‘I thought you said flight conditions were ideal.’ Christian’s bug-eyed gaze needles me.
Rory has paused in the act of undoing his pants. His belt hangs open, grotesque, and I bite back another wave of nausea.
‘We’re passing by an asteroid belt,’ I say. ‘Sometimes a few strays get in the way. If I’m distracted and we hit one …’ I shrug. ‘We’ll be toast.’
It’s an easy lie, woven with truth. We are passing through an asteroid belt, but my ship’s navigation system has been upgraded to auto-bypass the rocks. But these men don’t know that.
‘Don’t lie to me,’ Rory croons. He unzips his fly, palming his hard-on. ‘This will be so easy, baby. Don’t you enjoy sucking cock?’
I stare up at him, and our gazes meet. A wild idea comes to me. If I can just distract him for a second … maybe I can still save myself and walk away clean. I scoff. ‘Are you kidding? I fucking love it.’
That seems to throw him. Rory and Christian glance at one another, brows raised. Like they can’t believe their idiotic luck. But there’s a flash of disappointment there, too. I can see it curdling in their expressions, the realization that they won’t get to force me, won’t get to hold me down and watch me cry while they fuck my face.
In that breathless instant, as they share that shocked look, I twist sideways in my chair. Stretching across the dash, I manage to reach the right controls. In just a couple swift flicks of my fingers I turn off the autopilot, which disengages the inertial dampeners. I’ve always found it easier to fly manually if I can feel the G forces.
‘The fuck –’ Rory grabs at me.
But I’ve already turned on the thrusters.
The ship bursts forward in a violent rumble, her vintage hull shaking with the sudden acceleration. I grip my chair, barely saving myself from tumbling to the floor. Taken by surprise, the two men are knocked off balance. Christian trips over his own leg and falls, swearing loudly. Rory manages to stay upright, but is forced to take a few quick steps backward to save himself from falling.
By the time they regain their footing, I’ve swiveled back to face the dash. By the time they come for me, I’m already strapped in. I’m already bracing myself.
Rory’s fingers grapple at the edge of my chair.
I hit the throttle and spin my ship at the same time.
My ship jolts like a bullet set loose from a gun. I’m thrown backward against my seat, teeth clenched, all the organs in my body flattening against the back of my ribs, against my spine.
I spin us in a tight corkscrew.
The ship vibrates like it wants to fly apart, spinning upside-down. The false gravity in my ship is old; it can’t keep up with trick flying, but it will try. Whatever is on the floor is going to slam upward, and in a moment, whatever is on the ceiling is going to fall.
I twirl the ship around and around, cutting a spiral through the quiet black, my entire body shaking with the G-force pull.
Christian and Rory’s bodies crash to the ceiling. Back to the floor. To the ceiling. They slam against the walls. Their cries are strangled at first, but quickly cut short. And soon enough, all that remains is the sound of their bodies. Meat and bones slamming over and over against the inner hull. Ragdolling against the walls of my cockpit. A dull, wet sound.Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
I wait until I’m sure they’re thoroughly broken. I wait until the cockpit smells of blood and piss and loosened bowels. And when I’m sure they’re dead, when I’m certain they’re no longer a threat to me, I pull up on the throttle. I slow down. I pull my ship level. I flick on the autopilot.
I sit in the pilot seat until I stop shaking.
Then I pick up the comm and call my boss.
He answers, all rushed impatience. ‘Yeah, what’s up?’
‘Hey.’
‘Are you okay?’ He must hear the change in my voice. It’s impossible to hide it. That I’m not Midonia anymore. I’m someone else. Someone worse.
I clench a tight fist against my thigh. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to see them. And I realize suddenly the depth of what I’ve done; that I can’t take it back. Bile burns my throat. I punch a few commands into the dash, and my fingers come away red with blood. I raise the fingers to my face, inhaling the rich smell.
I don’t want to take it back.
‘I’m reversing course, back to the departure point. Please call the paramedics. Have them meet me at the dock.’
A long pause. Then, ‘Midonia, what happened?’
‘There’s been an accident.’
