by Zoë Archer
More plasma fire burst around Mara, Kell and Jur. They crouched low and shot back.
Kell’s mouth flattened into a determined line. “Mara, you and Celene head back to the Arcadia.
Blend in with the others and you can get through. Take off immediately.”
“What about you?” Mara demanded.
“I’ll go for the Wraith.” He glanced at the treacherous path leading toward the ship. “If I can’t fly it, I’ll be sure to destroy it.”
Jur’s eyes widened, but she nodded with understanding.
Mara was less understanding. “You’ll be stranded.”
He fired off several rounds at the mercenaries. “There are other ships.”
“If you can reach them.” Mara gritted her teeth. What Kell proposed meant his death. He was beyond capable, but the odds against him were monumental. It would take more than skill and brains to survive. Only the intervention of the gods could keep him alive.
She wasn’t certain if she believed in the gods. But there was something she did believe in.
“I’m staying with you.”
Chapter Ten
The explosions had been loud, but not loud enough to damage Kell’s hearing. Still, it took him a moment to realize he hadn’t misheard Mara.
“Someone’s got to fly Celene out of here,” he said above the plasma fire hammering around them.
Mara threw Celene a quick glance. “How are you at piloting modified trawlers?”
“If it has wings,” she answered, “I can fly it.”
Turning back to him, Mara said, “Your odds go up if you’re not alone, but you can’t risk two Wraith pilots on this mission. Jur gets to safety first. She flies herself out of here and I give you backup.”
“She’ll pilot the Arcadia.” He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“And I help get us to the Black Wraith.” Mara held his stare coolly, almost defiantly.
He felt gut-punched. She’d made it abundantly clear on many occasions that she’d suffer no one but herself to take the Arcadia’s controls. The ship meant everything to her, weighted with her sense of freedom and self. She hadn’t even allowed him to pilot the ship through the dangers of Ilden’s Lash or the energy storm. Now, she was poised to hand off control of the Arcadia to someone she had met just minutes ago. Someone she didn’t like very much.
To help him.
He relied on other members of the squad. They watched each other’s backs, trusted each other.
But that was part of being in Black Wraith Squad. Unquestioning loyalty to one another. Mara owed him nothing—less than nothing, actually. But the enormity of what she proposed stole his breath and made his heart pump as if he’d run a dozen geomiles.
Now wasn’t the time to wonder at it, or her. If they survived this mission, then, and only then,
could he sit down with a bottle of Deianeiran whiskey and figure out what it all meant.
“Any way I can talk you out of this?” The route to the hangar was a dangerous one. He wasn’t even certain that he’d make it, not without taking some hits. The thought of Mara being hurt, or worse, felt like ice in his veins.
“Not a damn chance. The likelihood of your getting to the Black Wraith is much better if you aren’t alone.” She raised a brow. “You do want the mission to be a success, don’t you? Think of the consequences if it fails.”
Fuck. She knew his weakness and exploited it ruthlessly. He’d admire her for it, if he didn’t want to throttle her. And, unfortunately, what she proposed made sense. The possibility of reaching the Black Wraith went up if he had additional eyes and firepower. He just wished it wasn’t her providing them.
There wasn’t a choice. He nodded. Something like happiness flared briefly in her eyes before she hid it behind cool detachment.
Quickly, Mara explained the security code to get into and operate the ship. Mara also advised Celene on how to navigate the energy storm using the spectral resonance filter.
“That sounds fun.” Celene grinned, then winced from the bruising on her face.
“It is.” Mara drew a breath. “Take good care of her.”
“I will,” Celene answered, solemn now, understanding right away the attachment Mara felt toward her ship. “Take good care of him.”
“I will.” The gravity in Mara’s voice heated Kell more than a plasma burst.
“Next round at the officers’ club is on me,” Celene said to him.
“Lieutenants aren’t allowed in the officers’ club. Senior officers only.”
“In my case, they’ll make an exception.” She glanced toward Mara. “You’ve got some good firepower in your corner, Commander.” With that, she sprinted toward the gate, blending in with the fleeing crowd.
He watched Mara’s expression as she stared after Celene, the slight tension in the corners of her mouth that betrayed how much it cost her to let anyone fly the Arcadia. He wanted to reach for her, but knew that if he did, he’d lose his concentration. So he kept his hands to himself, and when she looked back at him, signaling her readiness, he was ready too.
“Reconnaissance first,” he said. “Then we move.”
“Agreed.”
They both peered around the corner of the weapons containment structure. Four mercs guarded the alley that led to the hangar. They crouched behind storage crates, ready to take on whoever was stupid or brave enough to charge the alley. An intersection lay beyond this, full of unknown variables, such as more hired guns or something more dangerous. After the intersection, the next building on the left was the hangar. To reach the hangar meant passing through that gauntlet. A cheerful stroll through the hydrogarden it wasn’t.
“We need to flush those mercs out,” he said.
Mara glanced toward the grenades hanging from his belt, and grinned. “Got a few ideas about that.”
Incredibly, he felt himself smile in response. Yes, the fight ahead was dangerous and dirty, but he couldn’t think of another person he wanted beside him or watching his back. Only her.
Screw it. He leaned close and kissed her, hard. She responded at once, meeting his fierce hunger with her own, and it was like a taste of forbidden nectar, fleeting and sweet.
Then, all too soon, it was time to jump into the conflagration.
At his nod, Mara lobbed grenades. She had a good throwing arm and tossed them right behind mercs staked out in the alley. Explosions shook the alley. One merc went down with a scream. The others managed to avoid the blasts, but in order to do that, they jumped out from behind their cover into the open.
Kell went to work. He dropped the mercs with kill shots to the chest and head. Mara provided additional firepower, finishing off anyone who tried to shoot back.
In moments, the first section of the alley was clear. He sent Mara an approving nod—she’d been fast and efficient, as unflappable as any 8th Wing senior officer.
Weapon drawn, he eased into the alley. His gaze never halted, assessing every position, gauging all possibilities. Mara, sleek as a silver cat, moved beside him, plasma pistols in both her hands. They both fired at and took out a merc peering around the corner of the intersection. Hard to know whose shot did the trick, but all that mattered was neutralizing another threat.
The intersection ahead bothered him. He and Mara had decent cover between the buildings now,
but they would be exposed and at risk in the junction.
“We go through back-to-back,” he said. “Guard every angle.”
In wordless agreement, she turned and pressed her back to his. Even this brief contact felt damn good, regardless of the circumstances. Which meant he needed to stay particularly sharp, to keep her safe. He recognized, too, her unprecedented trust in him, giving him her back.
They made a strange but fitting creature, edging sideways into the intersection. His fears were well-founded. Knots of mercs hid there, around the corners. Kell fired into the group he faced, feeling Mara do the same behind him. He couldn’t turn to check on her progress
. A moment’s distraction meant a moment’s vulnerability, so he kept up his barrage. Mercs went down. He didn’t hiss or wince when one guard’s shot grazed his thigh. He simply shot back, and the merc fell to the ground,
motionless.
The moment happened quickly. It happened slowly. He was aware of himself and Mara working in perfect accord, clearing out the threats, trusting one another. It was a dance—fluid motion,
synchronicity. It seemed, unexpectedly, the most intimate thing in the world, to fight alongside Mara.
Past the intersection, and both still alive. Now they only needed to sprint toward the hangar door ahead. Mara followed his unspoken command, and together they ran.
They were yards from the door when a new contingent of mercs appeared from around a nearby building, firing.
“Hold them off long enough for me to get us inside,” he shouted above the blasts.
“Done!”
Using his tech implants, he triggered the microbot he’d planted inside earlier. He helped her hold back the mercs, firing into the group, while simultaneously guiding the bot into the hangar’s defense system. The system was complex—clearly a heap of creds had been spent on getting the latest and most secure tech—but it took less than a second for him to breach it. A satisfying hiss and sizzle as the bot overrode the protocols.
The door slid open, and just in time. Fresh reinforcements joined the fray, adding a whole new barrage of plasma fire to an already tight situation.
Kell pushed her through the open door, stepped inside the hangar, and sealed the door shut behind them.
Gunfire met them inside too. He took out the two guards before either of them could fire another shot.
Red filmed his gaze when he saw the wound on her shoulder. “I’ll fucking kill them.”
“Nothing some Lulani rum can’t fix.” She scowled, though, when she noticed his blood darkening his pants. “Or maybe we both can kill those bastards.”
“Sounds satisfying. I’d rather just get us the hell out of here.”
“I like that flight plan.”
They jogged up to the Black Wraith. He used his implants to activate the ship. A hand-shaped indentation appeared in its side, and he placed his hand within it, synching his thoughts with the ship’s systems. He ran a quick diagnostic and was gratified to find that no one had been able to tamper with or breach the Black Wraith while it had been in the smuggler’s custody. Once, long ago, he had been disturbed by the idea of aligning his mind with a machine, becoming part of its matrix, just as it permeated his consciousness. But soon he had come to learn the process, even welcome it. Elegant and streamlined, without the divide between pilot and ship.
The hatch opened, revealing the narrow cockpit. Mara eyed the ship cautiously.
“Am I supposed to sit on your lap?”
He concentrated, and couldn’t help but smile when Mara gave a startled yelp. The ship responded to his mental commands, actually shifting and reconfiguring its interior. A process both liquid and mechanical as components altered, remade themselves. No longer did the ship seat just one person. At his directive, the Black Wraith could now accommodate a pilot and a gunner in a rotating turret, and all within a few seconds’ work, rather than losing days on making modifications.
“No wonder PRAXIS wants its claws on these ships” Mara reverently touched the ship’s hull.
He disengaged from the exterior control panel. The door to the hangar shook with the force of heavy plasma gunfire. It wouldn’t be long before the mercs breached the door.
Mara didn’t complain when he boosted her into the gunner’s position, then slid himself into the pilot’s seat. It felt familiar, exactly right. He hadn’t been in the cockpit of a Black Wraith in almost a week, and he missed it.
Before he grasped the controls, he drew his pistol and shot the security panel beside the wide hangar doors. They slid open, giving the ship a way out.
Almost as soon as the doors open, mercs came pouring in. He fitted his hands to the ship’s controls, and the cockpit and gunner position closed, sealing him and Mara within the Black Wraith’s protective shield. Plasma fire bounced off the ship’s exterior. But he had more than just plasma pistols and rifles.
He and Mara blasted the mercs with the Black Wraith’s guns. The controls of the turret were intuitive for someone as skilled as Mara, and the result was a pile of debris where mercs used to be.
But the damn slime kept coming. He saw mercs running for small, armed ships. It was going to be a fight the whole way.
“Buckled up?”
“All in.”
“Hold on to your balls, Skiren.”
They took off to the sound of her husky laughter.
Kell loved the pitch, deep in his gut, that arose from overcoming gravity’s hold. It didn’t matter if he was on patrol, training, or on a mission—the sensation of flight, of breaking free never stopped delighting him. Even now, with mercs on his tail and an energy storm to navigate, he savored the sense of forcing his way to freedom.
Mara felt the same. He heard it in her continued laugh as they shot into the sky.
“Damn. These Wraiths have a kick to them.”
“Best fucking propulsion systems in the galaxy.” He patted the control panel.
“No wonder you 8th Wing hotshots are so eager to fly them. A thrust like this is better than sex.”
“Better?”
“Close second. With one exception.”
He wanted to ask who that exception might be, but the mercs were closing in and the Black Wraith neared the bottom edge of the storm. The mercs fired. He avoided the pursuers’ blasts, guiding his ship in quick, tight evasive patterns.
“Gods.” He took a deep breath. “Feels good to fly again.”
“Feels good to be flown,” Mara replied, then cursed as she squeezed off several rounds at pursuing mercs. Two went down, but more kept coming. And only a handful turned around when they saw that Kell headed straight for the storm. The lure of profit overrode their sense of self-
preservation.
The ship bucked as it pierced the thick energy clouds. He engaged the filters and rode the storm.
What had been a painful, shuddering trek in Mara’s larger, less advanced scavenger ship felt far more sinuous and fluid in the Black Wraith. He had only to think where he needed his ship to be, and it slid perfectly into place.
But it wasn’t an easy glide. Lightning and plasma fire streaked around them as mercs kept up their pursuit. He did not flinch when a bolt of lightning struck a close-flying merc ship. Hunks of metal went everywhere as the ship tore apart. Mara cursed at the explosion, then cursed once more, this time in exultation, as more pursuers dropped back, daunted by the storm.
Two mercs jostled their ships into position ahead of the Black Wraith. Through his ship’s sensors, he noted that the mercs were powering up their magnetic tow nets. Clearly, they wanted to keep the Black Wraith intact so Gavra could try and sell it—and him and Mara.
Like hell.
He timed it exactly. He saw the coalescing energy that presaged a lightning strike, and guided the ship close. Pushing the mercs right where he wanted them to be.
A boom as lightning obliterated one merc ship. Mara’s gunfire from the turret took care of the other.
The mercs that remained finally grew some brains. They peeled off in retreat.
Mara shouted her jubilation. “If we had time, I’d kiss you.”
His blood, already hot from the thrill of combat, turned incendiary at her casually thrown words.
It was primitive and brutal, his need. They had fought together, fought well, and now his body demanded that he claim her. Now. But that was impossible. He had to get them through the storm,
through the Smoke Quadrant, Ilden’s Lash, and then make it back the rest of the way to base. Danger at every stage. No time for giving in to his hunger for her.
And the Black Wraith was advanced, but not advanced enough to suddenly accommodate two people ma
king love in the cockpit.
For the first time Kell cursed his ship.
He piloted the Black Wraith through the remainder of the storm, riding the tempest’s swells and pulses. Abruptly, the thick clouds gave way. The ship broke through to the dark quiet of space.
The Arcadia waited for them.
“Gods, I wasn’t sure I would see you two again,” Celene said over the comm.
“Don’t insult me,” Kell replied.
“I forgot my rescuer was the indestructible Commander Frayne.”
“With help,” Mara added. “How’s my baby?” Concern threaded her voice.
“She took the storm like a champion slange wrestler. No damage to the hull.”
Mara let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
“A friend of Kell’s…”
Friend. He wondered if Mara considered herself his friend. Gods knew, he thought of her as that, and more. He didn’t just desire Mara. He admired her. Liked her. He wondered if what she felt for him was strong enough, if she could alter her flight plan to bring him into her life.
He couldn’t consider any of this. Not until he’d gotten everyone safely back to base. Only then could he allow himself to think about the future.
As they flew in a two-ship convoy, Celene told them over the comm about her capture and confinement.
“It was my own fault.” Harsh self-recrimination edged her voice. “I was tricked by a false distress call, and when I got close, the pirates used some variety of electro-pulse device on me. It knocked my ship’s systems off line, temporarily disabling it, and that’s when the…ambush happened.”
There was more to her story. He heard it in her minute hesitation. Something had happened to her during her captivity, but he knew Celene well enough to understand than now wasn’t the time to delve deeper.
He stuck to the details she had offered. “8th Wing hasn’t heard anything about an electro-pulse device. Not one that could temporarily disable a Black Wraith.” He frowned, troubled by the idea. A squad of Black Wraiths could be taken out of commission in a moment, leaving a dozen vulnerable pilots floating in space. They, and their ships, would be fair game, just as Celene had been.