Toward the Unknown: A Glimpse of The Future

By Linda Pittillo

This is a science fiction novel set in the 23rd Century. Sharah is a Terran Mercenary Pilot who is
ordered to team up with a gunner from another planet named Jehan. He is from the planet Canaan.
He is over 6 foot with four arms and no hair. But he has snapping black eyes, a calm demeanor and a wicked sense of humor.
They go through a lot of dangers, each saving the other's life.
Through each dangerous encounter with natural and unnatural enemies, they realize that the differences between them don't mean as much as their feelings for each other.
Eventually they become lovers and that causes its own set of problems. Not just with the authorities but they are both independent, determined people who clash more than once.
Sharah and Jehan overcome not just their enemies but their own stubbornness to continue their journey Toward The Unknown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483579498

Linda Pittillo

Linda Pittillo has been writing almost since she learned to read. Her inspiration was the many science fiction and horror books she read in the 1950s and 1960s. Also the Hammer Film Productions prevalent in the 1960s became her guide as to the character of vampires. The old black and white movies about werewolves shown on late night TV fascinated her too. Naturally, Star Trek was a big influence in her teenage years. And just a few years ago she met William Shatner. Linda has to confess she reads a lot of romance books too. All of her books have a romantic component. She has traveled all over the country with her husband because of his career. However, about 10 years ago she settled in Southeast Texas and loves it. She is a member of the American Association of University Women, the Orange County Friends, the Golden Kiwanis and the American Legion Auxiliary. Although Linda has written all of her life, she became discouraged a few years ago by the rejection of a mainstream publisher and wrote without trying to publish anything. Now however, she wants others to enjoy reading the books she has so enjoyed writing. She says that sometimes in her books the characters seem to have minds of their own and she has to change their actions to fit their characters. She has begun promoting her books in such venues as the Orange, Texas annual Art In The Park. She usually has a booth at the outlet for local vendors, Orange Trade Days, which is held one weekend a month also in Orange, Texas. Her previously published books are Toward the Unknown and Survivors of the Darkness. Her current book, Beyond the Darkness, is a sequel to Survivors of the Darkness.

Book preview

Epilogue

Prologue

The Captain of the starship Star Seeker was sleeping soundly when the comm woke him up. They were docked at Ancilles II for some minor repairs and he was enjoying a well deserved rest. Most of his crew was on shore leave and he had gone to bed that night hoping for no incidences.

In the middle of the 23nd century the Canaaners and the Ancilleans were the only intelligent races that the Terrans had discovered so far, although there were definite indications of other races in other star systems. Terrans and Canaaners were always in dispute, some even leading to armed conflicts.

This was a neutral planet but there was a lot of ill feeling between his mercenaries and the Canaaner mercenaries. However, all the crew had been given orders to behave themselves. Especially since the Ancilleans had very inventive ways of punishing wrong doers.

So he sighed when the duty officer commed him. He knew that it wouldn’t be good news. Before the duty officer could even say anything the gray haired Captain McClellan interrupted him, Ok, who and how many of my men have pissed off the natives?

The young female duty officer replied in a hesitant voice, Uh, only three Sir. However, it wasn’t exactly three men.

He had a sinking feeling, Lieutenant Laslo and who else?

Yes, sir, the other two were John MacDonald and the rookie pilot Marian Mason.

Very well, notify me when the all of them have returned to the ship. And I suppose I will be receiving a notification from the Ancilleans. I don’t feel like dealing with them, have Maxwell do it. After all he’s the Mercenaries’ commanding officer.

He sighed. Laslo was a hell of a pilot but as much trouble as she was worth

Chapter One

First Lieutenant Laslo’s first sensation upon waking up was a throbbing headache. Her second was the urge to go to the bathroom. She slowly opened her eyes. She was glad the lights were dim. She didn’t think her head would stand much light at this time. It might explode.

She wondered briefly whether the headache was due to the amount of alcohol she had consumed or whether it was the result of the fight she had lost.

Either way it hurt.

She sat up on the comfort couch and took inventory of her surroundings. Not her cubicle on the Terran Explorer II star ship, The Star Seeker, that was for sure. Then she looked at the padded door and the two-way glass and knew she was in the brig again.

If anything now her headache was worse. Command’s patience was beginning to wear thin. She had been in trouble a little too much lately

She just hoped it was the ship’s brig and not one planet side. In the ships brig she might be able to talk herself out of it, but the natives here didn’t care for Mercenaries in general and her in particular. She groaned. The lisping, sing song voice that came out of the small com unit to her left wasn’t a Terran voice.

Good morning, First Lieutenant Laslo. The bathroom is to the left of your bed. There is a small privacy curtain. When you are inside I will activate it. I trust you will not try to escape our hospitality again. You remember the unpleasant consequences last time?

Well so much for the hope it was the ship’s brig. The computer-enhanced voice confirmed her worst fears. She was planet side.

Ten months ago, Galactic time, she had made the mistake of landing in the local brig here. Their security had been lax because she was both a Terran and a woman. She had made use of their carelessness.

She managed to get out of the bathroom cubicle by using a small laser knife she had hidden inside her uniform. By cutting a hole behind the primitive chemical toilet she had gotten into the next cell, which was empty and open.

However she had soon been caught and their idea of proper punishment wasn’t pleasant. It involved simulated electrical shock to her brain circuits using sonic rays. The pain had been intense but not physically harmful.

It had taught her that for a so-called peaceful race the Ancilleans were singularly inventive in doling out punishment. So she assured the Ancillean voice that she was in no shape to escape even if she wanted to.

In the small bathroom cubicle she emptied her bladder. The Ancilleans had only a rudimentary idea of what a humanoid required in a toilet. The device they supplied was too tall and too wide. So emptying her bladder became an exercise in ingenuity

By the time she finished the com unit was buzzing again. She yelled that she wouldn’t be much longer.

Then she took a moment to survey her condition. They didn’t supply mirrors. She didn’t blame them. If she were as ugly as they were she wouldn’t either.

However, she used the shiny surface of the metal sink to look at herself. Her long blonde hair was down around her shoulder instead of up on her head like she usually wore it.

Her red and black Mercenary uniform was torn and dirty. Her cheek was swollen and her forehead had a large bruise. She wondered what the other guy looked like.

She grimaced. He probably didn’t look as bad as she did. At least she hadn’t been fighting Ancilleans.

Since this was their planet, that would have been stupid. It was another Mercenary unit from the Canaan Planetary Expedition

She wondered how Marian and Jackie Mac had fared. The last she remembered they had been behind her as she hit one of the Amphibs with a bar stool.

Then someone had come up from behind her and before she could respond to Marian’s warning, she felt a blow from what much have been from a laser rifle across her head.

She searched her uniform and found a comb. The Ancilleans must have searched her while she was unconscious. They had taken all her paperwork and her weapons but left her personal things. The idea of those bugs even touching her gave her the creeps.

She ran a comb through her hair and made it look a little better. She found her color kit and used it to make her lips a pale pink and her cheeks a rose color. Then she straightened her uniform as best she could and went back to the main cubicle.

When she answered the buzzer it was to a different voice, but it was still the lisping voice of an Ancillean trying to make Galactic sounds with lips that weren’t made to form the words.

You are awake. I am Grand Executor Ins. You have been charged and found guilty of excessive force and over consumption of alcohol, and destruction of Ancillean property. There is a monetary fine of 10,000 Galactic credits and a mandatory fifteen minute sonic treatment.

It took a moment for her to absorb what he said. Then she was angry. How could she be convicted when she hadn’t even been tried?

Wait a minute, what do you mean charged and found guilty? Under Intergalactic law I’m entitled to a hearing.

Quite right. And if you wish one, we can schedule one. However, because of the system of courts it will be six to eight months before a hearing will be granted. During that time you will be kept here. There is a fee for remaining here over 24 hours. That will be added to your fine whether found guilty or innocent. Most Otherworlders prefer to accept the fine and punishment.

What about the others?

"Your two comrades were given a fine but not the punishment since they didn’t instigate the fight.

They have paid their fine and been escorted back to your ship."

And the Canaaners?

Four have been given the same fine as your friends. The fifth is also charged and convicted of the same offenses with the same fine and a sonic punishment of five minutes.

Why does he get less time?

Because this is your second offense. It is only his first. Now do you have the 10,000 credits?

She suspected that he already knew exactly what her bank account contained. It would clean her out but she would pay.

Hell, she wasn’t about to spend six months on this two-bit planet. She couldn’t make any money that way. Besides she’d go space crazy if she had to stay here that long.

Yeah, get my bank online and I’ll have the credits transferred. Look is there any way I can get the sonic punishment waived?

No, I’m truly sorry but the punishment must fit the crime.

He signed off and she snorted to herself. He didn’t sound very regretful. If they weren’t such an emotionless race, she would have sworn he sounded happy about it.

Too soon the cell door opened. Two Ancillean guards escorted her out. She hated the Ancilleans more than she hated the Canaaners because at least the Canaaners were humanoid and were good fighters.

However, officially the Ancilleans were supposed to be treated with respect because they were allies of the Confederation. On a personal level though, she’d rather talk with a Terran roach than the Ancilleans.

The Ancilleans reminded her of giant Terran spiders except they had six legs and didn’t spin web. They were about five foot tall when standing on the two legs they used to balance themselves. They were an ugly yellow and salivated through their elongated mouth constantly.

According to the Confederation they were highly intelligent but unemotional beings. She figured that anything that reproduced by

swallowing the male’s sperm and then depositing eggs couldn’t have much in the way of emotions.

The females didn’t even raise their own young. Sterile females cared for the young in huge nurseries.

Although that wasn’t too different than the infant schools where Terran mothers could send their children, the difference was enough to make her wince. A Terran mother still visited her children and kept up a relationship. Ancilleans produced young, put them in the nurseries and then produced more.

But the Confederation had a treaty with them. They produced anchorite and that was what fueled the ion drive. Ancilleans were also good at repair functions and this planet was an ideal location to put in for necessary repairs.

The problem was that the Canaaners used the same substance so they had a treaty too. So of necessity this was considered a neutral planet. That meant there were bound to be Terrans and Canaaners planet side at the same time.

The Canaaners and the Terrans weren’t enemies as much as competitors. Both wanted the rights to discoveries among the stars. Both had Mercenaries like herself who went along to protect the scientists and explorers on these long trips.

There were minor skirmishes between the

Mercenaries on newly discovered planets with the winner getting to claim the planet but the star ships never battled each other. It was too costly. And both planets were concerned with their bottom lines.

Besides with all the unknowns out here they might need to help each other. That had never happened but both governments recognized the possibility

However, right now all she cared about was the fact that taking fifteen minutes of Ancillean punishment on top of a hangover and possible concussion was asking too much.

She looked up and spoke to one of the communicators located along the passageways to the punishment area. She knew that it was a direct link to the Grand Executor.

Look, I have a head injury; you could cause me physical harm by doing this. You know according to the treaty of 2230 you can’t do that.

There was a murmur and then a reply, Our physician has checked your head injury, although possibly painful, there is no sign of concussion. Your punishment will go ahead as scheduled.

Sharah Laslo muttered to herself, Damn Tarantulas. Sure would like to see a big Terran bird make a meal of them.

One of her escorts grabbed her arm and pulled her to walk faster. By the roughness of the gesture he must have understood Galactic because he wasn’t pleased.

Soon the passageway ended in a large open room. Glass windows surrounded the room. She could see the damn bugs stirring. So it was to be public.

In the middle of the room were two chairs.

They were obviously for humanoids because no Ancillean could have sat in one.

Fitted over the top of the chair was a cone like metal object. She knew from experience that it would be fitted to her specific brain configuration.

Then she would be strapped down tightly they said so that she wouldn’t hurt herself when the pain began.

She couldn’t help struggling at that point and it took four of the guard’s six legs to subdue her. She wasn’t a coward but this was an experience she could damn well do without. Especially since she was still hurting from the brawl in the bar.

But then she saw a door open on the opposite side of the room and the Canaaner was being brought in. He was walking upright but he didn’t look too well, either.

She had always admired the Canaaner’s physical strength. Their strength was much greater than any Terran’s. But that was because most of them were at least seven feet tall with four arms.

They made an impressive sight. That was especially true if you were going one on one with them in a bar fight, which she had experienced more than once.

They were humanoid but it didn’t take a geneticist to see that their process of evolution had taken a different course. Their ancestors were definitely amphibian instead of mammalian.

That was especially obvious because in addition to four arms and their seven foot height, they were hairless. Their skin was rougher and had a green tinge to it.

Although their appendages were human and so were their faces, their teeth were pointed and sharp.

Their ears were small and lay back on their head. Their eyes were slightly slanted and a dead black. But their noses were as individual as any Terrans and what little of what she had seen of them, their chest, back and legs were humanoid.

Of course, the speculation was about their genitals. The lore was that the males had two penises and the female’s two vaginas. Every one said that was impossible, but none of the books on them told you whether it was true or not. And since fraternization was not only discouraged but probably impossible, no one knew for sure.

However, right now all she was worried about was that they would be punished at the same time. That meant that if she screamed and humiliated herself like she had the last time all of the Canaaners would know it.

She recognized this particular Canaaner as the one that she had been trying to hit with the bar stool when she had been hit with the rifle.

He’d been the one to start it but she was being given the bigger punishment. He had dried blood on his chin and one of his arms had a repair bandage on it. She must have broken it. Good.

It wasn’t fair that he had to undergo the punishment for only five minutes when he was just as guilty as she was.

However, he was probably new to this delightful little hellhole and hadn’t pissed off the natives yet. Given the Ancillean nature he could probably count on a bigger punishment if he ever got in trouble again.

He looked up and saw her at the same time. It didn’t take a psi officer to be able to read his mind as well. He didn’t want her to see his humiliation either.

As they were strapped down, she whispered, Look, let’s agree, nothing that happens in this room, goes beyond this room, Deal?

He nodded and then lifted his eyes to the spectators, Fine by me, but what about the bugs?

Shit no one listens to them.

Now they were strapped down tight and couldn’t talk anymore. She listened to the reading of the sentence with disinterest. She was trying to mentally prepare herself for the worst.

The Canaaner began a loud protest, Why is the Terran being given more punishment than I am.

"The ugly yellow bug that was the Executor answered contemptuously

Even though it’s none of your business I’ll tell you. The maximum for a first offense is five minutes. This Terran has caused trouble every time it comes here. This is its second offense and we have given it the maximum of 15 minutes.

She managed to whisper, shut up you stupid Amphib, they can always call it your second offense if you dare question their decisions. And believe me you don’t want more of this shit than you have to take. Just take deep breaths and don’t fight it. It hurts more if you do.

His hooded eyelids came down making him look very dangerous. He looked sinister with no eyelashes. She decided to shut up. According to the treaty, you may cause no physical harm nor can you give us any punishment that would dishonor us among our own race, Am I correct?

Yes, but your superiors have deemed the sonic punishment not a dishonor for you among your race because pain is not a dishonor, but just payment for your crimes.

Yes, but if this Terran receives fifteen minutes and myself only five, my race will laugh at me for not being as strong as this Gleeb.

How will your people know? We don’t communicate these things to you internals.

Laslo saw where the Canaaner was going, But I will. It will make me a great hero in my race’s eyes to have endured more pain than an Amphib.

Now there was some discussion, Well, we could give you fifteen minutes too?

No not and abide by the terms of the treaty. You can’t increase my sentence just to make yourself look good. You either have to give her just the five minutes you give me, or let us both go.

The Ancilleans were muttering among themselves. This was a problem. They had to stick to the treaty.

Laslo muttered under her breath, I owe you one.

My man shouldn’t have hit you with the rifle; I was just starting to enjoy myself.

She grinned, Me too.

The discussion ended, Very well, your sonic sentences have been stayed. You will both be escorted to your respective ships and not be allowed back on the planet. Until both your ships are gone you will not be seen off your ship or your sentences will be doubled

Both of them gave a huge sigh of relief. Neither one of them were cowards but the idea of squirming for even five minutes while the bugs watched was terrible.

They were unstrapped and led down the passageway and out into the weak Ancillean sun. Despite her insulated uniform, she shivered. This was a cold planet.

She looked over at the Canaaner and saw he was shivering. He came from a warm humid planet and this was probably worse on him than her. But she didn’t say anything.

They were made to walk the three miles to the ship docks. The guards prodded them with sticks if they slowed down, but since the damn bugs were slow anyway they took their time.

His deep grumble she guessed was supposed to be a laugh, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

His Galactic was excellent. She had noticed that when he had addressed the bugs.

No, but I’ve spent enough time confined to quarters with nothing to do that I’ve learned to read up on any planet we’re stuck on. There are only so many tech specs you can study before you go space crazy. So I make it a practice to study up on planet falls. As a gunner, I don’t need much time to count my credits.

I know what you mean. I find myself downloading all kinds of strange info by the time we get somewhere. What’s wrong with your ship? I mean unless it’s classified.

On this planet? Hell the bugs bugs make more credits selling info to our officers than they do with their repairs. Damn Ion Drive, something about the mags not being in sync, whatever that means. I’m just a soldier not a damn ship jockey.

Our navigation system has a computer glitch that the stupid engineers can’t find. Can you imagine a star ship that can’t find its butt with both hands?

He laughed again, At least you weren’t in deep space when it happened. I can see by what’s left of your uniform you’re a Mercenary. The way you fight you must be a gunner. That’s what I am.

She sniffed, Gunner hell, I’m a pilot. I fly the 25-15-7. Best little scout ship ever made.

Our TKO 25 will fly rings around that little mosquito of yours.

Nothing out flies the 25. However the TKO might have a chance if your pilots ever figured out one end of the controller from the other.

Our pilots are the best in the Galaxy. But even if they weren’t it wouldn’t matter. Because at least when we find a target we can hit it. If your gunners didn’t count the near misses they’d never get their quota.

"Now wait a minute. Our gunners are good and they only have two arms to use instead of four. That gives you a distinct advantage in gunnery control. And even with that disadvantage our gunners are better than

But just as the discussion was starting to get heated they came to the dock and he had to go left another half mile and she had to go right another mile. To keep the peace the Canaaner ships and the Terran ships were always docked at opposite ends of the repair docks.

They stopped, Look, thanks again for the reprieve. My name’s Sharah. If we are ever on a planet with a decent bar I’ll buy you a drink.

I’m Jehan. And I never turn down a free drink.

She turned to go her way and smiled. He wasn’t too bad for a Canaaner. Then the smile left her face when she saw who was waiting for her at the entrance bay.

Of all the officers she could have run into, it would have to be Captain Maxwell. He was as neat as always, his black uniform with his red rank stripes tight enough to show his thin figure. His thin brown hair was always in place. His short stature was disguised by high heeled military boots.

His watery blue eyes saw the armed escort and her bedraggled state. But he didn’t look surprised.

She hoped it was because he had been alerted by the large withdrawal from her bank account and not that the Captain had been informed.

The computer would have alerted him to the large withdrawal from her funds. As her direct superior, he was required to okay all large withdrawals in any of his unit’s accounts. That kept them from being blackmailed or bamboozled by the natives.

He spoke to the Ancilleans in their own language and they retreated courteously. He didn’t say a word to her, just motioned her to follow him. The moving stairway up to the Captain’s office moved much too fast for Sharah’s comfort.

She knew she was in deep this time. This last year she had been in trouble a lot. This could be the last ion in the drive. It was just her luck that she had drawn this outfit for the second time. The Mercenaries bid on what ship they wanted to protect. The officers also bid among themselves for the same honors.

Everyone wanted a top treasure finder like The Star Seeker. The mercenaries were paid a percentage of whatever the ship found on its journeys and the skipper, Joe McClellan, had a reputation for sniffing out the richest planets.

The bids were on the basis of seniority and since she had been in the Mercenaries for over ten years she got the pick of the ships for her rank. Of course over the years her rank had gone up and down several times.

Captain Maxwell was a lazy coward who let others do the work and then he took the credit. Of course his superiors didn’t acknowledge that so he had risen from being her rank to his rapidly. But she had known him when and he didn’t like her for it.

Although he was just a little older than she was he tried to be paternal with her and it hadn’t worked. Then he’d suggest they get to know each other better and when he woke up in the hospital that had been the end of any chance of being friends

She had almost quit and asked for a lesser trip when she found out he was going to be leading them this time but the promise of credits was just too good to give up. She needed the big find percentage badly.

She would just have to put up with him. She wasn’t about to let him keep her from getting her share of a big bonus. That would please him too much.

And besides when they were in space, she always kept to her cubicle and he was never the actual leader on an exploration, he left that to other officers. He said it was because he needed to concentrate on strategic matters.

She knew it was because he wasn’t a good enough pilot to maneuver into the hairy places they sometimes had to fly.

But now he was in his element. He sat down at his large stasis desk and motioned she take a chair in front of him.

First Lieutenant Laslo, how long have we been docked here?

Three days, I believe Sir.

And when did you take your shore leave?

Two days ago. I was in the last crew to take shore leave. I had to catch up on some reports about our last mission.

Correct. In that short forty-eight hours I have received an official complaint from my opposite number in the Canaaner contingent, protesting that you broke one Canaaner’s arm, and the noses of two others. Plus the Captain received a direct comm from the Ancillean Executor which he had me answer.

He cleared his throat, The Ancillean Executor informed me that you were in their brig and that he didn’t want you to set foot on his planet ever again. He further insinuated that if I couldn’t control my men, he might reconsider giving anyone shore leave. I don’t like to be insulted by the natives, nor given ultimatums.

He shook his head, Sharah, I’m not happy. This is the kind of thing I would expect of a trainee, not a seasoned veteran.

He leaned back and sighed, My sick bay reports that two of my men have broken noses and multiple contusions. Marian had to have minor surgery on her hand. It seems she broke it on a Canaaner’s jaw. She’s a damn good pilot and I would hate to lose her because she is trying to follow your example. Is that clear?

Before she could respond he continued, And every one of these reports say that you instigated the brawl. That you were drunk and belligerent.

She protested, Now wait a minute. That Canaaner Jehan was just as drunk and just as belligerent.

But you threw the first punch.

Only because he called me an amoeba sized oxygen sucking Gleeb. And that all Terrans should go back to swinging through trees and leave spacing to the better race.

He winced at her language. He knew that a Gleeb was slang for Gleebing, which was a Canaaner mammal similar in size and temperament to a Terran baboon.

It was considered a fighting word. But nevertheless he couldn’t excuse her actions.

Yes, and First Lieutenant Jehan is being spoken to by his superior about the name calling. But from what I understand you called him a, Here he blushed, a two-willyed Amphib who should be home making polliwogs.

Sharah had the grace to look uncomfortable, Well, Sir, it wasn’t meant in a derogatory way, it was just a figure of speech. I didn’t know he could understand Galactic that well, either.

He scowled, Bull, First Lieutenant Laslo. Look I’m warning you. The service has just about had enough of your wild shenanigans. I know you’re a damn good pilot but even good pilots can be replaced.

Are you then? She said sarcastically.

They were thousands of light years from any replacement depot, and there wasn’t even another star ship in this part of the Galaxy. She knew they could bust her down to nothing but they had to let her fly.

Damn you, you know I would if I could. Hell, I’d even get one of their pilots if he would take it.

Uh, Sir, they fly TKO’s. We fly 25’s. By the time you taught them the 25’s the mission would be over. Besides, our cockpits aren’t exactly made for seven foot giants.

Oh, Mercury’s butt, just consider yourself confined to quarters until further notice. And after this mission I will be presenting the facts to the review board, again.

Yes, sir, may I go sir?

Sharah saluted and left the room, and only then gave a sigh of relief. He could have demoted her and then her share of any profits would be less and she couldn’t afford that.

She was already behind in her zipper payments. It was a brand new high performance nuke zipper. She had owned it for two years but was still making payments on it.

It was at home on Taurus III. Not that Taurus III was a home. It was an efficiency cubicle set among thousands on the Terran Colony.

Sharah was only there between assignments and since she volunteered for everyone she could, that was seldom. But she liked the speed and performance of the zipper when she as there.

Of course, it was an old joke, most space pilots were known for the fast brightly colored zippers they drove.

When she reached her cubicle the com light was blinking. It was probably Marian wanting to know what happened. She would call her later.

She first took a hot shower and changed into her flowing blue robe. Now that she was confined to quarters she didn’t have to wear her uniform all the time.

She used up her whole day’s quota of water on the shower but she needed it to shampoo her hair and bathe all her bumps and bruises.

She sent the uniform down the repair chute. They had to pay for all off duty damage to their uniforms. She knew the cost would come out of her profits.

She was beginning to wonder what profits, though. If they didn’t get off this damn bug planet soon, she’d never make up those 10,000 credits. She sighed. No use worrying over something she had no control.

She switched on her com and dialed Marian’s cubicle. She imagined Marian was anxious to hear what happened.

She was right. The lively redhead answered at the first beep. Her arm was in a repair bandage and she sported a glorious black eye. But she grinned when she answered anyway.

Marian was also a pilot but this was her first assignment. She had all the eagerness of a young recruit but she was highly skilled and with a little seasoning she would be one of the best. She was already a damn good fighter. The tall redhead had