by K. F. Breene
“I met a chick who worked for Gregon Corp. in a bar a while back. She had these in her apartment. I traded.”
“What’d you trade for?” Millicent inched away from the blood reaching for her foot.
“Sex. Even trade.”
Millicent scoffed. “Why your superior hasn’t put a muter on your vocal cords, I do not know. The amount of drivel you speak.”
“Just keeping it level, sweetheart. Now have a seat. I need to rescue you.”
“Rescue me? Is that what it’s called when you wait for me to do all the heavy lifting and then waltz in after I’ve saved the day?”
“Precisely. I’m taking charge. Wow, this craft has seen better days. We’ll be lucky to get up to the others.”
Millicent stepped over a prone body and accessed the console. The unexpected look of their net fired up her brain. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Something that no longer surprised her. She could now freely admit she’d led a sheltered life thus far.
“Why’d you board this craft anyway?” Ryker’s voice had dropped an octave. He wasn’t pleased, but he was trying not to show it.
She grinned. “Why? Worried about me?”
“When everything went lopsided . . . I was, yes.”
She glanced at him, slightly taken aback. That answer and the deep—heartfelt?—tone in which he’d said it wasn’t what she’d expected. Shaking it off, she went back to what she was doing, pleased with the hydraulic sound behind her. She bent to the sudden opening. A storage locker, by the look of it. “Pirates pilfer things, right? At least, that’s what all the stories say. They take riches. In this day and age, riches are tech. I wanted to see what they had. It could help.”
She extracted a couple of items, and then analyzed two pieces of shiny new tech she’d never seen before. Without a second thought, she lifted the most precious items into her arms, bracing herself as the craft groaned. It was then she noticed the darkening stream of smoke billowing from outside the window.
“Be prepared to jump, Millie. This thing is about to bork out.”
“Bork out?”
“Go down in fiery flames and kill us both.”
“Bork out is a better term, yes.” She clutched the tech to her chest as the wind whipped at her, the pressure in the speeding craft threatening to suck her toward the door. “Close the door. That’ll help its flight.”
“I tried. It’s not responding. Whatever Marie did, it overrode the systems.” He stopped talking for a moment before he said in a rough, terrifying voice, “They didn’t put anything in her head, right? She doesn’t have an implant?”
“No. What she’s doing is all natural.”
A moment later, the frenzied environment within the craft stilled as they slowed. She stepped forward as Ryker’s hand flinched away from the dashboard. “C’mon, you fickle bitch,” she heard him growl.
Her craft drifted into view of the open doorway. Mr. McAllister waited in plain sight, his face pale and determined, with a gun in his hand. He might not have been there voluntarily, but it was clear he would defend himself and Marie if the need arose. The man cared for the little girl, regardless of his situation. Millicent had to respect him for that.
“At least he rises to the occasion,” Millicent said, feeling the craft steady under her feet.
“He must know that facing a pirate to protect my daughter is a much better option than facing me should he allow my daughter to be harmed or taken.” Ryker leaned closer to the dash. “I have some sort of message coming through. You know any other languages?”
“No. I’ve never had to. But I’m sure I can find a translator . . .”
Ryker hesitated. He stood in a rush and then glanced at the tech in her arms. “Yes. Do it. Given that this craft showed up with another, I’d bet they have a network in place. That flashing message might be eyes we need.”
Ryker bent to the body on the ground, and with quick hands, ripped fabric off the man before tying it into a series of knots, creating a makeshift sack. Millicent deposited her tech onto the ground before stepping up to the console. As expected, translating wasn’t an issue, and before she knew it, she stared at the translated warning.
Then swore.
“Moxidone security craft taking travel-way three,” Millicent said in a flat tone, offsetting her rolling stomach. “That’s the travel way under this one. The craft is a larger one. Doesn’t say who is on it or what they are after, but they’re traveling at an advanced speed.”
“Distance?” Ryker strung the hastily made sack over her shoulders. Her newly acquired tech went into the sack at her back before he ripped off some more fabric and anchored everything to her body.
“Doesn’t say. Just says ‘check anchor.’ Probably a bad translation . . .”
“Or the name of their checkpoint. We’re out of time, Millie. We gotta go.”
Millicent followed him to the open door and stared across the distance. She registered Mr. McAllister’s relieved expression from ten meters away. “Why don’t we dock closer?”
“Precaution.” He lifted a rope from a side bay and then tied the end around his waist. He swung it around before throwing it out the opening. The end sailed perfectly into the doorway of her craft. Mr. McAllister grabbed it in what looked like reflex, then stared at it in confusion.
“Tie it in,” Ryker yelled.
“Me?” Mr. McAllister asked before gingerly holding it up. “I’m not an expert knot-tier . . .”
“You better be today . . .”
“Oh sure, pressure always helps the situation,” they heard as Mr. McAllister went about following orders.
“Okay.” Ryker turned to her, his fingers around the rope. “I’m going to—”
A knock, followed by an electric sizzle, cut him off. The craft pitched forward.
Ryker fell into Millicent, taking them both to the floor. The vehicle shimmied and started to groan again, wobbling in the sky. Then an explosion pushed heat against their backs and the engine cut out. The craft fell from the sky, and them with it.
Chapter 15
Millicent screamed, weightless as the floor came up and punched them. Strong arms wrapped around her, followed by legs, holding fast. Ryker curled around her right before the edge of the door slammed into his shoulder. The carcass of the craft slipped away, leaving them exposed.
Ryker’s grunt punctuated their sudden halt in midair. He hung from the rope around his waist. His tight grip on her was the only thing keeping her from falling to her death.
The pack at her back pulled her toward the ground, and the environment battered her from all sides. Stinging rain scoured her face as the freezing air bit the exposed skin from the rip in her suit.
“How necessary is that tech?” Ryker’s voice sounded in her ear, strain bleeding through his words.
“I don’t know. Two pieces look recent and incredibly expensive. The others probably aren’t as valuable.”
“Can you get rid of some without the other?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Do you want to risk our lives for it?”
Millicent hesitated. The obvious answer was no, but if they ever got into an extreme situation, it might mean the difference between life and death. Should they fall to their death now, Mr. McAllister could just wait for whoever was after them. The baby would be picked up and taken back without issue. But if they were in a place without that capability, it would be much worse for Millicent and Ryker to fall victim to some accident or attack. Marie might be exposed to the horrors of the world. Millicent couldn’t let that happen.
“Yes.” She did not elaborate.
He did not ask her to.
His breath blew against her ear. “Okay. This is how we are going to survive. You will wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. Then you hang on with everything you have, do you understand? Everything you have.”
“Yes, okay. What about you?”
“I’m going to pull us up before my arm goes
dead. We don’t have long.”
“If your arm goes—”
“Now, princess!” he said through gritted teeth.
His arms released enough for her to snake her hands up between them and loop them tightly around his neck.
“Hang on tight, now. You’ll only have your arms to hold you for a few moments.” His arms came away, but his legs were still wrapped around her tightly. The pull of gravity and the weight at her back tried to drag her arms away from each other. “Hang on, love. You gotta hang on. Keep with me, now.”
She’d ponder that tone another time.
Grunting with effort, she used her arms to crawl around his shoulders to his neck and secure herself a little better.
“Good girl. Now for the legs. This is where it gets dicey.”
Ryker’s whole body went stiff. He arched and grabbed the rope, bringing them vertical. Then his legs slowly came away, something that must’ve taxed him greatly. His muscles quivered under her as she pulled her legs up his body and wrapped them around his middle.
“Okay, here we go. Let’s hope ‘check anchor’ is somewhere far away.”
There was no way they were that lucky. Each moment brought them closer to capture. Mr. Hunt would not rest until he had them.
She ducked her head away so he could see the rope between his hands more clearly. Hand over hand, pulling up both their weight and the pack of tech, Ryker lifted them through the sky and up to the craft hovering above them. His body started to shake under her arms and legs. Red pooled through the fabric on one of his arms. Yet still he climbed, his pace even despite his body’s obvious desire to let go and succumb to gravity.
When his breath turned ragged, she glanced up. They had a quarter of the distance to go.
“Almost there, Ryker, you can do it.” She hoped for a smart-ass response of some kind—a comment on her using his name, perhaps, or the way she was wrapped so tightly around him. Nothing came but fast breaths and then soft grunts each time he pulled them up with the bloodied arm.
The ground was nothing more than a distant promise of death. Sweat soaked into Millicent’s suit as her own body started to quiver, her arms burning. The pack pulled at her, slowly dragging her down. Her hands, slick with the rain and running out of strength, slipped. She slid down his front, her arms now hooking around his shoulders. A different set of muscles felt the new position. A weaker set.
“Hang on,” he said in a strained whisper.
“I’ve got it,” she lied as her hands slipped again. Her muscles screamed at her to let go. Her pack constantly dragged her down.
“I’ve got you!” A shock of relief fluttered through Millicent at the sound of Mr. McAllister’s voice. Hands found her shoulders and hooked under her arms. “What the hell is on your back?”
Her hands slid farther and then slipped off. Her body dropped. For one horrifying heartbeat, she thought that was it. That she was done. But she was moving up, not down. Her chest rubbed up Ryker’s face, followed by her stomach, as Mr. McAllister pulled her into the craft.
“For a tiny person, you are so heavy.” Mr. McAllister gave a final yank, scraping her face against the floor, before dropping her. Her limbs, exhausted, splatted down.
“Mama.” Marie’s soft wet cheek fell against Millicent’s.
“I’m okay, baby. Ryker saved me.”
“That’s Daddy, in this situation.” He heaved himself up over the edge and then plopped down on his side, clearly refusing to completely give in to his fatigue and lie with his face on the floor, like Millicent was doing. “Can’t confuse the child with first names.”
Millicent couldn’t be bothered to put the effort into rolling her eyes.
“We have to keep moving,” Ryker said after a moment. “We need to switch out vessels and get on our way. We don’t have much time.”
“Why not?” Mr. McAllister asked.
“With Mr. Hunt pursuing us, we’ll never have much time.” Ryker laid a hand on her shoulder, ignoring the way Mr. McAllister’s head whipped toward the window. “How you doing, princess?”
“Wishing my royal coach had more cushions,” she said, pushing herself to her hands and knees.
“Let’s get everything packed and stowed.” When Ryker stood, one large arm hung loose at his side. Blood covered his shoulder and dripped down.
“Is that from the door?” Millicent picked herself up and wavered. She didn’t shrug off Ryker’s steadying hand. Nor did she ask how the hell he was standing straight and broad after all that.
“Yeah. I think I got a good scrape. You don’t have any Cure-all do you? Or a stitcher?”
“Both. Obviously.” Millicent staggered over to the med bay and palmed it open.
“Yes, obviously. Just like why you jumped onto a limping craft and drove it straight at the ground. Very obvious.” Ryker’s body leaned against her as he looked over her shoulder.
“Exactly. Obvious. Like the pain you are in, even though you are trying to hide it.”
“I’m not trying to hide it. I’m ignoring it. That’s what will make it go away. Obviously.”
“You are such an idiot.” She grabbed the canister of Cure-all and then glanced at Mr. McAllister, sitting off to the side with tight lips. “You have medical training, right?”
He started, realizing she was talking to him. His head shook minutely. Then he shrugged. “Not exactly, but enough to patch him up.”
Ryker undid the suit down his chest and—wincing—pulled it over his shoulder.
Millicent clenched her teeth as the nasty gash came into view, the scrapes deep and the skin nearly frayed at the edges. She didn’t want to gasp and cause Ryker alarm. “We can fix this up in no time.”
“You don’t sound sure of that, princess.” Ryker studied his arm. “That’s not that bad. Shoot me with some Cure-all and I’ll be fine.”
“Should layer it with Medi-Seal,” Mr. McAllister said with a hollow voice. “It’ll be faster. Since he’s so great at ignoring wounds, he won’t be upset about the pain.”
A vein pulsed in Ryker’s jaw, but he didn’t say anything.
Millicent laughed; she couldn’t help it. She grabbed the Medi-Seal and then a sling.
“Don’t need the sling. Give me a few hours and I’ll be all patched up. Especially with the Medi-Seal.” His voice turned rough, but he didn’t glance at Mr. McAllister with the obvious accusation.
“Ryker, this is deep,” she said as she took out the Medi-Seal, a very painful but effective stitching technique.
“He was bred with a superior healing and immune system.” Mr. McAllister rubbed his eyes. “It was one of the great advancements of the time. Unfortunately, it only materializes in new cases an eighth of the time. It’s often a crapshoot. We have no idea why.”
“Enlightening.” Ryker stared straight ahead with gritted teeth.
Millicent motioned for Mr. McAllister to move over before taking position in front of her console. If a Moxidone security vessel was headed toward them, it should be easy to pick it out in their loop. Most of the security department’s attention would be on it, so there would be many transmissions back and forth. That would give her some idea of how much time they had.
Or didn’t have, as the case may be.
Ryker sucked in a hard breath, drawing Millicent’s eye. Mr. McAllister flinched away before hurriedly stepping back. The benign-looking, foamy-white medicine was merging with the seeping blood and pus of the injury. She’d heard it felt like needles piercing the wound and then layering the pain with fire. A rumor that certainly seemed true, based on Ryker’s clenched jaw and determined eyes. The man didn’t show pain often, but he was definitely showing it now in his muted way.
Millicent turned back to her console as Mr. McAllister kept working. A shiver ran through her when she found the security vessel and its coordinates. “We have to go!” She wheeled around in time to see Ryker cock his head, his pain clearer now. “We’ve got twenty minutes at his current velocity, twenty-five tops.”
“Less if we stick to this travel route,” Ryker said in a rough tone. “They’ll see us from a greater distance.”
“Here, let me finish up.” She took the Cure-all from Mr. McAllister, eliciting a relieved sigh. Fear of Ryker retaliating from the pain had slowed him down. “You pack up what we’ll need out of the med bay, get Marie ready, and then grab the tech and weapons.”
“We need to switch crafts and drop down into the lower travel way,” Ryker said in a thick voice.
“Suppose you don’t want sex right now, huh?” Millicent asked, unable to keep a smile from curling her lips despite the intense pressure they were under. “Not in the mood?”
“If you give me a minute, princess, I’ll gladly rock your world.”
As she readied the next injection blast, Millicent braced her hand against Ryker’s chest.
His large pec and the muscles down his stomach flexed dramatically. “Lower,” he said in nothing more than a grunt. “The money spot is a lot lower.”
Her grin grew at the effort ringing through his voice. “Hurts, huh?”
“I’ve had worse.”
She laughed and shot him with more force than was absolutely necessary. Then, because his ego was so ridiculous, she slapped the bulge between his thighs. “There? Was that the money spot you spoke of?”
He flinched, bending at the waist. Then he grimaced and reached for his shoulder. A grin tickled his lips. “I’ll remember that, princess. When you’re begging for climax, I will remember this moment, and make you suffer just a bit longer.”
“I do not understand you two,” Mr. McAllister said as he dropped a bag next to the satchel they’d rescued. It tinkled, the items within hitting each other. He snatched up another empty bag. “You guys almost died. Just a second ago, you almost died. Twice.” He spread the bag open. “First she shoots the hell out of a craft, then goes leaping onto it like a fool—”
“Be careful who you call a fool,” Ryker growled.
“She left me with a child, in a vessel I don’t know how to operate. And even though we have Mr. Hunt right behind us, a man hell-bent on capturing or killing us—it could go either way with him”—Mr. McAllister threw a food warmer into the bag—“you two are making sexual jokes at each other. Sexual jokes! In the height of danger. In front of a child!” Another item went into the bag. “Natural borns are crazy. That’s all there is to it. Natural borns are crazy, and I’m in hell. So that’s what I have going on.” Another item thunked in.