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Chapter Seven
KIRA
Kira laid awake at night while off the Callistar. She knew it would solve nothing, but her mind raced constantly. Watson attempted to distract her by laying out some of their plans. They were going into deep space, but they would travel through some of the known quadrants before making their leave into the unknown, the uncharted. Morgan should have been involved in the conversation, but the AI seemed to know what her mind lingered on, as if he could read it himself. Morgan left after dropping off her and Max on Maudlin, back to his shore leave. She caught a regular shuttle back to the Eikos with a trader.
A full week passed before she finally returned to the Eikos, mainly to confirm that the supplies she had ordered were being rerouted properly. The Eikos would store some items that required cold storage. A precaution, just in case Quinn turned off power to that part of the ship. Her arrival at the station, and her checks, went without incident. She even chatted with the crew before taking the passage corridor to the Callistar, happy to return home.
Reaching the access door to the Callistar, she found it locked. Not unusual, but when she punched in her entry code, the system denied it.
Then, her override code was denied.
Standing there, hands on her hips, her expression, which had been so pleased at being home, contorted into something between anger and rage. Which for her were completely different emotions.
“Watson?”
I cannot access the ship’s systems.
There was only one person who could be responsible.
“He’s locked me out of my own damn ship.” Her hand came down hard on the freshly fitted metal paneling. Newly reinforced; before it might have buckled, leaving an imprint. The harsher contact prompted a program, a hologram projecting out of the pin pad with various diagrams.
It appeared Quinn had compiled the likely reasons and questions that she might have when she returned to the ship. A shipping manifest of what she’d ordered on there, as well as where each item was currently being stored. A percentage bar for each major system on the ship, showing the current progress. The Reactor at 100%; the engines were at 52%; the rest were all sitting under 20%. Then a timer showing the estimated project completion time, which updated every few seconds.
He’d even built in a query function, so if she had questions not already covered in the report, she could ask them. The only thing she couldn’t do, her furious typing of commands on the screen trying to subvert it, was communicate with the inside of the ship.
Her fingernails bit into the edges of her palms, leaving small crescent moon indents white from the pressure. “I’m going to strangle him.”
That goes against Sir’s orders.
The lack of reply on Kira’s part should have been the first part of a warning to Watson. What was to come… Well, it would not be pretty.
For all that she knew, Quinn may have been angry. He may have misunderstood her, but she also knew he did not understand that there was no fury like a woman scorned. Being denied entry onto her own ship was the last straw, and it threatened to break her own barely established truce. Leaving her stranded on the Eikos’ desert, as there was nothing there for her, was unacceptable. Crawling back to Commander West for quarters was inconceivable. She’d sooner walk on hot coals than that shag carpet again.
Turning on her heel, every footstep became punctuated with the weight of her fury. The Eikos had suites available to be checked out on demand, available for outer repairs on the ring. A sharp right and she entered the small mechanics room nearest to their docking site. One of the staff, a smarmy man, gave her an immediate smile as he rose out of his seat to offer his help.
Put straight back into his seat, Kira exerted a quick pressure on his shoulder and a sharp, “I can help myself,” as she yanked down a bio suit.
The side airlock had two sections, one for dressing and preparing, then an outer for decompression and exit into space. Settling in the first chamber with the neoprene like suit, she drew it up over her waist before she’d begin securing the buckles along the thighs. Thick, heavy loops rested on her hips. Meant for tool storage or supplies to be rigged in, she left them empty.
Drawing the zipper up to her throat, the black fabric fit like a second skin. Reaching onto the wall for the respirator, she attached the inconspicuous black metal triangle to the center of her chest. It created a film with a translucent appearance, not unlike a bubble. The triangle sat there with a sharp point down and the other two pointing at the shoulders. It wrapped the breathing space over the shoulders to encompass the head. Lightweight and invisible to the eye of the one wearing it. If the suit was a second skin, this was the original, so close and moving as she moved. After testing a few breaths to reassure herself of its working order, she felt satisfied enough to enter the decompression chamber.
The outer door reflected her appearance as she stood waiting to leave. It showed her the level of irate calm that possessed her. Her dark hair plastered against her neck, the suit fitted in all areas revealing her shapely figure, but her eyes, the deep pools of amber surrounded by thick lashes, flashed impossibly with fire, glinting. No internal processor needed.
Kira, do you really think you should do this?
“Watson?”
Yes?
“Get out of my head.”
The suit ended in heavy boots containing magnets to attach to an outer hull. Boosters on either side provided propulsion and stabilization. The guidance worked by a built-in controller resting on the forearm, a quick pad system that used single finger movements to direct the amount of force exerted on the bottom of the boot while one moved their feet to direct themself.
Air flooded out. Space flooded in, and she kicked off the edge, heading around to the side of the Callistar, looking for one of the maintenance hatches that were accessible, hoping he’d not thought to change the codes on every entry point. At least if his logs were anything to go by, he had not gotten to fixing them yet.
Clasping the side’s riveting and the handles a quick scan and the door popped open. The smaller compartments had a miniature version of the two-room system but made for only a few souls.
Grumbling as her feet landed, she tugged the door tight behind her, beginning the sealing process. Utilizing the manual system of turning bars, unlike most current ships, what she’d failed to realize was that it had already been upgraded. The hinges automatically retracted, sealing for ease of use, which happened as she leveraged the door back.
