Ghosts in the System

[WretchRoad]

Relief didn’t last long. The attitude stayed.

“Says the man carrying a metric fuckload of contraband,” she countered, meanwhile still trying to angle her way out of the trap she sprung on herself. Survival didn’t mean much now that she was stuck on a ship with a criminal going somewhere he conveniently didn’t mention. That meant she had no idea where they were.

The best lies always started with a truth.

“I used to work for the IGA,” she began, quickly adding “Low level, in coms and navigation. I went through basic training with everyone else. Now you’re wondering why I do this now? Because four years ago I got stuck in Gleize Gamma, and if you haven’t heard of it, it’s because it’s way the hell out in the void, nowhere. It had one jump gate — ‘Had.’” She put emphasis on the word like it told the whole story.

“Now are you going to tell me why you showed up to a controlled port with stolen goods and got me stuck in this mess?”

 

[The_gladiator]

“Because they weren’t supposed to find them. I was told they were shielded. Bob assured me they were protected. Would show up as some kind of vitamins. Obviously I was lied to.”


He did not know if he believed her story. He had heard of that jump gate.


“I heard the IGA blew it to stop dissidents. One of their nastier tricks. That why you got out? Finally saw them for the pieces of ass they are?”


He watched her. Completely comfortable with the entirety of her legs exposed. Barefoot. Staring him down when they both knew he was the one with the gun.


“You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.”

 

[WretchRoad]

“I got out because I lost three years waiting for, and being rescued. I didn’t want to be trapped like that again. Kinda like right now.” That was the lie, half of one.

The worst thing she could do around a predator was look like prey.

Her dress was dusted and knees and elbows still carried grease stains from the engine room, but she might as well have been in an armoured suit for the confidence she exuded.

“Guts for what? Going out to a gala with a supposedly law-abiding shipper?” Acting like her innocence was still on the table, she rolled her eyes.

“And what about the balls on you? You’re going to get caught, your ship is probably being flagged across all sectors, your face won’t pass security anywhere. Honestly? Your last, only hope, is turning yourself in and giving up your friends.” The faster he did that, the faster she could reach out to her contacts for an extraction.

“Why would you throw your life away over medicine anyway? There can’t be much money in it.”

 

[The_gladiator]

“Why would I do it? Because that’s what I do. Why was I willing to go there? Because Gunther told me to. Why this run specifically? Because my brother is a son of a cunt and I wanted to fuck up his day.”


That last line was too much. He heard it as soon as it left his mouth.


“There was very minimal risk. I didn’t think there’d be a firefight. Or that the crates weren’t shielded.”


He rose.


“Speaking of which, I better go check on that. First door to your right takes you into the ring corridor. That’ll lead you to the fresher. You can shower if you like. I have some of Starla’s things in the closet still, I think. You’re about her size. Since that dress got dirty in the whole situation.”

 

[WretchRoad]

For the first time since meeting him, she was stunned into silence.

His brother?

She had more to say, but not without rehashing the same topics. With nowhere to go but down, she might as well get ready for the ride. An evening gown wasn’t going to cut it.

With a curt “Fine,” she turned toward the door and into the corridor, finding the shower with little delay. Her things made an expensive pile on the floor, along with the toxin-laden bracelet, while she stepped into the flow of water.

As it ran over her skin in fine rivulets, she tried not to let her mind reel from the disaster of her mission. If anything, she convinced herself she was on track. Becker was a known fugitive now, all she had to do to clear her name was find the right people, and she had enough evidence to justify an investigation into at least one of his accomplices.

Then it hit her: She killed an IGA pilot. She destroyed an IGA ship.

Self-defense wasn’t assured when she was a low level agent —she only got the job because the IGA liked to make friends of malcontents before they could become enemies.

“Fuck!” she yelled, fist banging against the aluminum panel.

After only a few minutes trapped in an even smaller box, she couldn’t stand still anymore, and toweled off.

Luckily, Starla’s things included the drab and practical as well as the luxurious. That didn’t stop her from feeling like an emotional landmine when she put them on, since there was no way not to remind Becker of an ex he clearly wasn’t over.

Danica lurked back into the cockpit in a tight-fitting shirt under a light jacket, and trousers laden with handy pockets. She took note of familiar controls and symbols, then attempted to find the coms. She had to at least try to get the word out.

 

[The_gladiator]

Becker went to the hold.


He thumbed the hatch and stepped in. Mostly empty. The crates sat under netting that was supposed to keep them shielded.


He swore softly. Someone hadn’t turned the net on. He was a fugitive over a small mistake.


Absently he flipped it on. He could have sworn he’d checked it. Obviously he hadn’t. He glared at the thing.


He made his own way to the fresher. She was already out. Showering after her made him fantasize about her being there moments before. He let it go.


From his side of the closet he pulled on a flight suit. G and B logo on it. The same thing she would have seen at the pilot’s club, where other men wore extravagant clothes to impress Gunther and Becker was rarely out of uniform.


He emerged into the cockpit.


She was already settling into his seat, looking over the controls.


“Whatcha doing in my seat?” Suspicious. Then, trying to soften the snap: “I’m the pilot here.”

 

[WretchRoad]

Her shoulders went tight. He was lighter on his feet than she anticipated.

Whatever happened next, they had to stay together, and she had to survive it. Going back empty handed just meant she'd take the blame and a spot in a cell reserved for him.

"Didn't you say your nav system was giving you problems?" she found the explanation easily, he handed it to her not long ago. "Not like I can find anything with this layout, it's all proprietary."

But she sensed his frustration, and stepped out of the chair, gesturing graciously back toward his seat. "By all means."

She idly felt her wrist as she gave him space, feeling a moment of weightlessness when she found it bare. The bracelet was still in the pile with her clothes.

 

[The_gladiator]

“Well, yeah. I had to say something other than this is the escort Gunther hired so I could get the schedule for the drop. I don’t have a problem with my navigation. As you can see, I designed it myself.”


The smile was confident. Almost overly so.


“And as you may have noticed, I can navigate better than most in the IGA, restricted to their old jump gates. The real entrepreneur moves independently.”


A beat.


“That being said, we’re fugitives because someone didn’t turn on the camo net over the crates. I swore I checked them.”


He did not say sabotage. It hung there anyway.


Not her. He had known where she was the whole time, and flying in, Gunther had sent her on one of the G and B shuttles. Small boats. Fresh pilots to freighters. Crew off for R and R.


He turned enough to look at what she had put on.


“They look good on you. That dress was hella flattering. Not the most practical for regular space travel.”


Another beat. Half smirk now.


“We’ve got a week to kill before the drop is scheduled. Looks like you might actually have time to follow through on all those innuendos. Assuming they weren’t empty insinuations.”

 

[WretchRoad]

It was worth a try, thankfully he didn't follow that thread of suspicion too far, not in the face of what sounded like real, back-stabbing sabotage.

A week. That meant time to either turn him or turn him in, but it was becoming apparent that learning the ship meant learning Becker — A locked box who just happened to be offering her a key.

Danica smoothed her hands, almost absently, down the sides of her trousers, over her hips.

"Yeah, well, you looked better in a suit." She didn't take a step forward, that would be too eager, too fast for what could be a trap, or a test. "And as far as I'm concerned, I'm off the clock."

She looked him up and down, slow.

"Doesn't mean everything I said was empty."