Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (3 page)

“Oh, Daddy, that was a year ago,” Mara said, now fully
engaging her part. “These here look like decent soldiers of the Confederation.”

Though stiff and frail the old man seemed to perk up, rising
from his stoop almost a full two inches.

“Are they enforcers, daughter? Are you men enforcers?”
Nearly blind, the old man moved to two dark broad bands that ran up a wall and
held out a hand as if to shake theirs. “I was an enforcer, too,” he said cheerfully.

After a noticeable silence he added in approval as if to
bolster the two lines on the wall, “That’s right—stand there stoically and pay
me no never mind. That’s what I’d have done back in the day,”

The elderly lady turned him from the wall towards the men.
“I’m sorry. His eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

Clearly confused, the old man looked back at the two lines,
tilted his head back to see through the reading glasses that hung low on his
nose, and tapped the wall with his cane just to be sure they weren’t men.

“Oops.” Embarrassed, he flashed a toothless grin at his
daughter. He, too, was filthy and carried a certain odor that begged for a good
scrubbing.

The two men looked at each other and smirked. The old man
may have been an enforcer in his day, but that day had long since passed. Now
all he was to them was some old fool to ignore if he needed some attention, or
harass if he didn’t.

All of a sudden, and without warning, the old man clutched
his chest. His face pinched in pain. The old woman, still holding his arm,
winced as he crumpled. Mara pretended to strain to keep him from falling. She
managed,
as they had practiced
, to lower him less than gently to the
floor.

Jordon’s face flickered for an instant. At his belt, his
holo-projector momentarily sparked. Had the inspectors missed the projector’s
faltering? Blast! If it gave out now, she and he and all they’d worked toward
would be stew for the dogs. She realized that they should have made a backup
plan or exit strategy beforehand, but they hadn’t. Mara would have to wing it.
Her only recourse was to keep the inspectors’ focus off the old man as much as
she could and hope for the best.

“My pill, daughter,” he pleaded thinly. “My pill.”

Mara tensed. Jordon apparently hadn’t noticed his
holo-projector’s hiccup, and was drawing unwanted attention back to himself.

The two enforcers walked casually to his side and watched
with indifference as the frantic old woman pawed through of her apron pockets.
Finally she drew out a pill bottle, opened it, and placed a small tablet under
her father’s tongue. Before she could put the bottle away, it slipped from her
shaky grasp, hit the floor and rolled to one of the men.

He stopped it with his boot and scooped it up to read the
label. “Ashton. Justice Ashton.” He glanced at the old man then read the label
again. “Are you
the
Justice Ashton of Ceti?”

The old man nodded feebly but neither opened his eyes nor
let go from clutching his chest.

“Which way to this man’s bed, woman?”

The spinster pointed shakily to a doorway.

“Go! Lead me to it.” He picked the man up—
Freefall
altered Jordon’s weight to make him lighter than he actually was
.

Cradling Jordon in his arms, the inspector followed Mara
ahead of his partner. Once they were in the old man’s room he laid him
carefully on the bed.

Ericca moved her small ship around from
Freefall’s
far side to the inspector’s two Talons. Riley followed in a ship of his own.
Rachel, Josh, and Nate—already there—broke the key-codes of each Talon. Following
Rachel’s signal, Errica and Riley climbed from their ships and jetted to the
inspectors’ to take control of them. With the control of each Talon now theirs,
they settled in and fired up the engines. Rachel inserted the newly acquired
key-codes into the replacement Talons, and returned to
Freefall
with the
two boys. Easy-peesy.

Both enforcers looked around the room which, like the rest
of the ship, was filthy and well-aged. Shadows of where pictures once hung
filled one wall. Alone at its center dangled a framed certificate. The lead enforcer
took it from the wall to read.

“No! No!” the old guy protested. “Daughter, don’t let them
take it. It’s all I got left.”

“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s okay,” she said, patting his hand to
calm him. Then she noticed his holographic overlay had vanished entirely. The
projector winked and suddenly went dark. Wide-eyed, Mara looked at the
inspectors who had their backs to them. Frantic, she pressed the projector’s
button again and again but it refused to re-engage. It was then that Jordon saw
and realized what had happened. Startled, he sat up. Mara pushed him back down
with one hand, and grabbed the bedspread with the other to hide his face.

One enforcer glanced back toward them, and looked at Jordon
before focusing on her. Disconcerted and suspicious, his brows pinched
together. “Woman, what
are
you doing?”

Mara looked down. Jordon was once again an old man. She lowered
the blanket and patted his hand. “There you go, Daddy. Better?”

Jordon nodded as he pulled the blanket up around his chin
and shivered.

The inspector turned away to once more study the
certificate.

Though his projector was dark, without it Jordon’s disguise
had somehow returned. Then Mara remembered the ship. At the mobile holo-projector’s
failure,
Freefall
had jumped into action. Remembering the script and her
role in it, Mara took a breath and left Jordon’s side to stand beside the
officers. Still trembling, she offered the men a feeble smile, and spoke softly
as if to keep her father from hearing. “About a year ago pirates took all we
had. This certificate was the only thing Daddy could hide well enough to keep.
The scum took all his metals, war mementoes, and certificates of valor, ‘cept
this’n of course. They had no real value ‘cept to me and Daddy. Pirates is just
mean that way.”

The enforcer read it carefully, and then reverently returned
it to the wall. Turning, he patted her shoulder reassuringly then went back with
his partner to stand beside Jordon’s bed. “This man is Justice Ashton.” he
said, his words filled with respect.

“I saw that,” said the other. “Iron-Justice himself, right?
Impressive.”

Without tearing his eyes from the old man, the first shot a
thumb over his shoulder. “That certificate honoring his victory at Odeedum is
quite the keepsake. That battle, this man’s strategy to win it was definitely
one for the books.” He leaned close to the old curmudgeon. “You have been my
hero since I read of your exploits at the academy. The story of Odeedum took my
breath away. It would be a great honor to shake your hand, sir.” He leaned over
the old man and took his hand.

The old man’s grasp was feeble. Through his struggling to
breathe and wheezing, he tried to speak clearly.

“I don’t shake a good man’s hand lying down—
gasp
—I
needs to sit up, son.”

With great effort he threw off the blanket and tried to
rise, and as he leaned to pull himself out of bed, without warning he coughed
straight and hard into the enforcer’s face—then fell back in bed exhausted, and
gasping for air.

The enforcer straightened and wiped the expectorant from his
face in disgust then turned away to leave. His partner followed close behind.
The old woman went with them to the bay and, once there, the enforcer, with a concerned
smile, assured her their inspection was over. He wished her luck with their
continued journey. Replacing his helmet and pack, he, with his partner, jetted
back outside the ship.

The two enforcers waited and watched as the old woman closed
the cargo bay door.
Freefall
moved away—the bright cherry red heat of
the Ion converters could be seen well after the ship disappeared from sight.

“See that?” said one enforcers to the other. “Still using
Ion converters. Blast if that ship ain’t old. I say, when we come across
another ship that ancient, from here on out, let’s just say we inspected it and
give it a pass.”

“I hear ya,” said the other. “I left that old freighter
feeling pretty dirty. I don’t think a week of baths will get me clean.”

“The maintenance crew will have to sanitize my cockpit
thoroughly if I’m ever to fly that Talon again.”

“Mine too.”

“I’ll have to burn this suit.”

“I’d rather float in space forever than have to put my tail
in another old ship like that one.”

“I just hope I didn’t see my future. That guy was a great
Confederate war hero, but just look at him now—dirt poor and living in filth.
Sheesh! Are you sure that was the right ship? No one said anything about it
being a freighter.”

“Who knows? Intel has been wrong before.” The two enforcers
returned to their ships and sidled down into their seats which seemed a tighter
fit than before. As each lowered his canopy he realized the forthcoming
explanation to his commander was going to be difficult. Neither was the ship
either man had arrived in.

When the old man accompanied the old lady back to the
rec-room he was much jauntier than his years suggested, dancing a jig as he
walked. The image was so unconnected from the action that Mara couldn’t help
but chuckle at Jordon’s shenanigans. “Jordy, for an old guy, you’re pretty
spry.”

“Got to admit, Momma, I’ve felt worse.” He looked toward the
ceiling. “
Freefall
, old friend, nice save.”

“Glad to have helped, sir,” the ship said in a tone devoid
of emotion.

He winked and slid the holo-badge from his belt. It had been
fried. The
holograph-projected-years
melted away. Mara turned her mobile
unit off and she too returned to her ‘youthful’ look,
sort of
. The crew
gathered around them. As he studied each man, woman, and kid in turn, Jordon
tried to find a home for his hands before finally settling on folding his arms
and resting one forefinger on his lips. His attempts to look nonchalant never
seemed to land first try.

Saying nothing, Ericca stepped back, took the pilot’s seat,
and turned away completely disinterested. Raising her feet to the console, she
crossed one over the other, interlaced her fingers behind her head, and leaned
back.

Along with Riley, Jordon noticed and wondered if anyone else
had. He could guess what it meant and knew things would soon come to a head
between him and Ericca.

“So how did it go?” he asked to avoid drawing attention to
the young woman.

Riley drew an arm around Rachel, his friend, his fellow
seventeen-year-old, to half-hug her. “Smooth. Race bypassed the new Talon’s
security systems in three minutes.”

Rachel Kori shrugged. “Sorry, brother dear. I wasn’t
expecting their security system to be so retro. I’ll do better next time. I
promise.”

Everyone laughed. Three minutes was remarkably fast, even if
Rachel didn’t think so. She was Jordon Sr. and Mara’s
other
child, and
like Jordon Jr., she was an accomplished gadget-maker.

Mara took Rachel’s shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze.
“So now we have two of the new Talons to give to Providence intelligentsia.
What condition did you leave those two enforcers in?”

“Well,” Josh answered, “we did leave them two perfectly
good, fifty-year-old Talons. Minus a few extraneous parts, give or take. I mean,
a transmitter is really just dead weight, isn’t it? Having one would’ve added
to their fuel consumption. Best they not have them.”

Joshua Chisholm, and his ten-year-old brother, Nate, were
Freefall
’s
loadmaster – cargo lifter pilots. It didn’t take strength to run the muscular
lifters. It just took a careful, quick mind, which both boys had.

“Hey, they should be happy,” Riley said with a sly smile,
“Saber class Talons are classics. And the radio we left in each will pick up
some great AM stations.”

The crease between Jordon’s brows deepened. “AM stations?”

Josh nodded. “Yes, sir. By my calculations, radio signals
from old Earth should be reaching this sector of space just about now.”

Jordon chuckled. “AM indeed. So, what do you suppose they’ll
hear?”

Josh frowned. “It’s AM radio, sir. More than likely, if they
fine tune the signal, they’ll hear old-time Gospel. That’s what we were
thinking anyhow.”

Riley’s grin had a devious cast. “That or Rush Limbaugh.
Either’s good.”

Jordon grinned. “Come on—all kidding aside, what situation
did you leave them in?”

Feigning confusion, Joshua and Nate glanced at each other.
Neither said anything.

But Rachel raised her hand and shouted as if in a game show.
“Pick me! Pick me!”

Along with Mara, Jordon chuckled. “Okay, sis. What’s their
real status?”

Very proud of herself, Rachel spoke cheerfully. “Well, to
help them find their way and get to the nearest planet, each ship has a good
working scanner and just enough fuel to land.”

Riley scoffed. “Unless they prefer soft landings. Unpowered,
a Talon’s glide path is same as a rock’s.”

Race looked at him with incredulity. “Riley, my calculations
were exact. They just need to be frugal with the fuel. No big deal. That, and
find a patch of flat ground to land on.”

Jordon snorted a laugh and Mara chuckled. Apparently the
kids gave the inspectors just enough fuel to get to Hawthorn if they were, as
Rachel suggested, very frugal with their fuel consumption.

Ericca sat quietly and contributed nothing, but her unobtrusive
behavior didn’t escape Jordon’s notice. Distracted by the girl’s attitude, he
dismissed everyone, watched her for a brief moment, then followed the others
out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Later that hour Jordon found Ericca in a corridor. “Hey,” he
said, catching her hand to stop her, then just as quickly released her. He
folded his arms. He gestured with one hand but instead of looking casual—
his
hope
—his movements were forced, stiff, and contrived. This seemed to amuse
her.

“Ericca, you okay?”

“I’m fine, sir. Why do you asked?”

“Are you? You’ve been short, snippy. Is it something I’ve
said? Something I’ve done?” He brought his hand up to his chin, and rested a
finger across his lips but the motion was clumsy. The more he tried relax
around her, the more his muscles fought him.

Her answer—a slight shrug. “It isn’t you. It’s me.”

“This isn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself, is
it?”

She paused and bit her lip. When she spoke, she chose her
words carefully. “Archer and I have been on our own for quite a while. We were
trained to handle ourselves in a fight. That’s what we do. This sedentary life
takes getting used to and, in fact, I don’t really
want
to get used to
it.”

“Well that’s the shipping life. Huge expanses of boredom
punctuated by spikes of excitement. Nothing I can do about that.”

She forced a faint but friendly smile. “Why did you hire Archer
and me?”

“Well now,
that
is a story, but not one I wish to
tell in the hallway.” Turning to his office, he gave a quick snap of his head, bidding
her to follow. He took a seat at his work desk, and Ericca took a seat across
from him.

“Once,” he began, “while my family and I were out enjoying
the sights, someone broke into this ship. We lost a valuable machine and irreplaceable
tech that day. I feel better having the added security. I thought you knew
that?”

A black cube sitting on his desk caught her attention. She
picked it up to study as she spoke.

“Sir, that’s what you said when you first signed Archer and
I on as security. Our presence should’ve made you bolder, braver, but instead,
according to Race, you’ve grown more timid. You avoid planets with even the
slightest reputation.” She flipped the cube into the air and caught it without
looking.

“That isn’t true. I—”

“Captain, you know the greater the risk, the greater the
reward, right?” She flipped it again.

“Sure, but—”

She flipped it higher, irritating him with her indifference
to the cube’s importance.

He rose from his seat. “I know that, Ericca, but—” He leaned
across his desk and on her next toss, snatched it before it hit her hand. Seating
himself, he replaced the cube in its cradle.

Her eyes flicked to him, then the cube, and then back to
him. “Sir, take advantage of Archer and me being here. We’ll do our best to
keep you safe. I promise.”

Crossing his arms, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, and tapped
his chin thoughtfully. “I just don’t think the rewards justify the risks.”

“It’s a wonder you make ends meet.”

He dropped his eyes to her. “You want a raise, is that it?”

“I don’t want a raise. Fires and furnaces, sir, I’d take a
pay cut if we can just break this blasted hometown monotony. A scrape once in a
while, a shootout, a fistfight, give us something to do; something dangerous.
That’s all we’re asking.”

“There
was
this job,” he said referring to stealing
these two Talons. “
That
was dangerous.”

“That was dangerous only because you made it so.”

“What?

“The fact is,
that
was amateur hour.”

“Really?” he said, incensed. He and his mom had taken great
pains to work out every detail. “And what would you have done?”

“Oh . . .
now
you ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a gizmo guy. I get that. But
I’m
your chief
security officer.
I
should be the first person you come to about matters
of security. Not Mommy.”

“Leave Mom out of this.”

“You should stick to making your whatzits and leave security
operations like this last one to me and Archer.”

“Excuse me? I am the captain of this vessel, and—”

“A job you’re completely unsuited to.”

“What? Hey!”

“Someone had to tell you.”

“Is that what you believe, that as captain I’m out of my
element here?”

“Doesn’t this last job prove that?”

“Ericca, I . . .” he threw up his hands, and spun
away. Taking a cleansing breath, he turned back and dropped his hands flat to
his desk. “Okay . . . Fine! What was wrong with this last job?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I do. Tell me.” He threw up a hand to halt her. “No. Never
mind.”

“Fine.” Ericca pushed to her feet, focused on the black cube
once more and picked it up. “What is this?” she said, testing its weight.

“It’s an urn; the remains of a friend. Put it down.”

Her brows leveled. “Sure.” She set it back into its holder,
then turned on her heels and headed out.

“Wait!” Capt. Kori hurried after her, catching her before
she ducked through the end-of-the-corridor hatch. “I do want to know,” he said.
“What was wrong with this last job?” He wanted to grab her shoulders and spin
her around to face him, but—
he yanked his hand back
—touching her like
that could be taken the wrong way. Ericca was very capable of returning his arm
to him broken.

Already halfway through the hatch, Ericca stopped. Hesitant,
she pulled her foot back, turned, and pressed a stiff, accusing finger to his
chest. “You took all kinds of security risks just to play dress up.”

“Dress up?”

“Yes, dress up. You made a gizmo that makes you look older,
so you just
had
to use it. You’re the captain. You’re in charge. Fine.
But
that
scheme just to get two Talons?
That
was convoluted.”

“Convoluted?”

“It was completely unnecessary.”

His jaw dropped.

Ericca nostrils flared. She was on fire; her tone ardent but
measured. As angry as she was, to Jordon she was no less breathtaking. Gathering
himself, he crossed his arms, and forced to the front the only coherent reply
he cold think of. “Oh, really?!”

“You should have at least asked me what I thought of it.
But, apparently, to you I’m just a potted plant.”

“And what would
you
have done instead,
Miss
Security
expert?”

“I would have stunned those arrogant dillholes, taken their
ships outright, and then sold those men into slavery.”

“Sold them? What the—”

“Oh, don’t look so incensed. Working a farm would’ve done’em
good. A year or two working the mines of Kesselring would have humbled them
some. You saw how those arrogant cocks strutted in here. You saw how they
treated your mother. That didn’t bother you?”

“I never considered taking offence. That’s just the way
those people are.”

“A man treats a frail old lady like crap, and you’re okay
with that? Wow.”

“Those are Confederate enforcers, Ericca. You take the crap
they dish out. That’s just the way it is. Do you somehow see it differently?”

“I do.”

“So you—”

“You stun them, Captain, take their ships, and sell those
jerks into slavery.”

“If it were only that simple.”

“It
is
just that simple. Like I said, you made it
more than it had to be. Taking them down a notch or two would’ve served ’em
right. What did you do? You coughed in the man’s face. Really? Was that the
best you could dish out?”

“Human trafficking is out of the question. I’m not selling
men into slavery.”

Her face softened. Ericca almost smiled. “Your loss, boss.
You could’ve used the money.” Her voice was so pleasant Jordon almost forgot
what he was saying.

“We’re doing just fine,” he said, lowering her tone to match
hers. “Who says a man has to be rich anyway?”

“Rich?” she said, no longer holding back her smile. Her
voice was butter, smooth and sweet. “Who says a man should live hand to mouth
when he doesn’t have too?”

“We’re not . . .” He wanted to snatch her up in
his arms then and there. Her eyes certainly seemed to be inviting him to do
just that. But that couldn’t be right. He was letting his imagination get the
better of him. Steeling himself, he lowered his tone. “No, Ericca . . .
I’m not going to dignify that with—”

“Fine!” She spun around and headed away. “Then we’re done
here.”

“I’m not finished!” he called after her, but it was too
late. She disappeared through the hatch and was gone. Ericca Archer was his
weakness. He had only a vague recollection now of what they’d just said to each
other, so clouded did she muddle his mind. It was then that he realized his
heart was thundering against his breastbone, and no because of anger.

Jordon ran an irritated hand over his face. Of all the—

How dare she?!

He spun around toward his office, then peered back over his
shoulder at the open hatch. Damn it!

The worst thing was . . . she was right. Hearing
it aloud though . . . he felt as if he’d been punched. Like beasts
scratching at the door, his long held secrets wanted out into the open. Always
in the back of his mind he knew this day would one day come and now here it
was, but he had no idea how to broach the subject with Ericca, or how to tell
her the truth about the real reasons he’d hired her and Riley to begin with.

Ericca was by no means a fool. She had an insightful,
inquisitive mind, and as his chief of security she was solid, confident, and
capable. Given time, she’d eventually discover his secrets. How could she not?
His avoidance in letting her do her job was growing only too obvious. He
sighed. If he told her why he did what he did she would surely hate him, and he
most certainly didn’t want that.