Chapter 5 Dax
Dax
My eyes snapped open as I shifted from a dead sleep to fully awake. I blinked up at the ceiling—where was Finn’s bunk?
Where the hell was I? And what had woken me?
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and scanned the room.
I didn’t feel hungover, but I didn’t immediately recognize my surroundings.
On the rare times I’d gotten that drunk, I’d never passed out in a place this nice.
The room was way bigger than any of the berthing compartments on the SMTC Evenrude, not to mention it lacked the government-issue bunk beds.
“You’re on the Fortuna, idiot.” I exhaled slowly. Not just on the new ship, but in the captain’s quarters. A room I didn’t have to share with anyone.
How much longer was I going to wake up thinking I was still in the space corps?
My team and I had left the military behind.
Wilson’s death eight months ago—his fucking senseless death—had been the last straw.
We’d all left as soon as our enlistments were up, one after another.
Finn had been out six months. I’d been the last to muster out three months ago.
And now that we had a ship, the squad would be getting back together.
Our ship, our rules. Wilson’s last wish had been that we make our dream of running a cargo company a reality and he’d left us his life savings to make it happen.
Now here I was with our brand-new ship ready to pick up our first cargo.
“Miss you, man.” I rubbed the space over my heart, though I knew from experience that it wouldn’t alleviate the sadness.
The ship vibrated under my feet, snapping me back to the present.
I surged to my feet, ridiculously grateful that I didn’t need to duck to avoid the rack above me. I might still be learning all the ins and outs of the Fortuna, but I was certain she shouldn’t be moving. Especially not when we were docked.
What the hell was going on?
Fortuna and I weren’t due to depart for two days.
We’d docked at Elegium Station because I had a line on a high-value cargo job, one we needed to get our new venture off the ground.
The plan was to load the cargo onto the ship then rendezvous with the rest of the crew.
We’d deliver the goods and make some easy money.
“Lights.” The room illuminated gradually, highlighting the clothes I’d stowed on a chair last night.
Such disorder wasn’t like me, but I’d been up late studying the ship.
My brain had been exhausted from trying to cram a lifetime of knowledge into a few hours.
I was ecstatic that I’d managed to dock her without any problems.
Dragging on yesterday’s clothes, I rubbed a hand over my blurry eyes, then grabbed my weapon from the locked desk drawer. It fit easily, comfortably, into the holster at the small of my back.
The door to my quarters slid open with a whisper. I stepped into the passageway cautiously, scanning from side to side, taking in as much of the corridor as I could each time.
The lights in the hall were set for simulated nighttime, not quite dark enough to create shadows where intruders could hide, but not wide open either. “Lights to full.”
No signs of intrusion or forced entry.
No signs of anyone, but the steady hum of the engines beneath my feet told me that something was going on. Ships didn’t fly themselves.
As I slipped into combat mode, my breath slowed and my other senses snapped to attention. I hadn’t expected to feel this way after I’d left the service. Hadn’t expected the hit of adrenaline that came with each mission.
Focus sharp, I continued down the corridor, clearing the crew quarters methodically and peering into the cargo hold. Every time I entered a room, I prepared for an attack that never came.
What the hell kind of operation was this?
The empty corridor and the running engines were starting to well and truly creep me out. Navy ships were never quiet. I’d only had the Fortuna for a week and still wasn’t used to being alone on her.
Had that asshole at the shipyard sold me a haunted ship?
Get a grip, Dax.
The engine room and the bridge were the only places I hadn’t checked. The bridge made the most sense. It was easier to fly a ship from there. If you wanted to disable one, it was easier to do that from the engine room.
Still at high alert, goosebumps still crawling up my skin from the apparent emptiness, I approached the bridge carefully.
The door to the bridge was sealed. I’d left it open on my rounds last night. I was sure of it.
Who the hell was on my ship?
Whoever it was, they were about to learn that you didn’t mess with a member of the space corps.
My right hand pulled my blaster free, while my left palmed the sensor by the door. It flickered green and the door slid open.
Blaster ready, I stepped onto the bridge, already scanning for hostiles. A quick step left put the wall to my back and gave me my first view of the intruders. The intruder.
My jaw dropped.
Whoever I’d expected, it wasn’t the woman in the pilot’s seat. My seat.
Head draped over the back of the chair, a dark braid hanging behind her, she didn’t move when I entered. Didn’t even stir. Was she dead? That was the last thing I wanted or needed.
Steps light, my weapon still out, I circled the entire bridge. My attention returned to her again and again, even when I was checking under the ship’s consoles and behind the holo table. The Fortuna’s bridge was so small, there really was nowhere to hide.
The woman was the only one on the bridge. Which begged the question, who the hell was she? Why was she here?
My mystery woman hadn’t woken while I moved around the bridge and she didn’t now while I studied her.
The logo over her left breast marked her as station crew and a sewn-on patch said her name was Dupree, but neither of those facts explained what she was doing on my ship.
They didn’t explain the half-eaten container of noodles that smelled garlicky and delicious and made my stomach rumble either.
And they sure as hell didn’t explain why I saw stars outside the ship’s windshield when I should have been looking at the docking platform on Elegium Station.
Once I’d verified that her chest continued to rise and fall, I tackled the more pressing question: Why the hell had my ship left Elegium Station?
I wasn’t supposed to leave until I had my cargo. Turning my ship around was the only way I could salvage this.
Giving my unwanted passenger a dark look, I holstered my blaster and settled into the navigator’s seat. Flipping the comms on, I reached out to the station.
“Elegium stationmaster, this is Fortuna. Requesting docking access.”
There was garbled static on the other end before an incredulous voice came on the line. “Fortuna, this is Elegium stationmaster. That’s a negative. There’s no way you got that coolant leak taken care of that quickly.”
Coolant leak? What the fuck? I choked back the words. Surely I hadn’t slept through the alarms for a coolant leak.
“Ah, thanks, Elegium stationmaster. Understood. Fortuna out.” There was no way I was going to reveal my ignorance to the station. They probably already thought I was an idiot.
Coolant leaks could be catastrophic. Like ships-go-boom catastrophic.
Praying we didn’t have one, I searched through the system for any leaks or alarms. While I still didn’t know everything about how this ship worked, I’d spent every free moment learning what made her tick.
I’d even downloaded a manual or two as soon as I’d docked at the station.
I still wasn’t sure why the team had tasked me to buy the ship and fly her. Once the squad was back together, we’d all be learning new skills, but apparently I was up first.
Which was fine. Except no one had told me what to do in a situation like this.
I shoved my hands in my hair as I studied the search results.
I read every chart and report twice until I was absolutely sure that there was no leak.
That discovery ratcheted down my stress level just enough for it to bounce right back up as I read Elegium Station’s protocols for a coolant leak: get the ship as far away from the station as possible as quickly as possible.
As if that weren’t bad enough, the safety protocols required a four-day window to ensure that the ship no longer presented a danger to the rest of the vessels docked at the station.
Fuck!
My meeting with the client was tomorrow. I couldn’t miss it. If we didn’t get that cargo, I’d have to start the search all over again.
I stared at the vastness of space just outside the ship. Day after day, night after night, we’d dreamed and planned and plotted for a life after the space corps. One we’d make the decisions for. Wilson’s death had only strengthened our resolve.
I wasn’t about to be the one who fucked it up. I refused to let my team down.
Before I made any decisions, I had to know what happened. And the only person who had the answers was passed out in the chair next to me.