Although Brooke had resigned herself to a violence-free meeting with one of Lochlain’s flames of convenience, she would, at the minimum, go in dressed to kill. She ditched her kinetic armor but kept her pistol, now concealed in a small, black holster that hugged the inside of her left thigh. A narrow strap ran from the holster and clipped to the bottom edge of her boy-shorts style underwear. Her standard, hip-hugger holster would have been the better choice, and certainly more comfortable, but that would have demanded slacks and a blouse. That was far too casual for the night’s events. She chose a breezy dress cut above the knee that she knew fit her lithe frame to perfection.
As they neared the ASA Administration Building, Brooke performed a final inspection of her makeup. She and Lochlain were twenty minutes late. Brooke had taken the extra time to move her meager belongings from her hotel suite to the shuttle. Eyeing their destination, she saw a woman standing on the landing near the double front doors with arms crossed and impatiently tapping her foot. Brooke sighed at the chore ahead but plastered a counterfeit smile onto her lips while following Lochlain up the steep stairs.
She felt a perverse sense of satisfaction as Ambridge’s face fell after running her eyes over Brooke. “You must be Melissa,” Brooke greeted her in a friendly voice while jutting out a hand.
Ambridge hesitated a moment before taking the hand in her own. Brooke made sure to dig her fingernails in hard enough during the brief shake to leave marks on her opponent.
“And you’re Vanessa…” Ambridge started, but trailed off while withdrawing her hand.
“Vanessa Lochlain,” Brooke improvised in a wicked fit of cruelty, realizing Lochlain had never given Ambridge a last name for “the other woman.” She absent-mindedly looked down at the empty ring finger on her left hand and offered a correction loudly over Lochlain’s snort. “Well, it’ll finally be back to Goodheart by the end of the week.”
Ambridge glared at Lochlain with an expression that fixed him in place.
“I think little Davy should keep the Lochlain name though,” Brooke continued cheerfully. She leaned in to Ambridge and confided, “I think it’s important for my son to always remember who his father is.”
Ambridge’s jaw clenched twice before she ground out, “Reece, sugar, I need to have a word with you. Now.” She spun in place and swiped her datapad over the control pad at the building’s entrance.
Brooke hugged her shoulders and shivered while following Ambridge and Lochlain inside. “Melissa, may I step inside too? It’s freezing and this dress is so thin.”
Ambridge regarded her coldly and said, “I’m not sure what we have to talk about, Miss Goodheart.”
Brooke took a moment to look at the grand foyer of the building’s interior, solely to get her lines straight. “I just wanted to wish you good luck with Reece, Melissa.” She paused a beat before adding, “And make sure you keep him on his medication.” She snaked a hand to Lochlain and let it coil around his forearm. Giving it a squeeze, she continued, “He hates taking the full regimen of pills but they really do cut down on his episodes.” She looked up adoringly at Lochlain’s rolling eyes and smiled. “I’m just glad that we finally found a combination that works.”
Ambridge stepped closer to Lochlain and made a bid for his free arm. Securing his hand, she pulled him away from Brooke. “If you will excuse us, Miss Goodheart, I need to talk to my fiancé in private now.”
“Oh! Congratulations, you two!” Brooke gushed, not missing a beat. She tilted her head to a side and looked at Lochlain. “I couldn’t be happier for you, Reece. You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”
Ambridge yanked savagely on Lochlain’s hand like it was a disobedient dog’s leash. Brooke reluctantly relinquished her grip and said, “I need to freshen up anyway, dear, so why don’t I give you two lovebirds your space.” Not waiting for an answer, she quickly set off for the main corridor.
Behind her, Brooke could hear Ambridge’s low but still oddly penetrating voice berating Lochlain. With a genuine smile on her lips, she pulled her datapad out of her clutch and linked to the building’s network. The directory provided Ambridge’s office number and guided her to the correct door. Conveniently, it was located on the main floor of the building.
After steering through the labyrinth of hallways, she came upon Office 154. She paused at the door to listen while inspecting the lock. Ambridge’s voice still carried faintly in the distance. The lock was a standard multipurpose design, containing an antiquated IC cylinder for a physical pass card and an electronic interface for datapads.
Brooke tested the knob and found it locked. A light rap on the door told her its core was hollow. Looking down, she immediately regretted her footwear. She let her right high heel slide off her foot as she faced away from the office. With a half-crouch, she brought her right leg to her body, coiling her energy like a spring. Hands clenched into fists she let loose a tremendous back kick that tore the physical security from the door. The portal flew open on its hinges and bounced off the wall inside the office.
Brooke stepped lightly back into her shoe, ignoring the pain in her heel and arch. As she suspected, no discernible alarm had been triggered. She entered the office and circled the large desk to find the computer in a power-save mode. She removed her pistol from its holster and placed it on the desktop. After taking a seat, she quickly tapped the keyboard. The screen flickered and a picture of Ambridge on a yacht appeared as a background image. Brooke placed her finger on the screen and traced down to “Course Scheduling.” The file was locked.
She docked her datapad onto the desk and initialized a cracking program. She was far from a computer intrusion specialist but the CBP program, designed to hack into the data files of pirate captains, seemed to work well enough on the files of overindulged daughters of millionaires.
Brooke smiled malevolently when her second attempt to access the file succeeded. She navigated through the listings, tapping to access the certification courses and then again for the practical experience subsection. Evora was at the top of the list. She accessed the class roster and reviewed her options. Finally, she pressed her finger to a name. A popup window appeared yielding student data, including the option to contact him. She initiated the call.
Brooke quickly pulled her dark hair tightly back and secured it with a band. She adjusted her posture so only the top half of her face was visible to the computer’s camera. A young man answered the comm request after several pings. He was sitting in a booth and clearly on his way to inebriation. “Hello?”
Brooke tightened her throat to send her voice up an octave. “Mr. Huseman, this is Nancy Fettermeyer from the ASA. I’m Miss Ambridge’s assistant at Course Administration and it seems there’s been a change to your class schedule.”
The man in his early twenties brought a hand up to his mussed hair and said, “Please tell me it’s not been cancelled.” In the background, Brooke could hear the chatter and frivolity of any typical, late night bar scene.
“Evora has a maintenance issue and won’t be sailing for at least a week. However, we’ve been able to secure a different freighter and transfer you to it.”
Huseman exhaled in audible relief. “Oh, thank God. Is it still set for tomorrow? We’re already up on the orbital.” His eyes darted away from the screen and he stated to someone beyond Brooke’s view, “Evora broke down but they lined up another freighter for us.”
Brooke winced. “Wait. You’re not on Svea?” She considered the fact quickly and improvised, “Your freighter hasn’t docked yet but the boarding time has been confirmed. I’ll have the ship’s captain flash you early tomorrow morning to inform you which docking bay he’s been assigned.”
“Who’s the captain?” Huseman asked. “What’s the ship’s name?”
Brooke hesitated, not wanting to give the student nearly six hours to poke holes into her story. “Uh… it looks like Captain Lovelain and CSV Stanchion,” she improvised. “Don’t worry about the change, Mr. Huseman. The captain will contact you in the morning with the details and you’ll get full course credit.” She tapped on her datapad. “If you have any concerns or questions, contact his Chief Engineer, Miss Brooke. I’m flashing you her contact data now.”
The man on the screen nodded. “Got it and thanks!” He raised a mug of ale on the screen. “Skål!”
“Safe voyage, Mr. Huseman,” Brooke replied. “I have to contact the other students now.”
“Wait!” Huseman blurted loudly. “Two of them are sitting right here.” He spun his datapad and Brooke’s perspective grew dizzying as the scene twirled in a half circle. Another young man and woman sat opposite of Huseman in his booth. Both waved and smiled, careful not to spill their drinks.
The datapad twisted again and Huseman reappeared. “We’re having a get-to-know-you nightcap,” he explained sloppily before rattling off the names of his companions.
Brooke quickly consulted Ambridge’s files. Huseman was a student engineer. His newfound friends were aspiring deck officers but both were focusing on navigation. The corner of Brooke’s mouth twisted. They would have to do. “Just make sure the three of you don’t oversleep, Mr. Huseman,” she warned. “If you miss your boarding time, you’ll still pay for the class.” She terminated the connection and freed her hair from its band. Rising from her chair, she retrieved her pistol from the desktop and holstered it. Afterwards, she smoothed the fabric of her dress, tugging lightly at the hem, before exiting the office. The ruined door would not secure fully but would appear closed if given only a cursory inspection. As she walked back to the lobby, she could hear Ambridge and Lochlain in pitched conversation.
“Well maybe you’re not the woman I thought you were!” Lochlain denounced, his voice echoing down the main hall.
Ambridge’s snort carried easily across the grand lobby. “Ha! That’s a laugh! I’ve hidden nothing from you and tonight I find out you’ve been married… TWICE?”
“You don’t really believe that psychotic woman, do you?” Lochlain asked incredulously. “She’s just saying that to drive a wedge between us! She’s bitter because you have something she never will again.”
Brooke mimed shooting herself in the head as she approached Ambridge from behind. “Oh my,” she said to gain the pair’s attention. “Are we having a lovers’ spat?”
Ambridge spun in place and pointed an angry finger at Brooke. “Just who do you think you are, coming here and telling these vicious lies about Reece? He said you were crazy but I never truly believed him.”
Brooke poured empathy into her voice. “You’re so right, dear. At first I was worried that Davy’s father was jumping on a sinking ship but now I realize that you two really deserve each other.” She brushed past Ambridge’s jutting finger and toward the front doors. “Forget I said anything, dear.” She casually beckoned Lochlain. “Come now, Reece, if you want to retrieve that silly certificate.”
“She didn’t bring it?” Ambridge erupted with renewed fury, channeling her energy into pacing back and forth.
Lochlain snatched the livid woman’s hand and ushered her out of the building while placating her, “I’m so sorry, honey. I’ll follow her back to her apartment and then flash you.”
“H-how could you not make her bring it?” Ambridge stammered. “And now you’re going to leave with her?” She tried to slam the front doors of the building closed but the embedded pressure sensors thwarted her. Instead, she furiously mashed her datapad over the door controls to lock them before whirling toward Lochlain. “Don’t bother calling me tonight! And if you want my help finding a job, you better start thinking up ways to prove you haven’t lied to me!” She pushed past Lochlain, intentionally brushing against Brooke’s shoulder before stomping down the stairs.
Lochlain opened his mouth but Brooke quickly pressed a finger over his lips. “Let her go away angry, Reece,” she said quietly. “It’ll help her in the long run.”
He watched the woman march toward her aircar. “We’re really burning our bridges in Svea,” he noted sullenly.
“No, we’re fusion-bombing them,” Brooke corrected. “I used a CBP cracking program on her computer in there. That’ll be logged in their cyberwarfare database. Within a week my field supervisor will be wanting to know why I used high-level hacking tools during my vacation.”
Lochlain looked pointedly at Brooke with a deep scowl. “You were supposed to distract Melissa while I made those calls.”
She shrugged off the reproach. “I saw an opening.”
“How’d you get into her office?”
“Personal magnetism and great sacrifice,” she quipped.
“What if Melissa had caught you?”
Brooke smiled dangerously and reached down to the hem of her dress. She slowly, daringly lifted the bottom of her skirt, revealing more and more of her firm thighs.
Lochlain gawked in confusion at her brazenness but soon let loose a short burst of laughter when Brooke’s pistol became exposed. “You were going to shoot her?” he asked cynically.
She let her hem drop. “No, but I’m still CBP. I can detain almost anyone for seventy-two hours.”
Lochlain’s eyes still lingered over her legs. “You were going to kidnap her?”
“Detain,” Brooke quibbled. “It’s called ‘detained and isolated’ when CBP does it.” She screwed an eyebrow at him and offered a cynical look. “You know, for railing so hard about corporate feudalism, you sure seem surprised at just how truly corrupt the system can be.”
* * *
They were back on Zanshin less than an hour later. The shuttle, simply dubbed “One-One-Tango,” was safely harbored inside the freighter’s cramped hangar. During the flight to the ship, Lochlain had secured permission to moor Zanshin at Docking Bay Sixteen on Svea’s primary commercial orbital. He had texted that information to each of the three students and set his datapad to wake him at 06:00. As Brooke and Lochlain climbed down the narrow ladder to the catwalk overlooking Engineering, he released a gigantic yawn. It was nearing three in the morning.
He crossed the metal grating suspended above Engineering to stand at the portal that opened to the corridor running the length of the ship. Dropping both of Brooke’s oversized bags to the catwalk with a metallic clang, he looked back. Brooke had paused at the life support controls.
“You coming, Mercer?” Lochlain asked while lightly punching the portal’s control panel. Only the berth doors were set to automatic lock. The portal hissed open to reveal a dark, narrow hallway stretching into blackness. “We need to get some sleep. We have to get up at six this morning to give us plenty of time to get Zanshin up and running and move her over to the orbital.” He shook himself. “It’s going to be risky doing it with just the two of us.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” she answered while fiddling with the life support controls. “I want to make sure we’re not going to suffocate tonight. Besides, it’s freezing in here.” Her hands ran expertly over the touchscreen.
Lochlain waited for her by the door. He looked down at Brooke’s bags and sighed. “I should have stopped by the tenement before I went to see Larsson. I don’t dare go back there now.” He picked up a bag again with a heavy grunt. “I can’t believe everything you own fits in two bags.”
Brooke brought the power core off standby and set it to minimal output. She transferred Zanshin’s energy draw from its batteries to the core. “I’ve lived a transient life the last decade. In fact, I really haven’t had a home since I left for engineering school.”
“That’s kind of sad,” he commented wistfully. After a beat, he added, “I guess I always thought of the ship I was on as my home.” He looked around the darkened compartment and listened to their voices still echoing within. The only lighting came from Brooke’s panel and from near the power core, one story below them. “I think I’m going to like it here,” he prophesied optimistically.
Satisfied with the readings on the panel, Brooke turned to him. “Me too.” She smiled but it faltered. “I just wish we were going about it differently. Don’t get me wrong, I kind of like the idea of screwing over CBP but I feel guilty about the people, even Melissa.”
Lochlain appraised her. “Would it help if I told you she was seeing another man behind my back?”
“She was?”
“No, but would it help?” The corners of Lochlain’s mouth curled upward. “Come on, Mercer. Let’s go spend the first night in our new home in our new rooms.” He began the long walk toward the ship’s center.
Brooke pushed off from the control panel, snatched her second bag and chased after him. The fingers of her left hand closed around his. “You know I’m sleeping in the captain’s quarters, right?”