Malfunction, page 7
“No, I haven’t solved your case. We’re on a shuttle, supposedly flying to the Trakis Three. Except, instead, we seem to be heading into space. No sign of any ships anywhere. Tell me you can get us back.”
“You mean pull you in with my super-powered tractor beam.”
Her expression brightened. “You can do that?”
“No, I can’t do that. You’ve been watching too many science fiction films.”
“Rico. This is no time to try and be freaking funny. Focus on the problem here.”
“You’re not alone?”
“No. I’m with Sergeant Logan Farrell. He’s the detective the Trakis One assigned to the case. We’re working together. Or, right now, we’re heading into space together, and he doesn’t look any happier about it than I am.”
“Okay,” Rico said, “let’s see if we can work out exactly how much trouble you’re in. Go to the console.”
“I’m already there,” she said.
“Right in the middle, there’s a small screen. That should be your flight plan and estimated length of journey. Does it say anything?”
“It’s blank.”
“No problem. There’s a switch to the left—flick it over.”
She flicked, and the screen came to life. Logan stared at it. He read the words and the numbers. They made no sense. Actually, that wasn’t true—maybe he didn’t want them to make sense. Balls.
“What does it say?” Rico asked.
“It says: Earth. Estimated travel time: nine hundred years, two days, and three hours.”
There was silence for a moment. “You’re kidding?”
“No, I’m not kidding. Why the hell would I kid about this? This is not a freaking kidding matter. So what’s happened?”
“Looks like the shuttle’s programmed to head back to Earth and it’s going to take a long time. Except you would never make it. You’d run out of power. These shuttles aren’t made for long distances, only for transport between the fleet. Or down to a planet’s surface.”
“Could it be a systems malfunction?” Logan asked.
“I suppose it could be.” Rico sounded dubious, though. “Who programmed the shuttle?”
“Major Pryce,” Katia said. “Second in command on the Trakis One.”
“Did you upset him, kitten? Give him any reason to get rid of you?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Piss off, Rico.”
Could Pryce have deliberately sabotaged the trip? Logan couldn’t think why. It had been the major’s idea to wake him up in the first place. Why would he do that and then get rid of him? Maybe it was a genuine malfunction. He was trying to persuade himself.
“Okay,” Rico said. “You’re going to have to override the automatic pilot and take control. There’s a switch on the far right of the console. Press it twice.”
Logan’s fingers twitched with the need to go press the switch, but he held himself still as Katia reached out and stabbed her finger to the yellow switch.
“Nothing’s happening.” She stabbed again and growled. Then she thumped her fist down on it. “Stupid machine. Stupid freaking machine.”
“Hey,” Logan murmured, putting his hand over hers. “Calm down.”
He heard a snort come over the comm unit. “Good luck with that.”
She snarled, and something flashed in her green eyes, her nostrils flaring. Then she visibly pulled herself together. “Okay, that’s not working.” She took a deep breath. “What next?”
“You okay there, kitten? You don’t want to be losing it in front of your new friend.”
She flashed Logan a look, but he decided to keep quiet.
“I’m fine. Now what’s next?” There was an ominous silence from the other end of the comm unit. “Rico?”
“Give me five minutes.”
Then the comm went dead.
Katia glared at her wrist then looked up, blew out her breath, plastered a completely fake smile on her face. “Well, how are you enjoying your first shuttle ride?”
A short laugh escaped him. “It’s like a dream come true.”
He crossed to stand beside her. Pressed the yellow button. Twice. Nothing happened. Well, that was fucked up.
“Any of that whiskey left?” he asked.
She pulled the flask out of her pocket and handed it to him. He unscrewed the top, took a deep swallow, and passed it to her. She swigged, sighed, and handed it back.
He shook it. There wasn’t a lot left. Not enough. “I suppose things could be worse.”
“They could? How?”
He had another drink. “At least you’re awake.”
“There is that. Yeah, dying awake is much better than dying asleep.”
“And from the looks of it, the fleet’s about to fall apart. We probably wouldn’t have lasted long anyway.”
“Go on. You’ve almost convinced me.”
He stared at the screen, willing a ship to appear, then rubbed a hand over his scalp. “Good company?” He looked down at her. She was seriously pretty—he was sure it wasn’t just the whiskey affecting his brain. Maybe they should kiss some more, take their minds off the whole nine-hundred-year trip heading back to Earth scenario. He opened his mouth to suggest it when her comm unit crackled to life.
“Thank God,” she muttered. “What’s happening, Rico? Give me some good news.”
“Sorry, kitten. I had to hunt down Sardi. Someone’s got to fly this thing while I’m off rescuing you.”
“You’re kidding me? Sardi is awake?”
Another voice came on the comm unit, low and gravely. “Sure am, sweetheart. So get yourself back here and we can have a reunion.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said drily. “So what’s the plan?”
“I’m coming to get you,” Rico replied. “Just prepping the second shuttle now.”
“You can’t come on the Trakis Two?” Logan asked.
“Unfortunately not. She’s locked into the fleet’s flight path, which is controlled from the Trakis One. We need to be released from that end, and right now no one is answering.”
“Bastards.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. The communications system is as old as everything else. We’ve had periodical black outs at regular intervals over the last few years. Don’t take it personal.”
“Hey, you’re not the one heading into nowhere fast,” she said. “How long?”
“Well, there’s a little problem we need to solve first.”
“Meaning what?” She was almost growling again.
“Right now, you’re moving away from the fleet at maximum speed. So if I come after you, I’m not going to catch you. Until you run out of power, and by then, even if I catch up, we won’t have enough power to get back to the fleet.”
That didn’t sound good.
“So what do we do?”
“You can’t override the autopilot. You’re going to have to find another way to slow her down. Or preferably stop her.”
“How…?” She ground her teeth and rolled her eyes.
“Either of you got a weapon?”
“I’ve got a pistol,” Logan said.
“Then there you go.”
“Where?” she asked. “Where do we go?”
“Shoot out the autopilot.”
“How do I do that?”
“You’re being a little slow here, kitten. The yellow button. Shoot it.”
Logan looked from Katia to the yellow button and back to Katia.
“You’re sure about this?” Katia asked.
“Sure, I’m sure. Think of it as an order from your captain.”
She shrugged then nodded at Logan. He drew the pistol, his finger tightening on the trigger.
“Just try not to hit anything important,” Rico said.
Balls. He released the trigger and blew out his breath. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what’s important?”
“Ah, good point. What the hell. Go for it.”
Logan stepped back, moving Katia behind him with his free arm, then he stretched out his hand, aimed at the yellow button, and fired. The roar was loud, sparks flew from the console, but there was no immediate change. He shot again, once, twice, three times and the console exploded. The shuttle lurched to the side, and he was thrown off his feet.
He landed on something soft, and it took him a moment to realize it was Katia. He blinked, trying to make sense of the chaos. The shuttle was obviously upside down—whatever that meant in space. But they were lying on the ceiling staring down at the floor and the chairs. He opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, just as the shuttle lurched again. Then they were spinning, and he grabbed hold of her and held on tight as they were tossed around. He landed on the bottom, and the air left him in a whoosh. They stopped for a moment, then they were spinning in the opposite direction.
He gritted his teeth. If he ever met Rico, he hoped he had a fucking bullet left.
Finally, they stopped moving. Katia lay still in his arms, and panic gripped him. He shook her gently. “Katia?”
She blinked her eyes open, and he went weak with relief. “I’m going to kill that bastard,” she muttered.
“Get in line.”
At least they were the right way up once more, lying on the floor at the back of the shuttle. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’d be better if you got off me and I could breathe again.”
He pushed himself up and off her and sat leaning against the back wall, legs stretched out in front of him. He was still alive, though he could feel a trickle of blood down his cheek. He raised his hand and rubbed his face. Beside him, Katia lay on her back. Logan concentrated on the rise and fall of her breasts to take his mind off the lost in space thing.
“Stop staring at my tits,” she murmured, but she didn’t sound particularly put out. She pushed herself onto her elbows. “Great, we’re still alive. I wasn’t sure there for a while.” She looked at him. “You’re bleeding.” She sniffed her nostrils flaring. “You might want to clean that up. I find blood…distracting.”
He frowned. “You don’t seem the type to be scared of a little blood.”
“I didn’t say I was scared of it.” She sat up and dragged herself over to sit, leaning against the wall beside him.
“What now?” he asked.
She didn’t have a chance to answer. The shriek of an alarm rang out, red lights flashing on the smashed-up console in front of them.
Katia grabbed the pistol from where it lay on the floor, aimed it at the red flashing light, and shot. The alarm went silent. The red flashing lights stopped. Unfortunately, the main lights also went out, leaving them in darkness. The only light was the faint pinpricks of stars from the front screen.
He blew out his breath. “That was a bit stupid,” he said.
“It was annoying me. And you really don’t want to be in an enclosed space with me when I’m annoyed.”
How much worse could it get?
The comm on her wrist lit up with a green light, and he could see her face in the faint glow. She raised her wrist. “Rico?”
“Hey, you’re still with us,” he said. “I thought I’d lost you there for a moment.”
Logan closed his eyes and exhaled. They were not totally abandoned. He might not shoot Rico after all.
“And I’m sure you were very upset,” Katia replied.
“I shed a tear.”
“I’ll bet. What’s happening?”
“On the positive side, you’ve stopped moving. So good job there.”
“And on the not-so-positive side?”
“Looks like you’ve knocked out the life support systems. I did tell you not to hit anything important.”
And that sounded really bad. Beside him, Logan heard a low growl, almost animalistic.
“Don’t lose it, kitten,” Rico warned. “We’re not done yet. I’m on my way.”
“How long?” Katia asked.
“An hour, more or less.”
“And how long have we got?”
“Long enough. I hope.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Is there anything to eat on this pile of junk?”
“Nothing. They’re not meant for extended trips.”
“Crap.”
“There is a flask of whiskey stashed under the pilot’s seat.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll get you out of this, kitten, but there’s one thing to consider,” Rico said.
“And that is?”
“You’re using twice as much air as you need to at the moment.”
And what the hell did that mean? Logan wanted to ask, but something held him back. Maybe the fact that Katia still had the gun. It was rested casually across her thigh. In the dim green light, he could see her looking at him, her lips pursed. Was she actually considering it? She wouldn’t. Would she? His muscles tensed, ready to leap into action if she made movement.
And what sort of fucking captain would suggest murder?
Maybe he’d totally misread the comment. Perhaps. Probably.
“Thanks for the advice,” she said. “But I trust you’ll get here in time. We’ll be waiting.”
“Well, don’t do anything too energetic—you’ll use up the air. I’m heading for you at full speed. Don’t you fucking love space?”
And the comm unit went dead.
Chapter Ten
The scent of fresh blood filled her nostrils.
It was distracting as hell.
And she was hungry.
Hunger and fresh blood. Not a good combination.
The light from the comm unit had gone out when Rico signed off, leaving them in near blackness.
Katia took a few calming breaths. Beside her, Logan was rigid with tension, his breaths audible. She wasn’t sure whether Rico’s suggestion was serious or not. Probably knowing Rico, it was; he was nothing if not pragmatic. It had sure gotten Logan worked up.
He had nothing to worry about. She’d come to terms with what she was a long time ago. Even come to enjoy certain aspects. And she’d killed when she had to, and okay, once or twice, because she just hadn’t liked the other person—some people deserved to die. There had been one guy she’d brought in for the murder of a prostitute. He’d gotten off on a technicality, and he’d grinned and given her the finger as he walked out of court a free man. He hadn’t been grinning when she caught up with him in an alley later that night.
But that was just taking out the trash.
And while she’d only known Logan a short time, she perceived a…goodness to him. And he’d kissed her. And she’d enjoyed it. She couldn’t kill him in cold blood just to give herself a few more breaths of air. No, they’d both live or they would both die.
Of course, there was always the chance that Logan would decide to move first and kill her. But she didn’t think so.
Time to put his mind at rest.
She reached out in the darkness and found his leg. She patted it then moved up and found his hand resting on his thigh, curled into a fist. She opened his fingers and then placed the gun in his hand.
“Relax,” she said. “You’re breathing too fast. You’ll use up the oxygen.”
His fingers curled around the gun. Then she heard the clatter as he unloaded the bullets and they fell to the floor. Maybe he didn’t want to be tempted. He blew out his breath.
“Your Captain Rico isn’t what I’d call…typical.”
She let out a laugh. “No. He’s not typical.” Not even a typical vampire. But then he was old, the oldest person she knew, and she suspected living a long time had a profound effect on who and what you were. You had to be ruthless and strong to survive. But at the same time, you had to want to survive. And be able to live with yourself. He’d taught her that a long time ago. Without him, she doubted she would have survived. So many shifters died through violence they brought on themselves. Suicide in a way.
“Will he get us out of this?”
“If anyone can.” She shivered; the temperature was already dropping. Rico hadn’t mentioned that, but she supposed it was inevitable. God knows what the temperature was outside the shuttle. She didn’t want to die in the cold and dark. Though usually darkness didn’t bother her; in fact, she relished the nighttime, and her eyesight was far better than most humans. But there was something about this darkness, the extent of it, seemingly spreading far out into infinity, that made her feel so small and insignificant. Pretty much what she was, she supposed. Which didn’t mean she wanted it rammed down her throat during what might be the last hour or so of her life. “Christ, I wish we had a light.”
“Let me go check in the cabinets,” he said.
She heard him feel his way across the floor then the sound of a door opening, closing. Then another. “Here we go.”
A torch flared to life, casting a beam of yellow light around the room. For a moment, it settled on her face, and she blinked. Then it moved on.
She blinked again, adjusting to the brightness. Logan was on his feet, holding the torch. He placed it upright on one of the chairs, so it cast a circle of light, reaching most of the room. Then he came back to her and held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. A shiver ran through her, and she rubbed her hands together. “I don’t suppose there are any blankets anywhere.”
“Didn’t see blankets, but there might be something we can use.” She watched as he wandered around the room, looking in the cabinets again. Finally, when he straightened, he was holding what looked like small silver packets. “Space blankets,” he said. “We used them in survival training.” He tossed her one, and she opened the packet. The blanket was made of thin silver foil. She shook it out and then wrapped it around herself. “Pretty nifty, huh?”
He glanced across. “You look like a superhero.”
“I always wanted to be Wonder Woman.”
Logan obviously wasn’t feeling the cold yet. He tossed the rest of the blankets onto one of the chairs then sat down in the pilot’s seat, reaching one hand underneath. He felt around. What the hell was he up to? He glanced at her and grinned. “Hurray,” he said, dragging a flask out from under the chair. It was bigger than the last one. Must be a liter, and from the sound when he gave it a shake, it was full. “Typical or not, your Captain Rico does have his good points.”
