The man climbed into the airlock, crawling at first. Then he pulled himself up, the oxygen in his suit whooshing as he breathed heavily.
She finally saw him up close. He was African-American, caramel-skinned, with dark eyes and a square jaw. He didn’t have much hair, just a thin layer of it, and he had innocent eyes.
Not what she was expecting. Much, much cuter than most of the military types she’d ever met.
She couldn’t quite see his body shape through the spacesuit, but he had a firefighter’s build.
“Are you still at twenty percent?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the darkness of space. Their warmth made her comfortable.
He smiled.
“Glad to see you,” he said. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”
Keltie let go of the beam and floated toward Grayson. He grabbed her hand.
“I gotcha,” he said.
He took her hand like a gentleman and helped her inside. His grip was strong.
He grabbed the rescue basket.
“How do you feel? Are you cold?” Grayson asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Did you hit your head or sustain any injuries?”
“No. Just scared out of my mind, that’s all.”
“That’s an injury in and of itself,” Grayson said. “Now this basket is going to feel a little weird. When I tell you, just hang on and the ropes will take care of the rest.”
Keltie looked around. “But aren’t you coming?”
Grayson smiled.
“I’ll be on the rope behind you in case you float out.”
Keltie’s stomach sank. “I kind of don’t want to deal with that.”
“That makes two of us. Hold on, Keltie.”
She gripped the edge of the basket, and Grayson shut the door and latched it.
“This is Grayson,” he said into his radio. “I’ve secured the survivor. She’s in the basket. Let’s bring her up.”
“Roger that,” someone said through the radio. “Magnets are connected to the ship, so you don’t need to do anything else. Let’s get you back.”
The basket started to move along the hoist.
She looked behind her constantly to make sure Grayson was there.
He was, smiling at her reassuringly.
When the airlock to the rescue ship opened and she entered the shadows and comfort of safety, she prayed and sighed with relief.
Chapter 15
Keltie had thought she’d never smell fresh oxygen again. Even though it had only been a few days since the corsair lost power, the air in the rescue ship was like energy in her lungs.
Grayson helped her out of her suit. He checked her pulse, heart rate, and lungs, and visually inspected her body for bruises and life-threatening injuries.
Her vitals were fine aside from being really hungry.
He released her to a temporary living quarters and gave her a fresh towel, soap, clean jeans, underwear and a t-shirt that they kept on board for rescue survivors.
She took a long, hot shower. The water massaged her skin. As she lathered herself up, the ship jumped into hyperspace.
She’d made it.
She was proud of herself. She survived the impossible!
Then she thought of Claire and everyone who died, and she cried. The water washed away her tears, and when she turned off the shower, she stepped out feeling softened. Guilty about surviving.
All of it, it was so bleak. Sure, she survived, but…
She wrapped her hair in a towel and put on the rescue clothes, which were baggy. She laughed at herself in the small, round mirror of her living quarters.
The room was the size of a bedroom, with a bunk bed. Spartan, but clean.
She laced up the leather boots sitting at the foot of her bed. They weren’t terribly comfortable, and it confirmed that she wasn’t meant to go into the military. Not at all.
The hallways of the rescue ship were dim and quiet, illuminated by portholes. Gray and bare, like her living quarters. Exactly what she expected from a military ship. Hyperspace colored the hallways purple.
She stopped at a porthole, and stared out for a long time.
Where was she going? What planet would she end up on? She was a long way from home.
The smell of eggs and bacon wafted through the hall—soft at first. But then it grew on her and her stomach growled. She stumbled, following her nose.
Grayson was waiting for her in the ship’s galley. He flipped bacon in a skillet, whistling. He wore an olive green flight suit with black, steel-toe boots, and a white apron.
Keltie knocked on the doorway.
Grayson turned around and smiled. He shut off the kitchen hood.
“Hey there,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Bacon’s almost done,” he said. He gestured to the table, which was set for two. The white plates and silverware practically sparkled on the table.
She slid into a chair and grabbed a white carafe. She poured herself steaming coffee and wrapped her hands around the mug, savoring the smell.
Grayson slid three slices of bacon onto her plate along with two sunny-side up eggs.
“You like grapefruit?” he asked, pointing at her.
“Love it,” she said, sipping her coffee.
French roast. Her favorite.
He opened the fridge, whistling again. He whistled more than anyone she had ever met. She wondered if the smile on his face ever faded.
“Here you go,” he said, scooping some grapefruit slices into a ramekin. “Mind if I eat with you?”
“Of course not.”
Grayson slid off the apron and brushed his flight suit down. He sat across from her, serving himself.
“You were lucky, Keltie,” he said. “You’re scrappy. It’s amazing that you made the ship’s fuel last so long. Pretty impressive.”
“Thanks.”
“We’re glad you’re safe,” Grayson said. “We were worried about you.”
The statement took her off guard. “You… were?”
“We prayed for you,” Grayson said.
“You—prayed for me?”
“Of course. We prayed that we’d find you in time and that you were okay.”
The kindness and warmth in his voice… She blushed and sipped her coffee, trying to hide it.
Grayson sensed her awkwardness.
“Speaking of prayer—uh, do you mind?” he asked.
Keltie nodded. Then she bowed her head.
“God, thank you for keeping Keltie safe and for using me to rescue her. Thank you for this wonderful food, and may we get home fast so Keltie can eat real food as soon as possible—preferably a hamburger. Amen.”
She chuckled. “You read my mind.”
“Nah, it’s universal. Every person that I rescue—they all tell me they want hamburgers when they get home. Just a hunch.”
She devoured her bacon and eggs and asked for more. Grayson served her again. He ate slow and measured, pacing himself as she stuffed more food into her mouth.
“I probably look like a pig, but I’m really not,” Keltie said.
“Everybody’s hungry after a rescue.”
She pushed aside her plate and sighed. “That was amazing.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He folded his napkin neatly and set it next to his plate. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, looking into her eyes.
She could have looked into his dark eyes for a long, long time.
“What happened out there, Keltie?”
“It’s a really long story. Do you want the short version or the long version?”
He laughed, throwing his head back and smiling with his teeth. His laughter was loud.
“We’re in the middle of hyperspace,” he said. “Storytelling is how we pass the time.”
“I’m a real estate agent for the Macalestern Corporation. I was showing a planet. Aliens appeared and, and—”
“Aliens?” Grayson asked. “They attacked you? We
re they Arguses?”
“No.”
“Digirams? We’re nearly at war with them, you know.”
“No. I’ve never seen them before. They were black. With red eyes. Like clouds.”
“Hmm, those don’t sound familiar. You’re sure?”
“Yes!” she cried. Her voice came out harsher than she intended. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“Go on. It’s okay.”
“They killed everyone. And then they ate the planet.”
Grayson’s eyes widened.
“I’m serious,” Keltie said. “I was lucky to escape. When I jumped into hyperspace, they had surrounded the planet, and they were eating it.”
Grayson rubbed his temples. “So let me understand this: you were attacked by planet-eating aliens?”
Keltie nodded.
“How could they eat a planet? How big were these things?”
“Not very big, but there were a lot of them.”
“Did they live on Kepler?” Grayson asked. “Doesn’t strike me as that kind of planet.”
“Someone said they came from space,” Keltie said. “I had a crew there for several weeks, and they never ran into any lifeforms.”
Grayson folded his arms, thinking. “Well, Keltie, I’ve heard some crazy stuff from survivors, but you win.”
“I’m not kidding,” Keltie said.
“I believe you.”
Silence drifted between them. Grayson stood.
“Come on, I’ll into introduce you to my flight mechanic and skipper.”
They walked into the hallway. Outside, Keltie spotted the corsair being towed behind the rescue ship, connected to the magnetic cords. The ship dangled in free space, and it looked battered and pathetic.
“Just out of curiosity,” Keltie asked, “where are we headed?”
“We picked up another distress signal,” Grayson said. “I hope you don’t mind if we make a stop.”
“No, not at all.”
“I think the captain said it was a luxury cruiser.”
Keltie stopped. “What do you mean, a luxury cruiser?”
Grayson smiled. “We’re heading back to Kepler.”
Chapter 16
Keltie grabbed Grayson.
“We can’t go back to Kepler,” she said.
Grayson stopped, and they stared each other down in the darkness.
“We’ve got orders. There may be more people in danger—”
“Listen to me,” Keltie said. “If we go back there, we will die. And this entire rescue mission will have been for nothing.”
“We’re a rescue ship, Keltie. This is what we do.”
“I watched them kill my best friend!” Keltie cried. “They killed everyone in my real estate business, and one hundred innocent people. They’ll kill us, too.”
Grayson frowned.
Keltie gripped his arm harder. “Please, Grayson. I’m begging you.”
“Let’s talk to the skipper and see what he thinks,” Grayson said.
***
Petty Officer Romeo Beauregard was a tall, tanned man in a green flight suit and a headset. He stood on the bridge, monitoring a star map.
“Beau,” Grayson said. “This is the survivor.”
Romeo turned, and upon seeing Keltie, he strode across the room and shook her hand.
“We’re glad you made it,” Beauregard said.
“Thanks.”
“I heard you made a miracle out of that corsair,” Beauregard said.
“Tell me about it,” said a voice. Another man with strawberry blonde hair climbed out of a grate in the floor. He was lanky with a hooked nose. He carried a wrench that was covered in grease.
“This is the flight mechanic, Will Stroud,” Grayson said.
“Nice to meet ya,” Will said. “You are one lucky lady. I’ve seen people jerry-rig their ships, and most of the time it follows a general pattern. Your methods were… unorthodox. But hey. You’re alive.”
“I am,” Keltie said, nervously. She wanted to talk about the aliens, not make small talk.
“Beau, Keltie told me her story,” Grayson said. “She told me some pretty concerning things.”
Beauregard’s face went long. “What is it?”
“She says she was on a planet tour when some aliens showed up and killed everyone.”
“How many times have I heard that one?” Beauregard asked.
“This one’s a bit different,” Grayson said. “She said that the aliens ate the planet.”
Will dropped his wrench and coughed. “Whoa…”
“I’m sorry, what?” Beauregard asked.
Grayson cleared his throat and nudged Keltie.
“It’s true,” she said. “We can’t go back there.”
“Planet-eating aliens?” Beauregard said, trying to suppress a chuckle. “No offense, but that defies just about every law of physics, Keltie.”
“This is going to sound ignorant,” Will said, “but can you imagine the bowel movement of those aliens for a second? Man…”
“I know what I saw,” Keltie said. “And if we go back there, we’ll get devoured. I promise you that I’m not crazy.”
“When did we pick up that distress signal again?” Grayson asked, sitting down at a control panel.
“About two light-years from Keltie’s location,” Beauregard said. “In fact, we detected that signal first. A luxury cruiser, star grade.”
“It belongs to the Macalestern Corporation,” Keltie said. “The captain is Emina Markovic.”
“That’s right,” Beauregard said. “If we got a distress signal, there’s a chance they might be alive.”
Keltie shook her head. “I watched the aliens eat the cruiser. Look: I’m not talking about a few vicious aliens here. There were thousands, if not millions of them.”
“Her description of them is unlike anything I’ve heard,” Grayson said.
“Sounds like it to me,” Will said. “You’re one unlucky chick, Keltie.”
Beauregard’s mouth was agape. “Give me a moment.”
He stood in a corner and activated his radio.
“Beauregard to base. We’ve got a survivor here who says there’s a hostile zone at Kepler.”
Silence.
“Yes, sir. Says that aliens ate the entire planet and that there are no survivors. They might still be there. According to her, there were thousands of them, maybe several million.”
Silence.
“Survivor’s fine. Vitals checked out and she appears credible. Real estate agent by the name of Keltie Sheffield. From her description of the aliens, we might have a first contact situation.”
Silence.
“Roger that. We’ll turn the ship around immediately.”
Beauregard put his hands behind his back and walked over to them, thinking deeply. Then he shrugged.
“Mission command doesn’t like it, either,” he said. “They’re going to radio to the Navy to send a warship instead. We’ve got orders to deliver you to Provenance, Miss Sheffield. Our commander would like to speak with you.”
Keltie breathed a sigh of fresh air. “I’ll tell him whatever he wants to know.”
“I wanted to ask you something,” Will said. “I was analyzing your ship. Theoretically, you should have had at least another day’s worth of fuel left, given the amount of hyperspace you traveled. Any idea why your fuel depleted so rapidly?”
“No idea. I thought it was strange, too.”
“Hmm,” Will said. “You didn’t mess around with the fuel tank, did you?”
“No. Never.”
“Was the ship fully gassed up when you entered?” Will asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Keltie scratched her head.
“Usually the crews do a good job of keeping the engines full in case we need to evacuate,” she said. “I don’t see why the engine wouldn’t have been moderately full.”
“Then that makes it even more weird,” Will said. “What kind of fuel were you using?
”
“Regular, as far as I know. It’s company policy. They ship it to us in barrels.”
Will scratched his chin.
“What’s wrong?” Keltie asked.
“All I know is that you should have had a lot more oxygen available during your flight. Mathematically, the numbers just aren’t adding up.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Beauregard said. “What matters is that you’re safe, Miss Sheffield. I hope you find the ship to be comfortable. Sit back and enjoy the ride. It’ll be a few hours until we reach Provenance.”
***
The corsair dangled and twirled in hyperspace as the rescue ship pulled it along.
The magnets held the ship hard and fast.
In the airlock, the bay door flopped like a lolling tongue.
The inside of the cabin was littered with debris from where Keltie had ripped the place apart. The living quarters were untouched.
The cockpit lay submerged in darkness.
In the shadows of the engine room, the last drops of fuel from the ship’s engine dripped onto the floor.
A vent cover fell from the ceiling, clattering to the ground.
A swirl of black oozed out and circled the engine, sweeping the air for oxygen.
There was none.
The creature’s red eye glowed. The black mass strained, stretching itself into a long line. It roared a distorted roar, but the sound was lost in space.
It beat against the engine room door, but it wouldn’t move.
It tried to roar again, but no sound came out.
Through the porthole in the engine room, it spied the rescue ship moving ahead at the speed of light.
The creature billowed in front of the window.
It watched.
And it waited.
Chapter 17
They reached Provenance by the time Keltie woke up the next morning. She sat on her bed drinking tea as the planet crept up on the ship, a gray rock in the middle of nowhere. Thin clouds circled the planet, moving quickly across the atmosphere.
The planet rotated slowly. It was nice to see a spinning planet again. Reminded her of home.
Someone knocked on the door to her living quarters.
Phantom Planet (Galaxy Mavericks Book 2) Page 7