Untitled Short Story (work in progress)

1

The hovercraft skimmed the foreign planet's surface, racing across the vivid landscape at breathtaking speeds. The craft's pilot didn't even glance up from the book she was reading to take in the beauty of the alien world. It was just another place to her, one more label on the star map that she would never know and didn't really care about in the first place. It wasn't like she was going to set foot on terra firma ever again anyway; so no matter how many worlds she helped to explore, she would never be allowed to see them without a boundary of blue-tinted, reinforced glass in between true discovery and herself.

She’d had many naive aspirations when she joined Galactaquest's recruiting campaign five years earlier. They made their offer sound entirely too appealing for a rural Nebraska girl to pass up, never mind the fact that she had a lot to escape from in that dead end state. Galactaquest seemed like the answer to all her problems. And how could she say no to a slogan that read verbatim, "Set foot on the land of new worlds; discover wonder!"? So much for the literal translation, though.

Her first two years as an ensign were spent cataloguing data for Andromeda, the galaxy closest to the Milky Way. She never even got a glimpse of the worlds she was filing away into the computer system. There were also several training missions scheduled during those first two years—all staged in the Hover-Sim to make sure she could handle worst case scenarios when she finally did make it to the rank of scout. Generally, that wouldn't happen until her fourth year, but disaster struck early on.

Just before her third year at Galactaquest a full scouting party—fifty hovercrafts and the pick-up ship—were dropped on Planet 5 of Minor Galaxy 2 (5/2) and they never reported back. She was promoted in an impromptu ceremony and dropped on planet an hour later. The party was never located, nor was there any sign of debris to suggest a crash. 5/2 was classified under hostile and quarantined.

Since then her life had been a monotonous replay day after day. She was dropped, scanned the planet, returned to debrief, and then dismissed. There really wasn't much work involved with what she did; the hovercraft read all the information and guided itself. She was only present on the off chance that something went horribly wrong. Hundreds of worlds later, though, nothing had malfunctioned.

The radio crackled to life, interrupting her mid-paragraph, and she glanced up long enough to hear what the pick-up team had to say. "Where the fuck are you, Malcovich? Your scan should have been completed an hour ago! Everybody's back already."

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she leaned forward to get a look at the screens to find the operator an answer. Finally, she spotted it and depressed a button, replying, "An anomaly was spotted in equatorial regions—lat 0 degrees, long 153 degrees east. Craft is performing one last sweep; could be a possible sensor malfunction or terrestrial life. Be home shortly, boys."

The radio went abruptly silent, but she was already engrossed in the book again and didn't even notice. The craft completed its secondary circuit shortly after with no further sign of the anomaly. She took the controls and manually guided the tiny hover back to its pick-up ship, the Lady Bird, which was waiting just inside the planet's thin atmosphere. The hull was horribly pitted and burned after so many years of dropping into corrosive environments, the painted insignia of a naked and winged woman barely visible anymore against the rest of the gray metal.

Her arrival was met without warmth. When she docked and exited the craft, Retrieval Officer Koch’s voice blared through the loud speaker, requesting her presence on deck. As soon as she entered the operations room he noted her presence and started talking without even having to turn around to verify that it was her. "Malcovich," he commanded smoothly, "tell me what standard protocol is for terrestrial anomalies."

She knew without even having to study him that he was pissed, but she couldn't help but note the signs. His large hands were clasped together behind his back, making sweaty imprints on his crisp white tee. That close-cropped brown hair seemed to bristle up from around his head, and she could see a vein ticking just above his collar. "Sir, repeat scan of planet's surface, sir." She answered as unemotionally as possible, but she knew some sarcasm had seeped into her voice; even first year ensigns knew the scan had to be repeated.

"Wrong, Malcovich!" He turned on his heel and stalked forward, coming to a halt just inches away from her so that he was yelling directly into her face. "You report to me and ask if it's worth another fucking scan!" He thumped her forehead none too gently, demanding, "Do you have any brain cells alive in that dense cranium, scout?!"

"Sir, yes, sir," she shot back, eyes going wide.

He shook his head negatively, shouting, "Rhetorical! I already know the answer and it's no! Your dumb ass caused us to miss the exit window, Malcovich. Now we're stuck on this dirt pile until 12:00."

A sick feeling settled into her gut. She had forgotten that the atmosphere superheated at sunrise on this planet. It would be too hot for their pick-up unit to make it out until several hours after sundown. Though the craft was large enough to house one hundred crew members and even served as their home for about a month at a time, it was too poorly made for any really rough entries or exits. It was also slower than molasses, so they wouldn't be able to reach the dark side of the planet this late in the game. They would have to land on the surface and wait around thirteen hours for the gasses to cool. How could she have forgotten that?!

"You have got to be the dumbest maggot to have the honor of calling yourself an employee of Galactaquest!" He informed her coldly, that square jaw jutting out as he clenched his teeth tightly together. "Get out of my sight, Malcovich. Don't you have some reports to write?"

"Sir, yes, sir," she replied dutifully, striding away with the properly chastised attitude. When she made it back to her quarters she let out a sigh and stowed the emergency gear in her foot locker, tossing the book on her bunk as she started stripping out of her flight gear.

Another scout entered the room, flopping down on the thin mattress after picking up the book. She flipped through the pages before closing it to examine the protective jacket with a questioning quirk to her eyebrows. "Why are you reading this crap? I thought The Grapes of Wrath was reserved for nerdy high school kids." She grinned and winked, continuing, "You don't exactly strike me as a brainiac after that display on deck."

Malcovich turned around, glaring daggers at the woman stretched languidly across her bunk. "Stow it, Kyle! You don't have much room to talk after that little incident last week. I seem to remember you deleting your scan data because you were—and I quote—'dancing in the pilot chair and fell’. Does that ring a bell?"

Mouth opening incredulously, she accused, "I resent that! If you had good music to dance to, wouldn't you? Besides, there's nowhere to stand in those tiny hovers! It was either stand in the pilot chair or bump controls with my ass."

"False dichotomy," the other woman shot back. "You did both, remember?" They chuckled a bit.

Rebecca Kyle was a fourth year employee of Galactaquest and had just been promoted to scout less than six months earlier. She’d been recruited from Georgia and she and Malcovich had clicked immediately during their training and the endless hours in the cataloguing rooms. They ended up talking more than typing. Kyle came from a disjointed family—abusive mother and father, distant brothers all several years older; she'd joined up to get away from all of it, though Malcovich wasn't sure if she was looking for a career or a quick six years and the benefits that came with enlisting. Their talk strayed to matters a little less future oriented, sadly enough.

Malcovich joined her friend on the bunk, grabbing the book from her and tossing it across the room where it hit the desk and slid into her computer monitor. She shrugged and asked, "Are you still bumping uglies with that one guy...the scout from Alpha Dog? I forget his name."

"Tommy," Kyle shot back in exasperation. "That has to be the hundredth time I've told you that in the past month, and yes...sort of. I don't know."

"How can you not know? I mean, you either are or you aren't." She pulled on a lock of her hair, studying the brown curl as she noticed a few split ends. "Time for a haircut," she remarked off-handedly.

"Time for mine, too!" She was quick to jump on the change of topic, suggesting with an endearing smile, "We should go now."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, letting it slide. She knew Beckah would spill all eventually, when she started feeling guilty or just couldn't contain her dirty doings anymore. It was only a matter of time, and until then she could be very patient.

They walked to the end of the hallway and entered the elevator, riding it down to the lower decks where all the facilities were located—mess hall, barber, tailor, et cetera. When the doors opened, Beckah turned the tables and demanded, "And what about you? You haven't dated anyone since that guy in Nebraska left you to join Galactaquest. How long ago was that, Adrienne? Have you even gotten laid since then?"

She could feel her smile falter at the mention of her ex-boyfriend, Mark Aday. He had left her for Galactaquest after less than a year of being with her, saying that they just weren't the right people for each other and that he needed more in life. She'd joined up after that, too, but only to get away from everything that reminded her of him back at home. It was really the best thing she could have done because with such a large fleet it was next to impossible that they would see each other again, especially since he was going for a career. He would never see Earth again.

Sniffing, she shot back, "That was six years ago, and you know I've gotten laid since then. I told you about that fling I had with my friend before I left Nebraska."

Truthfully, she had a myriad of reasons for avoiding intimate situations with the opposite sex. And maybe a large part of that revolved around Mark, but not in the way Kyle liked to think. There was an infinitely twisted history surrounding the former relationship, and she didn’t like to think about how extremely…disgusting things had become on the decline. Her hand went to her neck self-consciously, a slight blush staining her pale cheeks.

"Yeah," Kyle acknowledged, completely unaware of her friend’s inner monologue. "But that was a long time ago. You need to have some raunchy, meaningless sex—and soon!"

Waving her off, Malcovich entered the barber shop and took a seat, waiting for the officer ahead of her to have his cut finished. Under her breath, she said, "There's just nobody here that interests me. They're all idiots! And have you seen the recruits from my campaign year? I swear half of them huffed when they were kids; they drool at mess, Beckah—drool!"

They giggled softly, covering their mouths to stifle the noise in the quiet shop. Finally, when she'd caught her breath, Kyle replied, "I can't argue that most of them are a step above retarded, but you also can't argue that the some of them are fuckable. You know there's at least one guy here that you'd let break you off."

She shook her head, grinning from ear to ear and trying her hardest not to burst into raucous laughter. "Eye candy and fuck toy are two different things! You can't expect me to sleep with some drooling airhead."

"Okay, okay," she relented, leaning in a little closer as she whispered her blasphemous proposal. "Have you considered going above your rank? What about Koch? I've seen him eyeing you...when he isn't chewing your ass." She sniggered evilly, knowing and loving the effect her words had.

"You can't be serious!" Her eye twitched a bit as she felt her cheeks flame up. "That could get both of us fired. And...gross. Koch is over forty."

"So?" She challenged blithely, nudging her friend with a sharp elbow. "You know you'd do him! You'd spank his wrinkled old ass and..."

"You're finished, Aday." The barber's authoritative voice easily overrode Beckah's hushed jibes.

Time seemed to come to a standstill as Malcovich's head whipped around, mouth opening in a horrified gasp. Her mind was screaming that it couldn't be Mark, but her eyes didn't lie. He was there, in the flesh, and looking crisp as ever in his creased gray uniform. He pulled his jacket from the rack when the barber finished dusting off his shoulders, and she couldn't help but notice that there were two bars on the left arm, showing that he was a retrieval officer, first class.

It was being whispered that Koch had gotten a promotion from retrieval officer to chief. It came with a nice cozy desk job on the fleet ship and no more headaches from scouts. He'd just plan the drop missions instead of running them. That meant Aday had to be the new commanding officer of the Lady Bird and, therefore, her new boss.

A strangled noise issued forth from the depths of her throat as she drank in the sight of him after six long years. He was taller than she remembered, but she attributed that to the tailored cut of his uniform more than anything; after all, rank often gave the impression of physical power. But he had slimmed down and muscled up since she'd last seen him. There was no way to hide the chiseled lines of his physique when he pulled the jacket on over that thin white tee. His hair was blonde, still buzzed close to his head, and he'd gotten rid of the old beat up glasses he used to wear. He wore standard issue black rimmed Galactaquest brand frames—and they looked ridiculous on him.

As he finished buttoning up his jacket and headed for the door, Malcovich ducked her head in the hopes that he wouldn't recognize her, whispering to Kyle, "That's him! That's the guy from Nebraska!"

She raked her eyes over him in a quick glance, answering, "He's kind of cute."

"That's not the...!"

Her words were cut off when the barber spotted her and called out, "Malcovich! Hurry up and get your ass in this chair. I don't have all day."

Aday's authoritative strides stopped short, a stuttered movement revealing that he had heard and knew exactly who was in the shop with him. In that instant her heart plummeted into her stomach and did a somersault, making bile rise as she looked up to meet Mark's eyes. Shock was written clearly on his normally unrevealing face as he took a step forward, hand outstretched.

She came up out of the chair so fast that she caught Beckah's elbow and wrenched it forward, nearly spilling the girl out of her seat. But she didn't look back to make sure her friend was okay; she just ran. There were too many thoughts pounding around inside her skull, too much pent up anger and frustration. More prominent was the little flutter of remembered love, though, and it made her hate herself so much that she couldn't face him or anyone else. She just needed a dark hole to disappear into for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, the Lady Bird was an open door; there was nowhere to hide in its confines. Not even her bunk was safe from random inspection by an officer!

When she made it to the elevator she pounded the call button several times with her clenched fist, praying it would come before Mark or Beckah decided to follow. The doors opened a moment later, but when she entered and pressed the button for the third floor she could see Mark coming toward her. The doors wouldn't close fast enough; she was going to be trapped inside the fucking elevator with him! Heart pounding, she darted out of the metal lift and ducked into the door leading for the stairs, running for all she was worth. She could hear his heavy footfalls pounding behind her and knew that he was gaining. It was no use; he'd always been able to run faster than her, and it didn't help that he could take stairs four at a time while her short legs could only handle two.

"Adrienne, would you stop?!"

The question was meaningless since he caught up to her a few seconds later. He fisted his hand in the back of her tee, jerking backward so hard that she could hear the seams rip a little. Her back slammed into the railing and she barely caught herself before she fell back down the flight of stairs. He hadn’t changed at all; force was still the only course to getting what he wanted. Breaths coming in short gasps, she looked up at him through narrowed eyes and waited for him to say something.

For a while he just looked back at her, the expression on his face hard but undeniably shocked. He studied her up and down, taking in how much she had changed with no small amount of dismay. Where she had worked hard on her appearance when they were together, she seemed to have dropped all pretenses and completely given up on attracting men. Her hair was longer, the natural curl left to frizz as it would in her long ponytail. Those long locks were also an ashy brown, her former staple of bright red dye long since grown out. She’d put on weight as well, filling out to a curvier version of what he remembered. He’d urged her to stay stick thin in those days and for the life of him he couldn’t remember why, only that it was gratifying when she listened.

Taking in a breath, he brought his eyes back up to hers, shaking his head incredulously when he demanded, "Why did you run? This is ridiculous. You're acting like you hate me or something."

She coughed raggedly as she tried to catch her breath, glad for the time it gave her to think and sort through her emotions. There was no way she was going to tell him the truth; how pathetic was it that she still loved him even after six years, even if that emotion was tinted just as strongly with fear? Hatred was a good enough excuse as any, and so she would use it. "Hate is a strong word, but loath is stronger. Let's try that one on for size."

Eyes widening, he took a step back and straightened his uniform uncomfortably. The usual cold veneer of disdain settled across his features, and then he was every bit the Mark she remembered. "It's been six years. That’s plenty of time to move on."

"You said some really harsh things, Mark." She ran her hands over the halo of frizz springing up around the crown of her head, turning away from him to pace around the stair well. "It's like a slap in the face to be told you're not enough for someone, that you're not good enough. You treated me like shit!" There was so much animosity that she couldn't seem to keep her mouth in check. He could get her fired from Galactaquest if he wanted to, but none of that seemed to matter. She'd never gotten closure from their relationship and now was better than never. "It may not have been that bad for you, but it was for me." She fought down the urge to cry as all the old memories resurfaced, throwing her head back in the vain hope that the damning tears would just evaporate from her wide open eyes. "Look," she whispered finally; "let's just not talk about this anymore. You're my CO, now. It's really unprofessional."

"Adrienne..."

"Adri!" Beckah's voice echoed up the stairs, interrupting whatever it was that he was going to say. "Are you okay?"

She leaned over the railing and looked down, waving at her friend. "I'm peachy, girl. See you later, alright? I have to go write this report before Koch jumps down my throat." Without another word, she finished climbing the last flight of stairs and returned to her room. Writing reports was just what she needed to occupy her mind, because if she let herself dwell too much she was going to just break down.



2

A little over fifteen hours later the Lady Bird docked with its fleet ship, Reprisal, and the crew joyously poured out into the receiving bay, ready for a long awaited week of rest. Malcovich and Kyle headed toward the bunks, stowing their gear in the footlockers before going to the mess hall. They were ready for something besides the vitamin packed slop served on the Lady Bird. Reprisal actually had simulated meat and hydroponic vegetables, not to mention pizza, which was a real treat after a month on a flavorless, all liquid diet.

They sat together with some of the crews from other pick-up ships, swapping stories about their most recent fuck ups. The most laughed at was Kyle's ass shaking adventure, though. Malcovich was making faces as Kyle devoured her third piece of pizza when the intercom suddenly buzzed to life. They chewed slowly, listening as the captain informed them of the newest addition to Reprisal.

"Retrieval Officer Koch of the Lady bird will be promoted to Chief of Operations of Reprisal in a ceremony to be held in thirty minutes. Dress out and polish your boots, maggots! Attendance is mandatory."

Malcovich laughed under her breath as she finished off the last of her hamburger. "Come on," she prompted her friend. "Let's go get ready. Wouldn't want to miss this for the world."

They returned to the bunks and got out their dress uniforms, quickly spit shining their shoes and dressing. Their hair was twisted into regulation style buns and topped off by gray berets. Malcovich pinned the scout insignia onto Kyle's uniform and let her friend do the same for her. They looked each other over afterwards, nodding approval.

On the way to the ceremony, Kyle asked, "So is your ex the one taking over our pick-up?"

She sighed and nodded her head. "Yup."

"Suck! What are you going to do?"

Shrugging, she answered, "I don't see that I can do anything. I'll do my job and hopefully things won't get too awkward."

"You know, I heard a lot of what you said to him when I was downstairs." She looked a little guilty admitting that but didn't apologize for it. "You better button it up and keep your mouth shut or he's going to send you packing."

"I was just a little overwhelmed," she explained when they entered the induction room. It was a lot more than that, but she wasn’t about to outline a year of mental and physical abuse that she’d come to crave. Instead she said, "I mean, I didn't think I was ever going to see him again, and surprise! He's now my boss."

She nodded in understanding, a commiserating light in her green eyes. "Well, I'd suggest that be the last time you let it slip. He's going to have your ass otherwise."

They fell silent when the captain of the Reprisal started doing sound checks on the equipment. The rest of the scouting parties filed into the room, splitting up into ranks according to their ship. Malcovich and Kyle joined up with the crew of the Lady Bird when everyone else arrived, assuming their positions and waiting for the ceremony to start. At precisely 19:00, the captain started speaking. He was gruff and very to the point; Malcovich loved attending his ceremonies because they never lasted for more than fifteen minutes.

"It is my pleasure to award Retrieval Officer, First Class, Koch with the rank of Chief of Operations," he announced quickly. Koch took the stage, waiting as the captain pinned a new bar onto his arm and replaced his retrieval insignia with that of operations. "And Retrieval Officer, First Class, Aday will take the position of pilot of the Lady Bird." After brief applause the captain dismissed everyone to their week of relaxation.

Malcovich waited patiently for the rest of the crews to file out of the auditorium before even attempting to move. As she headed toward the door, Koch caught her arm and pulled her back. "We have a situation that has to be brought up with the captain, Malcovich. Come with me." Aday fell in step with them as they headed toward the captain's rooms.

They arrived a few minutes later and he was already waiting for them, sifting through the compiled report of the planet they had just finished scanning. He glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "This scan shows an anomaly of the planet's surface," he announced abruptly.

Koch elbowed Malcovich and she answered uncertainly. "Sir, yes, sir. My hover picked that up on first scan, but a second scan showed nothing. My report will show that it was probably just a bad sensor."

He stacked the papers evenly together before laying them on the corner of his desk. "I had my mechanic personally check your hover, Malcovich. The sensors are fine. That means there’s possible terrestrial life on 4/35, and it's up to your team to find it, capture it, and bring it back to the MT team." The last was directed at Aday.

Standing up straighter, he affirmed the order. "Sir, yes, sir."

After they were dismissed, Koch went off to his own quarters, which left Malcovich and Aday to trek back to the bunks—alone. The silence stretched between them uncomfortably until Mark finally spoke and broke the tension. "Where did you find the anomaly?"

"Sir, it's in the report, sir," she replied evenly.

He cocked his head to the side, hazel eyes dancing at the challenge he sensed in her words. "Maggot, I didn't ask if it was in the fucking report! I asked where you found it."

"Sir, lat 0 degrees, long 153 degrees east..." she paused long enough to smirk at him, before adding the mandatory, "sir."

Mouth tightening ever so slightly, he raised an eyebrow at her—as if to question her sanity—but said nothing. He left her alone after that, returning to the obligatory paperwork that came with a promotion.

She sighed and relaxed a little, letting her defenses down as she went back to the bunks to find Kyle and, hopefully, a little commiseration. Unfortunately, she got back just in time to see her friend leaving the barracks with that scout from Alpha Dog. She still couldn’t remember the little bastard’s name. All she knew was that she didn’t like him.

There were several other scouts in and out of the large room, but she didn’t know any of them well enough to strike up a conversation. Most of them were the drooling idiots she’d been bitching about at the barber’s earlier.

Rolling her eyes, she opened her foot locker and pulled out The Grapes of Wrath. Since the crew of the Lady Bird was being redeployed soon she might as well try to finish the book; chances were she’d actually have to pay attention to her scans from now on anyway. There wouldn’t be much time to read with an actual recovery mission. The scans would be more in depth and on the surface, which would require her to pilot the hover manually and search the terrain on foot.

She flipped the book open, kicking back on the bottom bunk of the three tier group she and Kyle had allotted as their space. In no time at all she was engrossed in Steinbeck’s words and lost sight of her surroundings. His world was so vividly stark compared to the present, a time before intergalactic travel, so primitive in the face of what humankind had now. Truthfully, she delighted in the simplicity of the time period and sometimes wished she could go back just to observe what things were really like.

“Heavy reading for what’s supposed to be R and R time.”

The words brought her out of her trance, startling her because the person who had said them was only a few inches away from her, crouched at the side of her bunk and reading over her shoulder. She swallowed a gasp, turning around to see who had intruded into her imagination’s depiction of the past. She didn’t know him, but he did seem vaguely familiar for some reason.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to place him. He had close-cropped strawberry blonde hair, gray-blue eyes, and a muscular build on his large frame. He also wore the uniform of a MedTerres, or MT, member—one of the scientific crew that was mandated for each fleet ship.

Finally, she gave up the fight with memory and asked, “Do I know you?”

He smiled winsomely, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. You might have seen some of the ads to join MedTerres, though. I was the poster boy for one of their campaign ads a few years ago.” He held his hand out for her to shake it, offering, “I’m Private, First Class, Holliday. Just wanted to say hello since we’ll be working together on 4/35.”

“Right.” She drew the word out, skepticism lacing it heavily. A disbelieving smile cracked her face when she suggested, “There are over a hundred crew members of the Lady Bird. I don’t rank over most of them. Shouldn’t you be kissing someone else’s ass?”

An infectious laugh escaped him and he withdrew his hand, inclining his head slightly. “Fair enough. I was just a little curious after reading your report. You were promoted to scout pretty early—at least a year before even the earliest. I wanted to meet you and see what the big deal was.”

“Are you impressed, Holliday?” She let out a bark of laughter, spreading her arms—an awkward movement with the large book clutched in only one small hand. “This is all there is. And, just so you know, they only promoted me that early because there was an accident and an entire crew went poof.”

He shrugged a shoulder, smiling at her cynicism. “You’re interesting. Most of these scouts are only here for the money and the benefits after six years of enlistment. You don’t strike me as that type, especially since you read things like that”—he pointed at the book, eyebrows winging up comically—“in your spare time.”

As she studied him, something settled into the pit of her stomach, something uncomfortable and foreign after so many years; he liked her. When realization dawned, she could only categorize their conversation as mildly flirtatious, and she didn’t like the thought of that at all. It meant she had played right into his little game. Narrowing her eyes, she made herself look as unwelcoming as possible and growled, “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, pretty boy. You don’t know anything about me.”

His smile never faltered when he replied, “I was hoping you’d give me the chance to change that, Malcovich. There’s a party on the observation deck tonight and I’d like you to come. Bring a friend, too, if you want.”

He was inviting her to a party upstairs; that was unorthodox and slightly frightening. Scientists never mixed with those below decks. Before she had a chance to decline, though, Kyle strode up and leaned against the foot of her bunk, demanding, “Did I just hear something about a party?”

Nodding, he stood up and addressed her. “Observation deck, 21:00 hours. You guys should come.” Winking, he walked away and left them to talk.

“We’re going,” Kyle informed her authoritatively, giving her a no-nonsense stare. “I don’t want to hear a word out of your mouth unless it’s, ‘We sure are, Bean!’”

She curled her lip a bit, saying, “Since when do I do parties? You should go. I don’t like to mingle with stuffy scientist types.”

Kyle grabbed her friend by the chin and forcefully turned her head so that she was obligated to watch Holliday walk away. “Take a look at that fine piece of ass. You can’t tell me he’s stuffy.” She giggled lightly and pulled Malcovich’s head back around so that they were looking at each other. Pursing her lips, she moved her friends jaw and spoke in a high falsetto, pretending to be a ventriloquist: “Let’s go to that party, Beckah. I think we’ll have a great time!”

Slapping away the other woman’s hands in aggravation, Adrienne glared and assented grumpily. “Fine,” she groused, crossing her arms in defeat, “but I refuse to look even remotely feminine. I don’t want to encourage that creep.”

She made a scoffing noise, turning to dig through their footlockers. “Lame sauce! You can suck the fun out of a circus.”

“I do hate clowns,” she shot back, trying her hardest not to grin when she said it. When Kyle turned around and chucked a shirt at her she couldn’t help cracking a smile, though.

Abandoning her book into the foot locker, she then stripped out of her dress uniform, returning the non-wrinkle uniform to its folded position in the container. She pulled on the gray Galactaquest tee that Kyle had thrown at her, followed by a matching pair of trousers. Tossing her glasses into the container, she drew out a contact case, quickly applying the little lenses to her eyes. Her hair stayed in the severe bun, little wings of frizz starting to stir up around her face. She let off trying to smooth them down, a puff of incredulous laughter escaping her. Two minutes ago she’d been bitching about not trying to look good and there she was trying to fix her hair. It was a little sad to admit that maybe a tiny part of her wanted to impress Holliday, even if it didn’t go past that initial phase of catching his eye. Feminine vanity was an inherent flaw it seemed, even with someone as unprepossessing as she.

A smart slap on the derriere drew her out of her thoughts, and she spun around to see Kyle leaning on the bunk post, eyes furrowed gravely. “No dawdling, lover! We’ve got a party to get to.”

She massaged her abused ass cheek, glaring when she asked, “Whatever happened to being fashionably late?”

Bestowing a darkling look on her friend that spoke volumes and seemed to question Malcovich’s sanity, she replied, “We aren’t fashionable. And I want alcohol.” She grabbed her friend’s hand, dragging her into the lift. As the old elevator slowly climbed up the levels, she muttered under her breath in disbelief, “Observation deck,” and then aloud, “I don’t know how you manage to get so much attention without even trying, and then act like you don’t care about it. An MT, for Christ’s sake?! I would kill to snag one of those guys.”

Adrienne had to fight down the urge to ask why. But if she knew Kyle at all, it was because her friend believed the myth that brainy types were better in bed than the casual scout. There was, of course, the obvious allure of the MedTerres bonus bucks—most of them caught incurable diseases from or died while studying the extraterrestrial life found around the universe; they were paid well for their troubles. Her friend wasn’t the materialistic type when it came to the people she had sex with, though. Kyle really just wanted someone who knew their way around the vagina, though Malcovich was fairly certain she was barking up the wrong tree with the MTs. They were trained to study non-human life forms. As such, they probably didn’t have time to look over the female anatomy any more than the scouts.

The lift finally stopped at E Level, the doors opening wide to the observation deck. Both women were surprised to see so many people crowded about the usually stoic lab. Malcovich threw a hand out to stop the lift’s doors from closing again, still peering around uncertainly. She was suddenly assailed with a million and one misgivings about being there. There were not only a lot of MTs, but a lot of officers as well. Her gut started to churn sourly at the thought of meeting Aday there. Just before she could move back into the lift and return to the bunks, though, someone hailed them from the crowd and Kyle dragged her onto the deck, away from the safety of the elevator.

Holliday separated himself from a group of MTs and advanced on the two of them, laying claim to Adrienne’s elbow. He guided her toward the group he had just vacated, smiling softly when he introduced her. “Gentleman,” he intoned, “the woman of the evening, Adrienne Malcovich, and her friend…” He left the sentence open-ended, allowing either of the two of them to pick up where he’d left off.

Kyle was quick to paste on a charming smile, a sparkle entering her eyes when she extended her hand to each of the four men. “Rebecca Kyle,” she informed them, letting a sultry undertone creep into her voice. It was obvious what she wanted, but none of them appeared to be up for the game.

Their attention immediately went back to Malcovich, asking every question they could possibly think of concerning the anomaly. The Reprisal’s MT team hadn’t seen extraterrestrial life in all their time on the ship, so the possibility of finally finding something had them too excited to do much more than think about their impending mission. As the conversation dragged on, Adrienne learned that the four of them—Epperson, Tanabe, Gavet, and Jasper—were the chosen team for 4/35 and Holliday was the ranking officer. It seemed they had a special interest couched in rubbing elbows with her.

Finally, she smiled politely and pulled away from the persistent group, making excuses so she could have a few minutes to breathe and grab a drink. Beckah stayed and chatted with them, glad her friend was leaving. It meant she could finally get a word in edgewise with the men, and hopefully sow the seeds for a scandalous fuck later in the night. Malcovich shook her head and laughed under her breath, pouring a glass of Battery Acid—the homemade pure grain made on Reprisal. Tossing the heady mixture back, she squeezed her eyes shut and screwed her face into an ugly grimace.

Laughing unabashedly, Holliday joined her at the table, pouring himself a glass and refilling hers. “Don’t be shy,” he said when she shook her head negatively and tried to push the glass away. “We make enough of this shit to kill an entire fleet. Drink up.”

Though he was personable and had a way about him that just made her want to grin and take him up on the offer, there was a voice screaming inside her head that it would only get her into trouble later down the road. Kyle was right: she needed a good meaningless fuck. It just wasn’t safe to engage with a higher ranking individual. And she had to be especially careful now that Aday was back in the picture. She held no illusions about how her ex felt about her, but she didn’t quite know how he would respond if given half a chance to remove her from his life completely.

When Holliday turned those dancing gray-blue eyes on her, though, she found it was harder to say no than it should have been. Her lips twitched into something close to a smile as she stared up at him. He held the glass out to her again, casually letting his fingers brush her bare arm. Her skin tingled and her gut tightened painfully. Eyes widening at the unwarranted contact and her uncharacteristic reaction, she quickly grabbed the glass from him and took a hearty gulp, choking slightly as she exhaled fumes. Alcohol wasn’t a good answer to her predicament, but she really wanted an excuse for what she knew she was going to do. Her mind was made up; she wanted him.

She took a step closer to him, eyes carefully downcast as she placed her glass on the table. “So did you invite me here just to let your friends pick my brain?” she wondered, letting her gaze lift back to meet his. She couldn’t help that her eyes traveled over the broad expanse of his chest, carefully noting each defined muscle where it shown clearly through the thin fabric of his white tee, before finally making it to his face.

Finishing off his drink, he let an eyebrow wing up at her and then answered circumspectly, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Under normal circumstances she would have written him off then and there, but she was feeling reckless. The alcohol coursing through her system bolstered her courage. Taking another step closer she murmured, “But I did come, and I believe you said something about wanting to know me better.”

It dawned on him then what she was saying and a feral grin split his face. He set his glass next to hers, jerking his head in the direction of the door. “Private bunks up here…if you want to…?”

She brushed past him on her way to the door, looking over her shoulder to say, “I do.”

He caught up with her, letting his hand settle at the small of her back, a gentle guide pushing her toward his room. Before they could get out of the lab, though, Beckah’s flirtatious laughter rang out. Adrienne stopped at the doorway, peering around the room until she spotted her friend buried in a group of officers and MTs. The crowd shifted and Malcovich saw exactly who had elicited the reaction from her friend: Aday.

Face falling, she watched as he leaned in to whisper something in Kyle’s ear. Once again her friend laughed, a coy giggle quickly covered by a hand. Aday looked up at Adrienne then, a triumphant smirk written thickly across his face. And just like that she knew. He had purposely sought out Beckah to hurt her. Not only that, but he had seen her trying to leave with an MT.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach so fast that it left her gasping for breath. She couldn’t do this with Holliday now—or ever. Not with Mark smirking at her so knowingly. He would report her in an instant. God, how she hated him!
She fought down the distraught look she knew was trying to settle on her face. Clearing her throat, she placed her hand on Holliday’s bicep and shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry,” she apologized shortly. And then she left him. He was so surprised he didn’t even move when she disappeared behind the door for the stairs.

Disgust shook her to the core of her being as she ran down the stairs back to G Deck, back to the safety of her little bunk. What she wouldn’t give to beat in Aday’s head with a wrench right about then. He had no right to waltz back into her life and then proceed to make it hell! It was worse that she still fostered feelings for him. No matter what she did, that little bud of remembered love festered inside of her, refusing to be snuffed out.

Growling in frustration when a few of the scouts gave her questioning looks, she flipped them a rude gesture and buried her face under her pillow. She remembered being a kid and thinking if she couldn’t see anybody else, then they obviously couldn’t see her. With a sad little shivering sigh, she lamented that that wasn’t the case at all. If she could, she would just disappear into a black hole and let her misery end. But, of course, that would be too kind.

***

Unease rising a few notches when Aday leaned in to whisper something in her ear, Beckah wished that Adrienne would hurry back and save her. Her hair stirred under Aday’s breath and she had to fight the urge to vomit at his insinuating comments. Her friend wasn’t lying when she said he was an asshole. There was no way she was going to let him carry out on the comment, but at the same time she couldn’t be rude to a CO.

Giggling a bit to flatter his ego, she covered her mouth and let her laughter die off before saying, “I’m not sure that would be appropriate, sir.” When he made to protest, she shook her head and cut in, “Besides, sir, I think I see Chief of Operations, Koch, looking for you.”

Koch was doing nothing of the sort, but when Aday looked away from her and made eye contact with the man, he took it upon himself to came over and engage in conversation. The momentary distraction gave Beckah the perfect opportunity to slip away. She scanned the room for Malcovich and was surprised to see that both she and Holliday had disappeared. She smirked, glad that her friend had finally taken her advice. The poor girl was sexually frustrated to the point of exploding, and it tended to communicate itself in a frigid reserve that most people would never look past. Now that she’d found an unattached fuck, though, it was possible she’d be a little less defensive and controlled.

All thoughts of Adri fled when she caught sight of Tanabe, one of the MTs assigned to 4/35. He’d caught her eye earlier with his smooth caramel complexion and the Asian tilt to his dark, almond shaped eyes. She’d thought he was cute when he kept pulling at the collar of his white jacket, obviously uncomfortable in the stiff, non-wrinkle material. Presently, he was having trouble fending off another female MT who had him backed into a corner. His eyes met Kyle’s over the blonde’s shoulder, the look he gave her an obvious plea for help.

Cocking an eyebrow, Kyle sauntered over to the two, tapping the girl on the shoulder. When she turned around, Beckah draped an arm over her shoulder and said laughingly, “There is this hot CO talking about you over there! He won’t shut up about all the things he wants to do to you.”

The blonde straightened up, eyes brightening slightly at the idea of a higher ranking officer noticing her. “Which one?” she demanded, the slur in her voice apparent.

“That one, with the blonde hair and glasses.” She pointed at Aday, loving how positively awful she was.

Eyes alight, she watched in barely contained glee when the woman marched up to Aday and told him exactly what he could do to her. He gave her a bored glance, looking her up and down, and then turned back to his conversation with Koch. The woman wasn’t going to be put off, though. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down into a sloppy kiss, arms tightly clutched around his neck so that he couldn’t escape her Battery Acid laced breath.

He struggled violently with her, finally managing to pull her arms free. With a dark glower, he shoved her to the ground, muttering viciously, “Keep your hands off me, maggot! I’ll have your ass if you come near me again.”

Kyle and Tanabe chuckled under their hands as the scene unfolded. Aday was the higher ranking of the two, of course, but to call an MT a maggot was an insult unlike any other. The woman climbed to her feet, her intent apparent. Before she could get started on bitching him out, however, a surprised look crossed her face.
She bent at the waist suddenly and emptied her gut of a massive amount of clear liquid. The room soon filled with the sickly sweet scent of vomit laced with alcohol fumes.

Sighing, Tanabe shook his head and murmured, “Guess that’s an end of things. They’ll shut it down for sure now.”

True to his prediction, Koch called out authoritatively, “Get that dumb bitch out of here and clean this mess up. Party’s over!”

The occupants of the lab grumbled their dissent, but moved to comply nonetheless. The liquor was stored in a locked cabinet, and two women carted the blonde off to her bunk. Soon, only a few people were left loitering in the all too quiet room—Kyle and Tanabe among them.

Tanabe cleared his throat, looking down self-consciously when he said, “Thanks for what you did.”

Laughing, she replied, “Don’t get used to it. I’m not in the habit of being nice.”

Quirking his brows at the offhand statement, he looked up at her again, wondering, “You would let her harass me if it happened again?”

“No,” she promised, eyes glinting mischievously. “I have a vested interest in keeping her off of you now.”

“And why is that?” he asked, openly eyeing her, a goofy grin plastered on his slightly flushed face.

She leaned in to place a light kiss against his lips, murmuring, “I kind of like you.” Winking, she moved away from him and wiggled her fingers over her shoulder in goodbye. The look of absolute awe that came over him was gratifying. Laughing, she ran into the elevator with the last of the departing loiterers, trying her damndest not to giggle to herself as the lift descended to the bowels of the ship.

When she exited onto G Deck, though, she couldn’t help flouncing down on top of Adrienne with an excited squeal. “You’re never gonna guess what I did,” she sing-songed teasingly.

The girl turned over to regard her, a dark glare marring her normally placid face. “Besides making idiot-eyes with my ex?” she spat vindictively.

Beckah drew back in surprise at the vehemence of the accusation. If anyone else would have had the balls to talk to her like that she would have already cut them down, but this was Adri. It wasn’t the same, nowhere near it. She couldn’t muster up a truly scathing remark toward her friend if her life depended on it.

Shaking her head, she responded quietly, “He was coming onto me, but I didn’t want to be rude to a CO. I tricked him into talking to Koch and then got some drunk bitch to puke on him.” For once it was easy to keep the laughter out of her voice when recalling her hand in the hilarity of the evening’s end. She couldn’t even muster a smile with Adri mad at her.

Malcovich turned over on her side, sighing as she stared sightlessly at the bunk beside them. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I just get so mad.” Making a disgusted noise, she rolled back over so that she was facing Beckah. “And he fucked me out of my meaningless sex!”

At that confession, the girl lost it and dropped her head to her friend’s stomach, laughing uncontrollably. She wasn’t surprised in the least when Adrienne called her a name and tipped her out of the bunk, rolling her into the floor. Tears streamed down her face as her ass and elbows made contact with the iron grating, but all she could do was lay there and cackle.

“It’s not funny,” her friend whined, trying valiantly not to laugh as well. She couldn’t help that a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

After a few minutes, Beckah finally caught her breath and whispered, “You poor, poor girl! I’d be ready to rip Aday a new one if I was you.”

“I am,” she muttered dismissively, chin resting on the mattress as she stared down at her friend. Rolling her eyes, she switched positions so that she was seated on the edge of the bunk, and put a hand down to help Kyle up beside her. They sat together in silence for a few moments before Malcovich finally reminded, “So what did you do?”

A surprised exclamation escaped her and she replied, “I got cozy with a cutie and didn’t drop trou!”

“That’s comforting,” she shot back sarcastically. “Because it’s not like you got laid earlier, right?”

She pouted, saying, “You could at least pretend to be proud of me! Besides, I thought you’d be happy I wasn’t fucking Tommy anymore.”

Raising an eyebrow, she asked incredulously, “Really? The last time you said that it lasted all of a month.”

“He’s pretty,” she defended weakly. The truth was that Tommy had been her first real boyfriend, her first real sexual encounter. It was hard to break away from that twisted little bond they shared, especially when he was so good in bed. Frankly, she didn’t care a bit about him, and she’d drop him in a second for someone she could actually stand to be around. But, as Adrienne had pointed out, there was really nobody within their rank worth the time and effort. And maybe Tanabe wasn’t that guy—she hardly knew him—but she could hope.

When her friend gave her a look, she demanded, “What?! The new guy is prettier.” She grinned despite herself, loving that she could tease Adri so easily. She knew the girl worried about her, but it was easier to pretend like she wanted the on and off again relationship status. How did she explain that she didn’t really want him, but she was bored enough to let him pursue her over and over? It was probably cruel of her—scratch that; it was beyond cruel—but Tommy just couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

“So which one did you get cozy with?”

The question caught her off guard, causing her to bring her head up suddenly, brows furrowed. She’d been so deep in thoughts about her weird relationship with Tommy she’d almost forgotten what they were talking about. Finally, though, she retraced her steps and remembered how excited she’d been about her interaction with the caramel-skinned MT. “Tanabe,” she replied, unable to keep the dreamy quality out of her voice.

A puff of laughter escaped her at the admission. “I should have known,” she remarked softly. “What about him being an MT?”

Shrugging, she laid back, pulling Adri with her so that they were snuggled together in the small twin bunk. “I’m under the radar most of the time—the dancing incident aside.” There was a moment of silence as they both reflected on that statement, and then Beckah said, “What about you? Think you can slip past Aday if I run interference?”

“I appreciate the offer,” she murmured, obviously still deep in thought. The real question was did she even want to run that course anymore. It seemed that she wasn’t completely over Aday yet; the fear and feeling of being beholden to him brought back the perverse version of love she felt. Part of her thought that Holliday would be a step in the right direction of getting Mark out of her system, but the other part felt like it would just make her feel cheap and even more unwanted in the end. She blinked after a moment, breaking herself from her reverie to add, “I just don’t think it would be a good idea. I’ve got a lot to lose now, and I’m only a year away from promotion.”

Beckah understood what her friend was going through, but she couldn’t help but feel that anything Adri achieved was going to be hollow if she continued to cut herself off from everyone. And chances were that they weren’t going to be in the same crew forever. Hesitantly, she offered, “I think you should go for him.” When her friend sighed and made to speak again, she quickly added, “Just think about how awful you’re going to feel ten years down the road when you’re in a big fleet ship and have nobody to share your success with. You’re young! You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself, and instead you’re punishing yourself for what some asshole did six years ago.” She hugged the girl closer, trying to impress with a comforting embrace what her words never could: she wanted her friend happy.

“Bean,” Adri began, stopping short when the squeeze tightened. She knew without a word having to be uttered that Beckah was at a loss for words. Smiling in exasperation, she scoffed, “Oh let go already! I know you want me to be normal and start having sex again, but it’s just not easy for me to pick someone based on their rank. I’m always finding faults and little things that make them subpar, you know?”

“Faults!” She challenged, her voice raising an octave. “You want to talk about faults?! What about Aday? He’s a chauvinistic pig, Adri! If you can date him for almost a year, then I’m pretty sure you can stoop so low as to fuck a poster boy for MedTerres.”

The sarcasm was nearly tangible. And put that way Malcovich could only chuckle darkly at the ironic hilarity. She had practically been Mark’s slave—that was nowhere near dating—and she had begged for the abuse, had wanted it. Falling silent, she took in a deep, calming breath. It was obvious that she was well past the point of return in her masochistic tendencies. So what were a few meaningless fucks going to matter in the end? After a moment she said, “Let’s make a deal, then.”

“A deal?” Kyle repeated dubiously, turning to look at her friend, the suspicion clear in her eyes.

Adrienne just laughed, but confirmed, “A deal. I’ll start saying yes if you start saying no.”

Nose crinkling at the unintended mysticism, she said, “I don’t get it. That doesn’t sound so hard.” She had the sinking feeling that she was being tricked into something and didn’t particularly like the idea. “Exactly what am I supposed to be saying no to?”

“The opposite sex.” At the strangled noise Beckah made, Adri was quick to say, “Just while we’re on this mission. No cozy time for you, and as much sex as possible for me. Deal?”

She was about to say ‘hell no’ but thought better of it. What was a week without sex anyway? Tommy wasn’t on the Lady Bird, and Tanabe wasn’t a guaranteed fuck just yet. A week was enough time to play nice and butter him up. But for Malcovich to just jump in bed with Holliday as many times as he would have her? That was a whole new ballgame, and something she could tease her about at every available turn. And with Aday running the mission, he would be stuck up her friend’s ass a lot less. That left a lot of open ship to be defiled.

Smirking exultantly, she said simply, “Deal. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of this.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second, you dirty bitch.”

Beckah sucked in an angry breath, pretending to be offended, but soon broke down into giggles. They split apart, Kyle going to her own bunk with a whispered “good night”. Once she was alone, however, her thoughts ran rampant over any desire to sleep. For what seemed hours she chewed on her lower lip, wondering how things were going to unfold once they were back on 4/35.

Though she wasn’t an MT, she would be helping to capture the anomaly. The thought was exciting and inherently frightening. Never once had she come up against something non-human in her four years at Galactaquest, never mind that she’d only spent six months of that running scans in the hovercrafts. The point was that she stood a chance of dying, and it scared her shitless. Even the perk of having Tanabe hanging on her every word failed to cheer her. She sighed, rolling over on her side.

“Go to sleep,” Adri hissed from beneath her. “I can hear you thinking, Bean! And it’s keeping me awake.”

She made a dismissive noise, but after that made an honest effort to block out everything. After a few false start vertigo dreams she finally settled in for the night and managed to drift off. Her dreams were fitful, though, full of violence and all number of ridiculous creatures her brain imagined to be the anomaly. Her half-asleep mind wryly noted that she was going to be exhausted at wake-up in the morning.



3

The Lady Bird’s reverse thrusters burned out a large swath of the wildlife clinging to 4/35’s surface as the ungainly ship slowly descended to the designated patch of landing strip. Finally, it was settled securely on the exposed rock, and keyed down to a low power state. Everyone assembled in the bridge and then briefing began.

Aday pointed at a rough projected chart of the planet, explaining where the anomaly had been spotted two days prior. “This area is a cave system,” he said, his finger circling around a large swath near the middle of the map. “It’s most likely that whatever it is has moved. Malcovich and Aldridge will put down directly on the sighting and proceed on foot into the cave system. A second group will come in through the west entrance, led by Kyle and Phillips. I want you MTs to hang back unless something comes up on scan. I get ended if any of you pretty boys get hurt, so no risks.”

Her part in the mission fully outlined, Adrienne tuned out and let her attention wander to the photo that had been taken by her ship when the anomaly was spotted. The thermal scan showed something oddly shaped and variable in its temperature. She furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of it. The thing had to be huge whatever it what. She wasn’t sure the Lady Bird had the equipment needed to capture it. Then again, she wasn’t an MT, and they seemed just fine with the set up.

At the thought of the MedTerres boys she cast a surreptitious glance at Holliday, admiring his clean cut form in the white Galactaquest suit. She didn’t even know if he wanted anything to do with her after the way she’d blown him off last night, but she was sure as hell going to give it a go when the briefing was over. They would have three hours before the planet would be hospitable enough to traverse in their suits, and that was plenty of time to get further acquainted.

The briefing ended shortly and everyone filed out of the room to ready for the impending mission. Adrienne got stuck behind a clump of fifth years and was effectively cut off from Holliday. Scowling, she lunged forward, straight through the middle of the group to grab Holliday’s arm before he could disappear into the crowd. Smiling, she jerked her head toward an emergency stairwell, pulling him inside with her. He didn’t resist, which boded well. Once safely inside, she took a deep breath and began speaking.

“I’m so sorry about last night. My CO is my ex and he caught me trying to leave with you. You know how that sort of things goes.” She shrugged helplessly, eyes boring into his, pleading for a second chance.

He took a step toward her, slowly herding her backward until her rear bumped into the safety railing. Placing a hand on either side of her body, he leaned down so that his cheek rubbed against hers when he murmured, “And now what do we do?”

Her breath hitched unceremoniously, so much so that she had to pause a moment before she was able to whisper, “Whatever you want.” She had a moment of shock run through her when he pressed a little kiss to her jaw line and then pulled away to start down the stairs. She felt her face fall when she thought he was denying her, but then he turned to look at her questioningly, beckoning her forward with an authoritative gesture.

She moved forward unhesitatingly, grabbing his proffered hand, and they descended the stairs toward the lower decks of the ship. Once at the bottom, he twisted the huge wheel lock that closed off the engine room from the rest of the ship. Pulling her inside with him, he closed the door and they were sealed in nearly complete darkness. Only a few red and blue blinking lights revealed their forms.

Advancing slowly, he twined his hands in her long ponytail, pulling her head back by a handful of the brown curls. His mouth settled over her throat nipping and kissing along her pulse, a torturously inventive move that soon had her whimpering and shivering against him. A deep chuckle escaped him before he captured her mouth in a long, languorous kiss. He playfully drew her to open her mouth, letting his tongue dart against her lower lip.

Though the engines were still running at half mast—keeping up the gravity simulators and the oxygen recyclers—it seemed unbearably quiet with just labored breathing to break the monotonous whine. Adrienne couldn’t help but think this was probably one of the worst ideas ever. Getting caught in the engine room was an automatic dismissal from the fleet; getting caught having sex in the engine room with a ranking officer would be too embarrassing for words.

Holliday growled and drew away from her, quickly stripping out of his jacket and tee before capturing her again. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling the edges of her shirt out of her trousers, working the thin material over her head. Smirking, he kept her arms trapped there in the shirt for a moment, teasingly leaning in to nibble at her neck and jaw.

When she started squirming he took pity and cast the garment away, letting her wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down. She pulled his earlobe into her mouth, nibbling lightly before letting him go to whisper in his ear, “Make this good, Holliday. It’s been a long time.”

“Don’t worry, Miss,” he murmured teasingly, assuredly. “I’ll make it something you won’t soon forget.”

The devastatingly sexy rumble of his voice made her stomach tighten instantaneously, and she knew if her underwear didn’t come off soon that they were going to be ruined. She leaned back into the doorframe and kicked her boots off, furiously working at her belt while Holliday finished stripping down as well. Soon they were both naked and pressed together, hands running over bare flesh indiscriminately as their kisses turned frenzied.

Malcovich reached for his cock, a surprised gasp escaping her when she felt how thick and long it was. She was suddenly unsure of herself, stumbling back from him to run into the doorframe again. After six years of no sex, she wasn’t sure she could handle the monster before her.

Holliday was quick to follow her backward movement, pressing himself firmly against her. A soft groan issued forth from the depths of his throat when the head of his dick rubbed against the supple flesh of her stomach, barely brushing against the underside of her breasts when he straightened his spine. When she whimpered again, he let his hand trail down her side before coming to rest between her legs. While he stroked her there, letting his fingers slide against the slick slit, his other hand settled behind her neck, pulling her forward for a hungry kiss. As their mouths met, he let his middle finger slip inside of her.

The feeling of her tight, wet cunt convulsing around his finger elicited another groan. He wanted her to bring her screaming, and so couldn’t help when he started a rough pumping rhythm, adding another finger to slide against that pleasurable spot inside of her. She let out a surprised ‘oh’, her mouth rounding as she shuddered against him. Her body locked up, eyes squeezing closed as the orgasm washed over her, but she bit down on the urge to voice her delight; the idea of getting caught still weighed heavily on her mind.

Instead of stopping his assault, Holliday kept running his fingers over that same spot, murmuring, “I won’t stop until you scream for me, Adrienne. I want you to scream.” In rhythm to his voice, he worked his fingers as if to punctuate each word.

And again she felt an orgasm building. She held it back by sheer willpower for a few moments, but then he quickened his ministrations, getting rougher, and forcefully tore the pleasure from her body. She couldn’t help when a surprised little yip escaped her, but she stifled herself by clamping a hand over her mouth.

Holliday growled at being denied and ripped her hand away, wrapping his arm around her back so that both of her arms were trapped against her sides. He smirked down at her, placing a kiss on her nose before saying, “Let’s try this one more time.”

True to his word, he started again, fingers quickly dancing inside her, bringing her closer by the second. And when she came again, she did scream; and she quaked against him, unable to breathe properly and almost too mindless with pleasure to try.

Before she could recover fully, Holliday turned her around and bent her over. She grabbed the doorframe for balance, still shaking as he spread her legs and rubbed his cock along the slick lips. When he tried to force himself inside her, though, it became apparent he was going to have to wait for her to adjust. It took a few moments to work the full length in, a slow process of pulling back and then pushing forward just a little farther. Finally, though, she could take all of it without pain and even moved against him encouragingly. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her against him with quick vigorous thrusts.

Adrienne felt him bumping against her cervix with each plunge, a pleasure-pain feeling that brought her again in only a few minutes. She let out a choked cry, nearly collapsing as she came violently against him. A wash of fluid flooded down her legs, surprising Holliday so much that he came inside her, adding his own guttural cry to hers.

He carefully pulled her upright and pushed her forward against the doorframe, molding his body against hers so that his chin rested on top of her head and his arms circled her torso. He felt his cock going soft inside her and a contented sigh escaped him. “So,” he wondered, “was that good enough for you, Miss?”

Chuckling unabashedly, she reached up and ran a hand over the strawberry blonde stubble on his head. “Satisfactory, sir. This maggot has no complaints.”

“A rainmaker,” he murmured rapturously, pressing his lips to her temple. “I’ve never been with a girl who could do that.”

An embarrassed flush stained her cheeks when he made mention of her unfortunate habit of ejaculating. Mark had thought it was disgusting, so it made it impossible to have good sex. She was forever trying to hold back hard orgasms that induced the reaction. Most of the time she couldn’t even get off for fear of being yelled at in the aftermath. She’d learned to make due with a vibrator when Mark wasn’t around; it was the only thing that was even halfway satisfying.

It hadn’t helped that the first time she’d ejaculated, it had happened with Mark, and he had made her feel like a freak. She had nothing else to compare it to, and so considered it mortifying. And after he had broken up with her, she found she couldn’t have sex anymore without that fear clawing at her gut, ruining what could have been a perfectly good fuck. That had also been a large part of the reason she’d foregone sex the past six years. She hadn’t really had time to think about it with Holliday, though; it had just happened. And he’d liked it.

She relaxed into him, contemplative of the implications of what they’d done. Chewing at the inside of her lip, she silently wondered if this was going to be a one-time thing. She couldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to do it again, but she was sexually starved and needed the outlet he provided. He was especially good with his hands, too. She’d never met anyone who could get her off with just a rough finger fuck. Petting the arm wrapped languidly around her shoulders, she admitted that she was beginning to like him, too. There were no faults that were readily apparent. Normally she’d question his sexuality, but he’d more than proven he was into tits and labia.

Rolling her eyes, she left off her thoughts and carefully disengaged herself from him, searching around the dark room for her clothing. She came up with Holliday’s trousers first and tossed them at him playfully. Laughing, he caught them and reached out to smack her on the ass. Their hushed giggles filtered through the room, drowning out the whir of the engines.

Adrienne shushed him and went back to feeling around on the floor for her clothing. She finally found a sock and a shirt, but was at a loss as to where the rest of her things had ended up. It was then that she realized Holliday had his hands behind his back. Glaring, she held her hand out, imperiously commanding, “Fork it over, pretty boy.”

“What do you trade for it?” he challenged blithely, lifting his nose in the air.

Making a dismissive noise, she tried to get around him to take the clothing by force, but he continually dodged her attacks. After one more unsuccessful lunge, she blew out a puff of breath, acquiescing to his demands. “Fine! What do you want?”

“To do this again sometime soon,” he told her seriously, leaning forward to steal a kiss.

She let her hands splay across the naked expanse of his chest, regretting that there wasn’t enough light to fully appreciate the muscled perfection she felt under her palms. Drawing away with a smile, she murmured, “Deal.” And then she reached around him and snatched her clothes.

They dressed awkwardly in the darkness, chuckling at odd moments when they discovered an inside out shirt or cold wet spots where cooling pipes had leaked into their boots. After what seemed an inordinately long time, they deemed themselves presentable and cautiously exited the engine room into the emergency stairwell. It was then that Adrienne noticed the dirty footprints decorating Holliday’s white uniform. Smiling evilly, she pointed it out and then ran up two floors to C Deck, leaving him to do what he would. She needed a shower and some clean clothing pronto.

Upon entering her bunk, she drew back with a hissing gasp. Aday was there, casually flipping through The Grapes of Wrath, a bored expression on his face. He tossed the book back into her foot locker and drew out her journal, eyebrows winging up as he turned it over in his hands, caressing the worn cover as he had once caressed her body. “I remember a time when I was allowed to write in this as much as you were,” he commented sagely.

When he went to open it, though, Adrienne made a strangled noise. Coming forward, hand outstretched, she desperately choked out, “Don’t!”

“Don’t?” he repeated, an eyebrow winging up in challenge. “And what if I do, maggot? I have every right to check your bunk for contraband whenever I feel like it.” He sneered at her, adding maliciously, “What don’t you want me to see, Malcovich? Got a dirty little secret your CO shouldn’t know about?”

“This is harassment,” she hissed under her breath, shaking her head incredulously. “I have no authority to kick you out, sir, but I will lodge a formal complaint if you insist on reading my journal. Furthermore,” she spat, “if I’m not mistaken, it’s fleet law that you have to have another officer here during inspection…sir.”

She wanted to gloat and smirk at him like he had done to her, but there was really no point. If he was going to read her journal, then there wasn’t much she could do to stop him. The best she could do was put in a written complaint and then file for a transfer. That would set her back in her career, however, and label her as hard to work with. She would lose any chance at a promotion if she couldn’t make things work with Aday in the picture again.

As she regarded him where he sat on her bunk so sedately, she noticed for the first time in two days all she felt was an overriding sense of disgust where he was concerned. There was no love, nothing even remotely conflicted. Rather she felt an overwhelming rage boiling just beneath her skin, the need to strangle the breath from him making her fingers twitch erratically.

He knew—intimately—that she absolutely couldn’t stand to have her privacy invaded. And yet he insisted on tormenting her. She didn’t understand him at all, other than the fact that he was cruel beyond belief. Then again—her hand stole to her throat, memories washing over her—she’d already known that.

For the first time since she’d entered the cabin, he really looked at her. His eyes narrowed, brows beetling together in consternation when he noted her appearance—the mussed hair, swollen lips and flushed cheeks, the untucked shirt. “You look like shit,” he told her, abandoning the journal when he stood and advanced on her. He stopped before her, reaching up to grab at her disheveled ponytail. When she would have moved away from him, her jerked her back by a handful of the curls. “Fleet regulations state that female employees must always have their hair neatly tied back from their neck.” Wrenching her closer so that her neck was craned at an awkward angle and she was forced to stare up at him, he whispered, “I saw you not an hour ago and your hair was fine. What have you been doing to fuck it up, maggot?”

“I was boxing…” She broke off with a stifled grunt when he jerked her around again.

Laughing as she struggled not to make noise under his assault, he said, “Don’t lie to me, maggot. I know for a fact you weren’t on D Deck, nor were you in any of the facilities.” He shook her lightly, settling his free hand at her throat, not quite squeezing, but the threat was there. “Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked sweetly, tightening the hand on her throat just enough to make her eyes widen.

This was a game he had played with her before, when they were still together. Before he would have sex with her, she literally had to beg him, and even after that humiliation was out of the way it was no normal affair. He would torture her by refusing to give her even the small clitoral induced orgasms that were sure not to provoke an ejaculation. Rather, he would tease her until she was mindless with need, until she would agree to anything—beg for anything. And then he would satisfy every foul idea that entered his mind, delighting in the fact that she was technically asking him to do those things. By the end of their relationship, her pain threshold had disappeared, and she’d come to view their sex life as normal. Nothing quite excited her like a hearty slap or being strangled until she passed out.

Adrienne knew her eyelids were half-lidded, her eyes smoky with the memory of how she’d used to crave this treatment. Once more she felt the need to remove her underwear before they were soaked through. What was infinitely worse than still being turned on by his abusive treatment, though, was that she knew Mark had to see the truth reflected in her eyes. He didn’t need to read her journal, after all. Everything he could have found out in those damning pages was displayed openly on her face.

Shoving her roughly against the wall, he delighted in the cry of pain that left her mouth. He tightened his grip on her neck, ramming his thigh between her legs and running it upward until she was forced to stand on tiptoe or ride the appendage. “I know you like this,” he whispered huskily, hand pressing down on the veins on either side of her neck.

Her legs gave out, dropping her down onto his thigh. She was humiliated when he moved his leg against her most intimate parts, the friction a tantalizing tease. Already her vision was going fuzzy around the edges, and all she could think about was the overwhelming urge to just give in and move against Mark the way she would have six years prior.

“Tell me you like this,” he commanded, grinding that leg ever harder against her. He was steadily forcing her toward an orgasm and he knew it.

Rolling her eyes up to meet his, she silently pleaded for him to leave her alone, to let her cry in privacy. What he was doing was wrong on so many levels. She couldn’t tell who she hated more, though—him for continuing his abuse, or herself for loving it like the sick little masochist that she was. He slid his other hand into her shirt, roughly tweaking her nipple until she cried out and arched into his touch. “I like this!” she screamed in defeat, trying her hardest not to come against him. She wouldn’t oblige him by degrading herself that far.

He laughed when the words poured out of her mouth, immediately dropping his hold and backing away from her. “You’re still the same little slut I remember,” he intoned warmly, patting her cheek none too gently. “We’ll finish this later, hmm?” And, at last, he left.

The tears came in a hot, silent rush, washing down her cheeks as if to mock her valiant effort to hold them back. She slid down the wall, burying her face against her knees as she rocked back and forth. Her body was on fire, screaming at her for denying it when it was so close. Her mind was infinitely cold; all she could think about was how incredibly fucked up she was to have half enjoyed his uninvited handling. It was obvious that no matter how much meaningless sex she had, nothing was going to cure the need to be dominated and otherwise manhandled. She was pathetic and disgusting.

She heard feet tramping up the deck toward her room and quickly gained her feet, drying her tears off as she snatched clean clothing out of her foot locker. The shower would hide anymore tears as well as wash away the evidence of her sick fetish.

Beckah rounded the corner, poking her head in the door. “We’re heading down to mess if you want to join,” she prompted. After a few seconds she noted the cast of Adrienne’s back and knew something was wrong. Coming closer, she pressed a hand to the girl’s shoulder, wondering, “What’s up, Adri?”

“Oh…” She laughed unconvincingly, trying not to sniff and give away the fact that she’d been crying. “Just not feeling well,” she whispered, choking back sobs as another torrent of tears was set loose.

Spinning her around softly, Beckah’s eyes widened as she took in the angry red marks around her friend’s neck and her overall disheveled appearance. “Did Holliday do this to you?!” she demanded shrilly. “I swear to god I’ll make sure he has an accident and breaks his neck on the stairs!”

She shook her head, barely managing to say, “Aday.” Shrugging off her friend’s comforting hug, she sniffed and wiped her eyes, muttering something about the showers.

Though she could understand the need to be left alone, Beckah refused to be put off. She followed Adrienne all the way to the showers, taking it upon herself to stand guard in the doorway in case Aday decided to come back. She didn’t know what had happened, but it had to be bad to make Malcovich cry. The girl was so unemotional she could be a fucking robot. Not once in four years had Kyle seen her cry—until now. That bastard, Aday, needed to have his balls cut off and shoved down his throat. She’d do it, too, if given half a chance.

Finally, Adrienne emerged from the showers, eyes dry and face composed. They headed down to the mess hall, the brunette waving off any further inquiries as to what had happened. Beckah left her alone for the time being, sure that she’d tell all soon enough.

They went through the chow line in silence, taking their food to a bench and quickly forcing down the liquid mess. Beckah kicked back against a wall, putting her feet up on the table when she was done. It was obvious by the way she stared at Adri that she was waiting for an explanation. When it became apparent that her friend wasn’t going to readily give anything up, though, Kyle spoke. “You gonna tell me what that prick did to you?”

A sad smile crossed her face, but she just stirred her spoon around in the food and thought about what exactly she could say. Sure, Aday shouldn’t have put his hands on her, but she had liked it. She hadn’t said ‘stop’ one time during the sickening little exchange. Finally, she sighed and said, “I brought it on myself.”

Making a rude noise, Kyle sat up and leaned forward on the table to conspiratorially say, “That’s bull shit! Don’t try to cover shit up because your ex just happens to be your CO now.” She narrowed her eyes when she added, “I know you’re worried about your career, Adri, but you can’t let him handle you. You need to handle yourself, and then handle him. You got me?”

It was surprising to see her normally carefree friend so vehement on a serious subject. Maybe it was that simple a fact, or maybe it was just that Kyle was right, but Malcovich felt like she might not be lying when she nodded and replied, “Yeah, I got you.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, each trapped in their own thoughts. Before long the chef called close-down for the caf and they were forced out of the mess hall. They made their way back up to Adrienne’s bunk and sprawled over the middle of the bed, the silence following them.

Beckah finally let out a sigh, saying, “I won’t leave you alone, ya know? I’ll make sure he doesn’t put his hands on you again.”

Laughing, Malcovich corrected, “You won’t leave me alone until he orders you to.” When Kyle started to protest, she grew serious. “It’s something I have to do alone, Bean. You can’t fight this battle for me.”

They regarded each other soberly from their mirrored reclining positions, an unspoken thought ringing clearly between them: Adrienne knew that Beckah would do something rash if she didn’t get things under control, and likewise Beckah knew that Adrienne would do her damndest to make things right. They smiled and then looked up at the ceiling, the talk straying to less serious matters, as it always did.

“So I saw you leave the briefing with Holliday earlier.”

Malcovich felt her stomach tighten at the mere mention of the MT. He had been a well-chosen diversion, but not nearly enough to relieve her body from its attachment to Aday’s darker form of sex, it seemed. The matter had already been settled, though. No matter how much she craved domination, she had to settle for something less deviant or she was going to be a twisted and lonely wretch.

Nodding affirmatively, Adrienne murmured, “I held up my end of the deal.” She couldn’t help that a self-satisfied smirk settling across her features.

“I fucking knew it,” her friend shot back. “Well? Details, please?”

“Details?” she questioned innocently, batting her lashes and smiling coyly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Beckah made a face and let out a puff of breath to communicate her disbelief. “My ass! Tell me he doesn’t have a baby dick,” she pleaded, eyebrows winging up in horror. “He’d better be packing with a body like that.”

Giggling under her hand, Adrienne tried to hold out a little longer, but Kyle smacked her arm. She held up her hands to show just how much he’d been packing.

Kyle’s eyes widened at the length, but absolutely bugged when Adri circled up her fingers to show the width. “Dear fucking god,” she exclaimed under her breath. “Can I borrow him?!”

“Only when I get bored of him,” Malcovich joked good naturedly, letting a playful scowl settle over her features. “I don’t want you tiring him out before I’ve gotten full use out of him. I know how you are, you little nympho.”

“We could share…?” she suggested hopefully, clasping her hands together under chin to look cuter and more persuasive. “Please, please, please!”

Winging up an eyebrow, Adrienne took great pride in reminding her friend of the deal they’d made. “I think not…at least not for a week. You have to say ‘no’ as long as I’m saying ‘yes’, remember?” She poked her friend when Beckah started to pout again, breaking into laughter when she added, “And what would poor Tanabe say when he found out what he was having to compete against?!”

“Bish!” Kyle cried angrily, snatching the pillow and popping it down on Adrienne’s unsuspecting head. “Tanabe is prettier anyway,” she groused, throwing herself back down on the thin mattress.

Malcovich grabbed the pillow, tucking it behind her head when she shrugged. “I guess if little dicks trip your trigger,” she muttered under her breath.

Smacking her knuckles lightly against her friend’s thigh, Kyle shot back, “I heard that.” And then she giggled, saying, “And I know for a fact that it’s not little.”

“Oh, you fucking cheat!” Adrienne exclaimed angrily, sitting up to stare down at her friend in dismay. “I knew you couldn’t keep it in your pants for a week, but I thought you could manage a day at least!”

A big grin split her face when she lunged up and hugged her friend, dragging her back down on the bed with her. “I just copped a feel after making out with him,” she placated laughingly. “You can’t get mad at me for a little kiss.”

Sighing, Adrienne let herself relax into the hug, squeezing her friend back. “You know I can’t stay mad at you, even if you are a big lush.”

They laughed at that, but started guiltily when the loud speakers crackled to life, easily overriding their voices. “Forty minutes until optimal temperatures are reached. All hands to the hovers.”

“Lame sauce,” Beckah retorted, shaking her head as she disengaged herself from Adrienne and rose to her feet. Wiggling her fingers in goodbye, she returned to her own bunk to grab her flight gear.

Adrienne gathered her own gear, heading down to the flight deck to meet up with Aldridge and the team of MTs that would be flying with her. The excitement was nearly palpable when she arrived. She could practically reach out and grab the adrenaline pumping through the room. It was a heady feeling and more than a little infectious. She found herself smiling when she strode up to Aldridge and Holliday. “Ready boys?”

Nodding their assent, they motioned her to the largest of the ship’s hovers. The tiny hovercrafts used to scan planets were designed for speed. The older model they’d be using had a cargo container beneath it that could handle three metric tons. A ton of that was going to be the container used to hold the life form in an environmentally conducive seal. Everyone involved was praying that it would be enough to contain the anomaly; the consensus seemed to find it lacking, however. After looking at the thermal scan, Adrienne has having doubts as well, but she chose to keep them to herself.

She donned her flight suit, standing by to help Holliday and the other two MTs should they need it. She was surprised when Holliday quickly zipped in and secured and tested his oxygen mask. Epperson and Gavet had more trouble with the process; they were all thumbs with the masks. Sighing, Malcovich silently wondered if Kyle was having as much trouble with Tanabe and Jasper. Working quickly, she and Aldridge soon got the two MTs sorted and everyone was strapped into seats.

Flipping the switch for the coms, Adrienne said, “Permission to start launch sequence.”

It crackled back in the affirmative: “That’s a go ahead, Malcovich.”

She hit a few buttons, watching the screens as they flickered to life. “We have ignition,” she announced, anticipating the little jolt deep in the pit of her stomach when the craft went airborne, hovering over the flight deck. She moved into position in the airlock, waiting patiently as the doors closed behind her and then another set opened out into the planet. “Take off in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and mark.” She pushed the stick forward and the hover slowly moved into the corrosive atmosphere of 4/35.

The airlock closed behind her and intercom crackled to life again. “That’s affirmed, Malcovich. Your ETA is 30.”

“Affirmative, boys,” she answered, relaxing in her chair. Though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was just as excited as everyone else about locating extraterrestrial life. For the first time in six years she was going to set foot on an alien world. Galactaquest was finally fulfilling its slogan verbatim. The implications of finding a new life form were mind blowing, and if she successfully located it her promotion would be set in stone.

Smiling softly, she dodged around a mossy tree-like growth that had climbed off of a rock and several meters into the air. Her heart skipped a beat, excitement making her jumpy at the stick.

Beside her, Aldridge jokingly chastised, “Not you, too, Malcovich!” Chuckling, he reminded, “Chances are that this won’t be successful. Our suits aren’t made to last more than a few hours in these environments. And besides, it’s been two days since the anomaly was spotted. I’m surprised Koch didn’t lose his promotion over letting us come home without a foot scan of the area.”

She shrugged noncommittally, eyes trained on the purple and green horizon. “We all thought it was a fuck up on my part, Aldridge. After hundreds of scans we haven’t found a damn thing to suggest alien life. Chances were that it was just another fucked up sensor.” It wasn’t until that moment that it really sunk in just what they were about to come up against. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and she had to lick her lips to hold back vomit. Eating before the mission was definitely not a good idea.

Everyone else seemed to come to the same conclusion because the cabin fell silent, tension heavy in the air. They were going to be on ground zero, and if the sky-scans were correct the anomaly was still close to the surface in the same cave system. Adrienne suddenly knew what had kept Beckah awake the previous night: the idea of dying. It wasn’t a comfortable thought, and her mind couldn’t seem to let go of it.

The whole way to the drop sight, she chewed at the inside of her bottom lip, eyes darting back and forth over the horizon. And when they finally made it and she set the hover down, she had to take a deep breath before she could control her shaking limbs enough to move from her seat. The cave loomed dark and ominous before the blue shield, a great yawning chasm just waiting to swallow them whole.

“Steady,” she murmured under her breath, eyes impossibly wide. “Steady.”



4

Eyebrows furrowing at the unexpected amount of flora clustered around the cave entrance, Beckah let her craft hover over the space for a while so the jets would clear the space. When it was open enough to get a good view of the entrance, though, she couldn’t help but note how small the gap was. Two humans in suits could barely fit through abreast.

“It’s going to be a little tight, guys,” she called back to the MTs. “I’m going to turn the ship around and just leave the container open so we can herd the thing in from the opening.” She soon had the hover maneuvered backwards and lined up with the entrance.

Unclipping her safety belt, she vacated the pilot’s seat and opened the container with the space suits. She pulled one out, giving instructions to the two MTs on how to use them. “You have to check every joint and seal,” she reminded strictly, pointing out just how many there were. “One air leak and you melt into a little puddle of goo and then I get fired.”

Though they laughed, she was entirely serious. The atmosphere on 4/35 was caustic to human flesh, and would work in much the same way as acid. There wouldn’t be anything left but the few plastic pieces in the suit once everything was said and done.

“Strip down to boxers,” she instructed, handing them each a suit. “It’s hot out there, so you won’t want to wear anything more than is absolutely necessary. Phillips and I will get you two ready and then we’ll suit up, too.”

Jasper was quick to follow orders, but Tanabe dawdled, fingering the zipper on his white MT suit uncertainly. He finally pulled his trousers off and then quickly pulled off the jacket. During the awkward struggle with the suit, though, Beckah caught sight of a black wire running around his back. She quickly turned away, pretending that she’d been helping Jasper the whole time, but there was no mistaking a contraband communication wire. He was dirty.

All of that tugging at the collar of his suit suddenly made sense. She’d thought it an adorable bad habit. He was just sweating to death in the recycled air on board Reprisal, but couldn’t remove his jacket for fear of revealing the wire.

Her heart dove into her stomach and bile rose in her throat. How was she supposed to handle the situation now? If he was dirty, there was a good chance every one of the MedTerres team was as well. She thought of Adri, then, and grew more worried by the second. Her friend was stuck with three of them.

Taking a deep breath, she resolved herself to take care of the situation. She would act like she didn’t know anything until she could speak to Phillips in private. They could handle the two MTs without a problem. Hopefully Adri could handle herself until a warning made it back to the Lady Bird and was relayed.

All too soon, the safety checks were complete and Phillips and Kyle were suited up as well. They moved into the airlock and then out onto the planet’s rocky surface. After the cabin’s airlock was resealed, they opened up the storage unit so the MTs could grab their equipment. Beckah purposely put off opening the container door for the time being.

While the two MTs were inside the belly of the hover, Beckah tapped the com button that linked her with Phillips, saying to the woman, “I saw a wire on Tanabe when he put his suit on. I think the MTs are dirty.”

Phillips straightened her spine, nodding that she understood. “What do we do?”

That was the fifteen million dollar question. Kyle had an idea, of course, but it was foolish and most likely wouldn’t work. The only thing that made her think of it in the first place was the fact that the ship wasn’t equipped with security features. Exhaling, she forced herself to move. If this was going to work, then she had to do it quickly. She ran over the rocky terrain and slapped the pad that would close up the storage unit, standing stoically in front of the slowly descending panel. The gears started to squeal in protest, alerting the two MTs to her plan.

Jasper was too shocked to do more than stare, eyes wide behind the mask of his suit. Roe was quick to move, though, cursing animatedly as he ran for the gap. “Don’t you close that fucking door, Kyle!”

When he dove for the opening, Beckah landed a square kick into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, effectively shutting down any resistance. She felt a minute of panic when he continued to lay there and groan, though. Death hadn’t been on the agenda, after all. She just wanted them securely locked away. A moment before it closed down on top of him, though, he managed to roll back inside.

She sighed and leaned forward so that her mask bumped the ship. Tapping the com button again, she said, “They’ve got four hours of oxygen before they suffocate. We either go in and try to find Malcovich’s team ourselves, or we go back and let Aday sort it out.” She turned to regard Phillips when she said the last, waiting on the woman to say something.

Finally, she turned to look in the cave, answering, “We’ll never find them coming in from this end. How far is it to Malcovich’s drop site?”

“About twenty four if I push the engines; thirty if we run at normal pace. What are you thinking?”

Phillips keyed up the airlock, going back into the ship and pulling up the map on one of the screens. “There’s a third hole here,” she pointed at a spot roughly three miles from Adrienne’s drop. “Aday passed it over because the heat blooms were closer to the two chosen drops. I think he may have missed something, though.”

Brows drawing together, Beckah studied the map closely, noting a vent that seemed to branch very closely to the largest of the heat blooms. “If we head in that way and up the vent we could meet up with them behind the anomaly,” she agreed, nodding her head. “Alright, I’ll push it. We don’t have much time and we’re going to have to hump it to meet them.” She hoped the equipment would slow the MTs down enough that they could catch up. The vent may not even join into the main cave; the lightness of the coloring suggested a clear path, however. What it all boiled down to was that they were going to need a hell of a lot of the luck to pull this off.

She hit the ignition and called through the com to her two prisoners, “Hold tight, you assholes. We’re moving.” When their return yells were cut short by her termination of the connection, she and Phillips chuckled darkly to each other. She hit the com again as she lifted off the rock, directing her transmission to the Lady Bird.  “This is Kyle, hover two,” she stated hurriedly, her attention on the landscape. “The MTs are dirty. We’re abandoning the drop to warn Malcovich. Somebody let Aday know the mission is fucked, pretty please?”

There was a pause, but the speakers crackled back in the affirmative. “Watch your ass, Kyle,” the communications crew warned.

“Will do, boys,” she answered noncommittally, switching off the coms. The hover skimmed over the surface at a dangerous speed, cutting entirely too closely to the obstructions that met them along the way. Kyle easily dipped and dodged around them, never once slowing down. She could see Phillips sucking into her seat, hands clawing with a death grip at the arm rest. Fourteen minutes later they sat down outside the third entrance, armed themselves, and entered the cave.

The lights on top of their helmets caught at slimy strings running along the sides of the cave, heavy mucus deposits that looked like the alien equivalent of human phlegm. Both women drew away from the sides of the tunnel, moving single file at a smart pace. The vent rapidly descended downward, the temperature change easily discernible. The sweat runnels slowed, and then stopped altogether, their slick bodies cooling inside the suits.

A dark shadow moved in front of them and Beckah stopped, holding her hand up to signal to Phillips the halt. She pulled up the gun that was strapped to her shoulder, leveling it in a steady hand as she slowly advanced again. There was no quelling the flutter deep inside her stomach, the fear that was pushing her to giggle at the idiocy of this mission. Surely the MTs were armed with tranquilizers and all manner of piercing weapons. She and Phillips, on the other hand, were carrying net launchers. They had three shots apiece, and against humans with sharp-edged weapons they would be fairly useless. It was highly probable that they were going to die.

As they rounded the corner, the shadow materialized ahead of them into a screaming demon about the size of a small pony. The great bifurcated beak of its mouth yawned wide, displaying what appeared to be furiously vibrating vocal cords and a wide and flat segmented purple tongue which brought to mind the image of a tapeworm. The body was covered in shining patterns of metallic scales with sparse tufts of hair around the throat and along the spine. It clung to the side of the cave with what looked like four massive talons that descended out of the apex of two winged appendages; there appeared to be no hind legs.

Kyle and Phillips took this all in with a certain amount of awe, too shocked to move. The anomaly’s beak snapped shut and it pushed itself off the wall, its eyeless head casting around with snuffling noises. Its tongue lashed out and then back into its mouth, soon followed by another warning screech. Ever so slowly, it hauled its ungainly frame around and pulled itself along the wall in a slow dragging movement.

Shaking free of her paralysis, Kyle took aim and fired at the anomaly. The net deployed in a wide arc, hitting the creature from behind. The force of the net’s impact knocked it from the wall, and as it struggled it only succeeded in more firmly tangling itself within the nylon. Kyle and Phillips got closer to it, looking it over with delighted smiles. Their enchantment soon died, though. There was still the problem of the dirty MTs to worry about, and there was no way they could carry the anomaly with them if they were going to move fast.

“Do we leave it or split up?” Phillips asked worriedly, obviously torn. She really didn’t want to abandon their discovery, but leaving Kyle wasn’t desirable either.

Beckah didn’t particularly like the idea of running the mission alone, but as the ranking scout she really had no choice. They had to salvage something out of the royal cluster fuck. “You take it back to the ship,” she instructed authoritatively. “I’ll go on and find Malcovich’s team.”

Pursing her lips, Phillips nodded once and twisted her hand in the net. She forcefully hauled the thing back the way they’d come, and soon disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.

Kyle could hear the creature’s abominable shriek for several more minutes as she ran through the vent.  And then there was just suddenly suffocating silence. She hit the com, asking, “You all right, Phillips? What’s going on?” There was only white noise. “Phillips?”

A high pitched squeal rang through Kyle’s headset, nearly making her scream at the intolerable sound. She turned off the com and held her head between her legs, fighting off the sudden urge to be sick. Something had gone decidedly pear shaped back at the hover. Tanabe must have found a way to hot wire the door and get out of the container. That was the only explanation. Stumbling on unsteady legs, she continued down the vent, checking the readouts on her WristComp. The charts said she was at the junction, but she didn’t see a damn thing that looked like a larger tunnel. She ran her hands along the walls, uncaring that her suit was wrist deep in slime. There had to be a weak spot somewhere, something that would show her where to go.

“Fuck,” she spat, nearly on the verge of tears. Her head was still spinning crazily from the sound that had come through the com, and she couldn’t concentrate hard enough to make herself stand. Faltering on a loose rock, she allowed herself to go down…and down. The rock gave way beneath her feet and she realized she was falling. She landed awkwardly a moment later, smacking firmly on something hard and unforgiving. Luckily it was high enough off the ground that she was saved any real injury.

Groaning, Kyle pulled herself up on an elbow and managed to get a look around. She breathed a sigh of relief to see that she was in the larger vent, and then collapsed again. A hollow thud echoed through the room on the impact. She turned her head enough to see out of the corner of the mask. Whatever she was on, it was metal—smooth metal. Where would an unprocessed planet such as this one have gotten metal?

She chewed over that thought for a while, her addled brain finally making sense of things. It was a ship. The MTs had outside help—pirates, for lack of a better word. There had been rumors running around the fleet for some time of agents infiltrating the system, running a racket off of galactic anomalies. There were extensive security parameters in place to ensure against such things happening, so nobody really paid much heed to the claims. But it appeared that there was merit behind the stories. And for that scheme to involve MTs as high up as Holliday, it meant this plan had been in place for almost a decade. She suddenly thought of Koch and how he had chewed Adri’s ass over running the second scan; he was probably involved, as well.

Some dust and rocks fell through the hole above her, alerting her to someone’s approach. Tanabe must have caught up already. Straining every muscle in her body, Beckah pushed up off of the craft again, allowing herself to slide off of the side and crumple on the ground. She only fell maybe ten or twelve feet, but it was enough to keep her down. Face down, she placed her palms flat and tried to push up, but to no avail. There was no strength left and her vision was swimming thickly with black bubbles that burst into a kaleidoscope of color. It brought back memories of Stone Mountain when she was younger. She’d gone there on the Fourth of July to watch the fireworks and the laser light show when she was seventeen. The laser lights made carvings on the side of the mountain come to life. She could distinctly remember how excited she’d been when the horses started running. A smile stretched across her face at the memory, and that was the last thought she had before passing out.

***

Malcovich looked at her WristComp in agitation. The screen was cycling between solid blue and salt and pepper static. Tapping the com, she demanded, “Are you reading anything, Aldridge?” She was getting nothing but radio silence and was almost positive she wasn’t transmitting anymore. Turning around, she motioned to the other scout that her equipment was malfunctioning.

He held his hands up, shaking his head to signal that he wasn’t having any better luck. Something had completely trashed their coms a few minutes earlier, and she hadn’t been able to get a decent read on her WristComp since leaving the hover. It had to be a jamming device of some sort if nothing was working, but it begged the question as to where it had come from.

Eyes darting down the tunnel behind Aldridge, Malcovich realized the MTs were no longer behind them. Her heart jumped into her throat. If they got lost or hurt with no coms, she was completely and utterly fucked. Cursing animatedly within the absolute silence of her suit, she turned around, fully intending to backtrack until she found every one of them.

Before she could even make it back to Aldridge, however, a rip opened in the chest of his suit. It seemed like it took him a long time to look down and take note of the hole, but by that time it was too late. The suit was hemorrhaging oxygen and taking in the corrosive air of 4/35. As she watched, he screamed in agony, clawing at his face mask as he breathed in the noxious fumes that would corrupt his lungs. His skin smoked, turned red as if he had a sunburn, and then began to blister in great white bubbles that popped and sloughed away from muscle.

Gasping at the grotesque horror of it, Malcovich had to fight not to close her eyes. She made herself move, coming to his side to ease him to the ground. There was nothing she could do but hold him as he writhed and screamed in pain. She could feel tears leaking down her face as his struggles weakened and slowed, but she couldn’t find it in her to look down into his dying eyes, and so just held him against her until he went still. The suit was starting to feel like an empty bag in her arms when she stood and backed away, wiping her hands on her thighs to rid them of the sensation. She knew it was something that would stick with her until the day she died, however.

With an iron tight grip on her heaving stomach, she turned around to face the cave wall, splaying her hands into the muck. She took in great gulps of oxygen, fighting to get herself under control. Having vomit in her suit was not something she wanted to deal with. After a few moments she managed to steel her nerves. Without the threat of vomit to occupy her, though, her mind was allowed to replay the horrifying scene of Aldridge’s death. She kept seeing the gaping hole open in the suit, the—her head came up. What had made the hole?!

She spun around to see Holliday standing behind her. He acted as if he’d been there some time, patiently waiting on her to gather her wits. Before she could let out the sigh of relief she had been holding in, however, he picked up his rifle and aimed it at her chest.

Motioning her away from the wall with a wave of the weapon, he hit a button on his suit and her com crackled to life again. “Don’t do anything stupid, Adrienne,” he warned gravely. “This is above and beyond you. The best thing you can do is help me out and save your life.”

A look of disgust settled over her face and she spat her answer in no uncertain terms: “Fuck off, you prick!” He had killed her friend and thought he could force her to do—well, she wasn’t even sure what he wanted her to do, but she wasn’t going to help him with anything!

He tsked, shaking his head at her vehemence. “You don’t want to die here,” he assured her, “not like Aldridge did. I know you.”

Their first meeting came back to her all of a sudden, his insistence on getting closer to her. Realization dawned and it wasn’t pretty. He was trying to take the anomaly for himself. There was no way he was going to get off the planet in a hover, either, which meant he had to have another team somewhere with a ship. She had another epiphany: the huge heat bloom had been a ship, not an anomaly! If it hadn’t been on planet long, the engines were probably still hot and registered to their sky scan.

“You son of a bitch,” she growled, taking an aggressive step forward. She pulled up when he put the rifle to his shoulder and tightened his finger on the trigger, discharging a round into the wall right next to her head. Eyes widening, she felt her blood run cold; he would really kill her.

Another man came up from the belly of the cave and a conversation ensued between himself and Holliday. He turned back to Adrienne after a moment, eyes alight with anger. “Seems there’s been a change of plans. You’ll be coming with us now.”

She backed away, shaking her head, but he laid claim to the shoulder joint in her suit and threatened to rip it away. The look in his eyes said it all: move or die. She allowed herself to be pushed before him at the end of the rifle, sparing one last look over her shoulder at the remains of Aldridge’s body. The suit was all but flat now, little puffs of gaseous discharge escaping through the tear. A hard shove in the back forced her to turn around and move down the vent.

The sight they emerged upon was disheartening. A crew of five pirates was stowing capture-equipment as fast as they could. She caught sight of a number of creatures in containment boxes before they were sealed away in the hold. Holliday forced her into the airlock with the rest of the crew, and then the door sealed behind them. The room was decontaminated and then pressurized before opening up into the ship proper. Everyone but Malcovich and Holliday hurriedly stripped out of their suits and stowed them in the lockers before heading off to their stations. One of the crew took a moment to guard Malcovich while Holliday stripped down as well. Once finished, he reclaimed the rifle and stowed it. There was no need for guns anymore, after all; Adrienne was effectively trapped on the ship with no way to get out.

Holliday crossed his arms over his chest, indicating with a raise of his brows that he was waiting for her to take off her suit as well. She sighed at his arrogance and undeniable cold-heartedness, casting a glance at his dark-haired companion. Unease settled in her stomach to see how his eyes eagerly watched her, but she complied with Holliday’s unspoken command nonetheless. Popping loose the neck lock, she removed the helmet and handed it to him. A few zips later she was free of the suit and clothed only in her boystyle underwear and a white wife beater. Both garments were completely soaked through with sweat and left nothing to the imagination.

The other man whistled, reaching out to run his fingertips along the exposed underside of her ass cheeks. Adrienne slapped at his hands, backing away to Holliday’s side. He offered no protection—it was true—but he was the lesser of two evils in her mind. Besides, the move put a wall at her back, which was a better defensive position should she have to fend off the creep.

She studied him through narrowed eyes, daring him to move again. When he leered at her, showing off a broken front tooth, she muttered, “Pig.”

His eyes widened and he looked affronted. Putting a hand over his chest in a wounded manner, he asked, “Now, why do you gotta go bustin’ my balls like that, darlin’?”

“Oh I’m not busting your balls,” Adrienne assured him, face falling into a commiserative mask. “But I sure as hell would if you had any.”

Smiling widely, he took a slow step forward, his intent clear, but Holliday quickly headed him off and put a finger into his chest. Shaking his head, he cautioned, “None of that, Barnes. We need her if we’re going to get out of this mess.”

He made a dismissive noise, eyes still hard on Malcovich, but he compressed his lips after a moment and nodded. Spinning on his heel, he departed the area, calling over his shoulder, “Take off in five! Get that bitch secured.”

“Well you heard the man,” Holliday teased, settling his hand around her upper arm and directing her down the passage. They passed the control room and came to a corridor of sealed rooms. He hit the panel next to one and the door slid up, admitting them to a cramped bunk.

Malcovich couldn’t help that her eyes darted to the bed and back to Holliday, her heart speeding up in uncertainty. Her eyes widened when he grinned, ducking into the tiny cubicle, crowding her backward with his mere presence.

He knew intimately that she was remembering their interlude on the Lady Bird, just as he was. Placing a hand on the wall behind her, he let his other hand come forward to wind in her tangled, damp curls. She whimpered, closing her eyes when he tilted her head back and leaned down, letting his lips barely brush hers when he said, “Now you stay here and be good.” He gave her a kiss on the nose before releasing her and stepping out. The door closed behind him, its quiet hiss almost sounded like mocking laughter.

Hands fisting in her hair, Adrienne paced the floor a few times, a panic attack clawing at her throat. She had just…just stood there like an idiot and let him do what he wanted! She was so sick of herself that it was unbelievable. And then there was the fact that she had been taken hostage. There was no way to get the hell out of this. Galactaquest would just abandon her for letting so many people get killed. She was going to die on this piece of shit ship.

She let her arms fall after a moment, though, and resolved herself to stay strong. She was going to make it out of this mess; that was all there was to it. Her eyes ran along the room in a quick search, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. To her disappointment the room seemed to have been divested of everything but the thin mattress. Even the closet proved to be empty. Her gaze was drawn back to the bunk and an idea occurred. She ripped the mattress off of the rack and was elated to see cross beams bolted to the framework. She set to work on the old nuts that held the bars together, breaking nails and scraping knuckles as she did so. Nothing could deter her, though, and finally she managed to work one of the bars free. She practiced a few test swings and was satisfied that she could wield the weapon without too much trouble. Tightening her grip on the bar, she touched the panel that would open the door and almost choked on shock.

Holliday was nonchalantly leaned back against a wall, obviously waiting on her. He checked his watch, muttering, “Four minutes. I thought it would take you longer.” Kicking off the wall, he crossed his arms, wondering, “You plan on doing anything or just standing there looking stunned?”

By that time Adrienne was thoroughly pissed off. She was tired of men mocking her, taking advantage of her, and generally treating her like an insignificant ingrate. Face tightening into a grimace, she stepped out into the corridor and swung the bar into Holliday’s left arm with all of her might. Without stopping she brought it down on his left shoulder in two successive strikes, screaming out her rage into his surprised face. When she would have brought it around again, aiming for his right arm, the ship lurched as the engines came to life. She stumbled a bit, her swing slowing down enough for him to catch the bar and wrench it away from her. They both clung to the doorways as the ship lifted off from the rock, the thrusters making every bolt rattle and every piece of loose equipment shake.

Soon they were on the upward climb off of the planet and Adrienne felt her hopes plummeting into oblivion. She thought if she could snag her suit and make it into the airlock that she could make it back to the hover and escape before they caught her again. It appeared she was stuck, though.

As soon as the craft was spit out into the void of the starscape, the ship stabilized and they were able to move again. Malcovich immediately let loose on Holliday again, not letting him gain his feet. She repeatedly kicked him in the ribs with her bootless feet, heedless that she was hurting her foot more than she was him. She couldn’t help the shrieks that tore from her throat as she yelled over and over again, “You sonuvabitch!”

When she came in for another kick, he grabbed her foot and yanked her off balance, sending her crashing to the deck. Her head smacked the wall on the way down, making her cry out in real pain. She cradled her skull, rolling back and forth as she fought off the pain and the watering in her eyes. A hand settled around her ankle and she kicked sightlessly, trying to throw him off. “Get bent, Holliday,” she whined pitifully, still unable to move very much.

Chuckling darkly, he slowly gained his feet and pulled her upright by her arm. She groaned, but didn’t fight him when he led her back into the room. He only released her as long as it took to put the mattress back on the bunk, and then threw her onto the thin material. “Stay there and cool off,” he commanded, backing away to sink to the floor.

She noted with a satisfied smirk that he was cradling his left arm. The appendage was already swelling and was going to have some awesome bruises. That was the first time she had lashed out at someone in anger and it had felt good. What she wouldn’t give to swing that rusted bunk bar at him again, to hit somewhere that would cause more damage. She’d liked seeing his face close down with pain—maybe a little more than was healthy to admit.

Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up at and took in her malicious expression. “You’re a vindictive little thing,” he commented quietly, the praise in his voice apparent. “You were right when you said I didn’t know anything about you.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped him as he shifted around trying to get more comfortable, and then he said, “It was so easy to manipulate you into sex, Adrienne. And you were so willing to do anything I wanted. I thought because you were so submissive in the engine room that you would give in to me on this mission.”

Being reminded of the engine room made her nipples tighten into hard little points—not in memory, but in anticipation. Her morbid mind couldn’t help think that if she got him mad enough he would do all sorts of painful things to her, make her subservient, punish her for hurting him. She turned away from him, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she fought the urge to answer his words. Her fantasies could all too easily become reality in this environment, and she didn’t know if she could handle the mental repercussions if that happened.

“You’re awful quiet over there,” he prompted after a few minutes. “You don’t have anything to say to that?”

She smiled but refused to look at him. Her eyes were smoky and heavy-lidded and he would guess the reason in a heartbeat. “What am I supposed to say to that?” she wondered aloud, a sardonic little chuckle escaping her. “We’re adults, Holliday. We don’t get the luxury of playing wounded virgin and cocky bad ass like we did in high school.” Her anger was finally building back up and she felt it was safe to look at him. “I’m not ashamed of sleeping with you,” she promised, eyebrows lifting up in cold disdain. “I’m just pissed off my judgment has fallen so far into the toilet that I couldn’t see what a fucking asshole you are.”

“I’m an asshole,” he repeated, voice taking on a teasing lilt. His lips parted to show perfectly white teeth in a knowing grin.

Adrienne cut her eyes at him, regarding him from her peripherals. She couldn’t help but admire how damned pretty he was. Even though she knew he could split her from stem to sternum without a second thought, she couldn’t help wondering what would have happened had he been a different man—what if she’d been a different woman. Her stomach fluttered, reminding her just how much shit she was in. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, reaching up to bury her face in her hands.

Before she could say anything else, he rose from his seated position and came over to place his arms atop the mattress, those cornflower blue eyes boring into the side of her face. “I’m not going to kill you,” he murmured softly, reaching out to smooth the fringe of angel-winged frizz away from her face.

Very slowly, she turned to face him, fighting to keep the hope from shining in her eyes. Despite everything, she wanted to live. Even knowing she had to go back and deal with Aday, she felt the urge to live burning within her veins, reminding her of the person she used to be. Before becoming Mark’s masochistic, self-punishing slave, she had been a vivacious personality, someone to be reckoned with. That spark had reawakened when her life was threatened, as Holliday had had the misfortune to discover.

She casually flicked her eyes over to look at the bruising on his arm, but her gaze quickly came back to his face. Would he really refrain from killing her? What would the rest of the pirated ship’s crew have to say about that? She suddenly found herself wondering just how much authority Holliday wielded with these men, and just how he’d managed to keep his affiliation a secret from Galactaquest for so long.

Finally, she sighed and turned her head away, staring up at the ceiling when she demanded, “What do you want from me, Holliday? I won’t help you steal Galactaquest property. Those anomalies belong to the fleet and I won’t resign myself to a life of disestablishment. I don’t see how you can possibly keep me alive under the circumstances.” Damning words, she admitted, but she had to know what he was planning.

“I don’t need your help anymore,” he reminded. “The crew got everything they needed from 4/35. We’re going to use you as leverage to get rights to the entire planet.”

She smiled sadly at his naivety. “Galactaquest won’t sanction a transfer of legal rights over one scout’s abduction,” she promised. “The fleet will let you kill me before they sign over a planet with confirmed terrestrial life.”

Sighing, he pressed his lips together, seeming to turn over her words. She could practically see the wheels turning in his mind and knew he wouldn’t be put off so easily. She had a feeling that he wasn’t looking for rights to the planet so much as immunity from prosecution. Galactaquest would put him and the entire crew to death if they ever caught them. There were so many fleets roaming the universe that it was virtually impossible to continue pirating. Any unlicensed craft would be confiscated on sight and the offenders jailed or killed depending on the level of their infraction. Space was an unforgiving environment, the laws that governed her harsh. That was mostly in order to protect Galactaquest’s monopoly on exploration and exploitation of any discovered life. Holliday’s operation, and that of other pirates like him, threatened to bring down the corporation’s hold on the universe. The best he could hope for now was a pardon, and that was unlikely considering his large list of offenses—theft of company property, imitating a high-level official, abduction…murder.

As she acknowledged that thought, she was reminded of Aldridge and how horrific his death had been. Nothing could save Holliday from death now, not after killing a company scout. There was nothing to be done and he had to know that. She wanted to rub that fact in his face and watch him squirm, but that wouldn’t help her at all. If she kept reminding him that Galactaquest would ultimately kill him, he’d probably just jettison her into space and sell the contraband anomalies to the highest bidder.

Holliday saw her face contort as those thoughts ran through her head and could only smile. “I’m not going to kill you, Adrienne,” he repeated with a dark grin, eyes alight.
Slowly, she turned to look at him, blue eyes burning with repressed emotion. “You can’t win,” she promised him, the truth echoing ominously in her words.

“You don’t know what I do,” he murmured, the teasing quality gone from his voice. His eyes communicated more to her than his words ever would. There was another aspect of this operation that had escaped anyone’s attention, and she was just now realizing that.

Before she could ask any questions, though, Holliday winked at her and exited the room. Eyes going wide, she finally realized why he had been able to join the MTs; there were more infiltrators in the fleet, and they had to be in high ranking positions. Her heart plummeted into her stomach, forcing her to roll onto her side and curl into the fetal position to keep from vomiting. Koch was involved.

It had always been noted that the Lady Bird had never once returned to the fleet with news of an anomaly, but it’d always been chalked up to bad luck and a dead section of the galaxy. The one time there was a chance of discovery, though, Koch had tried to keep Adrienne from repeating the scan.

And Aday had arrived just in time to take over where Koch had left off. She suddenly remembered Mark’s adamant demand to know the coordinates of the anomaly’s position, the smirk on his face when he got the information. For a second time in as many minutes, she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Mark was dirty, too.

Maybe she didn’t owe the fleet altruistic allegiance, but her livelihood depended on continuing her career within Galactaquest. Being implicated in a piracy attempt, even if she’d had nothing to do with it, would ultimately affect her image. Her character would be impugned by association and she’d be forced to resign and return to Earth. Clenching her fists, she vowed she’d bring every god damned one of them down—Holliday, Koch, Aday. She was nobody’s pawn, and men would no longer run any aspect of her life. Her career was already ruined; she had nothing left to lose.