a small ignition button on the pipe’s side, and took a long draw.

  “Lovely evening isn’t it, captain,” Kathy said as she and her husband passed.

  Blowing a stream of smoke skyward, the man dropped his eyes to her husband. “Captain French, might I have a word with you?” Pushing off the pole, he straightened and turned to them.

  Buck glanced back. “Sorry, Captain O’Dare. My wife and I have had a full day as it is. Another time perhaps.” The couple kept walking.

  “It’s regarding General Richardson, sir.” He drew again and puffed a smoke ring.

  “Richardson!?” Ericca whispered.

  Buck stopped and looked back. The shadows made it difficult to see, but Ericca saw well enough to recognize Buck’s expression; one of surprise.

  “Sir, I think a proper introduction is due you. I’m Theodore Richardson. The general was my brother, Edward.” He extended a friendly hand.

  “Oh?” Buck said ignoring the offered hand. “How is the general these days? Still speaking before churches is he?”

  Ericca grinned. Buck just went for the man’s throat with that one.

  Hesitant, O’Dare dropped his hand, then simultaneously shrugged and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. Nor has he ever. Aboard Jordon Kori’s ship, I was trying to let you two know in no uncertain terms that Freefall had been exposed.”

  Buck hesitated and glanced at Katherine. “No matter. Freefall is no longer an issue.”

  Captain O’Dare continued. “As I was saying, my brother, Eddie, was captured by the Confed’s Intel Agency and tortured to death. But before he died, he told them everything he knew. I’m sorry, sir.”

  Ericca’s glee instantly drained from her, and her knees went wobbly. Tyson steadied her.

  “How do you know this, Captain?” Kathy said. “How do you come to have this information?”

  “I was a part of the rescue team, ma’am. We arrived too late to save him, but in his dying breath he told me what he’d done.”

  Ericca saw his behavior as practiced but stilted. His actions didn’t lend themselves to his words in the slightest.

  “Well, that explains much, Captain,” said Buck. “If that’s what you are.”

  O’Dare scoffed. “What? Of course I’m a captain. What is this? What are you saying? My brother is tortured to death, and this is the response I get?”

  Buck looked up the steps past O’Dare. “Josh?”

  O’Dare glanced back. Behind him, a few feet up the steps, Joshua waited in the shadows. Uniformed Royal Guardsmen stepped from the darkness to encircle everyone there.

  Josh spoke. His tone was blunt. “Did you think we weren’t going to do a security check on everyone who came aboard Freefall? Did you see us as bumpkins who would not think to do so? Your arrogance is surpassed only by your ignorance of us.”

  O’Dare glanced around. “What? You think I’m a spy? Is that what you think? Did you find something in my past that would say as much? I don’t think so.”

  “Actually,” said Josh, “we found you to have no past at all, Mr. O’Dare. Strange that.”

  “No past?” Dismayed, O’Dare grunted dismissively. “You didn’t look me up under the name Richardson, did you? No, you didn’t! Besides, none of us has a past, being on the run and all. Don’t you think I, like you, would cover my trail? Who are you, boy, to accuse me?” He turned to Buck and Kathy. “Who is this kid? What’s going on here?”

  Buck met his gaze with cold, uncaring eyes. “Who is this kid? Why, he’s the future, fool. Before you stands one of the Confederation’s greatest foes. Wrap your brain around that, if you can.”

  “So that’s it?” O’Dare said. “I have no past. That’s your evidence against me? That makes me a spy, does it?”

  “That,” said Josh, “and the fact that you are the only one here who has suggested you are a spy. None of us has said as much.”

  “Well, you implied as much.”

  “No, sir. We did not. That isn’t even the reason we’re questioning you.”

  “Yeah? Then what do you want?”

  “Why, sir, did you and your ship make such a poor showing during this last conflict? Not one meaningful hit against the enemy. Not one! Nor did you lead any assault. What did you think, that your hanging bac
k behind everyone else would go unnoticed?”

  Ericca stepped from the bushes dragging Tyson with her. “We also knew the general, Riley and I. We had a nice long chat with the man some years back. He said he was an only child, O’Dare. So who are you really? Is O’Dare even your real name? I know Richardson isn’t.”

  “Look. Chonri knows me. He’ll vouch for me. I saved his butt at Hermes. Just ask him.”

  Several men chuckled. Ericca stepped closer. “You saved Capt. Chonri? You? Hah! You really expect us to believe your meager little corsair rescued a xebec commanded by a man with three silvers and a bronze pinned to his chest. Please!”

  Josh shook his head. “Convenient that the man’s now dead, isn’t it? How in blue blazes can he vouch for, or for that matter, even disavow you now?”

  O’Dare glared at the boy. “Okay, okay. So I’m a man without a past, and I exaggerated to gain your confidence, but that doesn’t make me a spy. You got nothing on me. Enough said. I’ll just take my ship and go.” He turned, but a few Royal guards blocked his way. He then glanced at Buck before turning to Joshua. “What is this? You got nothing on me. I’m no spy, I tell you.”

  Ericca scowled. “Again with this spy business. No one here has accused you of being a spy, but your protests to the contrary lead me to believe that you are, indeed, what you say you’re not. What is it you hoped to gain from us? What are you really here for?”

  O’Dare turned back to Buck. “Look. My name is really Ted Richardson. I am Eddie’s brother. And I just tried to warn you that your cover was blown. That’s all. Now let me pass and I’ll be on my way.” He tried to take a step, but the soldiers again blocked him.

  Buck’s face was sober and determined. “You’re not going anywhere, O’Dare. Take another step and we’ll drop you where you stand.”

  “You can’t do that. I haven’t been found guilty of anything. Now let me pass.”