#i think me getting lost between the generator and comms tower on the second mission is answer enough

[lepardlover]

i love being bad at video games, just spent an uncomfortably long time in halo reach trying to find where i was supposed to go and walking in circles

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 37

Carry On My Wayward Son

The NINE Engines

"Alex"

Site Hotel Bravo - Lab

Kicking the door open, Alex quickly dashed through the squeaky halls while Jack held on to his shoulder for support. The alarms echoed through the facility and everyone else was gone. Whoever was compromised among his teammates must be in a pinch right now, and the best thing the duo could do is plant the charges.

Alex paced through the halls and checked every corner, Jack continued guarding his six and they checked each room for intel. Luckily, they stumbled upon a framed layout of the building.

"Thank Goodness, a goddamn map." Jack sighed and looked at the thing, starting at the huge red star that said "You are Here"

"Any idea where the engine room is?" Alex turned to him, while leaning by the door, his body angled to peek at the hallway.

"Well for starters, this is an engine room." He turned and squinted his eyes in disbelief.

"But it's empty." Alex pondered.

"Shit. They already loaded this one." He continued.

"There are 9 other engine rooms out here. And with 10 engines on a single rocket, this thing was meant to go far." he explained and ran back to Alex.

"The next one's just on the other side of this corridor." He muttered and they immediately kicked open the second engine room.

"Empty. Eight more. Let's get a move on." Alex sighed as they continued kicking more doors and discovering more rooms. It looked like they were all empty.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking Alex?" Jack asked as they slowly creeped on the stairs down to the lower floor of the facility.

"If you're thinking about Samantha right now, then yes. But I hope you're not because that would be weird." he retorted as the ground shook violently. The two of them felt the heat emanating from the area below them and it didn't bode well for the duo.

"Focus, kid. Now do you see where I'm getting at?" He replied, proving his point. Alex slowly nodded and stepped further down the stairs.

"How can we attach an explosive charge on a whole rocket?"  Alex asked the million dollar question and was greeted with complete silence, other than the sound of their footsteps descending the stairs.

"If only we still have one engine… It could be enough to start a chain reaction of explosives." Jack hummed at the last step. The underground floor was where the rumbling was coming from. From the looks of it, the rocket was about to launch.

The launch grounds were already deserted and Shepherds Research team were already in a sheltered bunker somewhere far away from here. 

"Fuck. How did Shepherd afford this bullshit off radar?" Jack cursed and looked at the towering rocket as it slowly hummed to life.

"There!" Jack pointed at the doors on the other side of the launch room. 

"I trust you could stop those bastards from pushing that button." He nodded. Alex wanted to reason with him and stop his heroic act, because he was living proof that it won't end well for him, but the urgency of the matter at hand made him press on with his orders. It was the only shot they could do it.

"I'll see you on the far side." Alex muttered and Jack nodded, as he assured him that they both will make it out of this one.

Alex thought Jack's task was the hard one, it turns out that his 'stop the launch' mission was harder than he'd expected.

He peeked his head behind the glass of the launch room, as he surveyed three researchers who looked eager for the launch and the three big guys they once met back at the ship. Apparently, they survived the sinking ship part and here they are now.

He could go guns blazing, but the reinforced glass begged to differ. Standard bullets won't penetrate through these kinds of glass even at point blank range.

"Seriously, why do the bad guys always get the good stuff?" He complained, tilting his head to the guards.

The researchers looked unarmed while the big guys wielded AK-47s, which slung across their backs. The smiles on the researcher's faces lit, and that didn't mean well for Alex and his team. He needed to act fast and halt the launch. But he doesn't know how.

They were already mouthing the countdown when Alex knocked on the door and immediately hid. He never expected someone to open the door but he was glad someone did.

A huge blast shattered the room, sending enemies unconscious on the floor, struggling to get up. Alex's eyes focused and looked for the red button but it looked like he was a second to late. The ground shook as smoke billowed from the rocket, covering the whole area with smoke.

Alex knew he had to stay low for oxygen and he did, pressing the button for their comms he tried to alert Jack about the situation.

"Jack! I was too late! We need to get out of this place now! Jack?!" He roared as the loud rumbling noise of the launching rocket filled his ears making him temporarily deaf to any other noise.

He couldn't see the rocket rise up to the sky but he could sense it using the sound of the engine. It was getting away without the bang they were expecting.

"Jack?"

"Run kid! Away from that place!" Jack warned, panting as he did it. Alex quickly got up to his foot and swung his hand, clearing away the smoke as he dashed to the exit.

Halfway through the dark tunnel from which they entered, Alex heard a mighty booming noise, assuming it was the rocket that exploded to pieces. But he had no time to celebrate as the cave started to crumble and collapse just above him.

His elbows and arms sensed the pain of the rocks poking through his shirt as he crawled. 

"Shit." He muttered as he felt the rocks fall from where he came from and his foot felt the heat of the now enclosed area.

"I got ya." Jack caught his hand and pulled him up but his metal leg was already stuck between the rocks, making it hard for him to escape.

"I can't pull you anymore!" Jack yelled and Alex let go of him, as he quickly removed the lock of his metal leg, as Jack pulled him free of the collapsing tunnel.

The two panted heavily and Jack supported Alex as they made their way to the other side of the base and met up with the rest of the squad. They didn't need to tell them how their task ended as it was already evident based on the falling rocket debris from the sky.

Extraction was the hardest part of the trip. With Alex losing his metal leg, he wasn't able to help the heavily injured Ghost and Roach and the weakening Alexandra. He frowned at the view as he sat there by the plane, looking at the pained expression from his comrades. Shepherd was also with them, all tied up and his face was expressionless. Alex's blood boiled at the sight of him, making him want to beat him up for another round, but he knew it wasn't necessary as the man would not cooperate. The former general's defeat was too fresh and he still had little pride to keep information from the team.

With Roach continuously bleeding, Nikolai decided to stop by a small town he once belonged in, the team settled on a small hospital which housed troops whom Nikolai deemed were his allies.

From there, they helped patch up Roach and tried to add more blood in him as he lost a lot. Luckily, he was able to hang on and is now resting.

"Rough day, huh." Soap sighed, sitting beside Alex and crossing his arms as they rested in the Hospital's waiting room. 

"Yeah. I already missed my leg." Alex commented, tapping whatever's left on his thigh, chuckling at how it looked.

"Well, your leg could be replaced, you know. I know a guy. Actually, I'm not supposed to tell this to you yet, but… Samantha kinda asked me for help. Not me technically, but you get the idea." Soap rambled and all Alex did was look at him quizzically.

"Listen. She - OW!" Soap winced in pain as France teasingly pulled his ear.

"I knew you couldn't keep a secret. Okay Alex, what did he spill?" France looked at Alex seriously, and smiled as soon as she realized Alex doesn't know anything.

"You're lucky he didn't catch up on your babbling." France rubbed Soap's hair and smiled, leaving as soon as Price once again asked for her help.

"Hmm.. Seems like she had you on her ropes." Alex teased.

"On the outside." Soap added confidently. Alex didn't bother decoding what that meant, but he was glad they found each other in a situation like this.

"Hey Soap."

"Aye?"

"Do you have international minutes?" 

He nodded and fished his phone from his pocket and handed it to Alex. And after thanking the man, he quickly typed the numbers he memorized and dialed Samantha.

"Hello?" Her voice filled his mind almost automatically. He was indeed smitten by this woman as he smiled goofily on the phone.

"God, I miss that voice so much." Alex exhaled.

"Alex. I miss you too. How are you? Is everyone safe? Are you hurt?" her questions flooded Alex's ears.

"I'm fine Samantha. We had a few injured people but we're fine. We got General Shepherd."

"Oh thank goodness! That's one step closer to ending this war." She excitedly said over the phone.

"I wish I could hug you right now." Alex said out of the blue.

"Yeah. Me too. I'm with John's Mom downtown. We're helping her up with her shopping." she said and he could feel her snickering on the other side.

"Looks like fun!" 

"Yeah. I'm seeing a lot of places here, and all I ever imagined is walking around the place with my arms wrapped on yours." Alex couldn't help but blush at her words.

"I love you." He muttered.

"I love you too. I gotta go, duty calls." She chuckled and hung up the phone, leaving Alex in a dreamy state. 

He fished a small box from his bag and opened it, showcasing a beautiful ring that he'd been keeping for quite a while now.

"When this war is over…" he muttered, looking at Soap who he forgot was beside him all along. But the guy was already peacefully asleep, so he kept his phone with him for a while so as to not disturb the resting soldier.

Next Chapter : The EIGHT-Thirty Appointment

Notification Squad my Beloved

@ricinbach @smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @whimsywispsblog @bumblingbee1

[jennsmischievousmind]

Fucks not Found

White Flag

Ch1 Ghosts | Ch2 Florence | Ch3 A Matter of Seconds | Ch4 I need a Backdoor | Ch5 Die Hard | Ch6 White Flag | Ch7 Haunt the Living | Ch8 One, but not done [end]

“Remember when Five said if you’re ever left behind in a mission, he’s not coming back for you.”

“hm, Seven said he was going to change that.”

“Because you trust Seven now? Four lifted an eyebrow, you shrugged.

A whizzed cut the humid air, the choke loose down, allowing you a sharp intake of air followed by multiple coughs.

Seven had snipe the big guy right in the head. Your brain took a second to recover from the lack of oxygen, Four hanging above the void flashing back into your eyes, you crawled to the edge. "Four," your voice was harsh, he hunched his body upward, grunting while you reached for him. Grabbing your hand and the net he hoisted himself up to safety.

You laid down holding onto each other "I've got you" your voice wavered, Four nestled his head on your chest, arms around your middle. He was breathing hard through his nose, the blood slowly coming down is head.

“Will you now get down, eaglets!” One’s annoyed voice filled your ear.

“Five, you sighed, I think I broke a rib.”

“Make it 3.” Four groaned trying to stand up.

The adrenaline rushing out you had trouble standing, Four and you stumbled in the freight elevator holding onto one another. His hand never leaving yours.

Soon crashing into the back seat of the Mini R55, a sense of warmth filled you seeing the team around you. Catching Seven’s eyes in the rear view mirror you nodded a thank you at him. He had break the rule. It’s not like you could blame One, he had warned you, if you were to get caught during a mission, he’d left you behind, for the sake of the mission. You breathed in deeply trying not to freak out at what just happened. Five was already looking at your ribs, pressing into your sides to feel anything abnormal.

 One had called a “meeting” as soon as the sun would be up, so you had a few hours to tend to your injuries. Watching yourself in the big mirror bathroom, only in underwear, new bruises started to appeared on your ribs. Lifting your arm, a bruise was spreading from your waist to under your sports bra, another on your right hip. A faint red in a hand shape around your neck-this one was heavy- your fingers grazed the sensitive skin, you hissed.

Catching a glimpse of Four in the mirror reflection, you removed your hand almost shameful, he looked behind him before coming in and locking the door behind him.

“Give me hand would you” he took the gauze from your hand.

He stood before you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your bruised body, he sunk to his knees slowly brushing your sides with hesitant hands. Warm breath fluttered on your injured skin, his forehead on your tummy he sighed, your fingers running through his dust blond hair.

He then talked for the first time since he entered the bathroom “I really thought I’d lose you up there.”

“Well same here” you chuckled bitterly, he wrapped the gauze around your middle.

“I mean, I can’t afford to lose you Y/N!” He never used your name lightly since you’d told him.

“What we’re doing, this … job in itself, we can die, for real, anytime, we’ve learned that, painfully.”

“That’s why I’m asking you to be careful, if I’m in trouble, that’s it you run and...”

“Would you? You cut him he looked at you shameful, "would you let me behind?”

“No.” he admitted

“I thought I had been clear. I’m not losing anyone else.”  

You kissed his temple before leaving to surround yourself with ice bags and rest.

“You good?” it was the first time One had spoke to you since, yet not entirely showing real concern, casually leaning on the kitchen island, munching on some crackers.

“I’ll live,” You walked past him grabbing a few ice packs from the freezer, you weren’t mad at him per se, but slightly deceived. Ever since Six passed, a weird bond created itself between One and you, you weren’t sure what kind or why though.

“What’s between you and the boy?” he was serious, not like when he’d ask Two and Three, he was dead serious this time.

“Like Two said, transfer.” Hand in his bowl you took a handful of crackers, ice packs hanging in your t-shirt.

Finally at ease in your bed, body clad with ice bags you slept off the pain, you didn’t feel Four kiss your forehead before going back to his room.

 In the morning you meet up at the market. Seven and One started violently arguing. Seven revealed his name, Blaine, and ask Four his and yours. He insisted that he had just save both of your life, which was true.

Four hesitated looking at One “It’s Billy.” You look at him with fondness, you knew his name since a while now. He did look like a Billy. 

And everyone felt like revealing their name, Camille, Amelia, Javier….Well,

“Don’t look at me I’m not saying my name,” you leaned on the truck.

“Thank you, EIGHT! “ One emphasized on your number.

You liked this squad but saying your name was a no-go, for now at least, it implied saying your brother’s name too, because you knew they’d ask.

Seven tilted his head to you, clearly upset. Four smirked, he obviously knew your name.

One took a low blow with that argument but the mission resumed. Flying to Turgistan was the next move. The plan was to hijacked the TV radar to broadcast Murat’s speech instead of his evil brother’s. 

Later on, you ended up in the back of a truck with Five. Just for assisting really. Seven and One were infiltrating the main power generator of Turgistan.

“Really FBI this set up” you nodded looking around you

“One’s idea, you know how he is.” She waved her hand at the monitors.

Within minutes One was completely ruining it. The guy they were trying to convince was not biting it. Five tried to help…

“Noor’s dead, say is dead!” Five rummage her papers

“paper, so archaic.” You mumbled to yourself, she threw you a paper cup, still rummaging the notes about the others generators’ head of power plants.

“Wrong guy is alive. Fuck!”

You started to laugh, Five panicked on the comm “Just recover, recover.”

Hearing One over the comm you completely lost it, “He was found with a belt tight around his neck in a unfortunate masturbating accident.” Five froze “One, shut the fuck up!”

Tears of laughter were rolling on your cheeks until Five slapped your thigh “Help me with him!” You unmute your mic, still laughing “One fucking hell, abort!” Four’s slang was creeping on you.

Five and you were totally dumbfounded at his ramble, worst is, it worked somehow. 

Hours later you were ready to launch phase 1.

“Let’s go change the world.” One activated the inverter’s TV radar, Murat panicked in the inter comm saying he couldn’t go live. Then his face appeared on every TV of Turgistan. One broadcast it from his phone.

Murat gave his speech perfectly, concluded “It’s time for a revolution. Rise up and let’s take our country back!” 

White Flag by Bishop Briggs started playing in the broadcast.

“Wh..who picked this?” One inquired almost offended.

Five and Seven both looked at you and Four.

“You're welcome,” Four lifted his finger  – One clearly unamused looked at you.

“It’s a good song,” You agreed with Four

“This... No.” One sighed loudly

“It’s perfect!” Four argued

“That’s subjective!” One put an end at the discussion, sulking.

Four raised his fist your way- fist bumping- you were pretty proud of your choice.

 “FOUR!!” you stood up clumsily from the bed with your tablet in hand, headphones on, only wearing a bra and sweats short. “This one is perfect!” you yelled through the building, focusing on White Flag’s lyrics, a grin on, you didn’t see Four rushing to you until his naked torso collided into your side.

“One’s coming, like right now!”

Running through the sandy corridor you slid in the bedroom, throwing everything on the bed. There were too many belongings of yours in the room “shit. Kitchen!” Grabbing back your tablet you saw yourself in the screen, “shirt!”

You’ve never walk -semi-run- so fast in your life. “Hey Uno!” Trying not to sound so out of breath as you had just sat on the dismantle kitchen bar as he arrived.

“Is your trailer too small?” he immediately asked

“… I need more space,” you pointed at your Nasa shirt

“That’s an awful joke.”

“Learning from the best … “ you taunt staring intently at him.

“So,” he changed the subject when Four arrived this latter glanced at you. “We’re good? video, inverter?”

“Yeah, yeah hum Eight was telling me about it, just need a tiny detail and I think we’re good.” You nodded, trying hard not to drool at his state, shirtless and shorts hanging low, you averted your eyes quickly. Yeah you were working on the last details before he walked in the bedroom looking like a Greek god and you got handsy.

“Great, now you, missy, can go back to your trailer,” One pointed at the door then to Four “and you can put a shirt on.”

You rolled your eyes, taking your best teenager voice ‘Yes, MOM!”

He flicked you off without looking back on his way out.

“Shit!” Four heaved himself on the edge of the window, you waited a minute, before jumping down the bar, tiptoed to Four who had his face in his hand. Yours eagerly padding his toned stomach. Some words whispered in his ear made him look at you.

“Luv ....” his Brits’ accent coming out rougher at the sweet name, he saw your eyes changed as soon as he said it.

“Fuck!” he lunged to you, caging your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours, you giggled inevitably, hands on his low waist you step back to the bedroom, falling on the bed you squealed as he grabbed your thighs to anchor them around his hips.

One fired the bombs placed by Two and Three at the bottom of Rovach’s tower, destroying his statues and freaking him out, just what you wanted.

Back in the car on the way to the boat, you watched the streets’ CCTVs. You were blown away by the people following Murat’s words without doubts, News around the world were relaying the coup underway. Phase 1 was a success. 

Settling on the boat everyone started to suit up.

“So I get a gun!” you beamed as One handed you an USP-45

“I’m not sure it’s safe after all.” He tried to retrieve it from your grip

“Three carries a gun, I think we throw safety away at that moment.”

One thought about it for a second. He handed you a second gun.

You kept a comm’ open for Two and Three just in case.

“Two, you’re good?” you called in her comm’

“The party is going crazy,”

“Great, we’re on our way. Over.”

// 

“Three, what’s your ETA?” you waited a few seconds “Three?”

“you evil fuck!” he angrily yelled 

“That’s..., not an ETA..” 

Then you heard a loud crash, him scream and another crashing sound.

“Tell me you’re not dead, you idiot!” you let his comm’ open, updating One on Three status. 

One wasn’t worried “He’s a strong motherfucker, he’ll make it.” 

He was right, soon hearing gunshots and Three trash talk you caught yourself smiling relieved, this crazy dude is immortal!

Four got out the cabin as you passed by it “Ooo I love the wetsuit!” you eyed him up and down.

The corner of his mouth quirked up “Hands off lady,” he looked around for Five or One, “It’s to cover your cute ass out there,”

“And I’ll cover yours,” you swat his wetsuit-clad butt, he swiftly caught your hand and shove you into the cabin before the others could see anything. “What..,” his lips eagerly pressed on yours. Kissing you like it was the last time he’d be able to do so. Seeing his confidence fading in his eyes you hug him tight “It’s gonna work out,” as he tightened his embrace you saw One over his shoulder, at the door, watching you. Since when was he there you didn’t know, and right now you couldn’t care less. He disappeared as you kissed Four’s cheek.

“Is there metal in there?” One nodded at your neck, he didn’t assess anything about earlier.

You shrugged “I don’t know” strapping a knife at your calf.

“Leave it here”

“I’m not leaving it here!” you sounded offended

“Leave the cross here Eight!” One argued back

Groaning you removed the cross, kissing it, storing it in the inside pocket of your duffle bag.

“When will you stop defying everything I say,”

“You see any cross,” you dramatically pull your collar

“You know what I’m talking about,” he left to drop the submarines.

Seventh chapter - Haunt the living

Only 2 chapters left, not gonna lie my favorite is the last one. I’d like to already thanks everyone who’s be reading this fiction, I see you, thank you.

A/N: don’t forget to double tap if you liked it. 🙏  

[molluskwritesfic]

Between Rivers: Chapter Seven

A Mandalorian can't show their face to anyone - with the exception of immediate family. Although they haven't known each other long, there's definitely something growing between them. But is it enough? When an ex-spy must look beneath the helmet to save Din Djarin's life, there's only one option that allows him to continue following his Creed. Marriage.

This story is also on Fanfiction.net and Ao3.

Masterlist

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - This Chapter

Chapter Seven

Noa Enti was dead.

Finally. 

Redin Deedi might be dead. Might not. To tell the truth, she didn’t care much either way, so long as her bridge to him was as charred as the corpse she’d left in place of her own. 

She didn’t like killing off her characters; she’d lost five of them in the past six months. Her pool of identity options was dwindling, and she hated being without a cover. 

Soon, she would have to come up with some new ones. 

It wouldn’t be as easy as it once had been. 

For the moment, though, she was fine with being no one. Noa Enti was dead. Nenana Orze had never set foot on Dafin III. 

No One stalked through the darkened hall, guided by the blinking security lights. Her clever planning and well placed credits had seen the power cut, and the explosives she’d smuggled in under the guise of an engineer had done their job perfectly. The extra security uniform and helmet had been easy to steal, and the others were far too busy doing damage control to notice that their ranks had grown by one. Everything had gone exactly to plan. 

There was one problem, though. 

She was hurt. 

Human variables - something that couldn’t always be planned against. There had been precious few seconds between Deedi learning about the fake explosives strapped to her chest and the detonation of the real ones embedded in the drink trolley. In the chaos of those few seconds - where everyone was scrambling to get out of the room - one of the guards had panicked.

The blaster bolt had clipped her side - just below the ribs. Mercifully, it hadn’t hit anything important, but it still hurt like hell and would pose a real issue if she didn’t get the bleeding stopped soon. 

Also, it was slowing her way down.

But other than that, everything was fine. She was struggling to keep moving, but good at faking it. The cover wasn’t elaborate enough for her liking, but the black tinted visor covering the upper half of her face and requisition blaster she carried were working well enough. 

Well… almost well enough.

She’d actually made it out of the building and was moving through the alleyways created by the auxiliary buildings surrounding the main tower - Deedi’s own little self-sufficient town within the city; the wealthy businesses and housing that the rest of the planet couldn’t afford. 

Smoke choked the air, reducing the usually well-lit streets into a greasy haze. The place was abandoned, the people all having fled the shadow of the burning building or hiding away in safe rooms built into the basements for situations like this. A droid or two bumbled by, locking up the businesses and generally doing the things their owners weren’t willing to stay out to do, but they didn’t pay her any mind. 

Slowed by her injury, she was about a minute and a half behind schedule; Deedi’s men would be reorganizing by now. Her window for a clean exit was closing fast.

Sure enough, Nenana cursed herself when three guards - real guards - came jogging around the corner of a soot-caked Colo Claw Fish dinery and a jeweler’s. 

It was too late to hide. Even in the subpar conditions, they’d already seen her. 

“Hey, you! Stop right there!”

And they knew that there was something off about her. Great.

In her condition, she needed to avoid a shoot out if she could. 

Only one thing for it.

She lifted her head, squared her shoulders, and marched straight up to them. 

“Report!” She barked impatiently in her best Huttese accent, knowing that it was the first language of many of the soldiers hired from Dafin III. She turned her helmeted face from one to another, fixing them each with an imposing glare. 

The trio wavered. She jumped on their confusion. 

“What’s the status of Sector Three? Has that section been secured yet?”

The one in the middle - the highest ranking, according to the button on his lapel - squared his shoulders. “No, ma’am. Squadrons Two and Four are converging on Sector Seven. Looters have broken through the outer barriers.”

Ah, excellent. She’d hoped something like that would happen. Although Deedi controlled the major crime gangs, his shift to higher caliber goods had left the lower niches up for grabs. The smaller underground gangs would be moving in to see what they could get. 

A great cover for her, should the resolution to her current problem require the corpses of the three guards.

She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Get on the comm and divert Squad Four to Sector Three. Those cargo entrances are wide open.”

He immediately moved to do as she said, but hesitated when one of his companions, a green twi’lek man, spoke up. “With all due respect, ma’am, why not call in the order yourself?”

Shit. 

“You don’t get to fucking talk to me that way!” She snarled, hoping a threat from a supposed-superior would blot out any doubts he had running through his head. “Do as you’re told, or I’ll have you strung up and shot.”

“Ma’am, you’re bleeding,” the third guard, a human female, pointed out. “There hasn’t been any shooting in this Sector yet.”

Fuck.

“That’s right,” the first man who she’d almost fooled finally caught on. He stepped forward menacingly, his hand going to the blaster at his hip. She held her ground. “Unless you’ve been through Sector Seven already, eh?”

This was exactly why she hated not having an elaborate cover. She would have created one in advance, but she’d already made one for when she’d had to pose as an engineer, and she hated creating more than one new person per mission. A single anomaly in a database would be overlooked, but two? 

“I was patrolling Sector Seven when the first looters pushed through,” she growled. “I was hit and fell back. I was on my way to the medical wing, but got fucking distracted when I saw that those exits are wide open. The main building should be on lockdown! Do you know how much the droids in the cargo bay are worth? A lot more than you’ll ever see, you can believe that. When the Commander finds out that…”

A flash of silver flickered around the corner of the jeweler’s, dim in the smoky light. Nenana was cut off by the flash and whine of three blaster bolts. 

The guards slumped to the ground. Dead. The Mandalorian loomed behind them, silent as a ghost with a rucksack bag slung over his shoulder, blaster still half-raised. 

Unexpected, sure, but she couldn’t say she was disappointed to see him.

Nenana let her posture slump, tearing off her black helmet and clamping her hand to the wound on her side. Blood oozed between her fingers from where they pressed into the soaked fabric. 

“Just can't get enough of me, eh?”

The Mandalorian lifted one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I thought you might need help.”

“I had it under control,” she defended lightly, sliding back into her native accent now that she had no reason to do otherwise. And anyway, it felt like the right one to use with him.

His head tipped forward slightly. “Looked like it.”

A smile twitched on her lips at his dry humor. “It would’ve all been fine, but this…” She lifted her hand to show him her bloody palm. “...was slowing me down.”

“That looks bad.” He holstered his blaster and moved to her side, indicating her injury with his head. “You okay?”

Nenana shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Here.” Mando dug into the bag he carried, coming away with a thick gauze patch and peeling off the plastic covering the adhesive side.  “This is bacta-infused, but it’ll still need to be cleaned and bandaged properly.”

“Oh, bacta-infused,” she quipped goodnaturedly as she picked the sopping fabric away from the wound. “What did I do to earn such quality care?”

He shrugged. “You overpaid.”

Nenana huffed a laugh and pulled up the hem of her uniform, exposing just enough of her blood-slicked hip for the Mandalorian to press the bandage firmly in place over the weeping gash. 

She gritted through the pain. “Thanks, Mando.”

Mando dipped his head in acknowledgement, smoothing down the edges of the bandage before tugging her shirt back down to cover it. 

Nenana sighed and straightened up. “We need to move. They’ll be focused on Sector Seven, but they won’t leave this section undefended for long.”

“Agreed.” Mando adjusted the bag on his shoulder, visor glinting in the half-light as he cast a quick glance about the empty street before fixing back on her. “My ship, or somewhere else?”

Nenana chuckled breathlessly, leading the way around the corner while Mando followed, blaster drawn and on guard. “I know I promised you a date, Mando, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He stiffened, having caught the suggestive undertone behind her words.

“That... that’s not what I...” he stuttered, making her grin. His helmet jerked to her, but when he saw her smirk he looked away sheepishly, shoulders rolling loose with acceptance. “Yeah, okay.”

She barked out a soft laugh. “Yours.”

Nenana wasn’t sure what to make of the Mandalorian. When he’d first appeared on her homestead, she’d been impressed with his steadfast composure in the face of the olfdo, and then again with his quiet good manners and helpfulness as he worked in her kitchen. 

She hadn’t been lying before when she said that she liked him; it was something that she’d readily admit. But now that he’d made it clear that he was interested in something more than a business arrangement and thoroughly charmed her with his gruff awkwardness… she wasn’t sure what to think.

And that uncertainty had nothing to do with him. It had been a long time since Nenana had even considered what he had insinuated… something more. For her entire adult life, she’d thought of relationships as an end to a means; getting close enough to the right person to overhear the right sentence or to plant the right suggestion in the right ear. 

That, she knew how to do. But doing it for real - because she meant it; because she wanted to…

Nenana wasn’t sure she could leave her old mentality behind enough to manage it.

But that was why she’d been doing all this, right? Putting her life on the line again even after she’d gotten out of the service. Tying up all her loose ends so she could leave her past behind; so that she could have an After. 

In the hull of the Mandalorian’s ship, deep in hyperspace, she watched as the warrior, clad in dirty, battered armor cleaned and dressed her wound. His hands were large and strong, worn by blasters and combat, and yet his touch was careful and feather-light. 

Yes, she liked him. 

She knew he liked her.

But what came next? She couldn’t even imagine what the next step could possibly be. Sure, she’d gone through the motions before, but was struggling to work out how to apply them to the man before her. 

They couldn’t exactly go out to dinner.

How did you go on a date with a Mandalorian? Hell, how did someone go on a date with her?

She was at a complete loss. 

He probably didn’t have a clue, either.

Maybe it didn’t matter that they didn’t know.

As Nenana watched him work, his helmet bowed close to her shoulder as he focused on getting the bandage just right, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this is what the start of the After she’d been wanting looked like. 

Whether it was or wasn’t, it was worth the effort of finding out.

~0~0~0~ .

[minnarr]

leia meets the prequels gang, pt. 2

part 1 is here

Last time, Leia got dragged from her moment of greatest grief to one of Anakin’s; helped avert a Big Mistake; and realized just what a mess she has gotten into. In this section, the Clone Wars are just beginning and Leia meets Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi at last.

----

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Anakin muttered.

They had found Obi-Wan. Unfortunately, where they had found him was chained up at the center of an arena – right next to Padmé, captured in the chaos of their arrival on Geonosis. It had not been a smooth rescue operation. One point of optimism: they’d loaned Leia a blaster.

Leia and Anakin were in one of the tunnels leading into the arena. She’d been surprised to find it empty, but she wasn’t going to argue. She squinted into the glare of the sun, taking note of the roaring crowd. “Any ideas about how to get those two out of this?” Leia asked.

Whatever bright ideas they might have come with, they got cornered by battle droids instead. They fought surprisingly seamlessly together, Anakin slashing droids to pieces while Leia fired blaster bolt after blaster bolt. Leia caught glimpses of some kind of gladiatorial game in the arena, and hoped like hell Obi-Wan and Padmé were handling that all right. They were fighting back-to-back when Leia look an unlucky hit.

More Jedi arrived just in the nick of time, flashing lightsabers cutting a path through the droids.

This wasn’t my battle to fight, Leia told herself later, trying not to flinch as a medic in white armor applied a bacta patches to her burns. This isn’t my war. These aren’t Stormtroopers, not yet.

If she had doubted when she was before, she knew exactly what year it was now. She was right in the middle of the First Battle of Geonosis, the beginning of the Clone Wars proper. This was her father’s war. She tried not to look at that thought, tried not to think about her parents, alive, and Alderaan, shining blue and unharmed. It hurt too much.

“Just hang tight, ma’am,” the medic said, touching her good shoulder. “These should see to the worst of it. Just rest and heal up.”

She closed her eyes, listening to the distant blasts and roar of battle. She’d been here a thousand times, though rarely as an injured soldier. Military bases and battles had become her home. And she knew that the Republic had won this first battle; barring bad luck, there was no reason to believe she would die today.

The quiet hum of the engines turning on roused her. “Where are we going?” she asked the nearest trooper.

“Coruscant,” he said shortly.

“Wait,” she said, before he could go. “I’m with the Jedi. I need to...report to them when we get to Coruscant.”

“Noted. Ma’am.” He left her, and she settled in for the long trip. Sleep now, and worry when there was something she could do about it. Her body, trained for this by now, listened.

Leia kept reminding every trooper who handled her where she needed to be. As they passed over the Senate district, Leia realized they were approaching a building she recognized: a massive trapezoidal structure that towered over the surrounding buildings, with towers that rose like stalks towards the sky. A shiver went through her. It wouldn’t be the Imperial Palace, not yet, but her instincts didn’t recognize that.

The medic who’d seen to her wounds – he’d introduced himself as Skye – had come to stand beside her at the viewport. “Must be the Jedi Temple,” he said, sounding faintly awed. “Think I’ll volunteer to see you in, get a look at the place.”

“That eager to see it?” Leia said, keeping her voice light. The transport came in to land on a wide platform built onto the side of the temple, and Leia let Skye lend her his arm. Even with the bacta patches, she felt a little shaky on her feet.

The place had been built with tranquility and grandeur in mind, on a scale so large that it would be easy to feel insignificant. Leia was used to this scale from the Senate, and she was on a mission. “Do we wait here?" she asked Skye.

“Someone’s meeting us.” He shifted a little, though she noticed he was careful not to jostle her. Was that discomfort in the shortness of his response? The conversation between them appeared to be over, and they stood in silence until doors opened and an elegant woman stepped out, her simple brown robe trailing behind her.

“I don’t mean to be inhospitable,” she said, her dark eyes sweeping over Leia and pausing on her bandaged shoulder. “I can see that you were injured, and you had a long journey."

Leia understood, suddenly, and a mix of relief and frustration made her want to laugh. She was an unknown quantity, demanding to see the Jedi just when they’d been unexpectedly attacked. “I understand your caution. I came to Geonosis with the Jedi Anakin. I lost track of my friends in the fighting, and I would like to know that they are safe.”

The woman closed her eyes for a moment, seeming to seek something inside herself. Whatever she saw satisfied her. She made a half-turn and gestured to the door. “Come, then. I do not think you will be able to see Anakin, but his other friends are inside.”

Her clone escort was sent back to the ship. The medical ward the woman guided her to was crowded and just shy of chaos; it had not been built to see so many patients at once. They passed through a main ward, then into a hallway, cooler and blessedly quiet in comparison. The woman opened a door, and in the split second before anyone could notice, Leia saw Padmé sitting with her head bowed, looking bone-weary. Padmé raised her head, and her eyes widened. “Leia!” she said, and then they were hugging. Leia was surprised to realize that she was holding on just as tightly as Padmé. She had so few anchors here; thank the Force she had not lost this one.

“The others?” Leia asked when she pulled away.

Padmé glanced away. “Obi-Wan will be fine. Anakin was...badly injured. He’ll live,” she added quickly. “They're sure he’ll live. But he will take some time to recover.”

“Are you waiting for him?” Leia said gently.

The other woman laughed unhappily. “I shouldn’t. I should...I should get back to my people. This was the opposite of what we were supposed to be doing, you know. We left Coruscant to keep me safe.” She was silent a moment, staring into nothing. “And I think we started a war,” she whispered.

“Give me your comm code,” Leia said firmly. “Go back to your people, and I will wait and call you when they say he can have visitors.”

Padmé turned to her, surprised. “How do you know they’ll let you stay?” she said.

“I don’t plan on giving them a choice,” Leia said dryly, and Padmé’s eyes lit with just a spark of mischief. She shook her head, then reached for her comm and read out the code Leia had asked for. Leia committed it to memory.

“This is my personal comm,” Padmé said. She hesitated to move, though. There was a quiet step in the doorway, and they both turned to look. Obi-Wan Kenobi stood there, not yet the general Leia’s father had spoken of, but a coppery-haired man with weariness and determination in every line of his body. Padmé went to him, taking his hands and squeezing them. “He’s in surgery,” she said softly. Then, glancing at Leia: “Come meet someone.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be steered over to Leia. He bowed his head courteously, his eyes raking curiously over her. “Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is Leia Antilles,” Padmé said. She managed a ghost of a smile. “Leia, I can finally introduce you to Obi-Wan.”

“Finally?” Obi-Wan said, crooking a brow.

Leia looked Obi-Wan Kenobi over. He had been a familiar name, one she had been holding onto with hope and desperation before some mysterious force brought her back to this time, but she had no idea who he was now, or what he might do for her. But there was kindness in that face, and years of her father’s stories reassured her. “I need help,” she said bluntly. “But it will keep until you know how your...how your friend fares.”

Obi-Wan sat in one of the cushioned chairs and stretched his legs out before him. “To be frank, I could use the distraction,” he said. “Tell me.”

Leia sat down, thinking fast. She looked to Padmé, frowning.

“Would you prefer company, while you tell it? Or privacy?” Padmé asked, reading the indecision in her face.

With relief, Leia said, “Privacy, please. It’s a strange story, and I’m not sure...I’m not sure it’s safe to share.”

Padmé nodded, and Leia was grateful for the understanding. When she had gone, Leia sat in another of the chairs, leaving space between herself and Obi-Wan. “I don’t know much about the Jedi,” she admitted. “Is time travel one of the impossible things they’re capable of?”

Obi-Wan's eyes went from polite inquiry to startled interest in an instant. “Did you see something?”

“Master Kenobi, I experienced something,” Leia said. “I am more than twenty years out of my proper time. From your perspective, I have not yet been born.” Obi-Wan rubbed at his beard, his hand hiding his mouth. Leia’s heart sank. “I take it this is not a well-known Jedi mystery, then,” she said.

“No, indeed,” Obi-Wan said slowly. He looked her over again, his eyes dimming. He leaned away a little. “I can consult with those more learned than I, but I doubt that anyone would know the way to send you back.”

Leia felt the numbness around the hole in the center of her start to slip. Just for a moment, and then she was able to step back again, refocusing on what needed to be done. “No, there is no going back, is there,” she said, her voice low. Even before her trip back in time, she had known that her world was lost. What needed to be done?

“I can see you placed somewhere...find you work, and...”

Leia laughed harshly, cutting Obi-Wan off. “You can help me stop this war, and the next one,” she said.

Obi-Wan reared back as if slapped. “The next one?”

“The one we are fighting against the winners of this one,” Leia said.

She watched him absorb that, watched denial war with fear and sorrow. He took a breath, his nostrils flaring. “That is a tall order,” he said.

“But it must be done,” Leia said. “I must do it, and I can’t do it alone. I have no connections, no resources, in this time. All I have is what I know about what happened—and even that is incomplete.”

Obi-Wan looked thoughtful, then chuckled softly. “What’s so funny?” Leia asked.

“For someone who claims to have no connections, you have stumbled into some powerful friends,” he said. “Or did Padmé not tell you that she is a Senator?”

Leia looked sharply at Obi-Wan, then smiled. “She did not. I suppose it makes sense; she said that Anakin was sent to guard her.”

“There, you see. So you have your choice of people to find you a place in the Republic. But I think...” Obi-Wan met her eyes. “I think that I would like you here in the Temple. I have enough friends here that I think I can manage that. Will you wait until I am able to arrange things?”

He was asking for trust, and Leia knew that he already had it. “Of course.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, then stood. “I asked for a distraction,” he said. “The Force has a wicked sense of humor.” He went out into the hall, and Leia settled in for a long wait.

And so Leia was the only one waiting when a white-robed healer came into the waiting room. “Have you seen Master Kenobi? Knight Skywalker is awake.”

Knight Skywalker? “Do you mean Anakin?” Leia said.

“Yes,” the healer said, a touch impatiently.

“Master Kenobi had business to attend to,” Leia said.

“He will be contacted,” the healer said decisively. She eyed Leia. “Who are you? You’re not Jedi.”

Leia shrugged. “A friend. Leia.”

“I’ll ask if he wants to see you,” the healer said.

“Wait, before you go,” Leia said. “Is there a comm terminal I could use?”

Leia followed the healer’s directions and found the terminal. She put in Padmé’s code, then waited for the call to connect. Padmé’s sounded breathless when she answered. “Is he...?”

“Awake, apparently,” Leia said.

“I’ll be there. Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Padmé said, and ended the call. Leia wondered, not for the first time, just what Anakin and Padmé were to each other. Had they become dear friends while thrust together in the difficult time before the battle, as Leia was beginning to do with Padmé? Or were they long-standing allies, as her father and Obi-Wan might be?

The healer intercepted her on her way back and steered her back towards patient rooms. “He agreed to see you,” she said. “One visitor at a time, mind, so if someone else shows up you’ll have to work that out.”

Leia stepped into the room, feeling strangely uncertain. Anakin looked exhausted and somehow smaller than before. It took her a moment to register the bandages around his arm and realize what had happened. “Hello,” she said calmly, not yet moving closer.

“Leia,” Anakin said. He looked a little lost, his gaze drifting over her shoulder. “Where’s Padmé?”

“On her way,” Leia said. “She had to let people know she was safe, I think. And Obi-Wan is around the Temple somewhere,” she added, before he could ask.

Anakin relaxed bonelessly into the bed, although his face was still tight. “You did well out there,” he said. “Handled yourself in that fight.”

Leia wasn’t sure where he was going with this, what the undercurrents in this conversation were. “It wasn't my first time in one,” she said.

Anakin nodded, and there was something in his eyes that made Leia wary. “What were you doing on Tatooine? How did you find us, and why did you need to see Obi-Wan?”

“Are you really accusing me of something from a hospital bed?” Leia said.

“I don’t know, do I need to?”

Leia crossed her arms. “No,” she said. “I don’t mean any harm to any of you, and it was just coincidence that you were there when I needed you.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Anakin said.

“You don’t have to, they just are.” Were they? whispered something in Leia. Something had brought her to two powerful people, connected to the very man she had been sent to find in her own time. Coincidence, maybe. Or maybe something had brought her there on purpose. “I didn’t have any control over it, anyway,” she amended.

Anakin squinted at her, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Instinctively, she made her mind and her face blank, holding herself still and quiet. Anakin’s frown deepened, and Leia shuddered. “I think there’s a chill in here,” she said. It had been a long time since she had felt this nameless, out-of-place panic. She had hoped she was over such spells, but maybe the frankly unprecedented stresses of the last few days had thrown her off.

“Yeah, a chill,” Anakin said, but he looked a little confused. “Uh, sorry, the...” He lifted his hand and nodded towards the tubes feeding into it. “I think whatever they gave me is making me a little...”

Leia nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, it’s...just stay till Padmé gets here.”

[stars-of-kyber]

And Light To Meet it

This is my first Reylo fic, I’m writing with a friend. 

Summary:

The fight between the First Order and the rebellion intensifies. While Rey must help the rebellion to gather allies, she sends a puzzle to Kylo as he faces an unexpected trial to help him understand if Ben Solo is really dead. And he must discover it alone.

Read it on AO3

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away….

"Civil war rages in the galaxy. The rebel forces grow as General Organa continues to mobilize old and new allies and partners of the former New Republic.

Rey, the last of the Jedi is a know beacon of hope for the entire galaxy, but with powerful force users on both sides of the dispute, the war seems endless.

As the dispute for territory and trade routes grows more intense, the Supreme Leader goes on a quest to affirm the First Order's presence in the galaxy and establish control over the Outer Rim..."

It had not been five minutes since his ship had approached Felucia’s system and Ren already wished Starkiller base had destroyed the whole planet when it had the chance. The weird-looking hellhole of a jungle seemed as if located in the farthest possible place from any hint of civilization, and yet its strategic location for trade had proven itself essencial during the clone wars and for the Empire, and now with the new civil war raging in the galaxy, it became crucial that the First Order made its presence felt on planet.

Of course trade wasn’t the only reason why he had chosen to take this mission. No. That had more to do with the little golden box over the control panel that seemed to mock him ever since his officers had delivered it to him. Sealed shut, the Jedi holocron wouldn’t open no matter how much he tried. On its surface only two words were visible, engraved in the metal: For Ben.

He didn’t have to open it to know that was Rey’s writing.

“Supreme Leader.” A voice called out behind him, clearly higher pitched than it would normally be.

Kylo turned around to face the skinny pale-faced officer. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and even if Kylo was not force sensitive, the terror in his eyes when he addressed him was visible. And irritating.

“What?” Ren barked at him. He was in no mood to deal with whatever it is that their incompetence would throw at him now.

“I’m afraid we have detected a large rebel presence on planet. They appear to have taken control of the eastern First Order base.”

Kylo snapped, his hand shooting up, as the rage took over him. The officer reached for his own neck, his feet lifting from the ground as if an invisible hand pulled him up by his collar.

“And why is it” Kylo spoke pausadly, his ear buzzing ‘that I am only hearing about this NOW?” he released the man, barking the last word at him

The officer fell to the ground on the bridge, coughing and gasping for air. He didn’t dare look up as he answered:

“Sir, the Rebels have taken control of one of our transmission towers on the planet. Today, it seems.”

“Change the course. Turn the ship west. We need to regroup with our remaining base and wipe the rebels out of this jungle.”

“Should we signal General Hux ordering reinforcements?” The officer asked nervously.

“No. Let’s assess the situation before we call any sort of backup.” Kylo waved his hand dismissively. “Now do as I said!”

The man rose, slowly regaining his composure as he saluted.

“Right away sir.”

The cruiser made a sharp turn west, and Ren turned to the front panel again, this time focusing on their attack plans. If the rebels had taken control of the transmission it meant that once they were on planet, the rebels would have the advantage to call on reinforcements. They must not let their presence be known, and the tower should be their first target.

Not a minute after thinking that, he sensed something shifting around them. He knew what the admiral’s words would be before he said them.

“Sir, rebel ships approaching.”

“Jam their signal. Prepare the cannons to fire at sight. I want them all down!”

Seven x-wings approached in V formation. That was a good sign. The fact that they hadn’t sent out the entire present fleet meant that they probably hadn’t been noticed by the main rebel base.

Red and green laser bolts started flying all around them creating a patch of colorful deathly rays among the stars. One x-wing got hit and was blown to pieces by their heavy cannons before the screams of the pilot could be heard through the coms, but even with all of the cruiser’s heavy artillery their ships were too small, and maneuvered their way to target the cruiser’s shield generators.

“Keep firing on them. Send the TIE fighters.” He yelled, picking up the the holocron and attaching it to his belt as he walked away from the main bridge “Prepare my TIE silencer, I will deal with this myself.”

They dared not contradict the Supreme Leader as the sound of his heavy steps disappeared from the bridge into the hangar. Though it had seemed strange to them at first that he would jump on a fighter himself, he had worked with the Leviathan ’s crew for some time now, and they were getting used to him flying alongside them by now. They had been used to cowardly leaders, hiding behind lower officers, sending people to obvious death sentences while standing safe in the bridge. But if there was was thing that Supreme Leader Kylo Ren wasn’t, was a coward.

He slid into the Silencer with ease. He felt more comfortable alone in there, guns in hand than aboard any destroyer having to deal with the failings of his crew. He watched through the panel as another X-wing was taken down. Good. One less to go. Now there were only 5 left to deal with.

“All TIEs, follow me.” He ordered, using the comm link “Get those ships away from the shield generator.” He spun, dodging from shot after shot coming from the X-Wings behind him. By his side, two of his pilots struggled doing the same thing. Four enemy ships were behind them and the other one delve below the cruiser, headed towards the shield generator.

He pulled his TIE up, taking a ninety degree turn upwards. His body leaned forward as the ship looped around it’s edge. Angled directly above one of the X-wings, he gave them no time to react to the sudden shift, immediately locking on target and firing on the first one. The X-wing blew into a million pieces, clearing the path for the TIE pilot to defend the generator.

The three rebel ships bellow him scattered in different directions, breaking formation. He took a sharp turn to follow the one that headed closer to the cruiser. Through the silencer’s glass panel he could see that an X-Wings had managed to take down one of the fighters. Kylo didn’t even flinch. He was spinning, dodging and diving and it was the most natural thing in the world for him. He could feel the force flowing through him like an open flame, igniting at every turn, sensing every presence, every shift. He could feel it’s raging fire tearing apart his enemies one by one as he fired flawlessly on target. It was power. And it was all consuming.

The rebels were down to two ships. One of them was after the other remaining TIE and the other was knocking the generator hard. The fighter managed to dodge the X-wing’s attacks while Kylo engaged them, but by the time they did so the generator had suffered too much damage. The cruiser’s shields were down. One welll aimed direct hit now could take down the whole thing.

Kylo’s hands tightened around the controls, rage pumping through his blood. He pulled the ship back and in a matter of seconds he was just behind the X-wing that had taken down the generator. The rebel pilot tried to evade him, but it was of no use. The force user was like a missile flying straight to his target. A green laser bolt and a flash of bright light and the x-wing was reduced to space dust.

He made a sharp turn to face the only rebel ship left. This X-Wing’s flight was more precise, and you could tell it was flown by a better or more experienced pilot. It chased down the TIE pilot who zigzagged through space clearly lost as how to disengage. The supreme leader didn’t even mind when their last TIE was finally taken down. The First Order was only as strong as their weakest link, afterall.

Now there was only one left. One remaining enemy craft against him and the entire cruiser. In their place anyone would have jumped to lightspeed an ran as far away from them as they could, but Kylo knew the Rebels and understood them better than anyone from the First Order ever could. They were reckless and harsh. They made absurd decisions and took on impossible tasks. They would say to each other may the force be with you on the blind hope that they would be able to accomplish something , anything. The X-wing pilot was going to throw themselves at the cruiser. They must have known they wouldn’t survive, but they insisted on at least taking down their ship with them.

There was something to be said about their spirit. Unfortunately for them though, the force was with Kylo, and he was locked on target.

Ben?

One second. That’s all it would have took for Ren to take out the last of the rebels and continue their mission as scheduled. Instead, at the sound of the familiar voice that called to him, he couldn’t help but turn to his side to see the face he hadn’t seen in such a long time. She had her hair down and her brown eyes seemed to pierce through his soul, as always. He had almost forgotten what that felt like to be regarded by her… Like being truly and deeply seen for the first time.

Rey?

Three seconds. That’s all it took for the rebel X-Wing to throw itself onto the cruiser and for everything to go up in flames. Suddenly regaining his focus, he managed to steer the silencer away from the explosion, a piece of metal scrap from the wrecked ship hitting the craft just as it was being pulled back, pushing it further towards Felucia’s gravitational pull. The TIE’s left wing was badly damaged, unbalancing the entire ship.

As he came spiralling down towards the planet, Kylo Ren wondered who really was the First Order’s weakest link.

[jsmulligan]

My Buddy and Me

Old Austin, North American Empire.  Many years before the Destiny campaign.

Sarai, Caelan-5, and Kado, three Guardians from Fireteam Beirchart, cautiously made their way through the remains of the once-great city. The other members of the Fireteam monitored them from afar, watching for any signs of incoming enemy craft.  So far, they had not seen any signs of Fallen in the area, but they knew that could always change in a moment.  The three of them were on edge as they crept down the ancient street, moving between buildings and the rusted hulks of cars and trucks.

Suddenly, a blip on the motion tracker.

Sarai, as the senior Guardian of the three and second-in-command for the Fireteam, directed the strike force.  The Awoken Hunter directed the other two to follow her as they cut east, moving toward the motion. They were searching for a scout that had gone missing nearby.  There had been no word in too long and the Guardian was assumed dead, but his Ghost had valuable information that needed to be retrieved.

“Update,” the voice of Donvan, the leader of the Fireteam, crackled through the comms.

“We picked up something to the east.  Moving to investigate,” Sarai replied.

“Acknowledged,” came the reply.  “Comms are a little scratchy.  Not sure if it is environmental interference, or if someone is attempting to jam us.”

“Yes, I noticed that as well,” the Hunter said, then, “Caelan, keep on eye on that.  I don't want any surprises.”

“I'm on it,” the Exo Titan responded.

The team stopped moving and Caelan-5 crouched down behind a car.  The Titan removed the pack from his back and pulled out two small objects.  He pressed a button, and the two orbs unfolded, revealing themselves to be two small drones.  He held out his hand, and they lifted off, maneuvering close to two large buildings for cover and then flying straight up the sides of them.

The Titan was a bit of a techie.  After one too many encounters with Fallen, he had decided if they had flying weapons to help them out, he should too.  He spent most of his downtime tinkering with machines and developing small drones with different functions.  His Ghost was only jealous of them some of the times.

“Comm drones are up,” he said.  “We'll see if that helps with the signal issues.”

The blips on the motion tracker began moving away from the band of Guardians at a slow pace.  Whoever they were, it seemed unlikely they had stumbled across the lost scout, or there might have been more of a flurry of activity.  Still, best not to waste time.

Sarai got the team moving quicker, sacrificing a bit of their stealth. Once they closed on their quarry, they moved with more caution.  They soon discovered they had been following Fallen.  Three Dregs, to be exact.  They seemed to be searching with no urgency, likely scavenging in general rather than searching for the missing Guardian. A few quick hand signals from Sarai and the team jumped into action, taking down the Dregs before they even knew they were there.

Certain there were no other Fallen in the immediate area, the Guardians checked the bodies to make sure they did not have the Ghost.  As expected, they had nothing.  Kado pulled up the last sensor map of the area, trying to pinpoint their position in relation to the last known position of the missing scout.

“Heeeeeellooooooo!”

The cry rang out unexpectedly from behind.  The Guardians looked at each other in confusion before turning one by one to see the source of the sound.  This far into Fallen controlled territory, they had not expected to find anyone alive.  They definitely were not expecting a jaunty greeting.

A lone figure stood on the collapsed remains of an old building.  From the cloak hanging from the person's shoulders, they surmised that it must be a Hunter.  Whoever it was, they were waving their hand wildly over their head.  The arm dropped, and the figure hopped from the rubble, began skipping toward the Fireteam.

“I'm not the only one seeing this, right?” Kado asked, watching the figure approach.

“No, I see it too,” Caelan replied, clearly confused.

Sarai stepped between the two of them and raised her weapon, shouting at the stranger, “Stop right there!”

“Hey, hey, no need for that,” the stranger replied jovially.  The voice gave him away as male, and lacked the synthetic tone of an Exo.  

He raised his hands in the air and stopped skipping, but he continued coming forward with a little bounce in his step.  Closer now, it was clear that he was, in fact, dressed like a Hunter.

“Who are you?” Sarai asked, straight to the point.

“Me?” he resplied.  “Just a guy out here enjoying life with his buddy.”

“You hear that?” Sarai directed to the other members of her squad. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

“But you can call me Farren,” he continued.  “And I have to say, that was excellent work you did with the Fallen there.  Just superb.”

“Farren?” Kado spoke, puzzled.  “Isn't that the guy we were here to find?”

“Farren?” Sarai asked the man.  “Scout for Andal Brask?”

“Hey, yeah, that's me!” Farren replied enthusiastically.  “Did he send you guys out here to look for me?  Man, Andal's the best.  Just the best.”

“You were on a mission for him and went missing,” Sarai continued, instincts screaming at her that something here was not right.  “What happened?  Where did you go?”

“Mission?” the man's bright demeanor suddenly dropped for a moment, and he began speaking furtively to himself.  “Mission?  No.  No, that was... that didn't... We don't like to think about that.”

The strange Hunter put his hand against his helmet as if he was suffering from a headache.  He stood that way for a few seconds, then visibly relaxed.  When he spoke next, his voice had regained its chipper tone.

“Mission. Right.  Yeah, I did that.  My Ghost can tell you about that.”

Farren held out his hand and his Ghost materialized.  It cast its eye around like it was worried about what might be nearby, then flitted over to the team.  Kado's Ghost appeared, and the two remnants of the Traveler communed to share information.  Farren's Ghost glanced around nervously again, then dematerialized.  Farren turned his head to watch the exchange, and Sarai gasped.

“Look at his face,” she said to the other Guardians over the private line.  “What in the Traveler's name is that?”

Something clung to the other Hunter's helmet.  It was a red and black pulsing mass of some sort that extended just past the edge of his hood.  A small portion could be seen on the other side as well now that they were looking, giving the impression that whatever it was wrapped completely around the Hunter's head.  Farren seemed to noticed the change in their demeanor.

“Is something wrong?”

“Do you realize you have something on your helmet?” Kado asked, earning a sharp glance from Sarai.  So much for subtlety.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that's my buddy.”

“Your buddy?” Caelan inquired skeptically.

“Yeah. They gave him to me.  They told me that he would eat my thoughts and leave me full of Light.”

“They?” Sarai this time.

“Yeah. Well, there was only one guy, but he said they sent him.  He was super weird, but he gave me my buddy, so I like that guy.”

“We need to get you back to the Tower,” Sarai stated, holding out a hand.  “Andal is worried, and we should get someone to take a look at that... whatever it is.”

“No! They'll hurt him.  I can't let that happen!”  Farren recoiled from them, placing his hand against his head again.  “We are perfectly happy out here.”

“Trouble,” Caelen called out suddenly.  “Check your HUDs.  We've been so busy talking to this guy we missed company approaching.”

The others saw then what the Titan meant.  A large number of red dots had appeared on an approach vector.  They turned and saw the first Fallen appear.  The alien let out a cry, and more came into view.

“Get to cover!”  Sarai shouted.

The team sprang into action, Kado sprinting to the corner of a building while Caelan ducked behind a car.  Sarai slipped behind some rubble, poking out to open fire at the Fallen.  Farren stood in the middle of the street, watching the flurry of activity.  There were eight Fallen in all, Dregs and Vandals.  Weapons fired back and forth, with the team managing to take out four of them.  Caelan cursed as a shot from a wire rifle clipped his arm.  Suddenly, Farren stepped forward.

A gun made of Solar Light suddenly appeared in his hand.  He took aim with his Golden Gun once.  Twice.  Three times.  Each shot dropped an alien, but the remaining Vandal had the Hunter in his sights.  Farren made no move to make himself less of a target, so Sarai moved to force him to the ground when he fired a fourth time.  The other Hunter stopped, stunned.  How had he done that?

Farren reached up, not as if in pain this time, but instead to stroke the thing attached to his face.  Sarai tore her eyes away and looked to her team to see that Kado and Caelan were both staring at him as well.  No one had ever managed more than three shots from a Golden Gun.

“How did you do that?” Sarai asked, finally.

“My buddy,” Farren replied happily.  “Like they said, he makes me full of Light.  Well, this was fun, but I think we're going to go. Tell Andal I said, 'Hi.'”

The Hunter began casually strolling away from the group, whistling a jaunty tune.  The three of them watched him go, dumbfounded.

“Do we stop him?” Caelan asked finally.

“No,” Sarai replied.  “We should just head back.  We got the data, and I don't know if we could force him to go back even if we wanted to.”

“What do we tell Andal?” Kado asked.

“We tell him the truth,” Sarai said with a shrug.  “Whether he believes it or not is up to him.”

...

Another one of my little shorts, this one inspired by a conversation about Hunter Exotic gear.  In my fictions, Exotics are just that, exotic.  Strange and unusual.  Of course, 4 shots isn’t that big of a deal, now that GGs will have 6 in D2.  

[theliterateape]

Tomorrow Will Be Late

By Dana Jerman

EVERYONE REMEMBERS THE PARADES. In a way, that was all there was. So do I, of course, but I was fond of that time for lots of other reasons.

For instance it was August, and summer was unravelling at the seams, and the timing of it all seemed to be uncannily perfect. I was about to start grade nine and girls were bursting in front of me like exotic flowers attached to firecrackers, and I was feeling initiated and empowered into a coming of age.

And anyway, when do you see a parade at night? Parades the whole weekend. The Celestial Event happened on a weekend, but for some reason everyone agreed to reset the calendar so we didn't count the days. I guess because they weren't days. Either way it all fell together.

"Tomorrow Will Be Late," the posters all over town read. Here's what happened: Our sun wasn't going to rise- anywhere. The whole world would be dark for two days straight. Then everything would be fine again.

It was fun to live in a time when astronomical scientists were like rock stars and rock stars were like, well, like Scarlet Monk. My favorite. More about her in a second...

With a lost weekend of a heretofore unprecedented caliber, what was left to do but celebrate? Some people just slept through it all. Like my friend Mack. The whole thing freaked him out a little I could tell, and when he finally came out of his house the following morning he just talked like nothing had happened. And for him, nothing really had. But it changed others. And not entirely in a good way. I probably lost friends over it, but I don't remember them.

So, the parades. So cool. I'm pretty sure I kept one of those oversized lightpole posters depicting a cornucopia of exotic end-of-days fun. These were also happening the world over, and some of the magic of all of that curfew-less reverie in the streets shaped my idea of what music could be, and what art was capable of.

Later, some would call that time “The Breakout of The Potentials” citing the generational euphemism for those currently in their twenties, and the role that the worldwide young investors group, The Potentials, played in the staging of the parades.

Imagine hologram floats stretching the length of a city block, and highly choreographed dancers warping shape in utterly mesmerizing ionized liquid aluminum suits, and at the center of it all—as Lady Godiva on Trojan Horseback—Scarlet Monk 

The most incredible female pop star to date. A singer, a philanthropist, a dancer, an entrepreneur, and a rumored member of The Potentials, she was embraced and lauded the world over. I didn't call myself crazy about her until I saw those parades. Then it was all over. And for a good long while it was the celebrity crush that captured the market-fresh meat of my teenage heart. The kind of crush where, when I practiced kissing on the palm of my hand I thought of her. And I let the fantasy go to that place where I dream of what it would be like to marry her, and have a house and be a dad. It was never practical, but always perfect.

They had been best friends for nearly their whole lives, and workers for all that time, and now it was time to take a break and think, and drink. Mostly drink.

 Right, well, like I said, the Celestial Event brought out some crazy in folks. My aunt Rebecca, who lived out of town at the time, talks about taking note of the ridiculous amount of suicides by people whose skewed belief systems led them to think that, in this prolonged dark, they were in fact weathering the long descent into hell, and simply preferred to not.

But her younger sister, my dear mother Rachel, who to be fair had a job at the time that really sucked, decided, along with her best pal Madeline, to here forthwith quit her job and hole up in the den in the center of our house and write poems and drink vodka tonics or anything-tonics and watch the parades on TV.

Hanging out with them for an hour or so in those evenings before I took off on my bike made me feel a little embarrassed and kinda nervous, but also oddly grateful. They had been best friends for nearly their whole lives, and workers for all that time, and now it was time to take a break and think, and drink. Mostly drink.

Drink they did. Their loosened laughs pulled smiles down out of the loaded moon. They sat in that room with the end table lamps burning and the great comforter TV awash in endless magnified color projecting coverage. Not caring that the dark had caused a bit of an insect outbreak, and therefore an elevated spider population, and that their relatively inert bodies became blood banquet in response to such activity. Later they stood around in their undies laughing at one another in the bathroom mirror while they spot-checked with calamine lotion.

I didn't get bitten up so badly, but somehow I felt vaguely jealous.

"Jeremy, your mother has reached a moment of reckoning, and in such moments, one must make art and take joy. At least that's what somebody told me once. Something probably in there about courage too." My mother says to me. Referring to herself in the third person and patting me on the shoulder while she popped popcorn. The lady was making sense, but at the same time, she wasn't. Not to me. I'd never heard her talk like this before. But then again she'd never enjoyed this much time at home. 

That's something you'll have to keep in mind about the Celestial Event. In light of something we will never again see in the lifetime of our planet in its meagre solar system, everything became a pretty even split between fear and exhilaration. It was like knowing you could actually hold your breath for forty-eight hours. But then you had to do it to survive, like everybody else.

It was that very same something about Scarlet Monk that made me feel connected and beyond myself at the same time. I stared into her eyes in this one photo from her album liner notes, and they put me in awe of the world. And with her voice speaking to me in music, it was like she was a kind of protective muse, here to remind me that the adventure of the near future of my life was about to exist in all its bounty. And in so being, take me on a journey of incredible scope and feeling.

I was, in short, much like my mother: bulwarked and optimistic.

And it was a good thing, too. Because then I was ready for school. And I was ready for Diana.

Mack's story was basically the outline of a business plan.

Mack of course saw her and liked her first. He always kind of liked her—more than like—to hear him tell it, which became a little problematic when we took after one another. Constantly on long bike rides to find a place to kiss.

But that resolved once Melissa latched onto him and he finally had somebody to go with who was not a shit player at video games.

School wasn't that hard. In fact I kinda liked it more than ever. Our fantastic new literature instructor used black eyeliner like my Aunt Rebecca, which is to say intensely. And she was fascinated by what we each did over the course of the Celestial Event, so she had us working on our own personal science fiction epics all the time.

We did more writing than reading, which met with some protest, but not from me. In my story we had learned to harness gravity in such a way as to manage a reel on our orbit with that of our closest planetary neighbor. When we were together enough to terraform the now adjacent rock, we had thereby birthed a true sister planet.

On top of all that, everyone on the initial planet lived in one absolute and enormous city-structure. It was mostly after a dream I had that felt hyper-real. I started to call it “VURreal” since I wasn't sure yet if I wanted to incorporate a virtual reality aspect. But I had an idea that was where it was headed.

I almost had a sister once. So it felt good to build one on paper, even in planetary form.

Plus I wanted to have Diana in it somehow. Or just give the story to her, like as a birthday present or something once I was finished. But the beginning was always my favorite part:

“I chased her to the runway. Miles from the Arcology. It was night, and when I finally slowed and turned back, the complex was incredible. Scintillating and massive in its argent blue. Radio tower spindles beat a blinking path astride the impression of a paved curve.

“She kept running. Wind whipped at our hair and the frenzy in the silhouette was beautiful. I had never been out this far before. Hard to believe home was tucked into one of those cobalt corners of stylized steel that loomed like a frozen storm at the horizon. And so too when I turned again was there another storm right in front of me. A storm of mourning for her father's recently destroyed space vessel, and with it, his life. His six-year term on the one man mission to repair and update the remaining energy-comm sats was almost complete. And then he became an element of fire and spectrum, and everything was different for both of us.”

Mack's story was basically the outline of a business plan. In it, he gets to join The Potentials and makes his fortune building and tuning rocket-powered space pageants or something. A whole moon as an amusement ride.

I could have laughed when I read it, but he'd just make a face. Besides I was one to talk. My far-flung conjecture was, with current technology, more impossible than impractical. But that was sort of the point, I thought.

In any case, we really gave a shit, so we all got A's.

Diana wrote something brilliant and Garden-of-Eden-esque that I only remember the opening line for. Mostly because she memorized it, too, and stole it from herself to use again in a later poem: I see the moons before the sun— little bitten cookies with neat star-crumbles at one sunken edge. It will be the a picture I take to rescue myself here on the first day of spring.

Mom loved it. She adored Diana and asked for that poem constantly. Mom was like a child who enjoys repetition but still longs for the new-and-improved. I’m pretty sure that’s a contradiction we all share.

A little later on I got excited for the new Scarlet Monk record, but what really gave me a hard-on around then was my first love letter from Diana, which came while she was away on break visiting her dad, and man it was racy. She almost went overboard, talking about how thinking of me masturbating turns her on. About how hot it was that time in the North Woods when she showed me how to go down on her and I made her come twice. 

All it took was this set of five sheets of lavender paper to make me miss her so bad I caught headaches that went down into my scrotum.

She was quiet too, in her own way, and never went on like this. Even her handwriting was different from that of our collected passed notes. I'd swear sometimes I was standing stalk-still in the dust for how fast girls could change.

Mack caught a first whiff of this when Melissa snubbed him because she thought he had something for her sister. Chances are he did, but who knows if it wasn’t just Melissa's insecurity talking.

Then one day I come home and Mom says "We're moving, start packing." and soon enough we moved and that was that. She had grown tired of not working, but found another job instantly once she looked, and it wasn't too far away from where we'd been, and it was nicer.

Diana even visited me there once or twice. I thought about asking her to marry me, but every time I really looked into her eyes for any length of time I saw something drift. 

Have you ever tried to stop a wave from rolling back? Exactly. 

✶

IT WAS A SHORT WHILE PAST THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE CELESTIAL EVENT, and the day before my birthday when she told me she probably wouldn't call me again.

But before that there were minor celebrations and lots of remixed footage and replayed broadcasts of Tomorrow Will Be Late Festivities. And Mom tried to get me to read my sci-fi story aloud, and joked that she should quit her job again. And Madeline even stayed the weekend and laughed her eight-pitch-loony-bin-laugh while her new urban lumberjack boyfriend, who was younger than he looked and smoked cigars wrapped in red paper, taught me about five different card games, which I taught later to Mack, of course, but he only really ever liked and got good at one of them. Naturally it’s the one where you have to knock the cards out of your opponent's hand.

School was still out for just a nano-second longer when I stayed up almost the whole night one time. I stood naked in front of the mirror listening to Scarlet Monk and staring myself down. I didn't move, and took a long look at my whole body. Everyone else was moving at light speed and here, if I was changing, it seemed way to slow to tell.

But I charged myself up a little bit. Like a battery. Trying to not to think of anything in particular, and trying too to not reach out for the muse, but to let her just come and wash over me, and maybe tell me the future a little bit, and remind me that I'm really lucky, and that I'm whole—I'm a whole person who, even in the small amount of life I've lived up to now, has seen and done some remarkable things. And that there are so many incredible things left to do. This feeling of what is possible when you listen and relax—it just gets bigger.

And also, most importantly, that love is the best celestial event there is. I suppose I knew it all along, but I felt the parade of my heart march on in triumph for the time when I would have a family of my own.

And then it finally hits me that next year will be 2040, and even if I never feel this way again, there's no reason I have now to stop smiling.

[starcitizenprivateer]

Phantom Bounty: Part Two

Writer’s Note: Phantom Bounty: Part Two was published originally in Jump Point 3.2. Read Part One here.

Devana lifted through the sky, and the gleaming towers of Tevistal faded away beneath the cloudline. Exhilaration raced through Mila at the feel of the Freelancer moving through the air, her back pressed against the well-worn pilot’s seat, all of the heady power of the ship under her command.

This was the one place she always felt free and in control, as if she could be anyone and do anything. But open space was a double-edged knife, filled with the promise of both endless possibility and danger. And today it was danger she and Rhys were headed toward: their last chance to catch the Phantom. To catch the terrorist who called herself Elaine.

“Did I ever tell you I love watching your face when you fly?” Rhys smirked at her from the co-pilot’s seat.

Mila warmed at the look in his eyes and lifted a brow. “I think you love watching my face when I’m doing . . . lots of things.”

Rhys grinned at her, and Mila knew they were both recalling the quick fun they’d just had in the bunk while waiting for clearance. She wasn’t going to try to label this relationship as anything other than business . . . for now. But being business partners with benefits sure was nice for the built-in stress relief.

When they finished their ascent and hit the emptiness of space, Rhys brought up the system map on the HUD and set a course for Mila to follow. She altered their path to follow a trajectory that would take them to the orbital platform at the edge of the system.

“If that dock snitch told the truth,” Mila said, “the Phantom’s headed to the orbital platform to meet her contact. But what do we know about this Septa platform?”

Rhys brought up the system map and searched for available data. “Septa’s owned by a company called McGloclin, but it looks like they haven’t been active out there for a while. Not sure what we’ll find on the platform. Maybe company workers, probably vagrants. No Advocacy agents there or any law officers at all since the corporation is supposed to be in charge. There’s a pretty large debris field drifting a few klicks from the platform.”

“Great.”

“Here, give me that tag number so we can scan.”

Mila pushed up her sleeve, and Rhys held his mobiGlas up to hers to grab the tag data the WiDoW addict had given them. It transferred over, and he ported it into Devana’s system. “Activating the long-range scanner.”

They both tensed as the scanner completed its initial search.

No hits.

A twinge of disappointment hit Mila, but it didn’t do much to dampen her excitement. “Well, we’re still too far from the platform, if that’s where she is. I’m sure the scanner will pick up something . . . soon.”

She and Rhys rode in comfortable silence born of months of flying together, but as they approached the platform, Mila recalled how Rhys had acted back on Tevistal. How she had acted.

He’d been controlling and had tried to keep her out of harm’s way when he’d needed back-up. And she’d acted hotheaded, violating their agreement about her handling tech and him dealing with contacts.

And now, this was probably it — the end of this mission, whether they caught the Phantom or not. If Elaine escaped, they’d have to find a new bounty, and that would take time and more creds they didn’t have. They needed to keep clear heads if they had any chance of succeeding today.

“Hey,” she said softly. “We’ll play this by the book this time, yeah? I take care of tech. You haggle and get info. We work together once we get close.”

“Agreed.”

“Just one thing.” Mila swallowed and met his eyes from across the small space. “You have to allow me to do my job. If there’s danger, we handle things the way we always have. This . . . this thing we have can’t get in the way of that.”

Rhys’s jaw tensed, and he didn’t answer right away. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“We keep each other safe.”

Rhys shifted in his seat and looked out at the nothingness ahead of them. “I’ve lost people . . . people I cared about before.”

So have I. But Mila didn’t say it. “We can’t let anything get in the way of our judgment. The mission comes first.”

He gave her a stiff nod.

“Mission comes first.” Mila bit her lip. His agreement was the outcome she wanted in this conversation, wasn’t it? So why the hell did she feel so disappointed?

Because you’ve fallen hard for him, idiot. Her cheeks heated at the thought. Now was not the time to be thinking about this.

She kept her eyes straight ahead, afraid the look in them might give her real feelings away. “I’m glad we agree then.”

The scanner beeped, and Mila’s heart rate picked up as she looked over at what it had found.

They’d located the Phantom’s ship. Tentative ID: a Cutlass.

“She’s heading away from the platform,” Rhys said urgently. “We might lose her on the scanner with all the debris.”

“Map a new trajectory. Maybe we can cut her off before she reaches it.” Mila throttled up, her breath coming more quickly as she followed the new course.

In minutes, they came up on the tangle of floating junk. It loomed before them, hunks of twisted metal and dead ships in the distance, sprawled out in a mess that would be tough to navigate.

Just as they reached the edge of it, the Phantom’s ship winked out of existence on their scanner.

“Kak.” Rhys fiddled with the scanner, trying to manually find the ship. “We’re gonna have to go in there. That debris won’t be easy to fly through —”

“We’ll be fine.”

Mila searched ahead, seeking any sign of a ship where the Phantom had disappeared from their scanner.

“There. The only one moving!” Mila pointed to a glint of metal in the distance, weaving through the debris. “I’m taking us in.”

“Let me check where she might be headed.” Rhys zoomed in on his map.

Mila gritted her teeth and directed the Freelancer into the debris field, cutting around a half-destroyed freighter. “Do you think she knows we’re here?”

“I don’t think so. She hasn’t changed her speed.”

Mila edged Devana around a hunk of twisted metal, trying to keep the distant glimmer in view.

“We should get above this mess. It’s safer.”

“No,” Mila responded. “We risk being detected, and then we’ll lose her if she goes deeper into this floating pile of kak. We need to go in and flank her. Catch her by surprise.”

Mila sped up, darting around small pieces of junk. Sweat popped up on her forehead as she tried to watch the debris and keep an eye on the glint of the Phantom’s ship ahead of them.

They were flying straight for the center of the junk pile.

“Shutting down unnecessary systems to increase shielding,” Rhys said. “Elaine’s not gonna let us catch her without a fight.”

“I know.” Mila killed the main engines, relying on maneuvering thrusters. “Hold on.”

As Devana slipped through the detritus, it swayed from side to side, avoiding most of the scrap metal and decommissioned ships.

Rhys grunted and shook his head as small pipes and bolts bounced off their hull.

Mila’s pulse pounded, buzzing in her ears with the thrill of the chase. Then the distant ship suddenly made a hard right and disappeared between two massive cargo hulks.

“Did she make us?” Mila pushed Devana to the limit to catch up.

“Maybe. She could be waiting for us on the other side of that ship.”

Just before they reached the Hull-C where the Phantom had disappeared, Mila rotated the Freelancer to starboard and slowed.

The massive skeleton of the Hull-C blocked their line of sight. She couldn’t see the Phantom’s ship, but it could be hidden just on the other side.

She tapped the thrusters and coasted beneath the cargo ship.

Mila barely breathed as they reached the far side of the dead ship’s hull.

“I got her on the scanner. Hanging right above us,” Rhys said. “A Cutlass, all right. Weapons ready. She knows we’re here.”

As they emerged, Mila’s heart thumped wildly. She rotated the ship in a deft motion to face the Cutlass. Devana was momentarily bracketed between the Hull-C and another freighter — a terrible place to be in a gunfight.

The Cutlass took a shot but missed, instead damaging the Hull-C above them. It was a straight shot; had the Phantom just missed on purpose?

“I gotta get us out of here.” Mila dropped the ship lower, trying to escape the narrow choke point they’d found themselves in.

“Use the freighter for cover!”

The Phantom fired again, this time a steady fusillade that still missed Devana, striking the hulk they were slipping toward.

“Mila, wait!” Rhys yelled, just as the Cutlass’s barrage triggered an explosion in the Hull-C. It burst in a wave of shrapnel, generating a force that sent Devana flying sideways.

Mila gripped the controls tighter as the Freelancer slammed into the other cargo ship with a hard shudder. The shielding held, but barely. Alarms sounded in response to the shield loss, and Mila felt the balance of the ship shift beneath her.

“Maneuvering thruster?” Mila asked, struggling to regain balance.

“Dammit. Yes. We lost one.”

From above them, the Cutlass rained shots down on their weakened shield.

“Shields at quarter power,” Rhys reported.

Another explosion sparked near the second cargo ship, and a new wave of debris headed toward them. Mila watched in horror as a jagged metal panel flew straight at the nose of Devana.

Rhys squeezed the trigger. Half the panel shot off in the opposite direction, but the rest of it stayed on course.

It slammed straight into them, and Mila’s head snapped back against her seat. Alarms blared as the ship rotated wildly, and she gripped the stick firmly, trying to steady them. A thin crack spread across the cockpit, slowly widening, and the temperature instantly dropped.

“Kak.” She and Rhys both said it at the same time.

“Gotta patch the screen. Now.” Rhys moved, grabbing their helmets from the storage compartment, and took the controls as Mila latched hers on.

She took the controls back as he got his helmet on. Rhys stumbled out of his seat.

“Getting the repair foam.” He said, his voice crackling over the helmet comms. He hurried toward the cargo hold as Devana banked through a fractured Starfarer. When Mila came out of the turn, she spotted the Cutlass as it ducked behind a blackened hull that was too far gone to identify. Angling the thrusters, she turned tightly to follow.

Rhys stumbled back into the cockpit and applied the foam to the crack, temp-sealing it.

“This’ll hold until we get to a repair dock,” Rhys panted. “But not if we take another direct hit.”

Mila keyed up the guns, her breath coming quickly now and frosting up on the interior glass of her helmet, as the Phantom danced in and out of sight ahead.

“It could have been far worse.”

Rhys smirked at her tone and strapped back into his seat. “Fine. I’ll say it. You were right about that extra armor.”

“That always does have a nice ring to it.” With Rhys back on weapons, Mila narrowed the distance to the Cutlass.

“Take her out, Rhys.” Mila focused on keeping the Freelancer steady as Rhys targeted the Cutlass’s engines.

Devana’s twin Kronegs opened fire.

The Cutlass jerked sideways, off course, and a small, bright flash told them they’d gotten a hit. Mila darted a glance at the scan. It updated, showing the Cutlass’s left engine had been damaged.

“Targeting her jumpdrive,” Rhys said. As the Phantom regained control of her ship, Rhys fired off a series of rapid shots, targeting the armored drive.

The Cutlass lurched and then took off again, swinging from side to side, this time heading for a half-scrapped Orion nearby. It disappeared on the far side of the ship, and Mila adjusted course to go after it.

“Not giving her a chance to drop another mine,” Mila said.

“I think we got her,” Rhys replied quietly. “She’s not getting out of here.”

Mila suppressed a smile and tried to ignore the giddy feeling in her stomach. “Good shot. But we still have to catch her.”

The Freelancer’s lights illuminated the torn-apart ship the Phantom had disappeared behind. Tangles of pipes and dozens of storage levels were partially visible where armor had been ripped out. The ship was a veritable warren of half-enclosed corridors.

Mila slowed as their lights found the Cutlass. It was stopped dead near the front of the ship, hugging close to the hull. Mila searched along the hull as Rhys activated the comm and hailed the Cutlass.

No response.

He checked the scan again. “I think her systems are failing. Maybe life support. We got some good hits in.”

A white spacesuit floated out between the Cutlass’s far hatch and the freighter’s hull. The Phantom flailed as she hurtled into the freighter and disappeared.

Mila pulled the Freelancer closer to the Cutlass and looked at Rhys. “We have to go in after her.”

“She’s setting a trap.”

“She’s running. She has nowhere to go. We have her.”

“She could have called for help. What if reinforcements show up? What if she met someone back at the platform and commed them? This freighter’s a death trap.”

Mila edged the ship closer to where the Phantom had disappeared and unstrapped her harness. “I’m going in.”

Rhys grabbed her arm. “Don’t. She can’t stay in there forever. We can wait her out. This is what she wants.”

Desperation surged through Mila, mingling with her adrenaline high. She pulled her arm away and headed back to suit up.

Rhys followed her and watched as she pulled on her armored suit and strapped her pistol to her hip.

“She always manages to slip away,” Mila said. She slammed a fist against the locker, frustrated. Knowing the Phantom was so close. . . right next to them in that ship. It was making it hard to think straight. But Mila was sure of one thing. She was going in after her.

“We’re so close this time,” Mila continued, trying to keep her voice steady. “Too close to risk losing her, and you know this could be our only chance. I’m going in. You can come if you want to.”

Rhys wrapped a hand around Mila’s arm and turned her to face him. She reluctantly looked up at him.

“I should be the one to go in there after her,” he said gruffly. “You watch the ship. If she comes back out or anyone shows up, you can comm me.”

“No.”

Rhys narrowed his green eyes at her, clearly worried.

Mila took a labored breath. “We should go in together.”

“Mila, someone needs to stay with Devana, and you’re the better pilot. Let me try to chase her back out here. The mission comes first.”

Mila’s stomach clenched at the thought of Rhys going in alone, but he was right. Someone needed to stay. And the mission had to come first.

Rhys took her silence as agreement, quickly suiting up and holstering his Arclight.

She kept her spacesuit on — just in case she needed to go in after him. Her throat tightened as she returned to her seat and pulled the Freelancer closer to where the Phantom had disappeared.

Rhys came back up to the cockpit and squeezed her arm lightly. “Keep the commlink open. Stay on guard.”

Mila nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This could go sideways so easily.

She depressurized the cargo hold and lowered the ramp for Rhys. He pushed off and drifted into the dark body of the freighter.

She very nearly commed him to tell him to come back, that they could wait until the Phantom gave up, but she hesitated. Her feelings for Rhys battled with her need to capture this terrorist. Her need won out. This was their last chance to capture the Phantom. Rhys would be fine. He was a great shot.

Several moments passed, and Mila forced herself to check the scanners again. No sign of any other moving ships.

A dull thud sounded from somewhere on the hull, and Mila’s heart rate sped up as she pulled her gun from her holster.

She glanced back at the cargo hold door in time to see the light flash. The alarm sounded — a warning that the door was being opened from the other side while the hold was still depressurized. Mila turned back to the console and scrambled to lock the door, but she failed. It was too late to raise the ramp, too late to repressurize the hold.

Mila got to her feet, her pistol tight in her grip, and trained it on the door to the cargo hold.

At that moment, Rhys’s voice came over the comm. “There are too many places to hide.” His voice rose. “Mila, close the ramp! I just found an empty spacesuit. It wasn’t her.”

“I know. She’s here, Rhys. I repeat, she’s on the ship.”

The door slid open, and Mila’s body lifted off the floor as the artificial gravity systems were deactivated. She reached out to grab her seatback with one hand, and her pistol arm swung wide.

The Phantom floated through the door, weightless, and took a shot. It tore through Mila’s suit, and she cried out.

A terrible burning pain ripped through Mila’s shoulder, and her oxygen began to vent. She shot back desperately, but the Phantom pushed off the ceiling toward the floor in a well-practiced zero-G evasive movement, and Mila’s shot missed, taking a hunk of wall panel out instead.

Adrenaline flooded her. They’d cornered the Phantom and now she’d fight to the death to take Devana. Mila wouldn’t let that happen.

She took another shot, but missed again as the Phantom pushed off the floor. She hurtled forward and slammed into Mila’s injured arm.

Mila gasped and caught a glimpse of herself in the dark reflective glass of Elaine’s helmet, at the bloodied torn shoulder of her suit.

Elaine slammed her pistol directly into Mila’s helmet, then knocked her gun from her grip.

Mila recovered, grappling with the Phantom, and managed to slam a fist into her arm, making her lose her grip on her own gun. Both pistols drifted away, floating toward the far wall.

Mila tried to push off the wall toward the pistols, but Elaine grabbed her in a tight chokehold.

“Almost there.” Rhys sounded panicked, and Mila didn’t have the breath to respond. “Hang on.”

She fought against Elaine, trying to throw her off, but the two of them just spun in weightless rotation, bouncing off the walls. Mila finally got her feet planted on one of them and pushed hard, slamming herself and Elaine back against a cockpit seatback.

Sweat dripped into Mila’s eyes as they struggled, and blackness crowded around the edges of her vision as the oxygen escaped her suit. The cargo hold was wide open, all their oxygen gone. Soon Mila’s suit would be just as empty.

Elaine kicked off the seat, propelling them both down the aisle, sending them flying toward the floating pistols.

Mila was still in a tight chokehold as she reached for the nearest pistol, but the gun spun out of reach. The Phantom punched Mila in the ribs, hard, and squeezed the bloody wound on her shoulder.

Mila nearly blacked out.

Without warning, the gravity came back on, slamming Mila and Elaine to the floor. The pistols clattered to the floor with them. Mila scrambled away from Elaine and closed her gloved fist around the nearest one. She flipped over on her back, pointing the gun up at the Phantom just as she was about to attack.

The Phantom froze and slowly lifted her hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. Mila’s pale, stricken countenance reflected back at her from Elaine’s dark glass visor.

Rhys ran through the door, pistol out.

“Cuff her. Throw her in the pod. I need oxygen,” Mila gasped. The pistol wavered in her grip as she fought to stay focused. She was suffocating.

Rhys slammed the Phantom into the wall, then dragged her into a restraint pod.

In moments, he was back, reestablishing oxygen levels from the cockpit. Then he lifted Mila’s helmet from her head, and the dark spots clouding her vision faded. She could breathe again.

She tried to smile up at Rhys, but the stabbing pain in her shoulder made it come out in a grimace. “We got her.”

Rhys took off his helmet and lightly touched her cheek, his brow furrowed with worry. “Yeah, we got her. But it looks like she got you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Rhys grabbed a medpen and plunged it into her arm. The healing agent took over, easing Mila’s pain.

Then Rhys leaned down and gently pressed his warm lips to hers. As they kissed, relief flooded her. She hadn’t allowed herself to admit how worried she’d been for him when he went into the freighter.

She lifted a hand to the rough stubble of his cheek, and Rhys laid his hand over hers. “You were right,” he said. “I think my professional judgment’s been compromised . . . by this. By us. I never should have agreed to that plan. We should’ve waited. But I saw that stubborn look on your face, and . . .”

Mila shook her head. “If you’re compromised, so am I.” She gave him another kiss. “We’ll figure this out. The important thing is that we both made it out okay. We completed the mission.”

Rhys finally cracked a smile and helped Mila to her feet. “We did it. Are you ready to unmask our Phantom?”

“I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

Rhys typed in the pod’s code, and the door slid open, revealing the Phantom cuffed to the interior bar.

This was the woman they’d hunted for months, the woman who had nearly killed them on more than one occasion. And they’d never even known what she really looked like.

Rhys raised a brow at Mila. “You want to do the honors, or should I?”

Mila lifted a brow in return, and he stepped out of her way. She winced as she used both hands to unlatch the Phantom’s helmet. She pulled it off with one swift movement and took a step back.

She and the Phantom met eye-to-eye for the first time.

And Mila’s heart nearly stopped. She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, covering it.

Rhys gave her a confused look.

“Evony Salinas,” the Phantom said. “Who knew a Salinas would ever go into bounty hunting?”

Rhys’s eyes widened. “Who? What’s going on, Mila?”

The Phantom stared at Mila intently. “Going by your middle name now?”

“You know the Phantom?” Rhys’s voice was low, incredulous.

Mila dropped her hand from her mouth and finally found her voice. She backed up another step. “Her name is Casey Phan.”

“Phan? As in Phan Pharmaceuticals?”

Mila nodded. “The same. But . . . Casey Phan was murdered ten years ago.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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[sad-ch1ld]

via RSI Comm-Link

Writer’s Note: Phantom Bounty: Part Two was published originally in Jump Point 3.2. Read Part One here.

Devana lifted through the sky, and the gleaming towers of Tevistal faded away beneath the cloudline. Exhilaration raced through Mila at the feel of the Freelancer moving through the air, her back pressed against the well-worn pilot’s seat, all of the heady power of the ship under her command.

This was the one place she always felt free and in control, as if she could be anyone and do anything. But open space was a double-edged knife, filled with the promise of both endless possibility and danger. And today it was danger she and Rhys were headed toward: their last chance to catch the Phantom. To catch the terrorist who called herself Elaine.

“Did I ever tell you I love watching your face when you fly?” Rhys smirked at her from the co-pilot’s seat.

Mila warmed at the look in his eyes and lifted a brow. “I think you love watching my face when I’m doing . . . lots of things.”

Rhys grinned at her, and Mila knew they were both recalling the quick fun they’d just had in the bunk while waiting for clearance. She wasn’t going to try to label this relationship as anything other than business . . . for now. But being business partners with benefits sure was nice for the built-in stress relief.

When they finished their ascent and hit the emptiness of space, Rhys brought up the system map on the HUD and set a course for Mila to follow. She altered their path to follow a trajectory that would take them to the orbital platform at the edge of the system.

“If that dock snitch told the truth,” Mila said, “the Phantom’s headed to the orbital platform to meet her contact. But what do we know about this Septa platform?”

Rhys brought up the system map and searched for available data. “Septa’s owned by a company called McGloclin, but it looks like they haven’t been active out there for a while. Not sure what we’ll find on the platform. Maybe company workers, probably vagrants. No Advocacy agents there or any law officers at all since the corporation is supposed to be in charge. There’s a pretty large debris field drifting a few klicks from the platform.”

“Great.”

“Here, give me that tag number so we can scan.”

Mila pushed up her sleeve, and Rhys held his mobiGlas up to hers to grab the tag data the WiDoW addict had given them. It transferred over, and he ported it into Devana’s system. “Activating the long-range scanner.”

They both tensed as the scanner completed its initial search.

No hits.

A twinge of disappointment hit Mila, but it didn’t do much to dampen her excitement. “Well, we’re still too far from the platform, if that’s where she is. I’m sure the scanner will pick up something . . . soon.”

She and Rhys rode in comfortable silence born of months of flying together, but as they approached the platform, Mila recalled how Rhys had acted back on Tevistal. How she had acted.

He’d been controlling and had tried to keep her out of harm’s way when he’d needed back-up. And she’d acted hotheaded, violating their agreement about her handling tech and him dealing with contacts.

And now, this was probably it — the end of this mission, whether they caught the Phantom or not. If Elaine escaped, they’d have to find a new bounty, and that would take time and more creds they didn’t have. They needed to keep clear heads if they had any chance of succeeding today.

“Hey,” she said softly. “We’ll play this by the book this time, yeah? I take care of tech. You haggle and get info. We work together once we get close.”

“Agreed.”

“Just one thing.” Mila swallowed and met his eyes from across the small space. “You have to allow me to do my job. If there’s danger, we handle things the way we always have. This . . . this thing we have can’t get in the way of that.”

Rhys’s jaw tensed, and he didn’t answer right away. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“We keep each other safe.”

Rhys shifted in his seat and looked out at the nothingness ahead of them. “I’ve lost people . . . people I cared about before.”

So have I. But Mila didn’t say it. “We can’t let anything get in the way of our judgment. The mission comes first.”

He gave her a stiff nod.

“Mission comes first.” Mila bit her lip. His agreement was the outcome she wanted in this conversation, wasn’t it? So why the hell did she feel so disappointed?

Because you’ve fallen hard for him, idiot. Her cheeks heated at the thought. Now was not the time to be thinking about this.

She kept her eyes straight ahead, afraid the look in them might give her real feelings away. “I’m glad we agree then.”

The scanner beeped, and Mila’s heart rate picked up as she looked over at what it had found.

They’d located the Phantom’s ship. Tentative ID: a Cutlass.

“She’s heading away from the platform,” Rhys said urgently. “We might lose her on the scanner with all the debris.”

“Map a new trajectory. Maybe we can cut her off before she reaches it.” Mila throttled up, her breath coming more quickly as she followed the new course.

In minutes, they came up on the tangle of floating junk. It loomed before them, hunks of twisted metal and dead ships in the distance, sprawled out in a mess that would be tough to navigate.

Just as they reached the edge of it, the Phantom’s ship winked out of existence on their scanner.

“Kak.” Rhys fiddled with the scanner, trying to manually find the ship. “We’re gonna have to go in there. That debris won’t be easy to fly through —”

“We’ll be fine.”

Mila searched ahead, seeking any sign of a ship where the Phantom had disappeared from their scanner.

“There. The only one moving!” Mila pointed to a glint of metal in the distance, weaving through the debris. “I’m taking us in.”

“Let me check where she might be headed.” Rhys zoomed in on his map.

Mila gritted her teeth and directed the Freelancer into the debris field, cutting around a half-destroyed freighter. “Do you think she knows we’re here?”

“I don’t think so. She hasn’t changed her speed.”

Mila edged Devana around a hunk of twisted metal, trying to keep the distant glimmer in view.

“We should get above this mess. It’s safer.”

“No,” Mila responded. “We risk being detected, and then we’ll lose her if she goes deeper into this floating pile of kak. We need to go in and flank her. Catch her by surprise.”

Mila sped up, darting around small pieces of junk. Sweat popped up on her forehead as she tried to watch the debris and keep an eye on the glint of the Phantom’s ship ahead of them.

They were flying straight for the center of the junk pile.

“Shutting down unnecessary systems to increase shielding,” Rhys said. “Elaine’s not gonna let us catch her without a fight.”

“I know.” Mila killed the main engines, relying on maneuvering thrusters. “Hold on.”

As Devana slipped through the detritus, it swayed from side to side, avoiding most of the scrap metal and decommissioned ships.

Rhys grunted and shook his head as small pipes and bolts bounced off their hull.

Mila’s pulse pounded, buzzing in her ears with the thrill of the chase. Then the distant ship suddenly made a hard right and disappeared between two massive cargo hulks.

“Did she make us?” Mila pushed Devana to the limit to catch up.

“Maybe. She could be waiting for us on the other side of that ship.”

Just before they reached the Hull-C where the Phantom had disappeared, Mila rotated the Freelancer to starboard and slowed.

The massive skeleton of the Hull-C blocked their line of sight. She couldn’t see the Phantom’s ship, but it could be hidden just on the other side.

She tapped the thrusters and coasted beneath the cargo ship.

Mila barely breathed as they reached the far side of the dead ship’s hull.

“I got her on the scanner. Hanging right above us,” Rhys said. “A Cutlass, all right. Weapons ready. She knows we’re here.”

As they emerged, Mila’s heart thumped wildly. She rotated the ship in a deft motion to face the Cutlass. Devana was momentarily bracketed between the Hull-C and another freighter — a terrible place to be in a gunfight.

The Cutlass took a shot but missed, instead damaging the Hull-C above them. It was a straight shot; had the Phantom just missed on purpose?

“I gotta get us out of here.” Mila dropped the ship lower, trying to escape the narrow choke point they’d found themselves in.

“Use the freighter for cover!”

The Phantom fired again, this time a steady fusillade that still missed Devana, striking the hulk they were slipping toward.

“Mila, wait!” Rhys yelled, just as the Cutlass’s barrage triggered an explosion in the Hull-C. It burst in a wave of shrapnel, generating a force that sent Devana flying sideways.

Mila gripped the controls tighter as the Freelancer slammed into the other cargo ship with a hard shudder. The shielding held, but barely. Alarms sounded in response to the shield loss, and Mila felt the balance of the ship shift beneath her.

“Maneuvering thruster?” Mila asked, struggling to regain balance.

“Dammit. Yes. We lost one.”

From above them, the Cutlass rained shots down on their weakened shield.

“Shields at quarter power,” Rhys reported.

Another explosion sparked near the second cargo ship, and a new wave of debris headed toward them. Mila watched in horror as a jagged metal panel flew straight at the nose of Devana.

Rhys squeezed the trigger. Half the panel shot off in the opposite direction, but the rest of it stayed on course.

It slammed straight into them, and Mila’s head snapped back against her seat. Alarms blared as the ship rotated wildly, and she gripped the stick firmly, trying to steady them. A thin crack spread across the cockpit, slowly widening, and the temperature instantly dropped.

“Kak.” She and Rhys both said it at the same time.

“Gotta patch the screen. Now.” Rhys moved, grabbing their helmets from the storage compartment, and took the controls as Mila latched hers on.

She took the controls back as he got his helmet on. Rhys stumbled out of his seat.

“Getting the repair foam.” He said, his voice crackling over the helmet comms. He hurried toward the cargo hold as Devana banked through a fractured Starfarer. When Mila came out of the turn, she spotted the Cutlass as it ducked behind a blackened hull that was too far gone to identify. Angling the thrusters, she turned tightly to follow.

Rhys stumbled back into the cockpit and applied the foam to the crack, temp-sealing it.

“This’ll hold until we get to a repair dock,” Rhys panted. “But not if we take another direct hit.”

Mila keyed up the guns, her breath coming quickly now and frosting up on the interior glass of her helmet, as the Phantom danced in and out of sight ahead.

“It could have been far worse.”

Rhys smirked at her tone and strapped back into his seat. “Fine. I’ll say it. You were right about that extra armor.”

“That always does have a nice ring to it.” With Rhys back on weapons, Mila narrowed the distance to the Cutlass.

“Take her out, Rhys.” Mila focused on keeping the Freelancer steady as Rhys targeted the Cutlass’s engines.

Devana’s twin Kronegs opened fire.

The Cutlass jerked sideways, off course, and a small, bright flash told them they’d gotten a hit. Mila darted a glance at the scan. It updated, showing the Cutlass’s left engine had been damaged.

“Targeting her jumpdrive,” Rhys said. As the Phantom regained control of her ship, Rhys fired off a series of rapid shots, targeting the armored drive.

The Cutlass lurched and then took off again, swinging from side to side, this time heading for a half-scrapped Orion nearby. It disappeared on the far side of the ship, and Mila adjusted course to go after it.

“Not giving her a chance to drop another mine,” Mila said.

“I think we got her,” Rhys replied quietly. “She’s not getting out of here.”

Mila suppressed a smile and tried to ignore the giddy feeling in her stomach. “Good shot. But we still have to catch her.”

The Freelancer’s lights illuminated the torn-apart ship the Phantom had disappeared behind. Tangles of pipes and dozens of storage levels were partially visible where armor had been ripped out. The ship was a veritable warren of half-enclosed corridors.

Mila slowed as their lights found the Cutlass. It was stopped dead near the front of the ship, hugging close to the hull. Mila searched along the hull as Rhys activated the comm and hailed the Cutlass.

No response.

He checked the scan again. “I think her systems are failing. Maybe life support. We got some good hits in.”

A white spacesuit floated out between the Cutlass’s far hatch and the freighter’s hull. The Phantom flailed as she hurtled into the freighter and disappeared.

Mila pulled the Freelancer closer to the Cutlass and looked at Rhys. “We have to go in after her.”

“She’s setting a trap.”

“She’s running. She has nowhere to go. We have her.”

“She could have called for help. What if reinforcements show up? What if she met someone back at the platform and commed them? This freighter’s a death trap.”

Mila edged the ship closer to where the Phantom had disappeared and unstrapped her harness. “I’m going in.”

Rhys grabbed her arm. “Don’t. She can’t stay in there forever. We can wait her out. This is what she wants.”

Desperation surged through Mila, mingling with her adrenaline high. She pulled her arm away and headed back to suit up.

Rhys followed her and watched as she pulled on her armored suit and strapped her pistol to her hip.

“She always manages to slip away,” Mila said. She slammed a fist against the locker, frustrated. Knowing the Phantom was so close. . . right next to them in that ship. It was making it hard to think straight. But Mila was sure of one thing. She was going in after her.

“We’re so close this time,” Mila continued, trying to keep her voice steady. “Too close to risk losing her, and you know this could be our only chance. I’m going in. You can come if you want to.”

Rhys wrapped a hand around Mila’s arm and turned her to face him. She reluctantly looked up at him.

“I should be the one to go in there after her,” he said gruffly. “You watch the ship. If she comes back out or anyone shows up, you can comm me.”

“No.”

Rhys narrowed his green eyes at her, clearly worried.

Mila took a labored breath. “We should go in together.”

“Mila, someone needs to stay with Devana, and you’re the better pilot. Let me try to chase her back out here. The mission comes first.”

Mila’s stomach clenched at the thought of Rhys going in alone, but he was right. Someone needed to stay. And the mission had to come first.

Rhys took her silence as agreement, quickly suiting up and holstering his Arclight.

She kept her spacesuit on — just in case she needed to go in after him. Her throat tightened as she returned to her seat and pulled the Freelancer closer to where the Phantom had disappeared.

Rhys came back up to the cockpit and squeezed her arm lightly. “Keep the commlink open. Stay on guard.”

Mila nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This could go sideways so easily.

She depressurized the cargo hold and lowered the ramp for Rhys. He pushed off and drifted into the dark body of the freighter.

She very nearly commed him to tell him to come back, that they could wait until the Phantom gave up, but she hesitated. Her feelings for Rhys battled with her need to capture this terrorist. Her need won out. This was their last chance to capture the Phantom. Rhys would be fine. He was a great shot.

Several moments passed, and Mila forced herself to check the scanners again. No sign of any other moving ships.

A dull thud sounded from somewhere on the hull, and Mila’s heart rate sped up as she pulled her gun from her holster.

She glanced back at the cargo hold door in time to see the light flash. The alarm sounded — a warning that the door was being opened from the other side while the hold was still depressurized. Mila turned back to the console and scrambled to lock the door, but she failed. It was too late to raise the ramp, too late to repressurize the hold.

Mila got to her feet, her pistol tight in her grip, and trained it on the door to the cargo hold.

At that moment, Rhys’s voice came over the comm. “There are too many places to hide.” His voice rose. “Mila, close the ramp! I just found an empty spacesuit. It wasn’t her.”

“I know. She’s here, Rhys. I repeat, she’s on the ship.”

The door slid open, and Mila’s body lifted off the floor as the artificial gravity systems were deactivated. She reached out to grab her seatback with one hand, and her pistol arm swung wide.

The Phantom floated through the door, weightless, and took a shot. It tore through Mila’s suit, and she cried out.

A terrible burning pain ripped through Mila’s shoulder, and her oxygen began to vent. She shot back desperately, but the Phantom pushed off the ceiling toward the floor in a well-practiced zero-G evasive movement, and Mila’s shot missed, taking a hunk of wall panel out instead.

Adrenaline flooded her. They’d cornered the Phantom and now she’d fight to the death to take Devana. Mila wouldn’t let that happen.

She took another shot, but missed again as the Phantom pushed off the floor. She hurtled forward and slammed into Mila’s injured arm.

Mila gasped and caught a glimpse of herself in the dark reflective glass of Elaine’s helmet, at the bloodied torn shoulder of her suit.

Elaine slammed her pistol directly into Mila’s helmet, then knocked her gun from her grip.

Mila recovered, grappling with the Phantom, and managed to slam a fist into her arm, making her lose her grip on her own gun. Both pistols drifted away, floating toward the far wall.

Mila tried to push off the wall toward the pistols, but Elaine grabbed her in a tight chokehold.

“Almost there.” Rhys sounded panicked, and Mila didn’t have the breath to respond. “Hang on.”

She fought against Elaine, trying to throw her off, but the two of them just spun in weightless rotation, bouncing off the walls. Mila finally got her feet planted on one of them and pushed hard, slamming herself and Elaine back against a cockpit seatback.

Sweat dripped into Mila’s eyes as they struggled, and blackness crowded around the edges of her vision as the oxygen escaped her suit. The cargo hold was wide open, all their oxygen gone. Soon Mila’s suit would be just as empty.

Elaine kicked off the seat, propelling them both down the aisle, sending them flying toward the floating pistols.

Mila was still in a tight chokehold as she reached for the nearest pistol, but the gun spun out of reach. The Phantom punched Mila in the ribs, hard, and squeezed the bloody wound on her shoulder.

Mila nearly blacked out.

Without warning, the gravity came back on, slamming Mila and Elaine to the floor. The pistols clattered to the floor with them. Mila scrambled away from Elaine and closed her gloved fist around the nearest one. She flipped over on her back, pointing the gun up at the Phantom just as she was about to attack.

The Phantom froze and slowly lifted her hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. Mila’s pale, stricken countenance reflected back at her from Elaine’s dark glass visor.

Rhys ran through the door, pistol out.

“Cuff her. Throw her in the pod. I need oxygen,” Mila gasped. The pistol wavered in her grip as she fought to stay focused. She was suffocating.

Rhys slammed the Phantom into the wall, then dragged her into a restraint pod.

In moments, he was back, reestablishing oxygen levels from the cockpit. Then he lifted Mila’s helmet from her head, and the dark spots clouding her vision faded. She could breathe again.

She tried to smile up at Rhys, but the stabbing pain in her shoulder made it come out in a grimace. “We got her.”

Rhys took off his helmet and lightly touched her cheek, his brow furrowed with worry. “Yeah, we got her. But it looks like she got you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Rhys grabbed a medpen and plunged it into her arm. The healing agent took over, easing Mila’s pain.

Then Rhys leaned down and gently pressed his warm lips to hers. As they kissed, relief flooded her. She hadn’t allowed herself to admit how worried she’d been for him when he went into the freighter.

She lifted a hand to the rough stubble of his cheek, and Rhys laid his hand over hers. “You were right,” he said. “I think my professional judgment’s been compromised . . . by this. By us. I never should have agreed to that plan. We should’ve waited. But I saw that stubborn look on your face, and . . .”

Mila shook her head. “If you’re compromised, so am I.” She gave him another kiss. “We’ll figure this out. The important thing is that we both made it out okay. We completed the mission.”

Rhys finally cracked a smile and helped Mila to her feet. “We did it. Are you ready to unmask our Phantom?”

“I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

Rhys typed in the pod’s code, and the door slid open, revealing the Phantom cuffed to the interior bar.

This was the woman they’d hunted for months, the woman who had nearly killed them on more than one occasion. And they’d never even known what she really looked like.

Rhys raised a brow at Mila. “You want to do the honors, or should I?”

Mila lifted a brow in return, and he stepped out of her way. She winced as she used both hands to unlatch the Phantom’s helmet. She pulled it off with one swift movement and took a step back.

She and the Phantom met eye-to-eye for the first time.

And Mila’s heart nearly stopped. She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, covering it.

Rhys gave her a confused look.

“Evony Salinas,” the Phantom said. “Who knew a Salinas would ever go into bounty hunting?”

Rhys’s eyes widened. “Who? What’s going on, Mila?”

The Phantom stared at Mila intently. “Going by your middle name now?”

“You know the Phantom?” Rhys’s voice was low, incredulous.

Mila dropped her hand from her mouth and finally found her voice. She backed up another step. “Her name is Casey Phan.”

“Phan? As in Phan Pharmaceuticals?”

Mila nodded. “The same. But . . . Casey Phan was murdered ten years ago.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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