Chapter 14

  Layers**

  The crew was gathered around the table. Mosley was there as well.

  "That ship needs to die," Zev said. "It is a sin to the universe and needs to be purged."

  "Love, the ship didn't do anything to you," Sarsha said, laying a hand on Zev's arm.

  "Sarsha, you haven't seen the thing. I agree with Mr. Explosion. That ship is a trap, and the sooner it’s gone, the safer we’ll be," Roger said. After a few hours in sickbay, he looked remarkably better.

  "You can't just destroy the ship. What will I do?" Mosley broke in, her voice flooded with fear and tension.

  "You can stay with us," Annalynn said, leaning close. The table was crowded; they were right next to each other.

  Zara sat silently, her sidearm digging awkwardly into her side. The ship was a puzzle—one she needed to crack. It was a trap, yes, but one for Roger. When she and Zev were there, they had broken the rhythm. She hadn't yet finished going through the ship’s logs. Her air-gapped computer was much slower than the ship’s, but it was safer.

  She didn’t know what she was looking for.

  But she had seen something.

  Someone had remotely accessed the ship. Whoever it was had tried to hide it—but not well. Almost like someone trained to hide it, but without the depth of experience.

  She looked around the table. The crew was tired and strung out. Annalynn hid it better, but even with her hair locked black, Zara could see the stress.

  Zev was tired.

  Sarsha was calm—almost too calm. Normally, she’d be scolding them all, reminding them they were, in fact, not invincible.

  Mosley looked scared. Uncertain, maybe? She had leaned away from Annalynn. What was that about? But she did seem eager to stay on the ship. Zara didn’t blame her for that. Judging by the files, that other crew had been pirates—and bad ones.

  It was almost like it was their first time on a ship.

  But how would a group of morons get a ship and fly it here? Toss 4 wasn’t exactly a popular destination.

  Zara tuned back into the conversation.

  "We can take off if we have to. We just won’t be able to reenter atmo," Annalynn had said.

  "Do we have any idea what is out there waiting for us?" Sarsha asked.

  That was out of character. Sarsha usually didn’t ask questions like that.

  Funny—Sarsha kept stealing glances at Mosley.

  What was that about?

  Zara looked at Mosley, studying her.

  Her hair was clean—not surprising; Annalynn insisted on hygiene for all crew and passengers. It was brown, pulled back in a ponytail, hanging just below her thin shoulders. She wasn’t a big woman—Zara might have been the same size.

  She looked to be in good shape—tight waist, narrow hips. She had that lost girl look, like someone in need of rescue. But her clothes fit a little too well.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  There was a slight sheen to the fabric.

  Reinforced.

  That didn’t sit right. Not with her story.

  Zara frowned.

  Something still didn’t add up. What was it that had Sarsha on edge?

  She pulled out her tablet—something the others were used to by now—and started skimming the crew logs. On a whim, she searched for Mosley’s.

  Nothing came up.

  That wouldn’t have been odd on most civilian ships, but Annalynn ran the Hollow Wrath like a military vessel. Everyone had a role. Everyone was armed. Records were kept.

  Maybe that was it.

  Zara ran a quick search through the deep files. Traces of military code started to surface—buried routines, hidden permissions, override tags.

  The ship had been military—and not that long ago.

  That didn’t make sense.

  Then again, a lot about the military didn’t make sense to her.

  But something about the old files felt… wrong.

  The timestamps didn’t line up.

  It was like someone had been using them—recently.

  A system access log. Buried. No ID. But fresh.

  Zara scrubbed through the internal sensors until she found the moment it had triggered.

  Something made her look up.

  Mosley was staring at her.

  The smile on her face was soft, her brown eyes warm—but something about it was wrong.

  Too careful. Too fixed.

  Like she knew Zara was close to something.

  "Mosley, do you know anything about that ship?" Zara blurted out—the question spoken as soon as she thought it.

  "No, not really," Mosley replied. Her voice was small. Her smile faded. "I just cooked and cleaned. They were awful people."

  Her eyes started to water.

  "Did you know it was military surplus?" Zara continued.

  Everyone stopped talking.

  She had everyone’s attention.

  "I really don’t know. I didn’t know ships could be that," Mosley said. Her smile was gone, eyes still leaking.

  "Zara, ease off," Sarsha said, seeing the effect it was having.

  "No, Sarsha, it’s okay," Mosley spoke, her eyes shifting to Sarsha.

  The moment her eyes left Zara, Zara reached for her pistol.

  Mosley was fast.

  She saw Zara’s movement and sprang back, hands darting into the front of her shirt.

  Zara pushed the weapon out and fired.

  The beam sliced along the outside of Mosley’s leg.

  Mosley collapsed, but rolled back to her feet.

  She held a pistol—aimed straight at Roger.

  Zara fired again.

  Center mass.

  Mosley staggered. Her weapon slipped from her hand.

  The beam should have cut clean through her.

  Instead, something absorbed it.

  The sheen vanished from her shirt.

  Roger was on her the instant the weapon dropped. He tried to grab her shoulders. She dove under, rolled to her feet, and ran.

  Roger chased after her—showing no trace of fatigue or injury.

  "What the hell was that?" Annalynn yelled, her hair blazing bright red.

  Zev was up and after them. He was a hair slower than Roger, but he might catch up. His chair crashed to the floor as he launched forward.

  "That was brave," Sarsha said. She reached over and laid a hand on Zara’s.

  Zara hadn’t realized how badly her hands were shaking.

  She sagged in her chair.

  Her actions had just saved Roger’s life.

  She had saved Roger’s life.

  She felt pressure on her hand and saw Annalynn carefully prying the pistol from her grip.

  "Zara, you did well. We can handle it now," Annalynn said, her voice soft and warm.

  Zara opened her hand and let go of the weapon.

  That’s when her stomach lurched. She fought with everything she had to keep it down. Her whole body was shaking now—spots danced at the edges of her vision.

  "Zara, you need to breathe," Sarsha said, now seated beside her. "You’re experiencing PCNS backlash. Breathe."

  Zara tried to draw a breath. Her throat was tight. She struggled to get air in.

  "Zara, I know it’s hard. Slow down—nice, easy breaths. Here, like this."

  Sarsha slowly inhaled. She waited for Zara to copy. When she did, Sarsha gently let the breath out.

  "Good. Now let’s do one more."

  Sarsha sat with her, just breathing. In, then out.

  The spots faded, and her body stopped trembling. A few more breaths, and she felt close to normal.

  She leaned into Sarsha and started crying, her body racked with sobs.

  "How do they do it? How do the others keep going?" Zara asked between sobs.

  "It gets easier. Besides, Roger had his heart replaced with a frog. Zev cries more than you do."

  That made Zara laugh—soft, startled chuckles. The tears slowed.

  She sat up. "How come this didn’t happen before?"

  "I’m not sure. Maybe because it wasn’t as personal. Or because you had to focus on saving Annalynn—your body did something different with the adrenaline."

  Sarsha stood and pulled Zara to her feet.

  "We should run some tests on your implants. Make sure they’re still in alignment."

  Zara let Sarsha lead her to sickbay, each step heavy and hard.