Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  “Caleb? Tell me where the med bay is and I’ll get him there.”

  “Leave him.” He stood, blinked quickly, and glanced at the soldiers writhing in pain where they’d fallen. “Just leave him.” He stumbled back. “Leave all of them.” He retrieved his pistol and started walking toward the main boardwalk. “Let’s go.”

  “Cale, no,” Fran called. “Your brother?”

  I scooped the commander into my arms and lifted him with me as I stood. Fran cursed. The plea for help, so clear on her face, scattered nervous ripples through my synthetic muscles.

  “Tell me where,” I said.

  “A few streets down.” She rushed the words out. “You’ll see the green cross. It’s not far.”

  “Leave him!” Cale whirled. “If we take him to a med bay, they’ll hold us. We need to leave. Now.” His glare burned like dry ice. “Do you think he’d save us? He brought them here!”

  The commander’s warm blood soaked through my clothes. “He’ll die. Is that what you want?”

  Cale lifted his chin. A sneer tightened his lips. His face, always bright with a hint of a smile or irony, shifted in a way I hadn’t seen from him before; it twisted with disgust and turned him into someone else, someone dangerous. “Take him then and go.”

  Fran left my side and jogged to Cale. She said something softly, her tone pleading. She wasn’t trying to save the commander; she was trying to save Caleb. If he let his brother die in this alley, he’d never forgive himself.

  “Just go, synth!” Caleb shouted. “Get the fuck out of—” His face darkened.

  Fran’s eyes widened. She swore and backed up.

  I knew why when I heard marching boots closing in from behind me.

  “Shoot to disable, not destroy,” a woman’s calm voice ordered. She issued orders with precision. I knew because I’d heard that voice before. You will kill this man. Do you understand, #1001?

  I turned, the commander still limp in my arms. Soldiers spilled into the alley. Among them stood the woman who’d disabled my failsafe, who’d issued the kill order. “Hello, One Thousand And One.”

  She wore Chitect gray. Her coat and clothes were so gray that they leached the colors around her. Her crimson nail polish matched the red of her lips. Doctor Leanne Grossman.

  She had the power to reset my fault, to set me back on the path I’d deviated from, to make me cold. I turned my head toward Caleb and Fran as they backed away. If I dropped the commander, I might make it, but he’d die. Don’t. Let. Me. Go.

  “Caleb …” I lifted my voice, letting it sail over the noise of the approaching soldiers. “Don’t let me go.”

  Chapter Twenty: Caleb

  “Cale, move!”

  Fran’s fingers slipped around my arm and pulled. My shoulder throbbed where a bullet had clipped me, but the pain meant nothing compared to the agony of the synth’s words: Don’t let me go. The memories screamed through my thoughts, whirling like madness. I saw it all again. Her tears. How she’d begged me over and over: Don’t let me go, Caleb. Don’t let him do this.

  The synth’s eyes flashed a cool blue. Those words. The memories. It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t …

  The fleet troops tore my brother’s limp body from her arms, kicked her legs out from under her, and then she was gone, buried among fleet men and women.

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Fran yelled. “C’mon. Now!”

  I fell into a jog and then a run.

  It can’t be her.

  They were just words—a coincidence. We made it back to the repair hangar as fleet opened fire behind us. Fran lay down enough suppressive fire for us to get inside Starscream and close the doors. Once the hold was sealed, nothing could get inside without cutting gear.

  On the bridge, Fran fired up Starscream’s systems as fleet swarmed over the hangar. They could surround us all they liked; they weren’t getting in. I dropped into my seat and flicked the switch to reveal all of Starscream’s hidden weapons. The ship groaned and the soldiers backed away. Good.

  “Cale, don’t …” Fran cut me a horrified glance as though I might open fire on them, actually carving through our fleet audience and killing them all.

  “I’m not gonna fire. Fuck, I’m not that crazy. I’m just showing them what we’ve got.”

  She boosted the engines and Starscream grumbled. Through the window, I watched fleet withdraw. They’d be chargrilled if they stayed in the hangar.

  “Port control are denying us airspace,” Fran said.

  “We’ll risk it. If there’s something bigger than us up there, you can fly us around it, right?”

  She huffed a laugh. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

  Starscream shuddered and lifted off the hangar floor. The repair scaffolding collapsed, leaving one hell of a mess behind.

  “They’re refusing to open the hangar doors.”

  I leaned over the controls and craned my neck. The overhead hangar doors were still locked in place. Shit. I picked up the comms. “This is Captain Caleb Shepperd of the Starscream Independent tug. Number six-zero-six requesting you open the fuckin’ hangar doors or we’ll punch right through. Over.”

  “Captain Shepperd,” Bruno’s deep voice poured into my ear like poison. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

  I laughed, not sounding entirely sane, and figured I’d go with it. I’d earned some crazy. “It’s too late for that, don’t you think? I’ve got a hold full of your sweet, and I will make the delivery. I always finish the job. But you gotta let me go first. If we have to do this the hard way, maybe I’ll just take your sweet and sell it on elsewhere.”

  “If you breach those doors, you’ll put this port out of commission for weeks.” He sounded mildly irritated, as if this minor inconvenience had pissed on his parade.

  “Then I suggest you open them.”

  Starscream hovered under the control of Fran’s expert hands. Perspiration glistened on her face. At low altitudes, Starscream was a bitch to control. If Fran twitched or lost concentration…. Well, the space inside the hangar wasn’t large enough to accommodate an out of control tug.

  “Your whore, Jesse, didn’t get out in time. We have her right here. Say hello to the fine captain, Jesse.”

  “Cale—”

  They hit Jess once, twice. I heard it all in my earpiece and gripped the flight chair until my bruised hands shook. “You bastard. You’re next. Philip died quickly. You, I’ll take my time with. Carve every inch of fat right off your bones.”

  “You already have a whore. What did you need another one for?”

  Fran twitched and Starscream swayed.

  “Open the doors,” I hissed.

  “I’ll have to console myself with the reward fleet offered me for the capture of the synth you were harboring. Oh, and Jesse? She’s my new favorite.”

  I yanked the comm free and threw it at the window. “Breach the doors.”

  Fran didn’t argue. Rumbles quivered through the ship as Fran engaged all thrusters. Debris whirled outside the observation window, smothering our view.

  “Doors opening,” Fran reported through clenched teeth. “It’s gonna be close.”

  I gripped my seat and closed my eyes, putting my trust in Fran. She’d do it. There was no better pilot in the nine systems. Starscream’s rumbling engines roared. The entire ship trembled. I wondered whether the synth had saved my brother.

  Don’t let me go.

  I squeezed my eyes tighter and focused on the pain burning through my arm. Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t think about it—about her.

  “We’re free.”

  The star-speckled black beckoned through the window. “Punch it. Set a course for the jump gate. I want out of this fuckin’ system.”

  I shot out of my chair, staggered off the bridge, and made it as far as the catwalk before falling against the rail and throwing my guts up.

  “You’re a fleet captain. You can’t tell me you’re not curious …”

  “I’m
not any fleet captain; I’m the best fleet captain there is.”

  “Modest too. Be still my fragile heart …”

  * * *

  “Caleb, I thought you loved me. I thought this meant something. Don’t let me go.”

  * * *

  “Hey.”

  * * *

  “Is this what you want? What happened to our dreams?”

  * * *

  “Hey—”

  * * *

  I opened my eyes and, for a moment, saw her. She smiled in that secret way she used to. Her eyes, she’d had the most beautiful eyes, so innocent and hungry. She couldn’t hide a damn thing from her face, and I wouldn’t have wanted her to. I knew she’d loved me. I’d seen it in her glances, heard it in her whispers, and felt it in her touch.

  “You have a fever.”

  Something pinched my neck and the dream faded, sinking beneath a harsh and ugly reality. I rolled my gaze around the rec bay until the sunlight died and the memory fizzled away to nothing; until just the metal panels, ducting, mismatched furniture, and the ozone smell of tugship remained. Still on Starscream. Still living the nightmare.

  “You just gonna lay there and bleed out?”

  I stretched my good arm behind my head and met Fran’s glare. Worry crowded her guarded eyes.

  “Where are we?” I asked, voice dry.

  “Mimir.”

  The water world. I could live with that, just as long as we were far away from fleet and my brother.

  “Let me take a look at your wound.”

  Gripping the back of the couch, I hauled my battered body upright and fell back against the couch.

  “Give me a second.” My head spun. “I’m not hungover am I?” I clamped my eyes closed and breathed in through my nose. Fran touched my arm, sparking a riot of pain. “Fuck. Ow.”

  “Man up. It’s just a graze. I gave you a heavy dose of meds. You’ll feel right as rain in a few seconds.”

  By the rustle of her clothes, I knew she’d moved back, and cracked an eye open. While I’d been out cold, she’d had time to ditch her flight suit and change into pants and an old white vest. Whatever logo had once been on the front had long ago faded.

  “You’re a letch. Take your fuckin’ shirt off so I can clean your arm.”

  “I wasn’t checking you out, but now that you mention it, you do have a fine rack.”

  She told me where I could go fuck myself but said it with a smile. I managed to work the shirt free without throwing up when my arm ignited in pain. That had to count for something. The meds were kicking in; I wished they’d take the guilt along with the pain.

  Fran’s gaze lingered and roamed, and I’d be damned if I didn’t see her swallow. “Now who’s checking who out?”

  “This is gonna hurt.” She ripped a few antiseptic wipes from a packet, braced an arm over my good shoulder, and leaned over me. The angle brought the tantalizing curve of her neck and shoulder close enough for me to imagine how I might curl my tongue—

  Needles of pain punched me in the arm. “Jesus. What is that, acid?”

  “Sit still. It’ll go numb in a minute.”

  I dropped my head back and stared up at the curved rec bay roof while Fran cleaned the wound.

  Don’t let me go.

  Those words didn’t mean a damn thing; they were just four little words. The synth couldn’t have known what had happened. Just dumb luck that she’d said those words, right then. It didn’t matter now. We’d left #1001 in our vapor trails, back where she belonged, with Chitec.

  “Who’s Haley?”

  My heart stuttered. I measured my breathing and locked my gaze on the ceiling, where Fran couldn’t see the truth in my eyes. “Who?”

  She finished wrapping my arm—now numb around the shoulder and tingly near my hand—and busied herself with clearing the med kit away. At least I assumed that was what she was doing. I wasn’t about to look at her just in case she’d catch the hint of fear that the name had summoned. In a few seconds, I’d get myself under control. I just needed a little time to forget.

  “It definitely sounded like Haley. You mumbled it while you were out.”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Huh.” She said “huh” the way she might have said “bullshit.”

  I lowered my gaze and found her watching me.

  “Well,” she began, and I knew I wouldn’t like this, “I took the liberty of looking Haley up.” She came forward with purpose in her stride, straddled my thighs, and placed her arms over my shoulders, fencing me in. “Struck gold when I searched for your name and hers together.”

  “You did, huh?” My heart hammered so fuckin’ loudly she could probably hear it.

  “Socialite Haley Hung, daughter of Chitec’s CEO, Chen Hung. And what do yah know? Fleet’s most decorated young captain, Caleb Shepperd. You were quite the celebrity couple. Chitec and fleet in bed together.” She nipped at my lip, sucked it in, let it spring free, and whispered, “Oh, the gossip …”

  She eased her ass down onto my lap and sat back. Her teeth pinched into her lower lip. I gripped her thigh, intending to push her off, but that order got waylaid and my hand stayed right where it was. An impossible combination of both soft and hard, silk and steel, Fran could seduce one minute and kill the next.

  She reached up, threading her fingers through her hair, and gathered the dark locks over one shoulder. I drank in the sight of her, watched how her muscles flexed, and followed the line of her curves. I could forget myself in those curves. I wanted to. She could feel exactly how much I wanted too, right where my cock strained against my pants.

  She moved in close. Her lavender soap smell ramped up my need, but I kept my hands on her thighs and swallowed hard.

  “I know why you do it,” she said.

  It’d be so easy to taste her, to crush that distance between us. I pressed my lips together and glared into her eyes.

  “The girls, the drink, your work.” Her lips brushed mine, and I almost gave in. “You do it to forget who you were.”

  I eased my hand up her thigh, soaking her warmth into my touch. She was right, about all of it. And right now, she would make a fine distraction.

  She looked back at me, her eyes piercing, and said, “We can forget, together.”

  I wanted to forget. Forget how my brother had turned me in, how I’d left him for dead, and how Chitec loomed in my shadow, and forget the man I’d once been. “Fran, don’t fuck with me, okay? If you wanna do this, stop with the mind games.”

  She shifted her hips, nudging against my cock. I hissed through my teeth and dug my fingers into her thighs, wrenching a sharp gasp from her. If she pushed me too far, there would be no going back, not this time. I didn’t have the energy to play her games, especially considering my throbbing need to throw her down and fuck her deep.

  She bowed her head, brushing her cheek against mine, then her lips found that sensitive spot below my ear and a jolt of raw need shot through me, bucking my hips. I knotted my fingers in her hair and forced her to face me. “Is this what you want?”

  Is this what you want?

  The memory hit me like a slap to the face. The synth … Haley … Is this what you want?

  I gasped, but Fran captured my mouth with hers, and I kissed her back, took her in, and pushed into her, but it wasn’t Fran—not in my head. Maybe, just for a little while, I could pretend I was the good guy, the hero, and I’d gotten the girl. Was that so bad? I tasted cherry; Haley had tasted the same. I gathered her face in my hands and kissed her the way I remembered, as if I hadn’t watched her die. As if the last five years didn’t exist. Her soft lips traced and teased across my mouth. Her hands pushed against my chest, before she slid them around my back and pulled me so damn close that her quivering ignited my own. I’d missed her. I missed her like I was missing a piece of me. For five years I’d been hollow, and in that time all I’d wanted, all I’d dreamed about and wished for, was to have her back and tell her I’d been wrong, that I was sorry.

/>   The stars will always be out of reach, and no amount of dreaming will capture them.

  I rolled her beneath me on the couch, pushed her vest high, and ran my tongue over her navel, over the places I knew made her groan. She rode her hands down my back, sparking quivers of need every time her nails grazed or her fingers pinched. I was lost, so damn lost. She nipped at my shoulder, pulled me down, hooked her legs around my waist, and arched against me.

  I needed to be inside her, needed it like I needed to breathe. I flicked open her pants. She wriggled them over her hips and kicked them off. When I settled my fingers lightly against the warm wetness between her legs, Fran groaned, but I didn’t want it to be Fran. Fuck. This was wrong. I was so messed up.

  “Don’t stop.” She’d seen the doubt on my face. “Don’t you fuckin’ stop, Caleb Shepperd.” She reached down between us and roughly cupped my cock through my pants, tearing a gasp from me. “You’re gonna fuck me, and you’re gonna fuck me now.” She tore at the fly, worked it open, and slipped her hand inside.

  I bucked, teeth gritted, cock snug in her hand. This wasn’t right. My head was all over the place. I couldn’t—

  Fran’s hand—slick and smooth—worked hard and fast, and the doubt vanished, along with almost everything else. I buried my face in her hair and breathed her in. Ripples of twisted pleasure rode through my body. If I could just forget her, or remember her—I wasn’t sure which.

  “Fuck me you son of a bitch.” Fran curled her leg around my ass and pulled me close, guiding my cock into her. She was tight and wet, so damn wet. I pushed in slow, felt her push back hard, heard her strained groan, and felt her quiver, and I very nearly lost it.

  “Move, Cale. Just move.”

  I glared down at Fran, hating that she was ruining my fantasy. Honest fear widened her green eyes, fear and doubt. Guilt churned like a sickness. What was I doing?

  Fran grasped my face in her hands and pulled me down so her hot ragged breaths scorched my mouth. “Whatever is going on in that head of yours, I don’t care. I need this.”