Chapter 3

  Guest

  By the time Roger was securing the woman, Annalynn had already returned to the bridge. The passive sensors hadn’t recorded anything while the two of them were out. The Wrath’s power systems were down to a minimum. They didn’t see much, but it made them a lot harder to find. Unless someone had visual contact, any sensor ping on the Wrath would trigger an alarm.

  Annalynn sat in the pilot’s chair, twirling a strand of orange hair around her finger. Too much had happened too fast. Pressure crowded her chest, sharp and restless, but she couldn’t pin it down. Fear? Relief? Both? Her hair drifted between colors before she forced it back to black. She needed a moment, but even that felt like another thing she couldn’t quite afford.

  They still had to reach Beta Station in orbit around Marrac and pick up their cargo. It was supposed to be a simple job: collect a time-sensitive shipment and move it somewhere else.

  The job had looked straightforward. It came from a company they’d worked with before. The package couldn’t wait for a normal courier, and the Wrath had an edge: she could plot her own Barrier Jumps. Normally only big military ships handled that, but Annalynn was one of the rare freelance pilots who could manage it.

  The pay was fair, fuel costs covered, which meant they could afford to burn longer if needed. They didn’t know what they were moving — that was standard. The less you knew, the less you could lose. If crews got curious about their cargo, the likelihood of it going missing shot up. Their job wasn’t to ask questions; it was to get it there.

  Still, the contract gave one clear instruction: whatever it was, it had to stay warm. Annalynn would scan it, make sure it wasn’t a bomb or a person. She and the crew didn’t deal in people. Roger in particular was violently opposed to slavers.

  Her hair had started to drift yellow. Her hand stilled, and she glanced at the strands. Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind until the color shifted back to white. Holding on to that focus, she forced herself to review what they needed to get back into space.

  The first reports hadn’t revealed anything that would stop them. The atmo drive planes were damaged, but those were for maneuvering in atmosphere. They could still launch without them, though it would mean burning more fuel — and if the pirates were waiting, they’d have less room to maneuver.

  Annalynn rose from the pilot’s chair and walked to the forward viewport. Most flying was done by sensors, but she loved being able to see where she was going. Outside, the night was dark and clear.

  She lifted her gaze to the vast sea of stars. She had been to many of them, but even that was only a fraction of the number out there. The thought gave her comfort: no matter how much she had seen, there was always something new waiting.

  She was still staring when the deck shuddered beneath her. The hydraulics of the boarding ramp rumbled at the rear, and an indicator lit up on the console. Roger had used his code. Taking a slow breath, Annalynn turned from the stars and headed off the bridge.

  She met Roger and Mosley as the ramp closed. Annalynn’s eyes lingered on the girl’s small frame. The fact that Roger had brought her here at all meant he didn’t see her as a threat.

  “Sarsha will want to see her,” Annalynn said, pointing toward the lift. “I’ll get her, if you want to escort your new friend to sickbay.”

  Roger didn’t answer. He just gestured at the lift, his eyes hard at Annalynn’s last words. Mosley shrank from her gaze and moved without protest, shoulders hunched.

  Annalynn reached for her communicator. She hoped Zev and Sarsha were finished; her hair was already fading toward purple. To her surprise, Sarsha answered on the first hail.

  “Is everything alright?” Sarsha’s voice carried tension.

  “Roger went for a midnight walk and came back with a friend. I want you and Zev in sickbay.”

  “What did he find?” Zev’s rough voice boomed over the comm.

  “He didn’t say. Just brought someone back. She doesn’t look like a pirate. Grab some mag cuffs on your way down — I want to run a thermal scan.” With that, Annalynn ended the call.

  Back on the bridge, she pulled up the infrared scanners. Training carried her through the motions — cycle the feeds, check for anomalies, look for heat blooms that didn’t belong.

  Nothing. Just trees. Just quiet.

  But it didn’t add up. A crew that could track the Wrath shouldn’t have been wiped out by a single mine. Skilled enough to find them, but stupid enough to bunch up like rookies?

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Her gut told her no. The data said one thing; the pressure in her chest said another. And now a survivor who didn’t fit the part at all.

  Sickbay was crowded. It wasn’t big to begin with, and with the whole crew inside it felt even smaller. Annalynn tapped Zev on the shoulder and pointed to the doorway. He stepped out to stand guard, his broad frame filling the hatch.

  He was protective of Sarsha—and of Zara, still unconscious on the next bed—but his sheer size wouldn’t help much if it came to a fight. Sarsha could handle herself, and Roger was lethal in close quarters.

  “Well, you’re banged up and a little malnourished, but nothing major,” Sarsha said, finishing her scan of Mosley.

  “Yeah, the food was awful. I did my best, but all they had was junk. Their ship was falling apart—something was always breaking.” Mosley’s voice had grown steadier, her posture no longer so fragile.

  “I know. If it were up to them”—Sarsha nodded toward the crew—“all we’d eat is rations and beef jerky.” She raised a hand to stall Zev’s protest before it began. “Zev, dear, why don’t you show this young lady where she can sleep? Don’t worry about him—his smell isn’t that bad once you get used to it.”

  Zev just glared at her, then stepped back and motioned with one hand. “Alright. If you’ll follow me.”

  When they were gone, Sarsha turned to Roger. “You should let me check you over. Point at the bed.”

  “I’m fine.” Roger’s tone was flat.

  “No, you’re not. Your hands are starting to twitch.” She caught his hand before he could pull it away. “Your nanites need tuning. Annalynn, will you get the door?”

  The door slid shut with a hiss. Sickbay was one of the few areas kept in top condition. Annalynn turned to face Sarsha, her hair shifting green with curiosity.

  “Roger, I really do need to run a scan.” Sarsha moved to her desk and entered a sequence of commands.

  Roger exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “It’s a waste of time. You can’t fix them anyway.”

  A scanner descended from the ceiling, bathing him in soft blue light. Data streamed across the display. His nanites were beginning to desynchronize.

  Sarsha’s eyes flicked over the readout. Nothing critical yet… but if left unchecked, it would mean a slow, painful death. She kept her voice steady. “It’s good to keep a baseline. Even if we can’t fix them outright, knowing their state helps us plan treatment options.”

  She tapped a key, then glanced back at the others. “Besides, I need to talk with you two about our new ‘guest.’” She made air quotes with her fingers.

  “She does feel off, doesn’t she?” Annalynn said, black streaks cutting through her hair. Her face stayed neutral, but the signal was clear.

  “She had no weapons, and her hands are calloused,” Roger said flatly. “Her reactions on the ship were consistent. She didn’t tense when I grabbed her. Her weight didn’t shift.”

  “What does weight shifting have to do with anything?” Sarsha asked, frowning.

  “Someone trained shifts their weight without thinking when grabbed,” Annalynn said. To demonstrate, she stepped beside Roger and shoved his shoulder. He barely moved, hips twisting so her hand slid off.

  “See? He didn’t even think about it,” Annalynn said. “We all know I couldn’t hurt him if I tried, and he still countered me.” Her hair flashed pink as she shoved again, this time with everything she had.

  Roger’s left foot slid a fraction, but he didn’t budge. “Are you done playing?”

  “Just proving a point to the doctor.”

  “I’ve seen all sorts,” Roger said. “Even the best-trained actors have tells. If you’ve been taught to fight, your body just reacts.”

  He stepped aside and Annalynn tumbled forward in a rush of pink hair and laughter. Instinct kicked in—combat pilot reflex, not ground-fighter discipline—and she hooked an arm around his neck to steady herself. Roger exhaled and caught her with one arm across her back, holding her upright with ease.

  “She might not have shifted her weight, but she’s not what she seems,” Sarsha said. “Her muscle mass is higher than a girl working a ship like that should have. Her malnutrition is recent—she grew up with adequate food.” She gestured to the readout. “See? Even her genes are clean. She might just be lucky, or maybe she’s running from rich, overprotective parents. But if that’s the case, how did she end up with that lot?”

  “Her hair is really nice,” Annalynn added. “What are the odds those pirates kept decent hair product around? If we take her story at face value, she wouldn’t have had the money for that.”

  “You’re talking about hair?” Roger asked, baffled. His knowledge of the subject ended at ‘needs cutting.’

  Annalynn’s hair cascaded into a rainbow—just for effect. “Yes, hair. Have you seriously not noticed mine?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Yes, boss, I can see it.” Roger’s tone was flat. He still didn’t get it.

  Sarsha laid a hand on Annalynn’s arm. “He doesn’t get it. Don’t try—you’ll only confuse him.” She gave a gentle squeeze, letting Annalynn know she understood.

  “Well, boss, what do you want to do?” Roger asked. This wasn’t his area; he leaned on her here.

  “I want to access their computer. We’ll do it in the morning. Zev can take Mosley out for cover. If Zara can manage, that would help. If not, I should still be able to crack their systems.” Annalynn’s hair shifted to black—professional mode, emotions sealed away.

  “I don’t know if Zara can even walk, let alone hike through the woods. So no, she’s not going to that ship,” Sarsha said firmly, not caring that she was addressing both captain and commando.

  “Alright. We’ll work something out in the morning. Roger, you’re on first watch, Zev next. I’m going to bed.” With that, Annalynn left sickbay.