“Thanks a bunch,” she replied, only sounding partially sarcastic.
Bit followed his directions. The second left took her into a smaller corridor devoid of traffic. Even the waiting areas outside each airlock were empty.
Bit began to wonder how long she had been missing. Finally she spotted a berthing sign lit up with the word “Lenore” on it. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped up to the door. It was only when the door didn’t magically open that she realized no one had ever given her the entry code to the ship’s airlock.
“Great. Just great.”
Bit crossed her arms and glared up at the tiny black mark she knew represented the camera interfaced with the ship’s security system. She stood there for ten minutes, giving the camera her darkest glare, before the exterior door hissed open. Bit gave the camera one firm nod before stepping into the airlock and working the antiquated controls. The small space pressurized and the door into the ship slid open.
“Bit!”
Bit stumbled out of the airlock, right into Jack’s arms.
“Cap. What the hell? You just abandon crewmembers on a regular basis?” she asked before she could censure her words.
A chorus of laughs drew her attention to the crowd filling the central space between the living quarters. She squirmed out of Jack’s arms.
“Ha! That will teach me not to tell you to run. Folks, if you tell Bit to run, trust me, she will leave you in the dust.”
Another wave of laughter spread through the group.
“Seriously, Bit, are you all right?” Jack asked.
Bit grimaced as she shrugged out of her filthy crew jacket and revealed her blood-covered arm. The room erupted into noise and movement, half the crew wanting to rush her down to the infirmary. She held up her good arm to forestall them.
“It’s just my old cut reopened. It’s not as bad as it looks. Captain, we have a bigger issue. The guy chasing us caught me.”
“He what?”
“He caught up to me on the train. He wanted to know what we were hauling. I didn’t tell him anything and got away, but I’d guess our cargo is hotter than Morgan let on.”
Jack’s face darkened into a glare.
“Oden, contact port authorities. Get an exit time scheduled for as soon as possible. Kat, take what crew you can and triple check the cargo bay. Everything has to be secure before we leave.”
“Captain,” called Dirk from the stairwell leading down to the lower levels. “We’re still repairing systems.”
“Can the ship fly?”
“Well… technically.”
“Can the repairs be made while we’re underway?”
“Again, technically but…”
“Then we leave as soon as possible. Do what you have to to make that happen,” Jack ordered. “What are you all waiting for? Move!”
The crew jumped into action, a small group heading for the airlock with Kat. Dirk and Forrest raced down the stairs toward the lower levels. Oden pushed his way through the milling crowd and ran up the stairs to the bridge. In the end, Reese, Jack, and Bit remained.
“We need to get that cleaned up,” Jack said, pointing down to her blood-stained arm.
“Reese can help me. I’m sure you have work to do, Captain.”
Jack glanced over at Reese who stood near the door to the crews’ quarters, concern lining his face.
“Can’t you, Reese?” asked Bit before Jack could interfere.
“Umm, sure.”
Jack nodded before heading up the stairs toward the bridge.
Bit and Reese stared at each other for a long moment before Bit headed for the stairs, assuming Reese would follow. He did, and they walked in silence down to the lowest level of the ship—mostly taken up by engineering. Bit went into the infirmary and waited for Reese to enter before shutting the door against the rumble of the engines.
She move to the large sink and flipped the lever for the faucet. Water rushed out and she plunged her arm under the flow, ignoring the bite of the cold. Reese came to her side, a towel in hand. As she pulled her arm out of the water and placed it into the waiting towel, she glanced at the two men still lying unconscious.
“How are you doing?” Bit asked once she had confirmed Blaine and Calen were asleep.
“Fine.”
She pursed her lips and stared into his face, ignoring the antiquated bandages taped over his cuts. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m healing.”
“I’m not talking about your body, Reese. How are you doing?”
“I’ll live.”
“I might have an idea of what you’re going through. I’m not saying I know exactly, because I don’t, but I’ve been owned by plenty of men—and women—who had no objections to a good whooping. I don’t have the visible scars ‘cause smart owners know better than to leave scars. The debt of pretty indentured servants sell faster than that of ugly servants. So they don’t mar the face, but I know what it’s like to have your body completely at the mercy of someone else.”
She watched Reese as he swallowed, staring at something just over her shoulder.
“Anyway. If you want to talk, I’m here.”
Reese nodded, his eyes shifting down to her arm still resting in his grasp. “We don’t have any of that fancy gel from the surface doc.”
Bit shrugged. “Old-school bandaging will be fine. It’s just a scar.”
“You think I’m being childish for being upset about my scars?”
“No. When people can see our scars then they know we’ve gone through the ringer, and sometimes we want that to be our own secret.” Bit ducked her head to force Reese to look at her. “But remember, our scars tell the world that we survived. We weren’t defeated by whatever happened to us. It means we can survive anything they throw at us in the future.”
Reese nodded, still looking as though he didn’t believe her.
“And can I tell you a secret?”
“What’s that?”
“Women find scars sexy, but you didn’t hear from me.”
“You find scars sexy?”
Bit looked down at her arm, the blood beginning to ooze again, and shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t had the luxury of looking at men that way.”
“What about Blaine?”
“Blaine—I didn’t see him coming. He kinda surprised me.”
“But do you find him attractive?”
“No, I don’t find Blaine attractive,” Bit said as she glanced over at his unconscious body, hoping Reese didn’t realize it was a half-truth.
Once, she had found Blaine very sexy. But things were different now. All she could see was the man who had kidnapped her. Blaine had hurt her time and again, nearly forcing his romantic interests on her all while a man poisoned his mind in an effort to capture her. She knew—really knew—that most of it wasn’t Blaine’s fault. The mind-altering poison had been responsible. Still, if she ever had the chance to sleep, Bit expected her nightmares to revolve around Blaine.
“Oh c’mon, you must like someone on the crew. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Reese said as he finally went to work on her arm.
“Nah! I have more important stuff to worry about than boys.”
“Like what?”
Bit opened her mouth, about to tell him the truth before she swallowed the words and changed her story. “Oh, lots of things. What position Jack’s going to give me on the crew. Will I ever master the training I started with Blaine? Speaking of Blaine, what will he be like when he comes to, and who will teach me self-defense now? ‘Cause I can’t do it with Blaine, I just can’t.”
“Well I can at least take one of those burdens off your mind. I’ll teach you. Assuming Randal agrees.”
“What about your wounds?”
“They’re healing, and there is plenty to work on other than hand-to-hand combat.”
“Okay. Sounds great.”
Reese gave her a little smile before he looked down at her arm. He worked in silence as he spr
ead a cheaper version of the healing salve used on the surface. With that spread across the cut, he wrapped it in bandaging.
“There. Good as new…ish.”
Bit smiled at him, her heart warmed by the sight of his own small smile. At that moment, Bit decided, whatever her official position in the crew, she would strive to be their encourager. She had no idea what demons the crew held onto—just like her own secret burdens—but she would strive to lessen their load.
Chapter Four
Oden eyed the intertwined wires filling the underbelly of his console. Pushing a small bundle aside, he found the culprit—an older wire that had burned through its casing. He pulled out his knife, flipped the blade up, and carefully sliced the burnt wire. With the ease of practice, Oden stripped both ends of the wire and twined the two ends. He grabbed one of the tiny couplings and crimped it onto the wire.
There were newer methods to repairing a ship’s wiring, but those methods didn’t work with the antiquated innards of the Lenore. Like so many times before, Oden dreamed of a state-of-the-art ship, but each time he pushed those desires aside. There were more important things than having the latest and greatest. He knew that better than most. Besides, his family was here on the Lenore.
Oden remembered stories from his teachers of how they used to repair wires with some sort of tape. He shook his head, amazed that humanity had once needed tape to fix anything. Even the Lenore’s wiring was an improvement over that.
“Oden?” Jack called, causing Oden to flinch and bang his head against the underside of the controls.
“Yeah, Captain?”
Oden inched his way out from under the control panel, rubbing his head.
“Sorry.”
“No worries. What can I do for you?”
“I just talked with the port authorities. We got the greenlight to exit in thirty minutes, instead of tonight,” Jack explained, swiveling in the comm.’s seat.
“Thirty minutes?” Oden repeated, scrambling to his feet. “Sir, I got systems down all over the place, and I know Dirk is in the same boat.”
“Can you navigate out of the port and get us pointed in the right direction, even if it’s just limping?”
Oden let out a long sigh. “If Dirk has propulsion up.”
Jack turned back to the comm. controls and flipped it over to the channel he wanted. Pressing down on the handheld intercom, Jack called to engineering, four floors below the bridge.
“Yes, sir?” came Dirk’s voice.
“We have an earlier exit from the port authorities. Can the ship fly in thirty minutes?”
“We have basic propulsion, but not much beyond that.”
“That’ll do.”
Oden dropped back down and worked to shove the loose wires back into the console before replacing the metal access hatch. He worked as quickly as he could to restore the systems he had taken offline for the sake of repairs, but even with his speed and experience, the thirty minutes lapsed before he could reboot them all.
“Well?” asked Jack as he reentered the bridge.
“Just preparing to uncouple now.” Oden reached for his own comm. device and keyed in the port. “Ward Port, this is Lenore designation 2517, preparing for departure.”
“Lenore 2517, you are clear to depart. There’s been just a slight delay. Stand by.”
Oden glanced up at Jack, his brows puckered in confusion. They had had issues docking with Ward Port when they first got to Mars. Both instances were out of character for the normally efficient port.
“You think something’s off?” asked Jack.
“Ward Port, this is Lenore 2517. Is there a problem?”
“No problem, Lenore. One moment…” The comm. continued to crackle as the ward officer spoke to someone else, forgetting the comm. was still on. “Look. I can’t just ground a ship on your word…”
Oden’s eyes grew wide. “Captain?”
“Wait a moment. They may not be talking about us. And if they are… well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”
A second passed and the comm. crackled again. “Lenore 2517, you’re clear to depart.”
“Lenore 2517. Uncoupling now.”
Oden winced at the sound of the port’s mechanical arms unhooking from the ship. He took control of the ship, easing the thrusters on and carefully exiting the dock.
“This is gonna be rough, Cap. I’m working off backup thrusters only.”
“Just do what you can.” Jack crossed the bridge to the comm. station and flipped the channel over to broadcast on a ship-wide frequency. “Prepare for a bumpy ride.”
The ship groaned as it slowly picked up speed. Oden hated the sound of the antiquated ship adjusting to movement, but it was just part of the life aboard an old ship. He knew he would have a job offer within hours if he went on the hunt, and likely aboard one of the brand-new military vessels making their way out into the growing galaxy, but Oden wasn’t interested in those jobs.
Not only did he despise most of the planetary governments, but he had no interest in living by the book. Aboard a military he might make two to three times what he did working for Jack, but he would give up all control of his life and his flying. With the military, every course adjustment, every twitch of the controls was first approved by three officers above the pilot, and Oden had no interest in asking an officer if he could take a piss. Besides, he doubted the military vessels saw as much excitement as the Lenore. With Jack he got to outfly pirates and steal impressive hover cars.
And then there was Bit.
Oden forced his fingers to relax. Tight fingers made for rough adjustments—or so his instructor had always said—and the more he thought about his options the tighter his fingers wound around the control.
Get your head in the game, Oden chided himself as the ship eased toward starboard, bringing it dangerously close to the port’s edge.
Oden made the necessary adjustments, reminding himself that the auxiliary thrusters could only do so much. They were less than half as powerful as the ship’s primary thrusters. Each adjustment he made in the tight space took twice as long as normal.
At last, the ship erupted into free space, as another freighter whizzed by, having just exited its own dock.
“Dammit,” Oden cursed as he jerked the control.
The thrusters whined in protest as power surged to them. The ship began a lazy turn, performing the equivalent of a slow motion power slide through space. The newer freighter sped by with ease, oblivious of the stress they had just caused.
“Who the hell is running the port these days?” Oden grumbled as he eased off the port thrusters and used the ship’s momentum to turn them toward the exit.
“Damn idiots, that’s who. Unless this is all planned,” Jack replied from his position on the bridge, his feet spaced shoulder width apart, giving him the stability to stand without toppling over at each sudden move. “You have a ship coming into the lane from your starboard.”
“I see it. This is a disaster.”
“Want me to call the port?”
“Nothing they can do now. The damage is already done when they let out three ships off the same sector,” Oden said as he made another sudden adjustment and dropped the Lenore downward before the ship above them could scrape its hull against the top of their laser cannon.
Jack stumbled forward. No matter how far he spread his legs, he wasn’t prepared for the ship—and its gravity-plating floor—to drop out from under him. Even from within the bridge, they heard the cries of other crewmembers as they battled to regain their footing.
“Did we hit?” Oden asked, never taking his eyes off of the forward displays.
Jack scanned the long rows of indicator lights. “No. No lit collision sensors.”
“Shit, that was close.”
They continue away from the port, finally easing into free space as the other ships adjusted course. Oden let out a long-needed sigh and flexed his hands over the control.
“Okay, Cap, we’re in open sp
ace. Route to Nye?”
“Yep,” Jack replied, annoyed at the hesitancy he heard in his own voice.
Oden nodded out of habit.
“Um, how is Calen doing? Will he be on duty any time soon?”
Jack closed his eyes for a second as he leaned against the comm. console. “I’m not sure. He woke up early this morning, but he was shot after all. I don’t know when he will be up to flying again.”
Oden nodded again, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Get the coordinates locked in then I’ll take over for a spell so you can get some rest. We’ll figure something out.”
Oden swiveled back to the main controls and began adjusting course in line with the best route to Ceres. Thankfully, the two planets were well positioned. In fact, Oden suspected it would be about the shortest journey from Mars to Ceres possible.
Within just a few minutes, he had the first leg plugged into the ship’s navigations system.
“There we go, Cap. But we’ll be moving at a snail’s pace.”
“That’s okay. Get some rest then get back up here so we can get this hunk of bolts moving properly.”
Oden nodded and vacated the pilot’s chair, leaving it for his captain.
Bit watched the laundry machine spin. She knew she had a small cut on her head from their bumpy ride out of the port, but it had stopped bleeding and she didn’t much care to leave the laundry room. Inside the laundry room she was in control. Inside the laundry room there wasn’t a crew full of people trying to fix her.
The new XO and Dirk were the only ones not asking her if she was “okay” every time they saw her.
Each one worried about her. She knew they would do it even if Jack hadn’t lost her on the surface. Now, though, each one checked in on her on a regular basis. Vance offered her food. Forrest and Jeremiah stopped at her room on their way to the mess hall. The entire security team offered to sit with her, and the captain had stopped by to apologize three times since she had returned to the ship.
Bit frowned. Like Katrina and Dirk, Oden hadn’t stopped to bother her. Then again, Oden was the only pilot on his feet. Oden was too busy to stop in on her.
Small mercies, she thought to herself as the laundry continued to spin. I like laundry. Laundry doesn’t try to probe your mind. Or try to feed you. Or…
Profit & Peril Page 3
