Fugitive: Collaborator, #2

By Krista D. Ball

Hope is a luxury traitors can't afford.
To say Rebecca has some doubts about her personal choices would be underestimating the situation. In this second installment of the Collaborator series, Rebecca finds herself being chased by Blackout officers, border patrol, military intelligence, and surveillance drones. 

Rebecca still isn't sure she can trust any of these people who'd escaped the exploding station, but what choice does she have? She is a fugitive and a certain Blackout officer wants her back. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Krista D. Ball
• Release date: Nov 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386528784

Book preview

Chapter 1

Rebecca gripped the flight chair’s arm rests and waited for the signal. Every muscle in her body ached from tension. Even if she wanted to, she wasn’t convinced she knew how to move from this position. Not that she would until they said it was clear.

The flight deck reeked of fart, urine, and body odor. Shivers periodically went through her, caused by the wet coveralls she’d been sitting in for the last six hours. She tried not to consider the rash and urinary tract infection she was likely developing at that very moment from sitting in her own piss. What kind of monster designs a flight deck without a toilet?

In the moments like these—and there’d been many since her descent into this madness of joining these fugitives—Rebecca played mental games to keep herself from fright vomiting. She’d think about where the people on Star Trek’s USS Enterprise peed. Sometimes, she’d even smile and chuckle to herself for a brief moment or two about how ship designers were clearly giant men with steel bladders. Then the terror would grab her guts and, once more, she’d go back to shivering from both dampness and fright.

Kat was standing in front of a wall of display screens. A safety harness kept her in one spot in case of emergency maneuvers. There’d been plenty of those. She shook her head at the bright orange light that flashed. Sensors say they’re still on our trail.

Mav was seated at the far front of the cramped deck in what she assumed was the main pilot’s chair. She didn’t know that for certain, but his displays were far more detailed than the others around him and he constantly talked about piloting things. Mav looked over his shoulder at Kat. Even from the distance they were apart, Rebecca could see the exhaustion in his face. Sensors are lying.

Tobi was seated across the aisle from Rebecca. This allowed Rebecca to reach over and apply basic first aid whenever Tobi’s leg began bleeding again. Which happened frequently. Tobi needed a doctor and soon. Otherwise, they were going to be asking the computer how to perform an emergency amputation. Rebecca did her best to keep the antibiotics and pain killers pumped into Tobi as much as possible, but the last first aid class she’d taken was when she’d arrived on Jupiter station years ago. That only covered things like chemical burns and how to get out of a collapsed service walkway. She’d never taken anything that was designed to do extended medical assistance. The computer had plenty of medical files, though, and Rebecca read and listened to everything she could about how best to look after severe blood loss and an open wound.

Frances, I’ve told you three times. It’s Corps signal buoys, Tobi offered. They’ve been experimenting with them in border space. Pirates and rebels avoid them and just end up herded toward a pursuit squad. By the time you realize what’s happening, you’re back on their sensors and you’re in for another chase.

Rebecca glanced over at Tobi. She was a mess. On the station, Tobi’s dark skin had a glow of vitality. Now, it had an almost grey undertone to it, the wound leeching out her lifeforce. It didn’t stop her brain, though. She was as level-headed as always.

Do we even have fuel for another chase? Chad asked. He was seated directly in front of her, surrounded by his own monitors, though they were much smaller than Kat’s or Mav’s. He had the main monitor’s arm pulled close to his face, as he was strapped in as tight as she was into her own chair.

Wouldn’t crossing the buoys just pick us up anyway? Patrice asked from the co-pilot chair. Her chair was to Mav’s left, with a significantly smaller array of touchscreens and monitor readouts.

Someone make a decision, Mav snapped.

The crew members who were still awake bickered until finally Kat decided that they stay on course. Sure enough, sensors picked up a buoy. They veered around it, and changed course several times in hopes that its limited scanners would send confusing data on their location.

It took another thirty-six hours before Kat and Mav agreed and declared they’d successfully shaken the search patrols. Rebecca was still strapped into the back of the cargo ship’s cramped cockpit, still looking after Tobi. Except for Rebecca and Tobi, most had taken turns sleeping in the narrow corridor between the seats whenever someone was too tired to concentrate on the many screens that surrounded the flight deck. Rebecca’s seat didn’t have a working console, though Patrice had begrudgingly offered her a headset so that she could follow the conversations at the front better.

Kat let out a huge sigh. She had been standing at her side console for nearly the entire time, flashing through screens upon screens of data. Her eyes were bloodshot and three angry-looking whiteheads had formed on her chin during their escape. Her uniform’s armpits were dark from sweat, adding to the soot and bloodstains that it had already earned in the escape.

Are we sure we lost them? Her voice was equal parts exhaustion and irritation. Rebecca knew that tone all too well. Kat needed something to eat and a full night’s sleep or else heads were going to figuratively roll.

A thought crossed her mind, that perhaps this new Kat would make actual heads roll. The thought hurt Rebecca and made her feel ashamed. Kat was a hero; maybe even some kind of superhero fighting against injustice. But the fight had changed Kat. Perhaps it was simply the mask she was wearing for Jupiter Station. That’s what Rebecca tried to convince herself, but it didn’t work. There was cruelty and loss in Kat’s eyes that was never there before. This war had changed her.

Mav was still seated in the main flight chair. He’d not left the position throughout it all, though he’d said there were digestive benefits to not having had eaten much in days. He’d refused most offers of water for that very reason, and only popped the occasional nutritional chew to keep himself from fainting. His hands were roving around, tapping various fingers at the screens in front of him and the one projected upward. There’s nothing coming up on any of my sensors. We’re clean from my view. Grant?

Grant hadn’t spoken much since the escape. He’d been seated across the aisle from Rebecca, one seat ahead of Tobi with a screen of scrolling data. I’m clean over here.

Same, Chad said. Rebecca was still adjusting to him being a rebel and not her goofy pod-mate with a UV addiction.

Same, Patrice said. Her screen projected different views of the ship’s exterior, as there were no physical windows in the cockpit.

Kat ran a shaky hand through her cropped bangs. Okay. Good. Good. Everyone take a shitter break, and, Rebecca? Get us some food. Real food this time.

Sure, Rebecca said quietly into her headset microphone. She pulled off the headset and made the short trip out of the flight deck, past some storage, and into a cramped living area.

The first time Kat had ordered food service from her, Rebecca had assumed she wasn’t included in the meal service. She fetched them protein bars, emergency chews, and electrolyte pouches, then quietly sat down to watch them eat and slurp. None of them noticed her, until Chad offered her half of his bar. She’d accepted it, though she didn’t eat the entire thing. Part went into her overalls breast pocket for later. Chad noticed her habit, but he didn’t say anything. Just a pensive expression before he turned back to his screens.

She glanced at the eight bunk bed pods against the one wall of the cramped living area. No one had used them yet because even Tobi with her injuries wanted to be on the flight deck in case things went to hell. Rebecca assumed the bunk beds were like submarine pods, where people shared them in shifts. For the size of the cargo hauler, she guessed anywhere from fifteen to twenty people were needed to run it when it was full, and maybe even more.

She wondered if she’d be allowed to use one of the beds eventually, or if she would be forced to sleep in a chair.

Rebecca shook off her thoughts to concentrate on the task ahead. Kat said they were safe, so obviously, they were safe. That meant food, bathroom, rest. She couldn’t do anything useful to help run the ship, unless something broke down or needed hardwiring, so she didn’t mind being assigned a job. Being useful kept her mind busy.

A small freezer was nested under the counter. She unlocked the safety clamp and opened the door. It was packed full of individual foil pouches. She grabbed enough for everyone, minus herself, and began putting them into the quick oven that resembled a microwave, which only needed a handful of seconds to blast the freezer burn from the meals. Unfortunately, it was small and only handled one pouch at a time.

She glanced at the mini beverage machine on the wall, and flipped the ON switch. Its bangs and gurgles startled her as it pumped water into its guts. She went back to organizing the frozen pouches in a row. There were a couple of green noodles, a spicy noodle, and several options her translator insisted on calling rice, assuming rice had the texture of cauliflower which it certainly did not. She debated making a few additional pouches for both variety and the basic fact that everyone was starving. That didn’t even address how someone Maverick’s size probably needed four or five of these pouches.

The door hissed open, pulling Rebecca from her decision. Patrice strolled in, scowling. Rebecca wasn’t sure if that was her perpetual expression or just the one she saved for her. Still, she flicked a polite smile at the woman, which did nothing but make her scowl more.

What are you doing? Patrice demanded.

The bang happened again and Rebecca flinched.

What’s that noise? We can hear it on the deck.

Rebecca pointed at the small wall attachment. "Making brisbin. I thought hot drinks would be nice."

That answer just deepened the scowl. It looked like a hot reply was about to come, when Patrice’s expression changed. She sniffed the air. What is that smell?

Rebecca felt the temperature rise in her cheeks. Me.

It smells like piss.

Me, Rebecca said over the banging of the beverage machine. The ready light blinked on and she shoved an insulated mug under it. Hot liquid poured. I was unable to leave my seat when I...needed to. Do you want hot sauce and cream?

No cream, triple hot sauce, Patrice said automatically.

Rebecca hit the display button for hot sauce three times, put a lid on the mug, and passed it over. You can take a pouch of food now, or wait until I’ve cooked a few more.

She sniffed again, made a disgusted sound, and then took the Rice with Greens pouch and left. She hadn’t taken any cutlery. That might be a messy thing to eat with her hands: a thought that made Rebecca smirk.

Serves her right, Rebecca muttered aloud.

The ship lurched, and Rebecca bounced off the side of the cabinet and hit the floor. She winced, but hauled herself to her feet. Her ass ached, but she kept her hands away from her overalls, considering they were still damp from urine.

She scowled, but went back to hunting for cutlery and more insulated mugs. Rebecca’s stomach gurgled and she stared at the machine.

Screw it, she said to the device and shoved a mug under it. She pressed the brisbin button, along with the option for cream. The machine beeped, announcing it was out of cream. She sighed. Just her fucking luck.

Rebecca rummaged around until she found a small box of powdered cream. She opened up the beverage front, switched out the boxes, reattached the dispenser tubes, and shoved it all back into place. She pressed the cream button a dozen times and skipped the hot sauce.

She pulled out another selection of pouches from the freezer and began warming them up, and guzzled her brisbin instant latte. She was nearly done making the next line of meal pouches when the door opened again and Tobi hobbled in. Tobi’s cheeks were starting to regain some brightness, as opposed to the dull, almost grey undertones that came from blood loss. Rebecca had ensured she’d eaten a couple of bites every hour, even if it was just the emergency chocolate taped to Tobi’s belt.

How are you feeling? Rebecca asked.

Tobi gave her a tight smile and said, Patrice says you’re not allowed back up front until you wash. Oh, you really did piss yourself, didn’t you?

Rebecca winced. More than once.

Tobi chuckled, completely unbothered by the entire situation. You’ll figure it out, kid.

I don’t think I will, Rebecca said, in a small voice. I can’t even...

Rebecca’s eyes welled up with tears and she stopped speaking. She simply went back to taking the little pouches out of the warmer and putting them down on the counter.

Make one for yourself, Tobi instructed. You’re hungry.

I was thinking I should, but... I have no money, Rebecca said, whispering those last words with more shame that wetting herself had caused.

Kid, Tobi said with more kindness than she’d heard in a long time, we stole this ship. You don’t have to pay for food you’ve stolen. That’s why it’s called stealing.

Oh. Right, Rebecca said, heat rising in her cheeks. Sit down. I’ll bring you yours.

Tobi hobbled to the collection of pods and pulled up the privacy screen on the middle-level one, where she could sit on the edge comfortably. Rebecca read out the pouch labels, and Tobi picked out the veggies in sweet sauce with rice. Rebecca also made her a brisbin, double-double on the hot sauce and cream.

Rebecca settled on her own pouch and idly chatted with Tobi. She should call the others, but she felt somewhat normal with Tobi, like having an older sister and a grumpy grandmother all wrapped into one package. She missed having someone kind to talk to, who