Ricochet

by Sandra Sookoo

  “You didn’t tell me everything.”

  “Not my fault you didn’t ask a specific question.” He thought telling her the truth about his place on her ship would bring relief. It didn’t. Instead, heavy waves of guilt rolled over him, strong enough to squeeze his chest and churn his stomach. “Say something.” Even if she cursed him into next week, it would be better than the cold silence swirling around him.

  “What do you want me to say? You used me. I get it. The end.” With slow movements, she strapped herself into the seat harness. “I did the same thing. I needed a nav. You were it. I needed to scratch the itch for sex. You had the dick. Just business. Once we get to the checkpoint, I’ll petition the racing commission for a replacement partner. Maybe one of the eliminated participants will pinch-hit for you.”

  He jerked as if she’d punched him, triggering memories of every other time someone had left him. “Fine. Let’s get to the planet’s surface, and we’ll part ways.” As a self-preservation effort, he took steps to shield himself from the fallout. All thoughts of how he’d treated her and how he felt about her were shoved into a far corner of his brain, tucked into boxes he had no intention of opening again. Familiar tactics he used every time he was in danger of forming a relationship. Yet even that mental prep didn’t ease his conscience.

  Let it go, Sin. She was expendable. You knew this going in.

  “Kita, listen—”

  “I can’t talk to you right now.” The tendons in her neck worked as she swallowed. “My responsibility lies in getting this bird through orbit and on the ground. In no way does my allegiance belong to you. Not anymore.”

  Something inside him seemed to die. Not anymore. There was no one to blame but himself for killing her trust in him. Caught in a trap of his own making, he knew there would be no scheming or cheating his way out. He nodded, closing himself off even more. They had more in common than either of them wanted to admit—broken and unable to deal. “Ten minutes until impact. Thirty if you’re looking to put the Stellar Drift down near the town of Dreanar, which is where our checkpoint is located.”

  “That would be best, seeing as how we don’t have the quad rover anymore.” Accusation hung thick on her words.

  “You were the one who decided to stop on the damned asteroid.” Images of her leaving everything behind in order to rescue him replayed in his mind. The guilt deepened into a sticky mire of self-loathing.

  “I didn’t have a choice, thanks to you.” Even as she clutched the steering mechanism, her hands shook, from anger or another emotion, Stratton couldn’t say. “You’ve been a pain in my ass from moment one. I should have known you weren’t going to take the race seriously.”

  “You have more than enough responsibility for both of us. Ships and racing are the only things you care about.” Just once could she ever look at him beyond a means to an end? He glanced at the ancient radar screen and his heart sank. “There are four teams ahead of us.”

  “Is one the Stryker?”

  “Yes. Looks like he had no problem catching up to the pack.”

  “Are we in last place?”

  Stratton scrolled through screens on the datapad until he found the one that tracked movement on the racecourse. “Not yet. Two teams are at our back but gaining quickly. The mechanical failure has really hurt us.”

  “Also thanks to you.”

  “I get it, all right?” He swiped his hand angrily across the console. Another avalanche of trash and papers fell to the floor. “I’m a screw-up, not fit to kiss your perfect boots. Thanks for bringing home that point every time you open your yap.”

  More stony silence met his statement.

  Stratton rubbed a hand over his scalp. “It must be nice to sit in judgment and know you’re always right. Must be why your family keeps you locked safely at home. Wouldn’t want their precious moral compass to become damaged or lost.” Bitterness rose in his throat, choking him. “Too bad you’ll never measure up, huh? Always alone. Always right.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He glanced at her profile. A tiny tic began just below her right eye. “Depends on which side of the galaxy you’re on, apparently. Hope you find company in the ships you love so much. If you ask me, they’ll make shitty bedmates.”

  Willa cleared her throat, the sound small in the face of such large silence. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I told you before, I can’t help who I am. Change takes time.”

  That’s something I don’t have. Too risky. “Maybe we had an expiration date.”

  When she didn’t respond, Stratton clamped his mouth shut and returned his attention to the data-pad display. “Ten minutes until our desired target.”

  “And the fuel levels?”

  He pressed a combination of buttons on the control panel. “Low, but we can probably make target. Crystal panel is still down, and auxiliary power is holding at 60 percent for now. This weak-ass computer system can’t tell me anything else.”

  “Don’t worry your bald head, Ace. I’ll put the bird down safely, and you can get back to your oh-so-interesting lifestyle of living only for yourself.” She shoved one of the sticks forward. The Stellar Drift’s nose pointed downward.

  Stratton strapped the safety harness over his chest. “That’s how I like it.”

  Minutes ticked by. Soft beeps from the radar broke the quiet while the constant alert lights sent shadows flickering over the control panel. As they began the descent, he played a mental game of chicken with his trepidation and optimism for their survival. This was when being low on power could be a problem. Finally, he shook his head to clear it. Nothing he could do about their situation.

  “Direct all available power to shields and life support.” Willa’s command rang with quiet authority.

  “What about reverse thrusters? Without them, we won’t be able to slow our descent.” His finger hovered over the power-direct buttons.

  “Can’t worry about that right now. Without the shields, we’ll burn to a crisp before we have a hope of dying in mangled metal.”

  Gritting his teeth because he hadn’t thought of the obvious, he made the requested power changes. “Seven minutes to impact—er, our destination.” He resisted the urge to dig his fingers into the leather seat. “I hope your skill as a pilot is as great as you’ve bragged about.”

  “It is.” Her gaze remained focused on the windscreen.

  Stratton stared ahead as the darkness of space gave way to thin blue bands with layers of yellow and orange denoting the levels of the planet’s atmosphere. “Three hundred miles above terra firma. Please advise.”

  “No change in course.” Her knuckles stood in stark relief of the steering mechanism.

  “Sixty-five, sixty-four…” They entered the exosphere. “Power dropping to 55 percent.” The thermosphere was upon them in little more than the blink of an eye. “Power now at 50 percent.” Sweat dripped down one temple, and he wiped it away with a sleeve. The temperature in the craft increased dramatically. “Willa?”

  “We’re holding steady.”

  Tremors shook the Stellar Drift. Everything that hadn’t already fallen out of the cabinets tumbled to the floor and crashed against the rest of the debris. Those objects would be deadly missiles if they began a free fall.

  Stratton kept his gaze glued to the instrument panel. The mesospheric layer of the atmosphere gave little resistance, and still they continued at their suicidal pace. The sky brightened by degrees, giving way to a brilliant sapphire dotted with bright white stars. “Power is at 45 percent. Shields are failing.”

  “I thought bounty hunters were in the habit of practicing patience?” She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes sparkling, her lips set in a tight line as her chin thrust out.

  “We do, but this is beyond the norm.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “We’ve entered the stratosphere. Power levels are in critical meltdown.” Scrubbing a sleeve over his head, he tried without success to calm his racing heart. “Do something. Please.” It was t
he only time he’d begged a woman to do anything.

  And it’s definitely the last.

  “Direct all remaining power to the reverse thrusters.” Confidence buoyed her command, making it ring clear amid the chaos.

  The woman was unshakeable as an anchor. On some level, he appreciated that. “What about life support?”

  She shrugged, her gaze never leaving the panorama before them. “What about it? If we survive the landing, we won’t need it because we’ll have the option of getting out of the ship. If we don’t survive, we won’t care.”

  Plugging in the request, Stratton sat back in a pseudo-relaxed posture, even as his nerves stretched tight. “Now what?”

  They broke the troposphere. Lights of civilization became more apparent at this altitude, twinkling in the dark backdrop of the sky.

  A fierce grin split Willa’s expression. “We pray.”

  “Oh, God.” He certainly didn’t intend his response as a request to the Earth deity from his childhood. It slipped out before he could recall it. Another bout of swallowing didn’t relieve his dry throat or keep the sour bile at bay. “Power is at 25 percent and falling.” Not knowing where to look, the gauges or the windscreen, he did both. “Three minutes.”

  Willa maintained tight control in guiding the craft through the air, keeping it a straight parallel with the surface. He watched her face in profile. Lines of concentration marred her brow and highlighted her mouth. A trickle of sweat slid along her temple.

  Never had he respected her more than at this moment. She’d come into her own. That’s my girl. He couldn’t hold back his pride. She was a marvel. She really is a damned expert. This would be the last time he’d see her in action. Why the hell did that fact bother him so much?

  The initial tremors intensified and sent the miscellaneous items tumbling along the floor, while the roar of the boosters swept through the ship. Towns slid by below them. The air in the cabin grew close and stagnant. Stratton gasped even though the vitals wouldn’t be depleted for some minutes yet. He gripped the cracked leather of his seat with his free hand. In the other, the datapad’s sleek side cut into his palm.

  He pressed his feet into the floorboards in a poor imitation of being the pilot. His gaze flew to Willa. She pulled back on first one joystick, then the other. The Stellar Drift slowed by increments until Stratton wanted to bite the insides of his cheeks with frustration. He risked a peek at the instrument panel. “Power down to 20 percent and falling. The thrusters won’t hold for much longer.” Already, intermittent sputtering broke their bellows. Wetting his dry lips, he continued, “Life support will completely fail in four minutes.”

  “Relax, Sinnet. We’ll land in two.”

  Silence reigned between them once more, to the accompaniment of the thrusters’ roar. All Stratton could do was stare at the power display. The colored bars were well into the red zone as their speed steadily decreased. The ship dropped lower until the bluish, snow-covered rooftops of houses and buildings were clearly visible.

  “Dreanar is up ahead. Intel shows a field nearby we can set her down in.”

  “I see it.”

  The ship responded to her slight pressure on the steering mechanism, and they drifted to port. Ahead lay a field covered with glittering, pale-blue snow that glowed with an internal, pearlescent light, unmarred by tracks of any kind. Aesthetically pleasing and softly cushioning, it was ideal for a crash landing.

  “Thirty seconds to impact.” He stuffed the datapad inside his slick gear in order to brace himself into his seat as best he could. “Do your thing, Willa.” For practically the first time in his existence, he put his trust in someone other than himself.

  The ground rose up to meet them, slapping the underside of their ship. Rocks scraped against the hull. He cringed, imagining the deep furrows and scratches the ship would incur. The second impact jolted him, despite the chest restraint. Pain skittered down his spine as his head whipped forward, jarring his teeth. He braced his hands against the control panel.

  Plumes of snow sprayed up and over the windscreen, obliterating their vision. Willa cried out, but she never let up on the controls. The Stellar Drift’s nose dug deep into the earth, and clods of black dirt gave way before the ship’s weight.

  With excruciating slowness, their craft ground to a stop, the nose firmly buried in a small hillock at the edge of the field. It gave one last shudder, and then every light in the cabin went dark. Ominous creaking followed, as if the ship itself heaved a relieved breath.

  “Power is gone. Welcome to Treachin Houth.” He released the harness and rubbed a hand over his jaw. I’m shaking. He stretched out his arm and watched the tremors in his fingers. I’m acting like this is my first near-death situation. Stratton rolled his shoulders. Still lost in the euphoria of surviving, his initial thought was to catch Willa up in his arms and kiss her senseless, before reality came crashing down at the sound of her voice.

  “I delivered you safe and sound. Now get the hell out of this ship, you miserable excuse for a humanoid.” The unmistakable whir of a HEPP charging filled the stunned silence. “I have a race to win.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Stratton eased into a standing position as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Willa had swiveled to face him with her HEPP trained at his chest. “So, it’s come down to this? After everything, striking out in separate directions is really what you want?”

  “Pretty much.” The thick air nearly swallowed the whispered affirmation. “Seems fitting, don’t you think, since from the beginning neither of us wanted to be with each other.” Her voice stronger now, she waved the weapon. “Get out.”

  “Willa, this is crazy. The Stellar Drift’s too far gone to use again. And even if you could manage to repair the engine, this pile won’t make it through hyper-light. You’ll never reach the last leg.”

  “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.” She launched out of her chair, her eyes bright and luminous. Stratton retreated before her almost-palpable wrath. “I’ll survive, and I’ll do it outside the box you want to keep me in.”

  As if their movement had disturbed the precarious balance the ship had rested upon, metal gave way with a loud groan. The wing on the port-side broke in two, and the Stellar Drift tilted. Stratton braced himself against the cargo hold’s bulkhead, catching Willa when she stumbled into him.

  The feminine scent of her skin and the silky softness of her hair falling over his hand sent his mind into a new tailspin. It occurred to him he should try harder to keep them together, but then the old wounds reared up.

  He released her while shoving all thoughts of her into the darkest recesses of his mind. “It’s been interesting, kita. Hope the next guy you get saddled with has a weaker will. Maybe you’ll be able to order him around like a puppet.”

  “We can only hope.”

  It’s for the best, Sin. She hates you. You hate her. It’s not a hard decision.

  Biting back the string of curses he wanted to hit her with, he strode into the clutter-filled hold, kicking hoses and tools out of the way. Without power, he’d have to exit the ship with old-fashioned elbow grease. He grasped the metal handle at the bottom of the door and jerked up on it. The metal gave a bit, opening only a foot. The back of his neck prickled from her glare. “You could help.”

  “I could, but I won’t. I don’t expend extra energy on thieves or liars. Fitting, don’t you think?”

  Stratton ground his teeth together. The woman was a first-class bitch. He yanked again on the door. This time, it slid upward enough that he could get out. Turning slightly, he gave her a mocking salute. “Hope you find everything you’re looking for. Try not to be disappointed when it’s not attainable.” He jumped from the crippled ship and landed easily on his feet. The snow swallowed his lower limbs to midcalf.

  “You’re the only man who’s managed to disappoint me.” She stood at the door. At least she’d put the HEPP away.

  “Somehow, I doubt that.” She had standards no mortal man
could ever meet. “Last chance to throw your lot in with mine.” Stratton held out a hand, half hoping she’d come to her senses and take him up on the offer.

  Willa hopped to the ground and immediately sank into the snow. It came up to her knees. “No thanks. I’d be racemates with Chaf before I’d take you on again.”

  “Be serious, Willa. You have no money and no ship. It’s over. Admit it.”

  “Everyone thinks I’m helpless because I’m a woman. If you’d believed in me, in my racing experience, you could have seen what I can accomplish. Instead, you cheated. Now look where we are.” She marched ahead of him, her gait awkward as she navigated the snow.

  Stratton shook his head. She can freeze her stubborn ass off for all I care. The lights of the town glittered golden in the distance. He followed in Willa’s wake, trying to fit his footsteps into the holes she’d left in the snow. Part of him wanted to see how she’d pull off a miracle, but the equally stubborn part consigned her to her fate. He’d been alone before, and he was good at it.

  Yet the nagging emptiness wouldn’t go away. As much as he hated to even give life to the thought, he knew there was a fine line between hate and something much stronger.

  I might as well be a dead man.

  The town of Dreanar gave off an air of working too hard to claim every tourist dollar coming through this section of the galaxy. Stratton ignored the overt charm in favor of searching for his kind of beings—the ones that lived life at face value with no hidden agenda.

  As soon as he and Willa reached the outskirts of the town, she left for the business district, presumably to see about bartering for a ship. Never once did she look back or offer an apology. He didn’t either. Instead, his pride remained intact, which was a good thing, as it would be what held him together until he got on his feet. Throwing himself into ignoring her, he chose to test his luck in the tourist area, since that was where the hostels and restaurants were located. Folks would be more inclined toward benevolence if someone offered to sweep their floors or clean their dishes.