Page 110 of Star-Crossed Captive
“Callista, you’re on,” Cache said in a murmur. The young techie’s fingers were already flying across her palette.
Changing course, Mace headed directly toward the remaining Guardian. The panel beeped, wanting a security code. He turned to Callista.
“Um. Just a sec.”
Cache whipped around to her. “We don’t have ‘a sec’.”
Callista swallowed. “Try six, six, seven, two, B, P, H, one, nine, Q.”
Grey punched it in. Everyone waited, silent, as Mace flew alongside the colossal ship.
The comm crackled. “Gamma Niner Charlie Foxtrot, we do not have you on any work orders. Please re-confirm your code.”
“Callista.” Cache’s tone was a low warning.
“Itshouldwork. Try it again.”
Grey sent it again. Everyone held their breath.
In the rear viewer, the second Guardian returned to its position in the mine corridor having broken off its pursuit of theMercenary.
The comm channel returned to life. “Please proceed to docking bay B3. Land and await inspection. Out.”
Mace severed the comm connection.
“Good work,” Cache said to Callista. “But fuck, we wanted Section A.”
“Be glad they’re letting us land.” Mace said as he flew them through the mine corridor and straight toOrion.
They all stared silently at the two Guardians flanking the oblong station.
“That’s just wrong,” Grey spoke, his tone drenched in disgust.
Cache leaned forward, her face between theirs. “There’s so much more wrong with this situation than Guardians docked withOrion.”
They passed throughOrion’souter shielding and under one of its docking arms. Another shield and they entered the bay, the deck thick with defenders.
Cache dug her fingernails into the headrests of Mace’s and Grey’s seats. “Anytime, Krispin. Anytime,” she muttered.
The freighter settled to the deck with a thud.
The world shuddered around her. Nia tried to move, but her body ached like it had been put through reclamation. A moan echoed around her before she realized it was her voice.Where the hell am I?Her head pounded. Her back throbbed. She coughed, moist air choking her.
A bulkhead curved in front of her, shiny. Uncomfortably warm metal pressed against her body. Caustic steam swirled around her, making her eyes water and her throat close.
A hum reverberated around her, a familiar noise she couldn’t place. On the heels of the confusion came bone-deep dread. Her body stiffened.The agent.
She lifted her head and heat speared through her leg like she’d broken something. Pushing the pain aside, she twisted as best she could, searching for where she’d landed. She was in some sort of cylindrical shaft, a meter wide, water sloshing beneath her through a metal grate. Her clothes and hair were soaked, and moisture dripped down the bulkheads. Looking up, she peered at the opening of the shaft meters away. The glow of the engine core shone bright.
Stars above.She was in some sort of reactor containment. The water may have broken her fall, saved her life, but it couldn’t be good for her to be down here. She would need to be treated for radiation.
Her first urge was to scream, to call for someone to get her out. But what about the agent? She didn’t know how far she’d fallen. Maybe he thought she’d died. It wasn’t much of a stretch. If she’d seen someone thrown over the railing, she would think them dead too. This tube was probably full of water when she’d landed—a fluke she hadn’t drowned.
Using the bulkhead as support, Nia rolled to her knees, every joint groaning in protest. When she tried to put weight on her foot, she gasped, pain making tears prick her eyeballs.
Bracing her spine against the bulkhead, she rolled up her soggy pant leg and found her skin turning purple around her ankle. A sprain or a break? Either way, it would be impossible to climb out of this tube. If she didn’t want to die here, she’d need to call for help, whether the agent was near or not.
“Hey!” she shouted, her throat dry, making her wonder how long she’d been out. “Is someone there?” Her voice ricocheted inside the cylinder, then echoed back to her.
