1
Lacy
The airlock finishedits cycle and pinged, the door to the dock opening.
For a long moment, no one moved.I shifted to the balls of my feet and held my breath.
The drunk spacer leaned past me, so close I could smell the alcohol.He sneered and pointed over my shoulder.“That piece of shit?”
We were still pretty far away, but I knew what he saw.
Sure, she was smaller than most of the others in the dock.A sleek, mid-bulk transport ship, not a huge cargo ship.Room for cargo, crew, and maybe a shuttle, depending on her internal configuration.Maybe she was a little rough around the edges, but I’d bet that was mostly cosmetic.Her vibe wasn’t that of a down-on-her-luck ship.
“Hey!Don’t talk crap about my ship!”I defendedFortunathe same way I would’ve defendedMako.
The spacers chuckled and the tension in the small space eased a smidge.
The big guy snorted and stepped back, out of my personal space.“Good luck out there in that tin can.”He shook his head and took off, followed by his friends.
And then it was just me in the airlock.I braced my hands on my knees and sucked in the first deep breath I’d taken since they’d noticed me.Then, despite the pain that was getting worse the more the adrenaline wore off, I straightened and stepped back onto the dock.In case the spacer and his friends were still suspicious of me, I ambled over toward theFortuna.
My brain raced as I tried to sort out what I knew.I was in the middle of the spaceport with basically the clothes on my back, my tool bag, my hopefully still-edible dinner, and whatever credits I had in my bag.And the data disc that Bob had delivered.
I patted my pocket.The small packet was still there.Was that what they’d been looking for?
I had no idea who’d sent it, much less what was on it.A map of...something?
Time and a safe space.That’s what I needed.That was the only way I could figure out what was happening.A place where no one would think to look for me.
Stopping in front of theFortuna, I studied the ship.
Though the Cyclones were designed with a full crew in mind, theycouldbe piloted by a single person.The ships had capacity for a dozen crew, maybe a few more if they doubled up.Their size made them perfect for running smaller cargo loads.
I bit my lip and stared at the ship.What I was thinking was crazy, right?
The final dregs of my adrenaline rush chose that moment to wear off and a wave of exhaustion rolled over me.That decided it—I’d sleep on the ship tonight.I knew that model inside and out; there were plenty of hidden nooks and crannies I could tuck myself into.
Tomorrow, after I’d gotten some sleep, I’d come up with a better plan.
The freighter next toFortunacast an immense shadow over the smaller ship.Hopefully my dark coveralls and dark hair—and my I-belong-here attitude—would prevent anyone else from questioning my presence.
From the darkness, I studied my surroundings.The docks were never truly silent, never really empty.Repairs, loading and unloading cargo, arrivals and departures, the docks were a source of constant activity.Fortunately for me tonight, none of that was happening aroundFortuna.
The lights at the end of the docking station indicated she was there for cargo, not repairs.She wasn’t waiting for crew either.
I swallowed hard.If the ship was carrying a full complement, this could be the dumbest thing I’d ever done.But to me, this ship—thisstyleof ship—represented safety.
That was what I needed right now.
With my reserves fading and that safety a guiding light in my mind, I steeled my resolve and stepped out of the shadows.Right up to the main entry hatch.As far as I was aware,Fortunadidn’t have external security sensors.They weren’t standard on the Cyclones and anyway, my presence would have already set them off.
Setting my shoulders, I placed my hand on the right side of the hatch, then measured two palm widths further to the right.There was an easy way to break into a Cyclone and a hard way.This was the easy way.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered.I slammed the base of my palm against the hull.Pain radiated up my arm from the impact, but it was worth it when the hidden panel popped open.
The access panel was an open secret.Originally designed to allow military pilots quick access to any ship with a single access code, all Cyclones had been built with them.I knew the original military code.I’d always assumed that was how my dad had acquiredMako.
Sometimes private owners changed the codes.Sometimes they didn’t.Frequently that depended on whether they were dealing with an honest ship broker or not.I was about to find out how muchFortuna’sowner knew about his or her ship.
