Girl From Above #4: Trust (15 page)

One disappeared inside the curved bowels of the ship. She’d taken to examining every inch, telling me she wanted to know
Fortuitous
like “the back of her hand.” I left her to it and returned to the bridge. My gaze skipped straight to the empty flight chair.

Fran made her choice.

I dropped into the adjacent chair, snarled as pain twisted up my side, took a few seconds to catch my breath, and then—once I was sure I wasn’t about to pop the med-stitches—started the flight-ready sequence.
Fortuitous
growled to life beneath my touch, responding like the frisky, high-powered, “fuck with me and I’ll eat you for lunch, little man” beast she was. I patted her dash fondly.

“Just like your old captain, eh girl?” I wrapped my fingers around the flight sticks and eased her off her struts. “A bitch from dawn ‘til dusk, but I know you’ll come out fighting when it’s needed. Just don’t stab me in the back and we’ll get along fine.”

We ascended fast, passing through the cloud cover and breaking into pale blue skies. Sunlight flooded the bridge, and with the filters down, I let the warmth wash over me. Life wasn’t so bad.

I reached for the spot where my comms usually sat cradled by the control sticks, but the hollow was empty.

A scuff behind me, the slightest movement. “I’m just about to start the descent. Hey, One. You haven’t seen my comms—”

A cold hand clamped over my nose and mouth. Instinct jolted me back in the seat.
Can’t breathe!
I bucked. The hand slammed my head back with enough force to burn my neck muscles and hold me rigid. All I could see were blinking lights from the control bank above. Panic got hold of me too, squeezing my chest.
Breathe! I can’t breathe!
I lashed out, striking something hard, and then latched on to the immobile thing to try and pull the fucker in.

Sunlight flared behind the figure. His right eye socket was a tangled mass of wires and melted synthetic skin. Chen Hung.

Fear ran right over me, the kind that tore out rational thought and slapped you back into some primal zone. Adrenalin surged, and my chest burned.
Air!

I kicked, or tried to, and hit something, I wasn’t sure what. Agony snapped up my side while a different throbbing burn clawed its way up my throat.
Breathe!

My whole fucking body heaved and Chen Hung just looked down at me, the good side of his face curved into a broad smile. He blurred, doubled, tripled, turned into a swirl of colors, and then there was nothing but the distant sound of my own thudding heart.

I
tasted salt
. Heard the rumbling waves. Felt the cool touch of the ocean dash my face. I replayed the memory, reliving it again and again. And in that moment, Caleb was sitting beside me, watching me,
seeing
me. He was many things: afraid, but also resolute in his appreciation. It hadn’t escaped my attention that he’d been watching and assessing me since he’d woken on the med-lab table. His fear wasn’t of me, but simply of us. He seemed … happy. I had the same odd rush of sensations, a strange, transient moment sparking here and there inside my processes. What a wonder it was to be happy.

Fortuitous
groaned.

Something was wrong.

I lifted my head, bringing myself around from the memories—daydreams—my hand hovering over the thin datascreen displaying
Fortuitous’s
schematics, and tapped into the ship’s central systems. We were on course for a descent toward Vancouver, as Caleb had promised, but the trajectory had pitched dangerously low.

An unhealthy whine sounded from the atmosphere engines. The ship gave a concerning shudder.

We were too high to idle, and yet Caleb hadn’t started the maneuver that would take us down into oxygen-rich air. If he held the ship at this altitude for too long, the engines would seize. Without atmosphere engines, we wouldn’t have any control over our descent. Caleb wouldn’t make that mistake.

I set the datascreen down and left the cabin, racing through the curved passageways toward the bridge.

When I tapped my comms, he didn’t answer, and I broke into a run.
Something is wrong.
My boots beat against the grating. I sprinted up the ramp and slammed into the bridge hatch, throwing it open to reveal a sight that sparked my failsafes to life and locked my entire body down, freezing me rigid, trapping me in my own skin.

Chen Hung lifted his half-twisted head. His lips curved in a mockery of his charming billboard grin.

Caleb’s limp arm hung over the edge of the flight chair. His heart rate had dropped to dangerous levels. If he wasn’t unconscious, he would be very soon.

And I couldn’t move.

Inside, I screamed at my processes to stop Chen Hung, to cross the bridge, take him in my hands, and tear him apart. But my body wouldn’t obey. The master failsafe, the code Hung had programmed in me to ensure I could never hurt him, smothered my commands. All I could do was stand and watch as he killed Caleb.

“Stop!”

Chen Hung tilted his head, his single eye swiveling in its socket to focus on me.

Caleb’s heart thudded slower. His fingers twitched.

I couldn’t stop Hung, but perhaps
I
didn’t need to. Behind him, through the observation window, Earth’s pale blue halo curved away.
Fortuitous’s
gasping engines stuttered, jarring the ship.

“The engines are failing,” I said. “Without Caleb to fly, we will plummet fifty kilometers through Earth’s atmosphere. If we don’t burn up, the impact will vaporize this ship. You will not survive.” Now that I was no longer sending out commands to kill Chen Hung, my body unlocked. I strode closer, listening to Caleb’s failing heart.

“You can fly this ship,” Hung stated.

“I can, but I won’t.”

“But you will also die.” His voice was a broken, inhuman, synthesized monotone.

I latched on to Chen Hung’s wrist and poured every measure of strength into pulling his hand away from Caleb. I couldn’t hurt Hung, but I could sabotage his efforts—get in his way. I looked at Hung, at the misshapen hole where his right eye used to be, and smiled as I said, “I’d rather die than let you live. I have that choice.”

Fortuitous
shuddered, and with a last, harrowing whine, the engines died. The quiet that followed was a complete, smothering vacuum. Behind Hung, Earth’s curvature swelled in the obs window as gravity clawed at the ship.

Hung turned his head. Inside, his processes would be grasping at solutions, calculating the odds, desperately searching for a way to survive. There wasn’t one.

He snatched his hand back, away from Caleb. “You will fly this ship, One.”

I shoved Hung aside and clasped Caleb’s limp head in my hands. He was alive, barely.

“Breathe …” I begged.

“You must correct this ship’s propulsion or saving him will be for nothing.”

He was right. I listened to Caleb’s heart and straightened. “Go to the back of the bridge and do not move.”

Hung hesitated, and in his moment of indecision, a new sound spiraled around
Fortuitous
:
a howling cry. With a reluctant curl of his lip, he retreated.

Strapping myself into the adjacent flight chair, I ignored the twisting, spinning splashes of color spilling across the obs window and raced to correct the out of control ship. Spasms rocked the bridge and the howling turned into a raging storm of noise. I shut it out, all of it—Hung, Caleb, my own terrible fear. Everything but the calm and the peace I’d experienced on the moonlit beach. With that and only that memory in my mind, I worked
Fortuitous’s
controls, engaged the out-of-atmosphere engines, and punched the ship away from Earth’s hungry pull and into the black.

By the time I’d locked
Fortuitous
on an idling course, Earth and her small moon were tiny specs in a vast canvas of stars.

Hung was gone, but Caleb was awake, pale and wide-eyed.

Heady relief rushed through me.

He winced and groaned, peeling upright in his flight chair, and then with a crooked, sideways glance at me, he croaked, “Did you just save my ass again?”

“Twice.”

He dragged a hand around the back of his neck and slumped forward. “Don’t tell my brother.”

“Chen Hung is on the ship.”

“I noticed,” he drawled, elbows propped on his knees and his forehead resting on his fists.

“The atmosphere engines burned out.”

He pulled in a deep breath, held it, and looked up, sighing out slowly as though cherishing the air. “Knowing my luck, that’s the good news.”

I turned my chair toward him, resisting an almost overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him and draw him close. “He’ll come for you again. He can’t hurt me, but he can hurt you, and he won’t stop. You’re my weakness.”

“I ain’t anybody’s weakness.” He pushed to his feet, swayed, and grabbed the back of the flight chair. “Okay … I just need a minute here.”

“Caleb, I—” I straightened beside him, clenching my hands at my sides. The f
eelings
wouldn’t subside; if anything, they were growing more insistent with every passing second. Chen Hung would kill Caleb, and I was powerless to stop him.

He looked at me, a frown gathering on his face, and then he smiled, hooked an arm around my waist, and yanked me against him. I bowed my head, tucking it in under his chin, and pressed my cheek against his chest, where I listened to the rapid beat of his heart. His warmth, the feel of him surrounding me, warmed me through in ways that went deeper than tactile sensations. Like on the beach, I gathered up the data, hoarded it to me, and hugged it close.

“I have a plan,” he said, his words whispered through my hair in a way that had me pulling him closer.

“I wish—”

He pressed a finger to my lips and tipped my head up. “No more wishes. We make it happen. And this time, he’s—
it’s
not getting away.”

“I can’t stop him. If he gets to you, I can’t move. I … I can’t save you from him.”

“I know. He’s here for me, and that’s exactly what we’ll give him.”

Caleb sensed the turmoil raging within me, or perhaps I showed more of it on my face than I’d realized. His fingers teased through my hair, and I chased that touch, leaning into it, soaking it up. More, I wanted more. He took my face in both hands and lightly kissed my forehead—just a brush of the lips—but I felt it, like a promise.

“One last fight,” he whispered, bumping his forehead against mine.

I opened my eyes and all I saw was him, his history and truth mapped along the lines of his face.
One last fight.

He was right. I ran my fingertips down his face, committing every imperfection—the scar on his forehead, the one I’d given him—every nuance—the quirk of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the abrasive fuzz of his stubble—to memory.

One last fight.

No more wishes.

He was right. It would end here.

T
rapped
on a ship with a killing machine that clearly had my number punched was not how I’d planned to start my vacation.

“Let’s go to Vancouver,” I mumbled, pistol drawn and aimed down
Fortuitous’s
main passageway, the backbone of the ship. “Maybe go do normal shit like normal folks.”

Why had I opened my mouth? Tempting fate, that’s what it’s called. Fate’s the bitch that never cut me a break.

I glanced over my shoulder—
clear
—and continued on. The bastard was obviously in the ship somewhere, but since he ran cool and didn’t have a heartbeat, internal scanners were useless. That left a good ol’ fashioned eyes-on sweep.

I reached an internal hub splitting the passage in a V, left and right, and down a level into the cramped maintenance passageways. I hadn’t realized just how big
Fortuitous
was. Plenty of hiding places for an infinitely patient machine.

“One, taking sub-level B,” I said into a spare wrist comms.

“Confirmed,” her sharp voice came back—strictly business.

We’d guessed Hung had my personal comms and was likely listening in, which was part of the plan: use me as bait.
Great idea, Shepperd.
I had the one phase pistol, and while it could tear chunks out of Hung and piss him off enough to rip my head from my neck, it wouldn’t stop him. I’d lost the pulser stun gun somewhere in Chitec’s rubble, and even then, it would have only knocked him out long enough for him to hard reset. No, I had another way of dealing with Hung.

My chest tightened like someone was crushing the air out of my lungs. I reached for the curved passage wall and braced myself, focusing on breathing in—breathing out. Chilling sweat broke out across my face and down my back.
Fucking fear.
But not the kind I was used to. The bastard, Hung, had nearly suffocated me just like he had Haley—his cold hand clamped over my mouth, shutting off my air, and it had burned, burned all over. That shit was screwing with my head.

“I can do this …”

Panic galloped through my chest, dragging the ragged mess that was my insides with it. All I really wanted to do was slide down the wall, pull my knees up, and hide. I hadn’t let One see how fucking terrified I was; I’d tried to keep my smile alive, especially when she’d looked at me like I’d just dumped Christmas at her feet. Shit, that girl … she broke me open, in good ways.

One more fight.

“I can definitely do this …”

My side was on fire again, and if the clammy coolness was anything to go by, I’d busted the medi-strips holding bits of me together.

I can’t fucking do this.

“Caleb?”

Her smooth, calm voice sailed through the crippling fear.
Just one more fight and I get to rest.

I pressed my hot forehead against the wall and tapped the wrist comms. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I waited, not entirely sure what I was supposed to say or exactly what she was referring to.

“For the beach,” she added.

She broke me open, just like that. The panic subsided, replaced by the kind of warm, fuzzy sensation I usually only experienced when I was halfway hammered.

“Plenty more places like that,” I said back, finding my feet, lifting the pistol, and resuming my search. I’d show her the entire nine systems once this was over. Things were different with her. She changed my perspective, made me look at shit differently—made me look at myself differently. I had no idea what the fuck I was doing with her, or her with me, but I liked us. And I was not about to let Chen Hung take her from me again.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch. I’m ready for you this time.” My voice volleyed into the narrow sub-level passage. “Afraid to face me like a man because you aren’t one?”

Fortuitous
hummed, gentle and low, the big raptor settled and content after her brush with Earth’s atmosphere.
Don’t think about that. About the almost dying part …

My aim trembled. I lowered the pistol, gave my hand a flick like I could somehow shrug off whatever was going on with me.

“Shit …” I wiped my clammy palm on my pants.

Hung hit me like a battering ram—slammed me against the wall and cracked an elbow under my jaw, whipping my head back. A wave of black washed over me, threatening to drag me under, but I clung on to scraps of consciousness, somehow jammed the pieces back together, and came around on my ass, slumped against the white wall cladding.

He loomed, tall and dark, a shadow swimming in my vision.

“That all you got?” I growled.

He sank his thin fingers into my hair and locked them into a fist. I got a grand, close-up view of the hole in his head. The wires twitched like throbbing veins. Back at Chitec, I should have filled him full of phase bullets. Where was my pistol? I swiveled my glare and caught a glint off the gun lying a few feet away.

“Do you not have a shred of self-preservation?” He sounded like a bad comms link, all stutters and scratches. Any resemblance to Chen Hung, the man, was long gone; just the suit remained, and even that was ragged and torn, as if he’d dragged himself out of the rubble. “I put you in Asgard twice and s-still you refuse to w-walk away.”

“I’m a sucker for punishment,” I slurred, laying the act on thick. The more he talked, the more I could organize my thoughts. Plan A wasn’t playing out the way I’d hoped, which was hardly a surprise.

“You weren’t supposed to come back,” he said. “You’re the c-coward. You were supposed to die on Asgard or die out there in the nine systems.”

“You should have killed me the first time.”

“Haley’s death was necessary. You were … inconvenient.”

I snorted. “Reckon I’ve been called a lot of things, but ain’t never been called inconvenient before.”

“Why? W-why you? You’re nobody. A weak, selfish, shortsighted individual.”

I shifted my leg out and stretched the toe of my boot toward the pistol’s grip. Hung had his hand locked in my hair and his face inches from mine, but I had his full focus on me, not what was going on behind him.

“You’re wrong. I
was
a weak, shortsighted, selfish asshole.” I hooked the pistol closer and crawled my left hand toward it. “But what you did, killing Haley, locking me up in Asgard? You gave me a purpose. I hated you—who I thought you were. That hate kept me alive.”

Slow and steady, I curled my fingers around the grip. A scowl had pinched Hung’s one eye as his processes tried to figure me out.

“You made me your enemy. And you know what they say in the black?” I had the pistol good and ready. Confidence shored up what was left of my strength. “Don’t fuck with the fixer.”

I pulled the trigger, blasting him point-blank in the side. The impact jolted him sideways—not as much as I’d hoped, but enough. I sprang off the floor and part lunged, part scrambled down the passage. The acrid smell of burning synthetic fibers coated my throat and caused my eyes to water. My side ached like a bitch. I hurt in so many places I couldn’t keep up, but I had him. A quick glance back saw him gathering his composure and rounding on me.

Good. C’mon, finish the job.
The phase bullet had punched deep into his gut, leaving a melted tangle of fake flesh and frayed wires. Given enough time, he’d fix himself up, but time was something Hung no longer had.

I limped on, making a show of how pathetically wounded I was—easily done, considering I was having a hard time seeing straight. Just a bit farther.

One more fight, and then smooth whiskey, downtime in Vancouver, no death threats, no vendettas, no betrayals. Just sweet normality. I’ll make One laugh some more. I need more of that in my life.

“There’s nowhere to run,” Hung declared, stalking me.

“You think I’m just gonna lay down and let you do me in? Shit, you do have a low opinion of me.” I hobbled on, dragging my sorry ass with each step.
Not far now.

“My opinion is irrelevant.”

You’re gonna be irrelevant any second now …

I rounded the final curve and saw the open airlock ahead. It looked inconspicuous to the untrained eye—a dead end.
Oh gee, I’m trapped.
Sure enough, when I looked back, Hung was wearing his maniacal grin. I spat a vicious curse, hobbled over the thick pressure seal into the airlock, and whirled to aim the pistol at him, because it was the sorta thing you should do when trapped with your back against a wall.

One stood inside the door, out of sight against the controls. I kept my eyes away from her. Hung would see the slightest twitch in my gaze.

C’mon, that’s right, just a few more steps.
My aim trembled, my body about ready to give out on me.

Hung slowed, the good half of his face the picture of smug satisfaction.

A couple more steps …

He paused outside the pressure seal, inches away from One. If he leaned inside, he’d see her.

“You wanna live forever, right?” I blurted.

His head twitched.

“That’s your primary objective or whatever?”

Fuck, just one more step. Why wasn’t he moving? He’d know One was close, but he couldn’t know she was inside the airlock with me.

“Why?” I asked. “What’s the point? You’re alone. Who wants to live alone forever? What kind of fucked-up dream is that?”

He reached out and gripped the door seal. My gaze flicked to One’s composed face—inches from his fingers—and then back to his face. His eye narrowed, like he knew. He fucking knew. I fired the pistol, but the shot went wide, or he moved, because in the next second, he sprang, hands thrust out like claws, his face a twisted mask of ugly half-made expressions.

I fired blind, saw his cheek explode, and then got a face full of silver hair and a lungful of sweet cherry smell. One. She got between us, grabbed hold of my shoulders, and spun me around, then shoved me out the airlock. It all happened so fast I wasn’t sure where I was until the door slammed down behind me with a resounding boom, jarring me back into the present.

“What the—”

Chime.

Shit. The airlock was sealed with One and Hung inside. “One!”

Fuck no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I lunged at the locking panel and punched the release pad. Nothing happened. “Open, dammit!”

One’s calm face filled the oval airlock window.

“It won’t open from out here.” I jabbed at the pad again. “Something’s wrong.”

I kicked the panel.

“Fuck.”

Chime.
No, no, no …
The door had to open.

“Disengage it from the inside.”

When I saw her face again, watching me in that cool, calm way of hers, I knew she had no intention of opening the door.

“Chen Hung must not be allowed to escape,” she said, quite reasonably.

“Open the door, One,” I growled. Lead-like dread was getting way too comfortable in my gut.

“I tore out the controls.”

I froze, not hearing the words—not wanting to hear them. No lock controls. No opening the door. No escape.

“No, One …” She’d torn out the controls and my heart along with them.

“Hung is already waking. Had I left the lock intact, he would have opened this door and killed you. I couldn’t stop him. Nothing can stop him. This must be done.”

I ignored her words because this wasn’t over. There had to be a way. There was always a way, a Plan B. The pistol. I fired at the seal, squeezing off shot after shot, but the phase bullets twanged and ricocheted, chipping off lacquer but otherwise barely making a dent. Airlocks couldn’t be breached. They were as thick as the ship’s hull. There was no way to open that door without industrial cutting gear. Once the outer airlock door opened, the bitter black would rush in.

One had seconds to live.

I threw the pistol at the door and sank my hands into my hair. “No! No, One!”

“Caleb.” So calm. How could she be so calm?

I couldn’t look at her face. I couldn’t. She would die in there, in the cold, with that bastard. It was his fault—again. How could this be happening?

“Caleb?” She smiled.

I fell against the door, forearms braced on either side of the window. “How can you do this to me? Don’t do this.”

She looked even prettier through my tears. Her eyes so fucking bright, her smile light and real.

“Don’t make me watch you die. Please … by the nine, please. I can’t … not again.”

Her smile was sorry. The sight of it cut through my chest.

She blinked and said, “Chen Hung gave me life, but you showed me how to live it.”

Chime.

“We could have gone anywhere.”
Just you and me, One. Why, why are you leaving me?

Grief raked through my insides, ripping them out. I pressed my fingers against the glass, wishing I could feel her.

“You don’t have to do this.” The words rang hollow and empty. There was no undoing this.

“I’m not a good person inside. We were built to kill. All synthetics must die. This is the right thing.”

“Fuck the right thing.”

“Caleb …” She pressed her fingers against the glass, against mine. She was so close—right there—and I couldn’t feel her.

I curled my fingers into a fist, drew back, and punched the glass. A howl of pain rushed up my arm. The glass didn’t budge.

“One, you don’t know what you’re saying! You’re the best person I’ve ever met. Don’t leave me.” I hated her, hated her for being behind that door, for standing there, so fucking calm, so fucking right. Why did I have to be surrounded by good people? Why couldn’t they all be selfish bastards like me? “Don’t you let me go, One. You hear me? Don’t you fucking let me go!”

Her smooth brow furrowed. The words had hurt her and I instantly regretted them, but her smile stayed, because she understood. My hate dissolved as quickly as it had come. A hole opened up inside, and what little hope I’d been clinging to drained away. She was saving me, one last time.

She saw the resignation on my face, the moment I stopped fighting.

“I would rather have lived through those moments with you than not have lived at all.”

Words clogged my throat—stupid, angry, pathetic words that wouldn’t change a thing. “Fuck you, One. Fuck you for making me believe we had time.”