Girl From Above Escape (The 1000 Revolution Book 2)

by Pippa Dacosta

  His words mirrored those he’d said when we’d met in Starscream’s hold. I’d been trying to kill him at the time, but now I wanted to tell him that I’d been wrong, that I hadn’t understood what my purpose was, or why I had to run. I wanted to tell him that I was broken and didn’t know how I could be fixed, or even if I could. But more than all of that, I wanted to say I was sorry, just like James had said to me. Sorry—too little a word for it to mean so much. I opened my mouth to say it, but Caleb spoke first.

  “Bren’s with the young doctor. Why don’t you go help him? Me and Fran need to talk.”

  Fran had hardly moved. She was gripping her chair so tightly her knuckles had paled, and she glared at me as though by looks alone she could hurt me.

  My face trained in neutrality, I said, “Yes, Captain.”

  Chapter Fifteen: Caleb

  What had happened to the easy life? Drug and gun runs from one corner of the nine systems to the other, and balancing one fucker against another. Shit, I’d known stealing a freighter wouldn’t be easy, even with my brother at the helm, but I hadn’t expected the drama to come from my own crew.

  I slumped in my flight chair, rifle resting on my thigh, and puffed out a sigh. “You were right.”

  Fran’s skittish glare flicked to the gun in my lap, and then darted back to my face. “About what?”

  She was wound up so damn tight that she’d likely bolt for the bridge door at any second.

  I stretched my legs out, just in case I needed to trip up her exit. “Ade Cande is a crazy bitch. She pulled a gun on me when she figured out I’d screwed her over, again.”

  “You don’t have to be crazy to pull a gun on Captain Shepperd. Seems reasonable to me.” Fran slowly eased back in her chair, far from relaxed. “Where is she now?”

  “Out cold in the freighter’s med bay. Gave her something for the pain and drugged her. She’s too high to give a fuck about anything. I’ll drop her off at the next port and blast out of the system before she can get herself a ship to come after me.” Which she would. Never mind her brothers. I’d just made the top of her hit list.

  I dragged my hand across my chin and lifted my gaze to glare at Fran. What the hell was I supposed to do with my second? I’d heard enough of her discussion with #1001 to know Fran had every intention of turning Starscream around and dumping me and my ship right into fleet’s lap for a second time.

  Fran leaned to one side and rubbed her forehead.

  “The freighter”—she thumbed at the obs window, at the colossal freighter hull filling the screen—“is your brother’s. You knew it from the start.”

  I smiled sideways. “I’m not just a pretty face. I have some smarts sometimes.”

  Her perfect eyebrow arched high while the rest of her face judged me.

  “I contacted Bren right after you got me out of Asgard. He wanted out of fleet, but I’d been fucked by fleet before.…” I let that hang in the air a while. “So I wanted proof that he meant it and convinced him to bring something valuable with him.”

  A flick of my hand toward the window told her that the something valuable was the freighter. She kept her eyes trained on my face and avoided looking at the gun resting on my leg. Looking at it would make it real, and knowing it was real would mean she’d have to acknowledge the fact that I would shoot her.

  “But Ade Cande planted the bomb,” she said, “to force your hand in stealing the freighter. How did you set her up?”

  “I saw the Cande branding on the crates in the hold and knew we were headed for Cande territory. So I asked Bren to drop a few anonymous hints about a freighter ripe for the picking and release a few flight plans. He dangled the bait and the Candes bit.”

  “But you didn’t know Ade would be the one to take the bait?”

  “Fuck no. And I didn’t know we were carrying a fuck load of explosives. I should have figured it out though. She used you to get me out of Asgard and planted the bomb on Starscream to personally fuck with me because I’d left her in the black. And then when she saw me on KP-Ninety-Two, she figured she could use her cargo to force me into pirating a freighter. She has more pirate in her blood than iron. I should have known it’d be her. As it turns out, we both wanted the same thing. She just didn’t know it.”

  Fran was smiling by the time I’d finished. “Are there no limits to who’ll you’ll fuck to get your own way?”

  “None.” As I’d talked, I’d eased my hand over the rifle. “I now have a freighter and no intention of giving it to the poor folk on that Cande rock. I’m selling it.”

  Her smile twitched then died. “God forbid Caleb Shepperd actually does something for someone else. Fuck that. He’d much rather see people suffer because he wants to fill out his credit account so he can spend it on whores and booze and maybe gamble it away on Lyra. That’s a much more worthwhile cause.”

  Her words couldn’t hurt me. “I knew you’d understand.”

  “I understand you’re a lowlife piece of shit,” she snarled, her eyes challenging me. She was sitting too still and was probably thinking about lunging for the gun. If she did, I’d plant a phase bullet in her gut.

  Starscream’s engines grumbled low, waiting to depart for the rendezvous with the Nine.

  Fuck, I didn’t want to kill Fran. I’d heard #1001 tell her I was taking the freighter to the Nine, which Fran had so far neglected to mention. She’d fired up my ship’s engines to tug the freighter back to fleet. She was fleet, through and through—more fleet than my brother was, as it turned out.

  She peered back at me with her typical too-good-for-me look, knowing I was about to take her right back to the Nine; all she had to do was keep her mouth shut. I could have let the synth kill her. I should have killed her myself right after Asgard. My life would have been so much easier without a fuckin’ fleet spy as my second-in-command, but I couldn’t do it. I’d killed folks for money, men and women both, and I’d killed to survive, but I couldn’t pull the fucking trigger on Fran.

  “Did I ever have your loyalty?” I asked, almost too softly to be heard over the background din of engines.

  Fran closed her eyes just a fraction too long for it to be a blink, then looked away, out of the obs window. “Yes.”

  “That’s funny, because I spoke to Bren about what happened on Mimir. When you and him and Jesse were helping with the cleanup after fleet scorched the warehouses? You know…? Oh wait, you don’t, because you were never there.”

  She’d lied. She hadn’t stayed behind with Jesse and Bren; her story was all bullshit. While I’d gotten my ass handed to me by Chen Hung, I’d bet credits on her being back at fleet command, debriefing her superiors in some nice, shiny old-Earth office.

  “You didn’t stick around on Mimir. I spoke to Jesse and Bren both. Nobody saw you there, because you took my ship and fucked off with fleet, leaving countless dead and businesses in ruins.”

  Her pulse fluttered in the delicate line of her neck.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she said quietly, still searching the view for her fuckin’ conscience.

  “A choice?” I laughed. “Choice is about the only fucking thing we can control in the black. Fleets not here, Fran. It’s just you an’ me. You can make a choice.”

  I hooked my finger over the trigger. “You get to choose right here, because I can’t take you any farther if you’re going to call in backup every time you get the slightest whiff of the Nine.”

  She winced and faced me. “The Fenrir Nine are dangerous, Caleb.”

  That was not the right thing to say. Why couldn’t she just fuckin’ say she’d stick with me and drop fleet? I was willing to believe her. No, she had to be the stubborn, always right Fran.

  “They’re working to destabilize the infrastructure of the nine systems, by disrupting the gates. Fleet can’t let that happen. If the gates fail, like they did before, or if control falls into the wrong hands, in the hands of the Fenrir Nine—”

  “Stop fucking talking.” Jesus, she had no idea wh
at was happening even after spending two years with me in the black. She really was fleet, down to the bone. “I bet you look hot in a fleet uniform. All trussed up in white, like the saviors of the black. How many stripes do you have?”

  She clenched her teeth, a muscle in her cheek pulsing. “I told you, I’m just an ensign.”

  Bullshit. “Lieutenant? Lieutenant commander?” A twitch. “Fuck, higher? I should salute you, huh?”

  “Cale, if you’d just stop and think about what you’re doing. The loss of that freighter will hit fleet hard. They’re not all corrupt. Fleet is stretched thin. That’s why they lean hard on Chitec.”

  Telling me to feel sorry for fleet would get her an early grave. If I pulled the trigger, the phase bullet would punch through her chest and, given the low impact setting, would probably lodge somewhere inside her ribcage. It’d be slow, painful, and ugly. If I were going to do this, I’d have to execute her clean and quick. She deserved it to be quick. That meant shooting her in the head. Fuck.

  I rubbed my free hand over my face. My head said do it, but my heart, that withered, fucked up, full of holes, shallow thing said don’t. I’d listened to my head when I’d watched Chen Hung kill his daughter. That had been a mistake. My head was fucked up. I swallowed and breathed in deep through my nose.

  “I can pilot Starscream myself. I even have a synth on board. She’ll have the entire tugship maintenance manual in that head of hers. I also have a commander who finally sees the fuckin’ truth through the propaganda. Tell me what I need you for, because right now, I’m having a hard time justifying keeping you around.”

  She smiled that smug-bitch smile. “You’re not a bad guy, Cale. You’re just misguided.”

  “Misguided?” Fuck, she was priceless. “You’re fired. Get off my bridge. From here on out, you’re barred from the flightdash. I don’t want to see you anywhere near this bridge. Stick to your cabin and the rec bay. If you fuck with Starscream or me in any way, I will execute you. This is my last warning. Don’t make me kill you, Fran.”

  She held my stare, her eyes narrowed, and then she jerked from her chair and strode from the bridge. I waited a few beats, listening to her boots stomp down the catwalk, and slumped forward, covering my face with my hands. I needed a vacation. Once the Fenrir Nine paid me for the freighter, I was taking leave on Lyra and burying myself in whores and booze, just like Fran had suggested. But first, I had to deliver the freighter.

  Straightening, I faced Starscream’s controls, checked Fran’s input, and made a few adjustments. Starscream would pull the freighter easily enough; she’d started out life as a tug, not a fixer’s ride, so this was well inside her comfort zone. I checked the proximity sensors, double checked my coordinates, and settled in for the flight ahead. While attached to the freighter, we were vulnerable. Now, more than ever, I needed to focus.

  My wrist comms buzzed. I gave it a tap, half of my attention still on the controls.

  “Caleb-Joe, have you rectified your crew problem?”

  My brother’s no-bullshit military tone would take some getting used to. “We’re good. Also, you got demoted. Congratulations on your new position as my second. Just don’t betray me and we’ll get along fine.”

  A few seconds of silence followed. I flicked Starscream’s engines from idle to flight mode.

  “Your second?” Bren asked.

  “Uh-huh. Got a problem with that, brother?”

  “No, I … I just—When I woke up this morning, I didn’t imagine I’d finish the day as second-in-command on my little brother’s smuggling boat.”

  “Welcome to life in-the-black—expect surprises. And ditch the fleet uniform. If I see you in fleet whites, my reflex is to shoot first. How are the doctor and the pirate?”

  “Stable.”

  “And One Thousand And One?” I barred the waver from my voice, mostly. Not that I feared her, or what she could do, or what she remembered.

  “She’s with the doctor. Is there anything else … Captain?”

  Now that I liked. My perfect brother, the one who always won and always got the girl, was calling me captain. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Yeah, stay out of Fran’s way. She’ll be looking for a fight, and seeing as you’re a walking, talking effigy of our disagreement, she might take a swing at you.” I tapped my comms, shutting him off.

  Fran was just as likely to fuck him as fight him. He could probably do with a tumble between the sheets; it might loosen up some of that commander tension. He’d need to relax if he hoped to survive in the black. I’d take him around Ganymede, show him the ropes, and pick a few fights and a few girls. But not yet. First, I had to get the suddenly hot fleet freighter through the jump gate, offload her to the Nine, and collect my generous cut.

  I wrapped my fingers around the controls and hit the engage button, but instead of Starscream’s engines surging with all her available power, I got a feedback blip-blip noise. I hit the button again, and the same thing happened. No power meant no flight, which meant we were dead in the black and easy pickings.

  “Okay …” I went over the flight procedure again, clutched the booster lever, and hit the engage button. Blip-blip. Nothing. The power was there—Starscream was ready and eager to get going—but my flight commands weren’t getting through. That had never happened before.

  I tapped my comms. “Hey, Bren. I need you and One Thousand And One on the bridge.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  As I waited for their arrival, I went over the same routine again and again, and with every new try, unease crawled its way up my spine.

  “Captain.” #1001 stood over my shoulder, looking somewhere between a fleet refugee in her gray sweats and a cold-blooded machine with her all-seeing, knowledge-filled eyes.

  I ignored the startling memory of her shooting me in the head, despite her standing at about the right height to do the same, and focused on the more immediate problem. “You seemed to know about Starscream’s inner workings when you joined us last time. Wanna search those datafiles of yours and tell me why I can’t engage the thrust engines?”

  Bren leaned over my other shoulder and scanned the controls. “Maybe you made a mistake entering the sequence.”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with a reply.”

  #1001 stepped in front of Fran’s empty flight chair and cocked her head. The backlit array of controls illuminated her perfect face, like a display in a jeweler’s window. Light played in her eyes, touched her smooth skin, and brushed her lips, and not for the first time, I had to catch my thoughts and drag them back onto the bridge.

  “Francisca locked you out, Captain,” #1001 announced, in the same way as she might remark on the wonderful fucking weather we’d been having. “I saw the pattern of her input commands, and comparing those to the datafiles of tugship controls such as these, she’s engaged a master kill switch.”

  Fuckin’ perfect.

  “Can you retrace those patterns and disable it?” I asked.

  “No. She has the code.”

  “We have incoming ships approaching on the proximity sensors,” Bren said.

  I glanced up and saw the same blinking dots on the sensors as him. The ships were small and had masked their ID-numbers—so, pirates. Given how I was floating in Cande airspace with Ade Cande in my med bay, I took a stab at guessing that our guests were the Cande family coming to check out why we weren’t delivering their gift.

  “Fine. This is all absolutely perfectly fucking fine.”

  I scooped up my rifle and stood, bringing myself too damn close to #1001. Her cool gaze trickled over me, sending a lick of fear down my spine, then she stepped aside.

  “Bren, take the controls and delay the pirates,” I ordered. “Tell them we’re just experiencing some problems, but we’ll have their ship to them soon. Meanwhile, don’t let anyone touch anything on this bridge without my say-so.”

  I eased by the synth, then paused and turned back. She studied me with those ever-c
urious eyes, sucking in all my data and devouring it. She probably knew I was afraid of her, but she wouldn’t know how many different fuckin’ ways I feared her.

  “Fran—right now—is an asset. We need her to get this ship moving. I need you to go to the freighter and move the two injured crew onto Starscream, as a precaution. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  If she was calling me captain, I was safe. On those terms, we could work together. It’s when she called me Caleb that my past and hers collided.

  I handed #1001 a wrist comm and set about searching Starscream while she retrieved the patients. If events turned sour, I wanted everyone close and not spread about an enormous freighter.

  I’d tried Fran’s comm and hadn’t gotten a reply, and then I found the unit in her cabin. Wherever she was, she’d be seething. We’d had our fair share of spats, but this was on an entirely new level of fucked up.

  Starscream had a bewildering amount of hidey-holes. Rifle locked and loaded, I searched them all, acutely aware that the longer we sat twiddling our thumbs, the more likely it was that fleet would show up. Bren’s crew would have sent out a distress call as soon as the escape shuttles were free. The Candes knew not to answer, but fleet would hear it soon enough. This was not the time to be playing hide-and-seek with my second.

  I entered the hold and took a few steps inside the empty space, feeling not unlike I had back in the Candes quarry, hemmed in and hunted.

  “Hello, Caleb.”

  I shouldered the rifle and had it aimed on Ade before she could fling a dagger or words. She was leaning against the bulkhead. For someone meant to be out cold and recovering from a gunshot wound to the thigh, she looked pretty alert and mildly psychotic.

  Something cool and hard nudged me in the lower back. I sucked in air through my teeth and froze. Fran’s warm breath fluttered against my neck. I knew it was her by the lavender smell of her soap. An ambush. Gee, could my day get any worse?