by Britt Ringel
“Uh, yes, I know,” Brooke replied as she dug into the course catalog. She slid a finger up and down over the screen. “I’m a certified engineer, remember?”
“Including at least two tunnel dives during those eighty hours.”
Brooke snorted derisively. “It would kind of suck to only do one.”
Lochlain paused a moment to reflect on Brooke’s declaration. “Well, usually, you get hired by a shipping company after you graduate and they provide that experience on one of their vessels. You then take the certification test and license out.”
Brooke nodded as she looked over to Lochlain. “Just like attorneys who graduate from law school and are hired by a firm before passing the bar.”
“Sometimes though,” Lochlain continued over her interruption, “students do it backwards and that’s when they take one of those cert courses.” He pointed at his datapad. “Each of those classes places a group of ASA students onto a freighter to shadow the departments they’re striking for. A couple of those ships are ASA-owned and sail purely for the class but most of them are commercial vessels paid by the ASA to berth a student or three.”
Brooke offered a twisted smile. “I see where you’re going with this but we obviously don’t have the time to sign up for such a program so you’re going to… steal a crew of students from the ASA?”
“Borrow a crew,” Lochlain emphasized dramatically, “giving them invaluable practical experience and dare I say maybe a little real-world knowledge of the merchant’s life as well?”
“Let’s just try to prevent this real-world knowledge from including a detailed tour of a confinement facility,” Brooke countered while browsing through the available courses. “There’s only one crew shipping out tomorrow. Seven students berthing on a freighter named Evora. It’s scheduled to depart tomorrow at fifteen hundred hours from the orbital.”
Lochlain grinned at the circumstances. “Won’t some of those students be grateful when we rescue them from a tedious run on a boring, Handy-max freighter where they’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of a control panel let alone stand an actual watch and, instead, suddenly find themselves on a ship where they’re running their respective departments?” He gave a contented sigh. “I’m really just happy for the learners, you know?” he added, covering his heart with a hand. “I mean, as an educator, I can’t tell you the satisfaction I feel when I see them grow.”
“How are we making the switch, Phoenix?”
Lochlain’s face screwed into confusion.
Brooke’s eyes shot skyward in irritation. “He was the tutor of Achilles.”
“Whatever.” Lochlain began with a grand wave of his hands, “Well, thanks to my charm and personal magnetism, I’ve nurtured a high-level contact within the Appiation Sailing Association. I cannot overstate the great sacrifices I’ve made to secure the level of trust required to—”
“I’m going to shoot you if you’re talking about Melissa Ambridge,” Brooke declared coldly. She leaned slightly to her left and loudly popped the cover to her holstered sidearm. “You do realize that you were going to brag about your personal conquests while I’m armed, right?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “We’re going to break into ASA Administration tonight and flash the students we want from Miss Ambridge’s office,” Lochlain stated clinically. “We’ll tell them Evora needs emergency maintenance and they’ve been switched to Zanshin. We’ll have to make our departure in the morning so we’re long gone before they fail to report to Evora.” He remained quiet a moment and fought with himself internally. He lost the fight and deadpanned, “You know there’s never been anyone but you, my darling.”
“Wish I could say the same,” Brooke retorted wickedly. “Your plan has merit but nobody simply breaks into an Appiation umbrella facility, not unless you’ve been hiding past employment in a swipe squad from me.”
Lochlain tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt. “By break in, I mean walk in with Melissa.”
Brooke blew out an exasperated breath. “Oh, I see. And how do you get her to let you into the office at…” She glanced at the datapad’s chronometer and finished, “Half past midnight?”
“Personal magnetism and great sacrifice?” Lochlain offered sheepishly.
“How about I kill her,” Brooke suggested as she ground her teeth. “Take her datapad, a hand and an eye…”
Lochlain grimaced and said, “Wow. Way to go all CBP on me. Here’s the deal, Mercer. Both of us will have to go because one of us needs to get her out of her office while the other makes those calls.” He glowered. “I know what will work but you’re not going to like it.”
Without further word, he verified the autopilot was holding its course and retrieved his datapad from Brooke. “Let me make the call,” he grumbled while unbuckling his seat restraints. He moved down the confined aisle, toward the rear of the shuttle, seeking not only a nondescript background but also a modicum of privacy he soon realized did not exist. After unfolding a jumpseat and sitting, he sent the communications request.
Ambridge answered on the third ping. She wore heavier than normal makeup and judging from the scene behind her, she was at High Tide. “Reece, where have you been? How did your interview go?” She was practically screaming in an attempt to compete with the music in the background.
“We’ll see, Mel,” Lochlain answered noncommittally. “I’m actually hoping for an ASA job so I can be closer to you.”
“I sent you the application.”
“I know. I’ve been working on it all evening.”
“You’re not finished with it yet?” she huffed. Her blue eyes narrowed. “Well, don’t just send it off when you finally get around to completing it,” she commanded. “I’ll need to check it and fix your mistakes.”
“That’s kind of my problem, honey,” he began but cringed when he realized his tone was nearly identical to how he often spoke to Brooke. He flinched again at Ambridge’s reaction to him on screen.
“What,” she demanded.
“Uh, I’m having a problem obtaining the physical copy of my captain’s certification,” he confessed meekly.
“What? Why? You need that paperwork, Reece!” she exclaimed even louder. “It’s one of the few forms that you’ll have to produce if you’re hired.” She clenched her jaw and raised her head toward High Tide’s ceiling. “How could you be so irresponsible and lose it?”
Lochlain started to explain but Ambridge turned to address someone off screen. “He lost his damned certification,” she fumed to her unknown companion. There was a pause before she answered acrimoniously, “I know, you warned me.”
When she finally returned her attention to him, Lochlain started again. “It’s not lost, Mel. I know right where it is.”
She rolled her right wrist, circling her hand in a “hurry up” gesture. “Then what’s your problem.”
“Vanessa has it,” he said sourly. “And she won’t give it back until I let her meet you.”
Ambridge’s jaw dropped open. After several moments, she collected herself. “She wants to meet me?” The woman gave a dark laugh before uttering, “Well, I would just love to give her a piece of my mind.” Fresh grooves appeared at the corners of her eyes as she squinted at him. “Bring her to High Tide, sugar.” The pet name was sweet but her voice was anything but.
An irresistible impulse took hold of Lochlain. “Vanessa just wants to make sure you’re good enough for me. She says she can’t let me go if she thinks I’m not getting the woman I deserve.” He glanced at the cockpit as Brooke suffered through an intense coughing fit.
“Why does she even have your certification credentials?” Ambridge asked suspiciously.
“This was before I knew you,” he offered. “The physical copy isn’t needed to operate and I didn’t want to pay for a safe deposit box.”
“Bring her by,” Ambridge reiterated, her voice still thick with sarcasm. “I cannot wait to meet her.”
“How about we meet somewhere a little m
ore private?” Lochlain suggested innocently. “Then, once we’ve gotten rid of her, we can go through my job application and submit it.”
Ambridge’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea.” Her mouth twitched as she muttered to herself, “I’m not showing that bitch where I live.” A little louder she said, “But I don’t want her in my office either.”
“She doesn’t have to go in,” Lochlain prompted, letting the idea hang rather than oversell it.
Ambridge deliberated silently for several seconds. Finally, she nodded once. “Okay, we can meet outside, she can realize that I’m ten times the woman she is and after we kick her to the curb, we can go in and I can fix your application.”
“Sounds good, Melissa.” He silently kissed his fingers and pressed them to his screen. “See you at the front of Administration in an hour?”
“I suppose,” she acknowledged with a dramatic sigh. “You owe me. It’s a damned good thing I took tomorrow off.” She wagged a scolding finger and rebuked him loudly. “You’re going to settle down, mister. You can’t hold down a full-time job if you’re out gallivanting around at this time of night.”
Lochlain resisted the urge to point out her own location. Instead, he merely nodded obediently and terminated the connection. The shuttle shifted noticeably as the autopilot kicked off.
Moments later, Lochlain returned to the pilot’s seat. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just keeping my hands busy,” Brooke answered as she boosted the vehicle’s atmospheric thrusters marginally. “This is better than shooting holes in my new shuttle.”
“You could hear her from the cockpit, huh?”
“Mr. Oshiro could hear her from the spaceport, Reece.”
Lochlain chuckled. “She believes it’s important that people hear what she has to say.” He moved a hand to the nav-system to enter new coordinates.
Brooke’s hand batted his away from the console. “We’re stopping by my hotel first. If I’m actually meeting this piece of work, I’m not doing it in raid gear.”
Chapter 7
Although Brooke had resigned herself to a violence-free meeting with one of Lochlain’s flames of convenience, she would, at the minimum, go in dressed to kill. She ditched her kinetic armor but kept her pistol, now concealed in a small, black holster that hugged the inside of her left thigh. A narrow strap ran from the holster and clipped to the bottom edge of her boy-shorts style underwear. Her standard, hip-hugger holster would have been the better choice, and certainly more comfortable, but that would have demanded slacks and a blouse. That was far too casual for the night’s events. She chose a breezy dress cut above the knee that she knew fit her lithe frame to perfection.
As they neared the ASA Administration Building, Brooke performed a final inspection of her makeup. She and Lochlain were twenty minutes late. Brooke had taken the extra time to move her meager belongings from her hotel suite to the shuttle. Eyeing their destination, she saw a woman standing on the landing near the double front doors with arms crossed and impatiently tapping her foot. Brooke sighed at the chore ahead but plastered a counterfeit smile onto her lips while following Lochlain up the steep stairs.
She felt a perverse sense of satisfaction as Ambridge’s face fell after running her eyes over Brooke. “You must be Melissa,” Brooke greeted her in a friendly voice while jutting out a hand.
Ambridge hesitated a moment before taking the hand in her own. Brooke made sure to dig her fingernails in hard enough during the brief shake to leave marks on her opponent.
“And you’re Vanessa…” Ambridge started, but trailed off while withdrawing her hand.
“Vanessa Lochlain,” Brooke improvised in a wicked fit of cruelty, realizing Lochlain had never given Ambridge a last name for “the other woman.” She absent-mindedly looked down at the empty ring finger on her left hand and offered a correction loudly over Lochlain’s snort. “Well, it’ll finally be back to Goodheart by the end of the week.”
Ambridge glared at Lochlain with an expression that fixed him in place.
“I think little Davy should keep the Lochlain name though,” Brooke continued cheerfully. She leaned in to Ambridge and confided, “I think it’s important for my son to always remember who his father is.”
Ambridge’s jaw clenched twice before she ground out, “Reece, sugar, I need to have a word with you. Now.” She spun in place and swiped her datapad over the control pad at the building’s entrance.
Brooke hugged her shoulders and shivered while following Ambridge and Lochlain inside. “Melissa, may I step inside too? It’s freezing and this dress is so thin.”
Ambridge regarded her coldly and said, “I’m not sure what we have to talk about, Miss Goodheart.”
Brooke took a moment to look at the grand foyer of the building’s interior, solely to get her lines straight. “I just wanted to wish you good luck with Reece, Melissa.” She paused a beat before adding, “And make sure you keep him on his medication.” She snaked a hand to Lochlain and let it coil around his forearm. Giving it a squeeze, she continued, “He hates taking the full regimen of pills but they really do cut down on his episodes.” She looked up adoringly at Lochlain’s rolling eyes and smiled. “I’m just glad that we finally found a combination that works.”
Ambridge stepped closer to Lochlain and made a bid for his free arm. Securing his hand, she pulled him away from Brooke. “If you will excuse us, Miss Goodheart, I need to talk to my fiancé in private now.”
“Oh! Congratulations, you two!” Brooke gushed, not missing a beat. She tilted her head to a side and looked at Lochlain. “I couldn’t be happier for you, Reece. You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”
Ambridge yanked savagely on Lochlain’s hand like it was a disobedient dog’s leash. Brooke reluctantly relinquished her grip and said, “I need to freshen up anyway, dear, so why don’t I give you two lovebirds your space.” Not waiting for an answer, she quickly set off for the main corridor.
Behind her, Brooke could hear Ambridge’s low but still oddly penetrating voice berating Lochlain. With a genuine smile on her lips, she pulled her datapad out of her clutch and linked to the building’s network. The directory provided Ambridge’s office number and guided her to the correct door. Conveniently, it was located on the main floor of the building.
After steering through the labyrinth of hallways, she came upon Office 154. She paused at the door to listen while inspecting the lock. Ambridge’s voice still carried faintly in the distance. The lock was a standard multipurpose design, containing an antiquated IC cylinder for a physical pass card and an electronic interface for datapads.
Brooke tested the knob and found it locked. A light rap on the door told her its core was hollow. Looking down, she immediately regretted her footwear. She let her right high heel slide off her foot as she faced away from the office. With a half-crouch, she brought her right leg to her body, coiling her energy like a spring. Hands clenched into fists she let loose a tremendous back kick that tore the physical security from the door. The portal flew open on its hinges and bounced off the wall inside the office.
Brooke stepped lightly back into her shoe, ignoring the pain in her heel and arch. As she suspected, no discernible alarm had been triggered. She entered the office and circled the large desk to find the computer in a power-save mode. She removed her pistol from its holster and placed it on the desktop. After taking a seat, she quickly tapped the keyboard. The screen flickered and a picture of Ambridge on a yacht appeared as a background image. Brooke placed her finger on the screen and traced down to “Course Scheduling.” The file was locked.
She docked her datapad onto the desk and initialized a cracking program. She was far from a computer intrusion specialist but the CBP program, designed to hack into the data files of pirate captains, seemed to work well enough on the files of overindulged daughters of millionaires.
Brooke smiled malevolently when her second attempt to access the file succeeded. She navigated through the listings, t
apping to access the certification courses and then again for the practical experience subsection. Evora was at the top of the list. She accessed the class roster and reviewed her options. Finally, she pressed her finger to a name. A popup window appeared yielding student data, including the option to contact him. She initiated the call.
Brooke quickly pulled her dark hair tightly back and secured it with a band. She adjusted her posture so only the top half of her face was visible to the computer’s camera. A young man answered the comm request after several pings. He was sitting in a booth and clearly on his way to inebriation. “Hello?”
Brooke tightened her throat to send her voice up an octave. “Mr. Huseman, this is Nancy Fettermeyer from the ASA. I’m Miss Ambridge’s assistant at Course Administration and it seems there’s been a change to your class schedule.”
The man in his early twenties brought a hand up to his mussed hair and said, “Please tell me it’s not been cancelled.” In the background, Brooke could hear the chatter and frivolity of any typical, late night bar scene.
“Evora has a maintenance issue and won’t be sailing for at least a week. However, we’ve been able to secure a different freighter and transfer you to it.”
Huseman exhaled in audible relief. “Oh, thank God. Is it still set for tomorrow? We’re already up on the orbital.” His eyes darted away from the screen and he stated to someone beyond Brooke’s view, “Evora broke down but they lined up another freighter for us.”
Brooke winced. “Wait. You’re not on Svea?” She considered the fact quickly and improvised, “Your freighter hasn’t docked yet but the boarding time has been confirmed. I’ll have the ship’s captain flash you early tomorrow morning to inform you which docking bay he’s been assigned.”
“Who’s the captain?” Huseman asked. “What’s the ship’s name?”
Brooke hesitated, not wanting to give the student nearly six hours to poke holes into her story. “Uh… it looks like Captain Lovelain and CSV Stanchion,” she improvised. “Don’t worry about the change, Mr. Huseman. The captain will contact you in the morning with the details and you’ll get full course credit.” She tapped on her datapad. “If you have any concerns or questions, contact his Chief Engineer, Miss Brooke. I’m flashing you her contact data now.”