Morgan's Return

by Greta van Der Rol

  "Ashkar might want to know what happened to me. He's not exactly going to lie down and roll over. He might come bursting through that door at any moment." She deliberately stared over Cruickshank's shoulder.

  Cruickshank laughed. "That's an old ploy. You don't expect me to fall for that?"

  It had rattled her, though. Her heartbeat had sped up, just for a second. Maybe that was the germ of an idea.

  "Sounds like you quite fancy my lover. I wouldn't presume to call him my boyfriend, he's certainly not a boy. He can be a total bastard, you know. Not nice at all. Except in bed." She smiled, conjuring up memories.

  That got through. Cruickshank's eyes narrowed to slits. "You'll all die together. A pity, but there it is. I can still have him whenever I want him."

  Where had that come from? This was a fantasy. Morgan wouldn't be surprised if Cruickshank had never had sex with a living, breathing man. Of course. Plenty of women used virtual sex with images of men they lusted after. That Playmate program? She'd heard about it, but she preferred the real thing.

  "Got him in your collection, have you? Playmate?"

  Cruickshank grinned. "Never you mind."

  "Bet it's not like the real thing, though. Want to see?"

  The cargo hold was fitted with a screen capable of 3D. It was more routinely used to display engine schematics but this time, Morgan concentrated on the connection, and built an image of Ravindra in Manesai full dress uniform. The white cloth almost shimmered against his dark skin, and the golden collar and rank insignia sparked in harmony with the glint in his amber eyes. He looked magnificent, a man of power and authority.

  Cruickshank couldn't help herself, glancing at the display while trying to concentrate on Morgan. "Thanks. I'll add this to my database." Her voice sounded strained.

  Morgan made sure the virtual Ravindra faced Cruickshank. Then she had him unfasten the collar so it parted, showing his Adam's apple. Now the next button, slipping the golden disk through the material with long, strong fingers. Now the next. And the next, until the coat hung open. He slid the arm off one shoulder, then the other, and let the coat drop to the floor, where it disappeared from the display. Now his skin-tight white undershirt, that clung to every muscle, defining his pecs and his abs. He pulled the material out of his belt slowly, a slight smile on his lips. She remembered when he'd done this, just for her. Stop it, Morgan. Keep your mind on the job. He lifted the material in his fists, dragged the shirt up his torso, revealing skin like polished mahogany. Then over the swelling pectorals, up over his head, until he could flick the shirt away. The golden lines of the tattoo on his right shoulder gleamed.

  Cruickshank was positively salivating. "He has a tattoo?" The pistol wavered, pointing away from Morgan.

  Morgan bunched her muscles, but Cruickshank recovered, mad eyes glinting. "Stop that."

  One more try. Morgan shot a command at the cargo bay's ramp, which began to lower. Cruickshank's head jerked, her gaze shifting to the movement. Morgan launched herself, her injured left arm aimed at Cruickshank's right hand holding the weapon. The pistol fired, the heat sizzling past Morgan's shoulder into the bulkhead. Cruickshank fought to stay on her feet. She was slimmer, shorter, but Morgan's arm hurt. Cruickshank spun her around, struggling to raise the gun. Morgan tore the gun out of the other woman's hand. Cruickshank stumbled backwards toward the ramp. Behind her Ushas's bulk blazed bright against the blackness of space. Panting, Morgan advanced.

  Cruickshank looked over her shoulder, glared at Morgan and dived out into space. Morgan raised the pistol but the suit's jets burned blue and Cruickshank jetted away.

  Fuck fuck fuck. They had to get out of here, and fast.

  Morgan set the ramp to close, then ran, leaping through the hatch into the corridor and down to the engine room, calling Ravindra as she did so. "Give me a minute. Had a small problem, I'll call you back when we have air."

  She didn't need his 'hurry'.

  The valves weren't locked down. Fuck it, the bitch must have played around with the IS. Her IS. And without leaving a trace, too. Cruickshank was good, no doubt about it. Morgan fixed the code, taking out the redirection the other Supertech had inserted. Then she sent a command to the IS. Air. And make it fast. Then she called Ravindra.

  "I've sealed off the bridge and the corridor onto the ship. Get yourselves in the airlock."

  ***

  "She's done it." Ravindra couldn't hide his relief as pushed open the airlock door and stepped inside.

  Seven of them was cramped, but there wasn't going to be time for two trips. Jirra's left breast pressed against him, despite her attempts to make herself small. They all counted up the rising air pressure. Thirty… forty… fifty percent. At last. The hatch opened with a loud click. Being first in, Ravindra was also first out. He ran, the pistol in his hand.

  Morgan was on the bridge, still wearing the exo-suit with the helmet retracted. She looked strained, but then it had been a long few days. He ached to sweep her into his arms, but that would be wrong and stupid. "You're all right?"

  Her lips curved into a tight smile. "I'll live. Time to go. I think the word has finally filtered through. Strap yourselves in, everybody."

  Ravindra sat down in the navigator's chair beside her and let the harness deploy. Jirra slipped into the engineer's seat to Morgan's right. Prasad and Davaskar took two of the four seats at the rear of the bridge, with Tullamarran wedged between them, and Partridge and Eastly took the last two seats. Crowded, but not impossible.

  Morgan gestured at the screen, where a red-faced official mouthed words. "I turned him off. Want to hear?"

  "Yes, I do," Ravindra said. "It might be useful."

  "… shut down your engines, return to dock, and prepare to be boarded. If you attempt to leave, you will be fired upon. I repeat, you will be fired upon."

  "I'm ignoring that. Departure sequence is underway and I'm good to go," Morgan said.

  Uniformed officers with pistols had arrived at the dock. A few gathered at the locked gate. Vulsaur started to back out without casting off the ramp, which tore away. The troops on the dock blasted the gate and poured through, firing after the ship. Laser blasts spangled the forward shields with florets of light.

  "What happened when I called you?" Ravindra asked.

  Morgan rocked her head from side to side. "I had a visitor."

  A visitor? On Vulsaur? How was that possible? The ship was almost in clear space. A few more meters, and then they could turn. "Tell me." He made the words an order.

  "Seems I have an enemy I didn't know I had. Another Supertech. She was waiting on board. She escaped."

  He frowned. "How did you not know she was waiting for you?"

  She glanced at him. "She stopped the IS from alerting me."

  What? "Stopped the IS…?"

  Morgan spun around, her face flushed. "She's a Supertech. She can do what I can do. And let me tell you, she's very fucking good."

  Ravindra could swear she was favoring one arm, as if she was injured. "Morgan, explain to me what took place."

  She rolled her eyes. "She was waiting for me, on the ship. She set it up so the air supply would fail, knowing I'd have to come and fix it before anybody else could get on board."

  "This woman wore an exo-suit?"

  "Yes. Now she's gone. And I'm betting she hasn't given up." The deck shuddered as Morgan applied the thrusters, pivoting the ship around its center.

  "Perhaps she called the station security?"

  Morgan shook her head. "She wants to kill me herself." A cheeky grin lit up her face for a moment. "She rather fancies you. Rather a lot, actually."

  Jirra suddenly found something fascinating on her console, while Davaskar cleared his throat.

  "Really." Ravindra raised an eyebrow, aware of the screen that showed a patrol ship coming around the space station's rim to port. "Are you keeping an eye on that?"

  "I am," Morgan said. "They don't stand a chance."

  Acceleration thrust him deep into the
back of the chair, the space station receding behind them. The patrol ship would follow, of course, but they would not know what Vulsaur was capable of.

  "So. What does this other Supertech look like? Would I be persuaded to trade?" Ravindra asked.

  Morgan guffawed, and raised an image on the 3D display.

  Shorter than Morgan, the woman's features were unremarkable. Not ugly, not beautiful. A face a man would miss in a crowd. Her darkish hair was cut short, framing her face. Only her eyes were different. They were ordinary human eyes, round irises surrounded by white, but they burned with an intensity which was almost frightening. The rest of the body was a mystery underneath the exo-suit. No, he didn't think he'd be trading Morgan in anytime soon.

  "Uh-oh. Raider coming up fast. Fuck it, that'll be her."

  Chapter 27

  Panting, Ellen climbed into the Interceptor's pilot's seat, still wearing her exo-suit. That had been far too close for comfort. She'd saved a copy of the strip-tease, of course, to play back later, when there was more time to savor the performance. After she'd finished Selwood for good. Vulsaur might be fast but it couldn't use the wonderful shift drive until well beyond the space station. And they wouldn't get that far.

  Nemesis's engines were already warmed up. Ellen asked the station for an emergency departure. It didn't hurt to try to be polite. Who knew when she'd be wanting to come back here? If only to find out why Selwood and Ravindra had visited.

  "Reason?" Station Control asked.

  What reason did anyone ever have? "I'm in a hurry." Ellen kept an eye on Vulsaur. Damn and blast, the ship was backing out.

  "Sorry, Control. This is an emergency." She dumped the umbilicals, disengaged the ramp, and set the forward thrusters to twenty percent.

  "Hey! You can't do that. You'll be fined."

  "Send me the fine." Ellen shut the circuit down.

  Nemesis shot out of the dock into clear space. Ellen settled in the seat and focused her mind. In a fight against another Supertech, she wanted the advantage. Total Machine Meld. Her body sagged, apparently unconscious, in the seat, while her mind flowed through the systems, manipulated the sensors, became a part of the hull, the weapons clusters, the shields.

  The Interceptor rotated, pressing the limits of its capability. Vulsaur shot away from the station, fast, but not fast enough. Ellen poured on the power. Funny how one felt so detached in this state. She had a job to do: destroy Vulsaur.

  The wide sensors blinked warnings. Ellen ignored them. The distance to Vulsaur decreased. Missiles fired. One… two… three… four.

  ***

  "Keep those harnesses on, everybody," Morgan said. "Things might get a bit tough."

  "Can we help?" Ravindra asked.

  "No. It'll be her… or me." She turned to look at him, wishing she had more time to tell him, prove to him what he meant to her.

  The look in his eyes cut her to the core. If she'd ever doubted him, she didn't now. "Machine mode. See you on the other side."

  This was what Cruickshank would have done. You can't beat another Supertech just riding the ship. You had to become the ship. And Cruickshank had an Interceptor, a fighter so new, Morgan only had an idea of its capabilities. But then, Morgan had virtually built Vulsaur, adding smarts into it that only she knew about. The ship flowed around her, she flowed through the ship. She saw through the sensors' eyes, felt the stabilizers, adjusted the shields.

  The Interceptor had closed the distance. Cruickshank would have to act soon, or Vulsaur could disappear into the dimensions of shift space. Ah. Missile. Two… three… four missiles. All trackers. Morgan absorbed the tracking signals into Vulsaur's shields and threw the ship hard down. The missiles followed. They were working on visuals, or Cruickshank was directing them herself. Morgan cut Vulsaur back around, and aimed hard up at the Interceptor, firing her cannon as she came. The Interceptor dodged, but Morgan took a chance to take out one missile. Debris sparkled on the shields. Take that, bitch. You might be good, but four missiles is a bit much to handle all at once.

  Engines pushed to the red limit screamed. Easy, now. Up and around until Vulsaur faced the missiles. The Interceptor roared around on her tail, its beam weapons sending out bright blasts of energy. Morgan fired at the missiles, then pulled hard at ninety degrees. The shields sparkled again, a hit that sent a shudder through the ship, despite the absorption power of the shield. Down to thirty percent. The damage reports flowed through. Nanobots worked at sealing the ship's skin.

  "I've got you. You're dead." Cruickshank's voice crowed.

  Not yet I'm not. Morgan dropped Vulsaur suddenly, just far enough for the Interceptor to pass over the top of the ship, and switched all power to the forward thrusters. A blast of the beam weapons and the last missile exploded.

  The Interceptor pivoted, beam weapons firing.

  ***

  Maximus announced its presence and good intentions as soon as the ship had completed the jump into Ushas space. Makasa left the ship's captain to it, comfortable enough in the guest quarters, he supposed. Better that, than the bridge. He lay on his sofa, his gaze on the monitors. Ushas floated in the blackness of space, a blue and white world, like any other human-settled planet in the Galaxy. The Ushas Government had been told of Maximus's visit. They hadn't exactly been thrilled, but there was little they could do about it. A condition of being part of the Coalition was that ships of the Fleet were allowed entry.

  "Admiral?" Captain Trask's voice through the PA sounded mildly alarmed.

  "Captain?"

  "We seem to have come out into a battle." The screen zoomed in on a skirmish between two ships. An explosion blossomed, a deadly flower of debris, while the ships dodged. "Our IS reports that the fighter is a Dainridge Interceptor and the other is Vulsaur."

  Morgan and Cruickshank, involved in a deadly battle. Makasa's heart beat too fast. So many questions. "I'm coming up to the bridge."

  He grabbed his jacket and ran, pulling on the coat as he did so. He arrived out of breath, panting, just in time to view an explosion on the screen. Debris splattered the shields.

  "Damn it, that's two missiles," growled Trask. "The skills are amazing. From both of them."

  "That's because they're both piloted by Supertechs," Makasa managed to say between gasps for air.

  Trask saluted. "We tried to contact them, Sir. No response. I can launch a squadron."

  The Interceptor blew away a missile from Vulsaur, then raked the ship with fire.

  Makasa shook his head. "You don't try to fly a kite in a sky where dragons are fighting. Give me a channel to the Interceptor." Even if Cruickshank was in full machine meld, he could bring her out. The code was in his implant, encrypted and inaccessible to anyone but him. One for every Supertech under his control.

  "The channel is allocated, Admiral," Trask said.

  Makasa sent the signal for Cruickshank. She had no choice but to respond.

  "Admiral?" Her voice sounded slurred, typical of machine meld.

  "Break off the attack, Cruickshank. I want that ship in one piece."

  "Kill her. I'm going to kill her. Selwood. She's bad. Gone bad."

  That was his fear. But he wanted that ship, that shift drive. Then he could judge. "Call off the attack. That's an order."

  The answer was a growl, then, "I'll kill you, Selwood."

  Gods. She'd broken off contact and headed straight back into the attack. She shouldn't have been able to do that. Vulsaur was ducking and weaving, trying to escape the Interceptor's missiles and beam weapons.

  They'd left him with no choice. Makasa turned to Trask. "Captain, have your Supertech take a fighter out."

  ***

  Oh, Fuck. A battleship. Maximus had only been commissioned a year or so when Morgan had disappeared in Curlew. So the Fleet was after her. Or maybe Cruickshank? They weren't attacking, just hailing. Morgan hoped they'd launch a squadron. She could use the fighters to help fight Cruickshank. The bitch was good, no doubt about it. Sure, she had a state-of-the
-art fighter, which helped, but even so, she was giving Morgan a run.

  "Morgan."

  Morgan's heart leapt. She was back in her body, while her mind flew with Vulsaur. Her arm hurt, a throbbing, pulsing pain. Ravindra sat beside her, his face tight and drawn. He opened his mouth but she raised her hand before he could speak.

  The voice she'd heard was Makasa's.

  "Admiral?"

  "Call this off, Morgan. I don't want to destroy you." That chocolate coated voice sounded clipped.

  "Suits me. Better tell your little friend, Cruickshank, that she doesn't want to destroy me, too."

  "I'm on Maximus. I want you here."

  The sensors nudged. "No time now, Makasa. She's attacking again."

  Morgan rolled Vulsaur over.

  Fuck. That's not Cruickshank. What was that thing? Lights sparkled along the edges of a bluish, semi-transparent dome. Whatever it was, it was in Cruickshank's way. The Interceptor sent a salvo at the thing, which shattered into uneven, blobby fragments, the lights extinguished. The Interceptor pivoted, firing at Vulsaur as it came. What was that thing? No time to think about it. Morgan fired a missile and dodged. This was getting harder and harder. And oh, fuck, what's that? A fighter from Maximus. What was it after? Vulsaur, the Interceptor, or that strange, blue thing? Her heart hammered. The blue thing was reforming, pulling itself back together and there was another one, coming in fast.

  Something hit Vulsaur's shields.

  The ship rocked. The stench of burning wires drifted in the air. Red lights flashed all over the bridge console. One more hit and they were dead. One more throw of the dice. Morgan flung the ship around and behind the advancing fighter, Cruickshank's jubilant howl of triumph ringing in her ears.

  "Die, bitch."

  Shrapnel peppered what was left of the rear shields, a light show of expanding debris where the Interceptor had been.

  "Yes." Ravindra pumped a fist. The others cheered.