Collision Course (13 page)

Two mercs jostled their ships into position ahead of the Black Wraith. Through his ship’s sensors, he noted that the mercs were powering up their magnetic tow nets. Clearly, they wanted to keep the Black Wraith intact so Gavra could try and sell it—and him and Mara.

Like hell.

He timed it exactly. He saw the coalescing energy that presaged a lightning strike, and guided the ship close. Pushing the mercs right where he wanted them to be.

A boom as lightning obliterated one merc ship. Mara’s gunfire from the turret took care of the other.

The mercs that remained finally grew some brains. They peeled off in retreat.

Mara shouted her jubilation. “If we had time, I’d kiss you.”

His blood, already hot from the thrill of combat, turned incendiary at her casually thrown words. It was primitive and brutal, his need. They had fought together, fought well, and now his body demanded that he claim her. Now. But that was impossible. He had to get them through the storm, through the Smoke Quadrant, Ilden’s Lash, and
then
make it back the rest of the way to base. Danger at every stage. No time for giving in to his hunger for her.

And the Black Wraith was advanced, but not advanced enough to suddenly accommodate two people making love in the cockpit.

For the first time Kell cursed his ship.

He piloted the Black Wraith through the remainder of the storm, riding the tempest’s swells and pulses. Abruptly, the thick clouds gave way. The ship broke through to the dark quiet of space.

The
Arcadia
waited for them.

“Gods, I wasn’t sure I would see you two again,” Celene said over the comm.

“Don’t insult me,” Kell replied.

“I forgot my rescuer was the indestructible Commander Frayne.”

“With help,” Mara added. “How’s my baby?” Concern threaded her voice.

“She took the storm like a champion
slange
wrestler. No damage to the hull.”

Mara let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

“A friend of Kell’s…”

Friend
. He wondered if Mara considered herself his friend. Gods knew,
he
thought of her as that, and more. He didn’t just desire Mara. He admired her.
Liked
her. He wondered if what she felt for him was strong enough, if she could alter her flight plan to bring him into her life.

He couldn’t consider any of this. Not until he’d gotten everyone safely back to base. Only then could he allow himself to think about the future.

As they flew in a two-ship convoy, Celene told them over the comm about her capture and confinement.

“It was my own fault.” Harsh self-recrimination edged her voice. “I was tricked by a false distress call, and when I got close, the pirates used some variety of electro-pulse device on me. It knocked my ship’s systems off line, temporarily disabling it, and that’s when the…ambush happened.”

There was more to her story. He heard it in her minute hesitation. Something had happened to her during her captivity, but he knew Celene well enough to understand than now wasn’t the time to delve deeper.

He stuck to the details she had offered. “8
^th
Wing hasn’t heard anything about an electro-pulse device. Not one that could temporarily disable a Black Wraith.” He frowned, troubled by the idea. A squad of Black Wraiths could be taken out of commission in a moment, leaving a dozen vulnerable pilots floating in space. They, and their ships, would be fair game, just as Celene had been.

“Where did it come from?” asked Mara.

“Ask the gods.” Celene couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “Whoever built it, 8
^th
Wing needs to hear about it. Maybe track down its origin. I know I’ll fly easier once that thing is out of the equation.”

“Agreed.” Kell held the controls tighter. The Black Wraiths were one of the few assets 8
^th
Wing had in the ongoing war with PRAXIS, and they needed to hang on to every advantage.

Spotting the telltale red glow of Ilden’s Lash, he added, “The plasma storm was the undercard. Ready for the title fight?”

Mara chuckled as Celene’s cursing filtered over the comm. “I didn’t have to navigate
that
on my way in.”

“Want me to take over for you?” Mara clearly wanted her ship back.

“Not a chance,” Celene answered. “I might enjoy this.” She cut the comm line.

“Damn Black Wraith hotshots,” Mara grumbled. “A bunch of danger-loving lunatics.”

“You’d fit right in.” It made a strange kind of sense. She had the flying skill, the courage, and, yes, some of the recklessness that made for an ace pilot.

Mara, fighting beside him. Flying beside him. Visualizing it, he felt a sharp, brilliant contraction in his chest.

Did she even have a choice? The life she knew was over—every smuggler and scavenger would soon know that she had fought on the side of the 8
^th
Wing. She would be hunted through the galaxy, an outcast. Again. Because of him.

He cursed the fact that he couldn’t see Mara’s face, wondering what her reaction might be. Anger? Derision? Flat-out rejection?

Finally, she laughed. The sound was hard, forced. “8
^th
Wing standards would have to be lowered to let in a scavenger like me.”

Gods, she really had no idea of her worth.

“Raised, not lowered. They’d be damn lucky to have you.” I
would be lucky to have you.
“And, Mara, it was over between Celene and me a long time ago.”

He was actually grateful to enter the hazards of Ilden’s Lash, demanding his full attention. In this round, he finally had the controls, and it was a hell of a lot more interesting than being a passive passenger. Light and nimble, the Black Wraith slipped through the gaps between the protoplanets. It felt as natural as breathing, as quick as life, and Kell couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Black Wraith Squad should use Ilden’s Lash for training.” He slid the ship through a narrow passage. Molten rock ribboned around the wings like streamers of fire.

“Wish I could take the controls.” Yearning filled Mara’s voice.

“Join the squad and you can.”

“Stop tempting me.”

He tried a little diversionary tactic. “Celene’s handling the Lash well.”

The tactic worked, for he heard Mara shifting in her seat. She let out a series of impressed curses as she watched another pilot fly her ship through the deadly band. The
Arcadia
was larger and much less maneuverable than a Black Wraith, yet even Mara couldn’t deny that Celene took the Lash expertly, flying the scavenger ship with almost as much skill as herself.

“I don’t know if I hate her or admire her for being so good,” Mara said. “As long as she keeps my ship in one piece, I think I’ll like her. Maybe.”

He knew that professional envy well—it kept him and the other squad pilots sharp, trying to outdo each other, trying to be the best. Right now
he
was the best, but he’d never let himself grow complacent. Complacency killed on Sayén, and it rendered a pilot obsolete in the Black Wraith Squad.

When they broke free from Ilden’s Lash, Kell felt a stab of disappointment. It was over too quickly. Yet his disappointment lasted less than a heartbeat, replaced by cold anger and readiness.

Just on the other side of the Lash, a PRAXIS battlecruiser waited for them.

The battlecruiser immediately opened fire. Kell took evasive maneuvers as he shot back. Fighting PRAXIS was his job, yet he always felt the same hard gleam of rage whenever he engaged the enemy, thinking of his ruined homeworld and all the other homes destroyed by PRAXIS’s greed. He burned for the time when the corporate monster lay in smoldering ruins. He would be the sonic hammer that smashed them apart.

A host of drones shot from the side of the battlecruiser, and these, too, fired on the Black Wraith.

“This is turning into a very long day.” Mara turned the turret to return fire.

Celene came through on the comm line. “Suggestions, Commander?”

“We can’t outrun them,” Kell answered, dodging a volley of plasma fire. “Can’t outshoot them. Unless…What kind of weapons does the
Arcadia
have?”

“One plasma gun,” said Mara. “And the shields can’t take many hits. I’m a scavenger, not a soldier. The magnetic tow is her best feature.”

That caught Kell’s attention. “Towing capacity?”

Mara seemed to understand immediately. “Definitely something as large as, say, a battlecruiser.”

Over the secured comm, Celene chuckled. “I like the direction this conversation is heading.”

He sniped at the battlecruiser, darting close and then peeling back. As he hoped, the PRAXIS ship kept its attention on the Black Wraith, directing all its firepower at him. He swerved, dodged and shot, with Mara providing backup with her rotating gun. She took out half a dozen drones, their small, metal bodies exploding around the Black Wraith’s hull.

He gritted his teeth as one shot from the battlecruiser nearly clipped his wing. Gunfire streamed around them.

As he hoped, the PRAXIS ship ignored the
Arcadia
. It was just a scavenger trawler. Nothing to attract their attention. The Black Wraith was the prize.

“Celene, fly to the aft of the cruiser,” Kell directed.

“Copy that.” A moment later, she announced, “In position.”

Mara understood his plan, then got on the comm line and quickly explained to Celene how to deploy the magnetic tow. “Make sense?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do it,” Kell commanded.

“Aye, sir.”

The battlecruiser suddenly listed as
Arcadia
’s magnetic tow net fastened onto part of its aft fuselage. It tried to fight the net, but Mara’s words proved true.
Arcadia
had its hooks into the PRAXIS ship, hauling the much larger vessel around like a child pulling a toy.

“That’s it, baby,” Mara whispered, viciously gleeful. “Show those bastards what a scavenger can do.”

The battlecruiser attempted to fire back, but Celene had positioned the
Arcadia
in the enemy ship’s small area of lowered defense, where fewer guns were located. She towed the battlecruiser up, exposing its vulnerable underside. As drones rushed toward the scavenger ship, Mara unleashed a barrage of gunfire, picking them off like digiskeet.

Kell kept his guns occupied. He raced toward the PRAXIS ship, searching its hull. The battlecruiser tried to shift in space to line its guns up on him, but the
Arcadia
held it in place.
Yes, there.
He bared his teeth in a brutal smile. And unleashed the Black Wraith’s plasma guns, hammering into the battlecruiser’s side.

A bulwark collapsed beneath the onslaught. After a moment, the PRAXIS guns stopped. He’d damaged the main power to the weapons systems, and the enemy had no choice but to shut their weapons down.

But he wasn’t finished. He was the sonic hammer. As drones swarmed around the Black Wraith, he targeted the battlecruiser’s propulsion system. Mara held the drones back long enough for Kell to decimate the engines. The moment he destroyed them, he turned his weapons on the remaining drones, and soon, there was nothing left of the bots but debris.

Celene disengaged the tow net. The battlecruiser now drifted like a blind, declawed
macskacat
, unable to move. Defenseless.

Part of Kell demanded he blast the battlecruiser into atoms, but a single Black Wraith didn’t have enough firepower to destroy the PRAXIS ship with one hit—only prolonged bombardment would do the job. Much as he wanted to wipe the damn battlecruiser off the star charts, he needed to get Mara, Celene and the Black Wraith to safety. And the fighter in him rebelled at the notion of attacking a powerless opponent. No honor in it.

The
Arcadia
came alongside the Black Wraith as he forced his blood to cool.

“You’ve earned yourself a few medals today, ladies.”

“Medals for everyone,” agreed Celene.

“And drinks.” Mara had her own strong opinions. “More valuable than medals.”

“Let’s go home,” said Kell.

“Home.” Mara spoke the word as if it was in another language. One she didn’t understand.

He wondered if he could teach her its meaning. Would his home be hers? He could fly and win a hundred combat missions, yet he understood that there were some battles he could never win by force.

He knew this, instinctively, knew what she needed. She looked at him as applause and shouts of congratulations thundered. He did not revel in the attention, but he didn’t shun it, either. He looked like a man who expected to get the job done, and did exactly that. Tough, assured, and, to her eyes, achingly handsome. Familiar, yet wondrous.

How had he become so necessary to her in such a short amount of time? Planets formed over millions of years, yet her own system had changed tremendously within a few days. No wonder her gravity was out of alignment.

Kell saw her looking at him, and bent close. “Welcome home,” he murmured for her ears alone.

A confused flush spread through her.
Home.
Hers, if she wanted it to be.

Gods, she needed time alone to think.

8
^th
Wing officers came forward, trying to look stern but largely failing.

“You look shocked to see me, sirs.” Kell drew himself up so he seemed, if possible, even taller.

“Only surprised to have you back so quickly, Commander,” a captain answered.

“We placed bets,” said another commander.

Kell raised a brow. “Who won?”

“Ensign Neta.”

A young woman with an ensign’s single stripe hooted. “That’s five hundred creds and Lieutenant Orji has to clean my bunk for a solar month.”

Someone, presumably Lieutenant Orji, groaned. “She’s messier than that
sipkaswine
Ensign Garek smuggled aboard.”

“Status, Lieutenant Jur,” said a captain.

Jur, looking tired but relieved, answered, “A little weary and bruised, ma’am, but I’m in fighting form.” She eyed the medical personnel working their way toward her. “I don’t think the doctors are necessary.”

“Standard procedure following a rescue mission. Go, Lieutenant.”

Jur saluted and made to follow the medical personnel. Before she departed, she turned to Mara and stuck out her hand.

“They strong-armed me into the mission,” Mara said. “Thanks aren’t necessary.”

But the lieutenant smiled. “What I saw weren’t the actions of someone being coerced. You had your own stake in the mission.” Her gaze slid toward Kell, talking with an officer.

“And you?” Mara struggled to keep the tension from her voice.

Jur’s smile turned melancholy at the edges. “That ship has flown. It flew away years ago.” Then she left with the medical team, with a volley of new applause following her as she departed the docking bay.

The captain noticed Kell’s arm still wrapped around Mara’s shoulders, but said only, “You two must be exhausted and,” she added, eyeing their wounds, “you need treating, as well. Commander Rigg, escort the commander and our honored guest to the medical bay.”

“Honored guest?” Mara repeated.

“That you are.” Kell’s gaze was a warm caress. “The 8
^th
Wing is honored by your presence. As they should be.”

Shouts of agreement rose up from the assembled crowd.

She had no answer to that, to them. She felt herself dropped into someone else’s life—someone who did not run with criminals, who was not an exile. Someone who
belonged
. A similar feeling to whenever she had set foot in that tawdry bar on Ryge. But here, the currency was honor, not cunning. That life was lost to her now.

Her chest tightened with panic. She belonged to no one, and no one would have her.

She told herself that again, when Commander Rigg escorted her and Kell from the docking bay and more cheers sounded from the throng. Disturbing, to walk through the 8
^th
Wing ship and see not suspicion or curiosity in the faces that passed her, but welcoming smiles.

It did not take long for her wounds to be cleaned and mended. The medical team worked quickly, with a minimum of fussing, which she appreciated. She remembered the hovering nurses and nannies from her childhood, the oppressive atmosphere that barred her from playing outside like other children, lest she hurt herself. Of course, that had made her desire to sneak off and roughhouse with the groundskeeper’s children all the stronger.

She sat on an exam table, watched from across the room as medics treated Kell’s leg. His pants had been cut open, exposing the hard muscles of his calf and thigh and the burned flesh surrounding the plasma pistol wound. Even though the treatment required a bit of probing and some heat sutures, he bore it all with stoicism, talking the entire time with Commander Rigg and giving no notice to the painful work being done on his leg. Yet in the middle of all this, he caught her staring at him and sent her a look of searing, carnal intent. It was a wonder the medical team crossing between them didn’t burst into flames.

Her pulse hammered, and her body responded immediately, growing sensitive and aware. She wriggled on the examining table as she glanced away. It had been too long since she touched Kell, felt his body against and within hers. Her need for him frightened her. Somehow, she would have to acclimate herself to this new paradigm: life without Kell.

But what new life awaited her?

“Ms. Skiren.” A fresh-faced lieutenant stood beside the exam table. “Do you think you have the energy for a debriefing?”

“I’m not 8
^th
Wing. I can’t be debriefed.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless it’s mandatory, and I’m being taken into custody.”

“What’s the problem, Lieutenant?” Kell, against the protests of the medical tech, stood and crossed the bay, scowling.

“No problem, sir,” said the lieutenant at once. “Command just wants to get Ms. Skiren’s statement about the mission, and then she’s free to go.”

“Am I not free now?”

The lieutenant, clearly not expecting this kind of hostility, stammered. “Of…of course you’re free. But it would be…very helpful for future missions if we could get your statement about what happened on this one.” He shot a nervous glance toward Kell. “If that’s acceptable, sir.”

Kell held Mara’s gaze, and the concern and protectiveness in his eyes threatened to shatter her heart. “You don’t have to.”

“Where will you be?”

“Doing the exact same thing. Talking myself hoarse to a debriefing panel.”

She turned to the lieutenant. “Let’s get this over with.” She hopped down from the examining table and, even though all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around Kell’s long, solid body, she made herself walk toward the medical bay doors.

“Mara.”

She turned at Kell’s voice. He stood next to the exam table, with medical staff busily milling around, and yet all he saw was her, and all she saw was him.

“Think about what I said.” His voice was graveled, low. “It’s here if you want it.”

If I want it
. What was
it
? Life with him? Joining 8
^th
Wing? As she left the medical bay, his words resonated over and over within her, like the tolling of an ancient bell announcing either celebration or disaster.