 
# Mustang

## Colby Hodge

#### cindyholbybooks
Copyright © 2017 by Cindy Holby writing as Colby Hodge

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 Created with Vellum
For Linnea Sinclair who blazed a trail across the galaxy. And for saving me a seat at the Intergalactic Bar And Grill.

* * *

The kitties, who think sitting on a keyboard and standing in front of a screen is helpful.

Cisco

Dax

Gabe

and all the ones I loved before.

* * *

and with every book, my family.

### Contents

Mustang

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Also by Colby Hodge

# Mustang

# Chapter 1

"Shut it down." Shiloh Pike issued the command quietly into her com as she eased the ship into the debris left behind by an ancient asteroid. The gravel field was massive, surrounding a lifeless planet, which made it a great place to hide. She eased back on the thrusters until Mustang floated beneath a rock large enough to conceal the compact ship.

She checked her screen. Yes, the mass of the rock was much bigger than Mustang. She wasn't about to take a chance if she didn't have to. Playing it safe was what kept her and her crew alive in a deadly and dangerous business, and that was on a good day. She'd done everything she could for now. As much as she hated to admit it, the rest was out of her hands.

The ship went dark and silent as Handy flipped the main switch in the engine room. Shiloh opened the jammer app on the touch screen and added a prayer that it would work. They were long past due for some new parts, but without a haul there was no need to make port. Her cat, Cisco, jumped into her lap with a questioning look in his bright gold eyes, and Shiloh rubbed the top of his coal-black head. Cisco settled into her lap and yawned sleepily.

Shiloh kept a steady eye on the dashboard. The mercenary's ship showed up as a green blip hovering over the scattered red ones that represented the debris field. They were scanning, of course; she knew they would. The jammers should send back a dense thud that signaled the same as the hunks of rock around them. If they were lucky, the mercs would think they'd skimmed over the gravel, used the iron-based planet to mess up their sensors and then bugged out on the other side.

If they were lucky.

Making a living on the edge was dangerous and getting more so every day. It had been way too long since a good score, and Shiloh didn't have the credits to pay off the mercs or the port tariffs. Everyone in space had a hand out, ready and willing to take a cut. It sure did make it hard to earn an honest living, or in the crew of the Mustang's case, any type of living at all, thus the necessity to hide. She was pretty sure there were some outstanding warrants for her arrest and she was certain there were some on the twins, with the nose they had for trouble. Without credits to bribe the mercs, the twins were as good as gone. Not to mention Doc. Nope, Shiloh didn't want to go down that merry path.

A light on the panel flashed. A scan had found Mustang. Shiloh quickly switched apps and held her breath, added some begging to her prayer, and hoped once more that the scan bounced back negative. She checked the video feeds and saw the red headed twins, Finn and Fi, short for Fiona, sitting quietly in the turrets. Each one had eyes on the canopy above and fingers on the trigger of their blasters, in case they had to make a run for it. Her uncle and Mustang mechanic, Handy, was positioned next to the switch in the engine room, ready to power the ship back on at a moment's notice.

The cargo bay monitor was woefully empty except for the chickens that scratched around in the crevices searching for a morsel of feed. Hopefully Doc was sleeping off his latest drunken stupor, which was at times both amusing and annoying. Amusing because he came up with the most random observations. Annoying because he had a bad habit of yelling indiscriminately at people from his past that only he could see. A drunken rant from Doc would have the bounty hunters on them in a hurry. She wasn't worried about Greta, who cooked and kept the ship passably clean. Greta was an old hand at this. She knew the drill and was likely making her way to the engine room to be close to Handy in case the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Seconds passed that felt like hours. The ship stayed silent as a tomb except for Cisco's rumbling purr. Shiloh kept her eyes on her panel until a light pecking sound turned her attention to the vid screens. Finn tapped on his screen with the tip of his finger and pointed up with the other. The words "bugging out" and "vapor trail" flitted across the top of the vids. Shiloh nodded and held up her hand to signal five more minutes of silence.

Fi made a face and flipped the bird at her twin. A check of the engine room screen showed Handy had received Finn's text and was now busy wiping down a piece of machinery with a cloth while Greta stood behind him with a frown. The man didn't have the sense to see that the woman was madly in love with him. Fortunately, Shiloh had the good sense to keep out of it and let them work it out on their own.

Shiloh checked her scanners and saw the green blip moving away. Since they were in the gravitational field of the planet, the Mustang floated in tandem with the debris field away from the mercs. Another green blip showed up on the edge of her screen in the opposite direction of the merc ship.

It sure would be nice to have an extra pair of eyes. Times like this made her curse her luck at losing her co-pilot. Not that she could blame Nance for leaving when he got a better offer; still, it was nice to have someone else around since she couldn't do everything at once, no matter what she liked to tell herself.

The merc ship was definitely gone. The bounty must not be worth the hassle.

"Did anyone notice another ship when we came in?"

"I didn't," Fi responded.

"Me neither," Finn added. "What's it look like?"

"Scanning now," Shiloh replied. "Fi, at your seven, down low."

"It's got to be something good," Finn said. "Coz I've got a hard-on."

"You get a hard-on just by breathing," Fi retorted. "Got it," she added. "Looks beat to hell. It's big."

"Told you," Finn replied.

"Don't get too excited yet," Shiloh said. "It could already be picked over."

"Nah, I've got a feeling."

Shiloh checked her screen. "Scan shows it's intact. No hull breach. And there's no claim signal." Maybe their luck had changed. "How about we take a closer look?"

"You're the captain, Captain," Finn said. "Me and my hard-on totally concur."

"Will you quit talking about it like it's a person," Fi protested.

"Hey, we all have needs."

"I need to shoot you in the face," Fi replied.

"Speaking of needs," Handy interjected. "Do you want the engines?

"Let's wait for full power in case they're still listening out there," Shiloh replied.

She was used to the twins' bantering and barely gave it a second thought. Caution,

however, was always her first instinct. "I can get there with just the thrusters."

"Roger that," Handy replied. "I'll do a slow boot.'

At least Handy agreed with her, the twins were another thing entirely.

"On our way," Fi said.

"All three of us," Finn added.

Shiloh moved a protesting Cisco from her lap. He promptly jumped onto the console and stretched out beneath the window. The gravel immediately caught his attention and he swatted the window as if he could bat the flak out of their way. Shiloh pulled up the thruster handles and executed a perfect piece of precision flying until they were next to the derelict. The twins and Handy came into the cockpit while she was maneuvering the ship. Fi, who was so good at tech that Shiloh would have sworn her brain was full of components, sat down at the co-pilot's seat and brought up the scanners while Finn and his hard-on stood by the window and waggled a finger at Cisco. Handy, always solid, stood behind her and out of the way.

"Doc?" Shiloh asked.

"Greta checked on him," Handy replied. "Nothing but snores."

"Might want to wake him up in case we need him," Shiloh said.

"It's one of ours," Finn interjected. "Or at least one from Earth. I can see the Apple logo on the side."

"Before long we're all going to have Apples tattooed on our assets," Handy grumbled. It took a lot to make him cuss, and he was rather creative with his substitutions.

"Got a name yet?" Fi asked Finn, who now had his face plastered against the window.

"Nope. Looks like a lot of meteor damage. It's been floating out here a while. Look at how big and bulky it is. It's got to be ancient. Last century at least."

"No marker that I can see," Fi said. "Should we tag it?"

Some of Finn's excitement must be rubbing off on her. Had their luck finally changed? "Go ahead," Shiloh grinned at Fi.

Fi loaded the marker and launched it from the ap. The small beacon zipped out from Mustang and attached to the side of the derelict, immediately sending out a signal that claimed the ship and its contents as property of Captain Shiloh Pike and Mustang Salvage.

Shiloh moved Mustang around so that the nose faced the derelict. Finn turned on the exterior lights. Using the thrusters, they floated down the side until the name of the ship came into view.

"UNSS Paul Ryan," Finn said and Fi quickly typed the name into the search bar.

"Got it. United Nations Space Ship Paul Ryan launched in 2391 with a crew of 27 and cargo top secret, destination top secret. Lost signal nine months after launch. All presumed dead. I'd say the report was right since I'm not getting any signs of life.'

Finn whistled. "This thing has been floating out here for 234 years."

"Yes, we all know you're good at math," Fi replied. "I wonder what the top secret cargo is."

"My hard on just jumped to attention," Finn rubbed Cisco's head. "Cat couldn't scratch it. Whatever it is, it's going to bring in a bunch of credits. I just know it."

"Before you start counting credits, why don't you look for a port," Shiloh instructed. "Or are you going to have to take a walk?"

"Looking," Finn said. Gearing up into a spacesuit was a pain and time consuming. If they could find a port to hook up and enter through, it would make everyone's life easier. "Got it. Go aft about 40 feet."

Shiloh followed Finn's directions until they were parallel to a port on the Paul Ryan. Handy was already gone; like Shiloh, he didn't trust anyone with the mechanics on the ship. He would make sure the ports were sealed for a safe transfer between the ships.

"Locked and loaded," Handy said via monitor a few minutes later. "Scan shows normal oxygen levels. Might be a bit stale. Better take the breathers."

Handy, always cautious. Thank God for that. Without him she wouldn't have survived her childhood and made it to the ripe old age of twenty-eight. "So kids, who wants to go on a field trip? And make sure you take weapons. We've got no idea what we're going to find in there."

Finn and Fi were already out. "Somebody wake up Doc," Shiloh called after them. She transferred Mustang's control to the screen in the docking station for Handy. She rubbed Cisco's head for luck and grabbed her blaster from the hook by the door. Cisco trailed after her as she buckled the belt low on her hip and tied the holster down on her thigh. The sound of centuries-old rock and roll echoed through out the ship, courtesy of Finn, and Shiloh sang along with Steven Tyler, stopping only for a moment to grab her short leather coat from her cabin.

Things were finally looking up. She slid down the flight of metal stairs that led to the cargo bay. The chickens scattered and ran, ducking into the cubbies that held their nests. Cisco padded down the staircase, stopping occasionally to look around since he knew something was up. Mustang's hatch was open and sealed against the hull of Paul Ryan. Handy stood by the exterior panel, which was scarred from years of floating inside the debris field. Fi was already in place. She shoved her pad into a pack, along with a fist full of thumb drives. A loud crash sounded on the above deck and Doc stumbled out of his cabin attached to the infirmary with Finn right behind him, a big grin on his face and a monster blaster slung over his back.

"Since I'm only to be disturbed for the direst of circumstances, I can only assume we're crashing or we've found something worth having," Doc bellowed. He stopped at the rail and ran a hand through his graying hair. He looked rougher than usual, but he'd been drunker than usual last night.

"I'm fairly certain we aren't crashing," Shiloh said. "And I need you sober in case we do."

"When we do crash, I hope to be drunk." Doc straightened up and attempted to tuck his shirt into his pants.

"In that case, you're prepared ninety percent of the time," Finn retorted as he slid down the stairs.

Doc ignored Finn and looked at Shiloh, his eyes surprisingly bright for someone in his condition. "We found something?"

"Something old and unclaimed."

"Then proceed with all haste," Doc said as if he were the one in command instead of Shiloh. "When I signed on you promised to make me rich beyond my dreams. I'm tired of waiting."

"You didn't sign on," Shiloh reminded him. "When I found you passed out in the engine room you begged me to hide you from that moron governor on Prius 17 who blamed you for his daughter's pregnancy."

"It's not my fault that the pharmaceuticals were labeled incorrectly." Doc declared. "Those charges were entirely unfair."

"Prius 17,"Fi interjected. "Isn't that were they use castration as punishment for sex crimes?" She arched her bright red brow at Finn who in turn flipped her off.

"I never touched that girl," Doc protested and shuffled back into the infirmary to look for some hair of the dog, no doubt.

Greta arrived with their breathers. Shiloh, Finn and Fi put them on and checked their coms. Shiloh nodded to Handy who tried to open the hatch. Unfortunately he was no match for it, as it got hung up. Finn rolled his eyes beneath the mask of his breather and shoved his weight against the portal.

A blast of stale air hit them. Cisco arched his back and hissed before beating a hasty retreat up the stairs. Shiloh watched him go and shrugged at Handy, who shrugged back.

"All's clear." Fi looked up from her scanner with a grin. Shiloh, who preferred her own eyes to that of a scanner, looked into the Paul Ryan. The floor was remarkably clean and dim lights flickered at floor level. "There's a power source, must be self sustaining," Fi added.

"Point," Finn said and stepped into the passage. He held his mega blaster before him. Shiloh followed with her blaster in hand and Fi came in behind them. Finn headed forward. A few steps in and the lights powered up with a low hum.

"Responsive to life form," Fi noted. "Now I'm getting a hard-on."

"Both of you get laid next time we hit port," Shiloh said. "I'm tired of hearing about your sex lives, or lack thereof."

"Pot meet kettle?" Fi arched an eyebrow in Shiloh's direction.

"Belay that order," Shiloh replied. Her lack of a sex life was not something she wanted to share with her crew. She wasn't much on one-night stands and since that was all her life allowed she pretty much did without.

"Not on your life," Finn retorted.

"Hang on," Fi interrupted. "Something tech is moving this way." Finn leveled his blaster at the corridor, which curved to the left, limiting their sight line.

"Will you watch that thing," Shiloh said. "You might blast a hole in the hull." Finn wouldn't. He was an ace with anything that had a trigger. He also had the habit of shooting first and asking questions later, which worked out well only about half the time.

"It's small. Maybe six inches tall and two feet around," Fi continued. "You could probably step on it if it turns out to be a threat.

They stopped and Fi counted down the distance. A slight whirring sound echoed in the passage, and a small round disc rolled into view. It moved from one side of the passage to the other, turning automatically when it touched the wall. Finn touched it with the end of the blaster. The little disc stopped and turned a complete circle, nudged against Finn's boot and then took off in the opposite direction.

"I think it's vacuuming," Finn said.

"Awe, it's so cute." Fi grinned. "Can we keep it?"

"I'm sure Greta would love it," Shiloh said with a quick grin of her own.

"Do you think that thing has just been rolling around here for the past two hundred years?" Finn asked.

"At least it's serving a purpose."

"It must just recharge itself," Fi observed. "As long as there is a power source and nothing messes with its programming then it will just keep on going."

"And once again Apple proves why it has taken over the universe," Finn said.

"I'm sure not complaining," Shiloh said. "After all, they did provide us with this nice ship to salvage."

"Too bad we can't just tow it," Fi mused. "But there's no way Mustang could generate a magnetic field large enough. And with the asteroid field around us, one strike could very easily send the Paul Ryan spinning into the planet below."

"Maybe we can fly it," Shiloh said.

"Seriously?"

"There's only one way to find out," Shiloh stated. "There has to be a bridge around here somewhere."

Finn beat on the interior wall. "I wonder what's behind this wall. I've yet to see a door."

"Keep going," Fi said. "We'll find something eventually."

"Handy?" Shiloh said into her com. "Still holding down the ship?"

"Mustang is A-Okay," Handy replied. "Still hanging out here by our lonesome."

"Roger that. Nothing here yet."

"My kingdom for a ship!" Doc yelled in the background.

"Please tell me he's not drinking."

"Nope," Handy said. "Greta locked up his stash while he was sleeping the last one off." Doc had gotten very creative with his hiding places so they were lucky Greta found it, although as much as he consumed it was a miracle he still had a supply. Shiloh had a feeling he knew her ship better than she did. He did managed to find his way in when she through it was locked up tight. Either that or he was extremely lucky.

"Got a door up ahead," Finn said. "There's a port."

"Yes!" Fi exclaimed. She quickly plugged in her cable. It wasn't an accident that the present operating systems melded with those from the past. A port was a port, and as long as you could plug in or had some sort of Wi-Fi, you could download. It was pretty simple no matter what the tech involved. It also made for some awesome music and movie libraries since iPods were pretty much indestructible. "Looks like a manifest.'

"Please tell me that grin on your face means what I think it means," Finn said.

"Weapons. Lots of them. Enough to invade an entire planet."

"Are you kidding?'

"Nope. Also heavy equipment." Finn started messing with the door, trying to open it as Fi continued reading the manifest. "The type for moving stuff dirt-side. And a list of names with some sort of code after each one."

"So open the door," Shiloh said.

"The touch screen is missing." Finn pointed to a docking station. "See, it goes in here."

"Well it has to be around here somewhere," Shiloh said. "It's not like the captain would go off and leave a ship like this.

"Not unless he didn't have a choice," Fi offered. "Why would a ship like this be floating around in space all these years? Maybe the crew got struck down with some weird space disease and they all died.

"And we're going to get it?" Finn's face behind the plastic of his breather was panicked.

"Easy," Shiloh said. "Let's wait until we see the bodies.

"Great," Fi said. "Now I'm really wigged out."

"Need me to come over there?" Doc asked through the com. He sounded normal for once.

"Not until we find something for you to look at," Shiloh gratefully replied. "But be ready, just in case. And keep an eye on the sky in case those mercs circle back."

"Roger that," Handy replied.

"Let's find the bridge," Shiloh said. "There has to be a ship's log."

Fi disconnected the USB and they continued on. They passed several cabins, all easily accessible, stark, efficient and remarkably clean, thanks to the little robot that wandered the halls in front of them. The beds were made up and duffels sat on each one, as if waiting for the occupants to come in and unpack them.

"It's a ghost ship," Finn said.

"Shut up," Fi replied.

"Whooo-oooo," Doc said over the com. Shiloh changed her earlier assessment of his temperament.

"Asshole," Finn grumbled.

The next door led to an infirmary. "Doc," Shiloh said. "We just found your version of heaven."

"Don't tell me there's a pub on that ship. I'll be right over."

"Negative Doc, it's a hospital in space."

"Oh. You must have me confused with someone else."

Shiloh shook her head. "We'll check this out after we find the bridge. I'm dying to know what the story is with this ship."

The next door led to a galley, then a ready room, and after that what was obviously the captain's quarters. Finn let out a whistle of appreciation. "The hell with salvaging it," Fi said. "I think we should move in."

"I don't know," Shiloh replied. "I think with the credits we get from this baby, we can all retire to our own planets."

"Planets?" Finn looked down at his crotch. "Yes! It is possible for my dick to get bigger."

"It will never be as big as your head." Fi commented.

"I'm surprised I can even walk," Finn said. "I'm like a freaking tripod."

"In your dreams!"

Shiloh listened to their chatter with half a mind as she holstered her blaster and moved on down the corridor. The ship hummed lightly, as if the systems were just waiting for a command. It was obvious that no expense was spared in the building of this ship. It had to have been a huge undertaking at the time, given the size of it. It was just 250 years ago that first contact had been made with the alien race called the Dimadians and only one hundred years before that since deep space travel was possible. Of course the human race had been exploring and colonizing the planets and moons in their own tiny solar system since the late 2100's. Once the people of earth realized they could move off planet, they did in a big way, everyone seeking that pot of gold at the end of the solar rainbow.

Just like she was.

The bridge was extraordinary. Circular, with windows that stretched three quarters of the way around. Deep cushioned leather chairs with consoles that wrapped around the seats. Ten operating positions, including the captain's. Shiloh went to the command center, placed on a dais above and behind the crew so every position could be observed. It was more like a throne. Shiloh touched the console in the arm of the chair. It turned as if in response to her touch. She moved to sit down and noticed the tall cylinders lined against the back wall.

She had to take a moment.

# Chapter 2

"Hey guys," Shiloh said into her com when she'd recovered. "I found the crew." She walked to the line of tubes, ten in all, each one holding a mummified body. All were nude and held upright by a series of straps that were attached to a tower running up the back of the tube. The outside of the tubes held a touch screen for vital signs. All were still powered and showed the flat line indicative of death. There was a name on each tube, and Shiloh realized she was looking at the captain of the ship, Nicholas Hoyt. Did he leave a wife behind? Children? Were there descendants of his somewhere out there, cursed with this family mystery?

"What?" Fi dashed onto the bridge with Finn behind her. "Oh. Well shit."

"Damn," Finn echoed.

Shiloh had to agree with them. This. This was just sad. So much hope. So much potential. This group set out to do great things, for an adventure of a lifetime. She looked at the face of the captain. Even in the mummified state, she could see the strength and determination that he wore like a uniform. He deserved a much better death than this quiet end of existence in a hollow tube.

Death was something Shiloh was well acquainted with. She'd seen more than her fair share of it on the front lines of the Mech Wars. There were a thousand ways to die. Some of them deserved, some, like this crew, not so much.

There was a master control panel next to the center tube and Fi quickly found a port.

"What's going on over there?" Handy asked through the com.

"We're trying to figure that out," Shiloh replied. "It looks like the crew died in stasis."

"Poor bastards," Handy said and Shiloh raised an eyebrow.

"Next time we need to set up a vid feed," Finn suggested. "So they don't feel so left out."

"Doc would just have us looking for booze," Fi said.

"Got a story on these guys yet?"

"There's two hundred plus years of log time in here. The dates are automated and it reports on the ships systems which means I'm scrolling through a lot of repetition. I'm trying to find a human entry of some kind. You would think there was someone or something that monitored their systems."

"I wonder why they were in stasis," Finn asked.

"The first FLEX drive wasn't invented until after this ship was launched. Back in Paul Ryan's day it took fifty or more years to get this far out in the galaxy."

"Finn pretty much slept through history class," Fi offered. "Actually he slept through all his classes."

"I got the ones that count," Finn replied with a caress of his mega blaster.

"Save it for later," Shiloh decided. "See what you can find on opening the cargo door.

"Without the touch screen I can't do much good," Fi advised.

"We can always use this." Finn stroked his blaster again.

"Last resort," Shiloh said. "Let's look for the touch screen."

Finn started looking around the bridge, searching the consoles, and checking for drawers. Shiloh stared at the mummified face of the captain for a moment. What ever was in the cargo bay was meant to be a secret from everyone. He wouldn't just leave access out where anyone could find it. He'd put it someplace safe.

"Fi, search the files for Captain Nicholas Hoyt. Tell me if he had a wife and, if so, what's her birthday or their anniversary. I'm going to his cabin to look for a safe."

"Yes, sir."

She took the time to notice things that she missed in her perfunctory first glance at the quarters. Diplomas and awards on the wall. Uniforms for any type of weather hanging in the closet. The circular sofa arranged around a low table for intimate conferences with his trusted officers. The large photo of earth on the wall that separated his sleeping area from the lounge. A small galley along another wall and a door leading to a private head.

"Shi, I got something," Fi's voice came over the com. "Captain Hoyt had a wife named Anne. Born 2354, died 2387. They were married 6-11-2375. No children."

He probably volunteered for this mission," Shiloh said. "Hang on to those dates for me." She went into the head and looked around. It was sterile and efficient with no place to hide anything. She turned and looked at the room again. The bed was a double, came with the rank instead of a standard bunk. Both sides had tables that were bolted to the wall. Shiloh went to the one next to the bulkhead. It was closed with a touch pad. She punched in the numbers 06-11-75 and it opened up. Inside were three more touchpads. She scooped them up. "Meet me at the cargo bay."

"On our way.'

"Find something?" Handy asked.

"Hope so," Shiloh returned.

The first touch pad didn't lock. By the time she got the second one in the twins had joined her. It clicked into place and the screen flashed.

"I'm just glad they didn't use eye scanners or thumb locks on these," Shiloh said. "I'd hate to have to desecrate a body." She'd seen worse things. She still did in her dreams.

Finn, for once, kept his smart-ass comments to himself. Perhaps they could tell seeing the dead bodies in the tubes had affected her. Perhaps it had affected all of them. Finn and Fi had been spared the worst parts of the war although if it had lasted much longer they would have been in the middle of it.

"Give me those dates again," Shiloh said. Fi rattled them off. Shiloh chose the date of the wife's death and was rewarded with the hiss of stale air as the door to the cargo bay opened. They stepped onto a dusty catwalk that lead all the way to the stern with several more cutting across to the opposite side. To their right was a lift. Below them the hold was divided into two sections. One part was behind a bulkhead and was covered with a grid. Dim lights shone up through the grid. A heavy layer of dust covered everything. Obviously the little vacuum robot drew the line at cargo bays.

"Hello?" Fi called out and her voice echoed against the hull in return.

"Holy hell," Finn added. Below them were all kinds of equipment used for moving earth. Huge pieces that had to weigh around thirty tons each.

"You have to wonder how they got this puppy off the ground," Finn asked.

"They probably built it in space. Off the moon base more than likely."

"Like I mentioned, slept through most of his classes," Fi said.

"It's okay," Shiloh replied. "He serves his purpose. You got any word on what their mission was?"

"Nope, but it's probably locked on that remaining touch pad you've got in your pocket. Something to be passed on to the crew when they all woke up from stasis. I can figure it out when we're back on Mustang since our operating systems are much more advanced than these."

"Okay." Shiloh looked at the scene below them. "Finn, I'm betting those containers in that bulkhead against the wall are full of weapons. Go check it out. Fi, let's see what's in that other hold. Use the stairs Finn," she cautioned. "Check out the lift when you're done. Wouldn't want to lose you in a fall." And have to drag his ass back to Mustang. Some thoughts were better kept to herself.

"Yes sir," Finn answered with a grin and took off down the stairs. His boots clattered loudly against the metal. Shiloh and Fi followed.

"Handy, we're in the cargo bay. Looks like our ship has finally come in. Literally."

"Works for me, Shi," Handy answered. "Be careful." She heard the concern in his voice. No matter how many battles she fought, not matter how old she was, he still saw her as the little girl left orphaned by foolish parents.

"Everything still clear?" She knew it was, else he would have told her. But still she had to ask.

"We're keeping an eye out."

"Roger that."

The earth moving equipment was even more massive up close. There was no way any of it would fit in Mustang's bay. Maybe she would have to figure out how to fly this ship. She'd yet to come up against a ship she couldn't fly so she wasn't really worried about that part of it. Docking and port fees were something else entirely. Perhaps it was time to think about taking on a partner. Someone who could pave the way by greasing some palms while she did all the heavy lifting.

She'd think about that later.

They wound their way around the equipment, marveling at the size of it all, until they came to the door that led to the other bay. This one had no lock and they simply walked in.

Lights came on, one after the other, until they were illuminated by a white brilliance unlike any other part of the ship. Before them stood five rows of tubes, similar to the ones they'd found on the bridge. Each tube sat on a raised dais that held the life support. A locker was next to each of them. The tubes that they could see held more mummified remains.

"This really is a ghost ship," Fi said as she went to the console that stood before the tubes.

Shiloh simply nodded. She walked down the aisle between the tubes. The majority of them held men, but some were women. Names were inscribed on each tube, some still common, others seemed older than time. Even in their mummified state Shiloh could tell they were taller than average, broader, more muscular.

"They were super soldiers," Fi called out. "Genetically and tech enhanced."

"Tech?" Shiloh answered as she reached the end of the first row. There were twenty tubes, which meant one hundred lives were contained in this hold. "Like the Mech Wars?" A chill went down her spine. She'd never forget the horrors of the Mech Wars. The things that were done to humans to make corporate soldiers.

"No, not robots made from people," Fi explained. "They had chips implanted in their brain stems."

"I wonder why?" Shiloh turned up the next row. "If they were soldiers where were they going to fight?" She suddenly jerked to a stop and touched the tube in wonder. "Fi, I think we got a live one here."

He was tall and broad like the rest. Well-toned with muscle. The only thing strange about his looks was his skin, which seemed abnormally pale, but why wouldn't it be after two hundred plus years in a tank. Long dark eyelashes graced his cheeks like half moons, and with his head tilted downward, his dark auburn hair hung over his forehead. A small growth of beard covered his jaw, and his lips were pursed in a pout. The only thing he wore was a chain around his neck with a tag. Dog tags. Shi recognized it from one of the movies they'd downloaded.

He was beautiful and most definitely alive. The stats on his tube showed everything normal, everything functioning.

Fi skidded to a stop beside her. "Wow," she sighed. "You'd think there would be some shrinkage after all these years."

"Lieutenant Griffin Pace." Shiloh read the name off the tube. "Pull him up and see what it says."

"I got nothing but the code next to his name." Fi opened the locker next to his tube and the hiss of a sealed environment greeted them. A uniform hung inside over a pair of boots. A go bag sat on the shelf.

"Captain, you won't believe what I've found in here." Finn's voice came over the com.

"I'm betting that our find is better than yours," Fi returned. "Better join us."

"Roger that."

Shiloh touched the tube again and a transparent touchpad appeared. Fi read off the numbers and she punched them in.

"Are you sure that won't kill him?" Fi asked.

"This is why I'm the captain," Shiloh returned. "I get to make all the hard decisions." She wasn't sure of anything except this man, Griffin Pace, would not want to die like the others.

A light flashed on the tube as the vital signs started to change. "Heart rate, going up, oxygen levels, blood pressure, brain waves," Fi said excitedly. "I think he's coming out of it."

"Let's just hope the shock doesn't kill him."

"I'd love to know how they did it in the first place," Fi said.

"Hopefully he can tell us."

He blinked, several times against the light and then his eyes stayed open. They were a clear gray, like metal. Shiloh stood directly before him but could see that his eyes remained unfocused, as if he were looking at something way beyond the bulkhead. He flexed the fingers of his left hand as if searching for something.

"There's got to be a way to release him." Fi poked around at the side of the tube and another touchpad appeared. She tried the numbers again and the tube slid around on itself. The straps fell away and Griffin Pace dropped to his knees in a heavy slump. Shiloh caught him before he toppled out onto the floor.

He was heavy, a dead weight, Shiloh staggered back with the impact. His body was as cold as space, and he let out a gasp. Shiloh managed to get her legs beneath her and steadied herself but knew she couldn't hold him for long. He struggled, trying to help, but he was so weak.

"...dren...lyn..." His voice was nothing more than a hoarse croak. He managed to jerk his hand to the back of his neck and groaned in pain.

"Fi," Shiloh gasped. "Help."

Fi stood there with her mouth hanging open, shaking her head.

"A-dren-lyne"

She heard the pounding of Finn's boots on the metal floor as he ran up. He grabbed Griffin around the waist and pulled him from Shiloh just as Handy's voice sounded over her com.

"We got company coming fast."

"Fi, grab his stuff. Finn, between the two of us. Time to book!"

Griffin moaned again and grabbed for the back of his neck. The tech was obviously hurting but at the moment Shiloh had bigger concerns. Finn slung his blaster over his back and shifted the weight so he held Griffin beneath the shoulder. Shiloh moved in on the other side. She always considered herself tall, nearly as tall as Finn, who was long and lean, but the difference between them and Griffin was noticeable. Fi scooped up his stuff and took off.

"See if that lift works!" Shiloh called after her.

"I think it's the mercs," Handy said.

"Go ahead and power up," Shiloh responded. "Get to the pit. Fi can handle the hatch. And tell Doc we're coming in hot with a patient." Griffin hissed in pain. "He needs adrenaline stat. Fi will have the details."

"Roger that."

"Lift works!" Fi called out.

"Thank God for small favors," Shiloh grunted. This guy was heavy and suddenly quiet. Hopefully he had passed out. They hauled him to the lift, and Fi hastily hit the buttons.

"Coming in hot, Shi," Handy said.

"Roger that." The lift felt as if it was moving in slow motion but it had to be quicker than the stairs. Shiloh flexed her shoulder where it was beginning to cramp. The next thing she knew she slammed against the side of the lift and she heard the sounds of a fight behind her. Finn and Griffin fought for control of the blaster, which was still strapped over Finn's back. Griffin had Finn's arm hyper extended while Finn did his best to escape him. Fi, who matched her brother in color, had nothing on him in height or weight. She barely broke one hundred pounds after a feast day. She did her best to help Finn, hanging on to Griffin's back and clawing at him with her nails. Shiloh saw it all and her training took over. She kicked Griffin in the knee, and he turned in surprise before crashing to the floor. She had her blaster out before he hit the ground and pressed it to the back of his neck where she saw a red pulse flashing from the tech.

"We're trying to save your life, asshole, so I suggest you let us before we all get blasted out of the sky." The lift was still moving, thankfully. Shiloh sensed rather than felt the blast that hit close outside. Someone was firing on Mustang.

"You're not from Paul Ryan," he ground his words out, as if he were having great trouble finding them. "My directive is to protect Paul Ryan."

The lift shuddered to a stop. "Everyone on Paul Ryan is dead. You've been sleeping in space for over two hundred years. You can stay here on this dead ship, or you can come with us."

"Pro-tect ship."

"Leave his ass," Finn yelled.

"Right of ownership," Shiloh said. "He owns the salvage rights now."

"Nobody knows that," Finn protested.

"I would know. We would all know."

"I've recorded it," Fi said. "Everything."

Finn shook his head and hauled Griffin up from the floor. "Dude, you are coming with us."

Shiloh grabbed Griffin's jaw and jerked his head down so he had to look at her. She yanked her breather off so he could see her face. He was frightened on the inside, she could tell by his eyes. They were full of fear, confusion, and pain, but they also held curiosity and were freaking gorgeous. She didn't have time for this. Fi had already gathered his things and booked down the passageway.

"We're trying to save your life," she said. "Please don't make it any harder than it already is."

He nodded. "Help me walk," he said. "I'm done."

"Shi!" Handy called out. "They are firing on us."

"Countermeasures," Shiloh barked as they hauled Griffin down the passage. Fi was already inside Mustang and waiting to disconnect the ship when they stumbled through. Shiloh and Finn both dropped Griffin's weight and took off up the stairs.

Shiloh heard him groan again in pain and saw his hands go to the back of his neck once more and then she was laser focused on saving her ship. She dashed into the pit with Cisco at her heels and jumped into the seat Handy had already vacated. A quick look at the display showed they were in it deep with two ships coming at them

"Fi!"

"Go, go, go!" Fi returned. Shiloh pulled Mustang away and pushed forward, aiming the nose down.

"They were playing battleship," Handy sat in the co-seat, referencing the old game of strategy. "They must have picked up our claim signal and just started firing into the gravel to see what they could find." He picked up Cisco to keep him out of Shiloh's way.

"Finn, you ready?"

"Always," he came back.

"On my way," Fi added.

"Fire at will," Shiloh said as she ducked under Paul Ryan for cover. From here she had options, down, up or either side. She chose up, certain that Finn would take care of whoever was waiting above. He started blasting as soon as they cleared the hull and she skimmed over the top and then down under a gigantic rock. Shiloh played a dangerous game with Mustang, but the stakes were high. Since she'd claimed Paul Ryan, the only way anyone could legally take it over was if she was dead. The how and the why got sketchy after that and, since she had no heirs to speak of, blowing her out of the sky wouldn't bother anyone in the judicial part of the 'verse, especially if a nice bribe was promised.

The goods on Paul Ryan could bribe a lot of people.

She shouldn't have claimed it so fast. She should have waited until the mercs were well out of range, but times had been tough and after such a long dry spell...A blast pierced the gravel in front and flak flew at her window. Mustang shuddered as the residual waves surrounded the ship.

"Watch it!" Doc yelled into his com. "I'm doing surgery down here."

What the hell? "Counter measures," Shiloh barked at Handy as she guided Mustang through the flak. "Finn? How about you start earning the ridiculous wages I pay you and blow those guys out of the sky."

"Working on it," Finn replied. "And since when do you pay me wages?"

"Impress me, and we'll talk."

"Roger that."

She'd done all she could do. Shiloh concentrated on flying and left the rest up to Finn and Fi. She heard their chatter over the com, and then a heavy blast. The ship shuddered once more while Finn and Fi both screamed in triumph.

"One bogey down," Finn announced. "Looks like the other is bugging out."

"Probably going for more reinforcements," Shiloh said.

"Better bring an entire fleet!" Finn yelled after them.

"Fi, get all the files uploaded in case we get another jumper. And see what's going on with Doc. He said something about doing surgery?"

"Yeah," Fi responded. "The guy we carried aboard was screaming and clawing at his head. I think the tech was messed up or something."

"Ouch," Finn contributed. "Last thing I'd ever want is Doc poking around in my head."

"Finn, keep an eye on the sky while I try to find us a place to hide for a bit."

"Roger that."

"I'll keep an eye on things here while you go check on our passenger," Handy volunteered. He settled Cisco into his lap as Shiloh secured the com for her uncle.

"Funny that," she said. "I was thinking of him more as salvage."

# Chapter 3

Things were not as they should be. The tech in his head screamed what he already knew. He wasn't supposed to wake up this abruptly, and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to be dragged off the ship. These idiots didn't have a clue what they were doing. Where were the doctors that were supposed to be present to bring him gently into the future?

Griff tried to focus, to figure out where he was and whom he was up against. He knew he was lying on the deck of some sort of ship. Were those chickens?

_"God, make it stop."_ The tech screamed as they moved away from Paul Ryan. He clawed at the back of his neck, trying to get it out. His head felt as if it were going to explode right off his neck. All he could do was scream until the pain dissolved into blackness and with the blackness came relief.

An old song played in the background. The Eagles? Take it Easy, along with the soft murmur of women's voices left him confused as Griff's mind tried to settle on where he was.

At least the pain had disappeared, replaced by an annoying itch. He felt the stick of a bandage on the back of his neck and knew the tech was gone. He filed that under a good thing for the moment, even with the ache in his knee, and listened to the voices.

"So you're telling me this guy is a pilot?" A voice said. He recognized her as the one who'd kicked out his knee and put a gun to his head.

"There's a long list under his name," another voice replied. "All air and space craft of some kind. Of course they're all out of service, but I'm betting there's a few of them stashed on the Paul Ryan."

"You haven't gotten into the cargo files yet?"

"Not yet."

"Don't tell me you were distracted by a pretty face."

There was the light sound of laughter. "Have you looked at him?"

"Sorry, didn't have time to check him out when he was beating the crap out of you and your brother."

"Yeah, right."

"He's awake," a masculine voice said. A hand gently smacked his cheek. "Come on now, open your eyes, the tech doesn't lie."

Yeah, words to live by, or in his case die by. Griff slowly opened his eyes against the bright light that shone directly over the narrow table on which he lay. The first face he saw belonged to a man with wild brown hair, graying at the temples. He looked to be late forties and smelled like tequila, a scent he always associated with cheap bars and killer hangovers. It didn't do much for his state of mind or the hollow emptiness of his stomach.

A tiny woman with bright red spiked hair and a ton of eye makeup appeared next to the man, who obviously was a doctor. Griff hoped the smell was just medicinal and not really tequila since he'd been the one to take out the tech. Just to make sure he wiggled his toes beneath the sheet that covered him and let out a sigh of relief. The woman held a pad and quickly snapped a picture of him.

"What was that for?" His throat hurt and it was hard to speak.

"Spacebook," she replied. "I'm Fi."

Another woman came up on the opposite side of the bed. The loose braid over her shoulder was dark. She glanced at him with eyes that were either gray or green, he couldn't tell since she quickly turned away to talk to the doctor. Her look was so dismissive that he wanted to punch her. The scent from her body drifted to him, and his mind scrambled to identify it. Almonds? And something even sweeter that reminded him of his grandmother. Lavender.

"Prognosis?" the woman asked.

"He should live," the man replied. "All his stats are normal. He probably needs a good meal and some time on the treadmill to get back to normal. Amazing process." The doctor left his field of vision, and the woman turned her head to watch him. A long and jagged scar went down the right side of her face from hairline to neck, just in front of her ear. It was an ugly reminder of some sort of violence.

The doctor held up a piece of tech with a long pair of tweezers. "I pulled this out of his cerebellum."

"Fi?" The woman had to be the captain of whatever vessel he was on.

The little redhead snatched up the tech. "On it," she said. She gave Griff a look and a smile before she dashed out of the lab.

"What's going on?" Griff croaked. He was tired of being ignored. He pushed himself up with his arms and the Doctor put a pillow behind his head. Yeah, it was necessary. He'd moved way to fast and his head was swimming.

The woman crossed her arms as she looked down at him. She gave him a beat to gather himself. Her eyes were hazel, clear and sharp, with a lot of secrets beneath the long lush lashes. And very beautiful. Griff always looked at the eyes first. You could tell a lot about your enemy by searching their eyes. And for now, this woman was the enemy.

"You're on my ship, Mustang. I'm Captain Shiloh Pike, and this is Doctor Fletcher Cole. We found Paul Ryan floating in an asteroid belt around planet G14 in sector 53. I've claimed your ship as salvage. We found you alive in stasis and brought you on board."

"Because you were under attack?" Griff asked.

A quick smile flashed across her face. "Yes." Her tone gentled a bit. "We found the crew dead on the bridge, all in stasis. We had just discovered your lot when we were attacked."

"Anyone else?" he asked.

He could tell by the look on her face that she knew what he meant. She shrugged. "We didn't have time to check. We'll go back as soon as we know it's clear."

Griff nodded as his brain spun with more unanswered questions. "What year did you say it was, Captain Pike?" His voice sounded more normal although his throat still hurt like crazy. The doctor handed him a bottle of water and helped him sit up. Griff drained it in one long gulp.

"I didn't. But since you asked it's 2625. And everyone calls me Shiloh. Or Shi." She pointed to the older man. "And he's just Doc."

The number felt incomprehensible. They'd been floating in space for over two hundred years? They were only supposed to be in stasis for twenty. Something had gone drastically wrong on Paul Ryan.

"We don't know what happened," Shiloh said as if she could read his mind. "Hopefully Fi will figure it out." She looked at Doc as if she were waiting on his approval.

"We should probably feed him," he said. "Unless you want another shot of adrenaline."

Griff felt his heart rabbiting in his chest and couldn't stop himself from running a hand over it. "No, I'm good."

"Feel like eating?" Shiloh asked. "We've got a pretty good cook."

His stomach was hollow. Two hundred years was a long time to go without eating yet he remembered his last meal like it was yesterday. "Yeah, I could eat."

She touched a com at her ear. "Handy? Everything good?"

"Just fine, Shi."

"Finn?"

"Skies are clear."

"Let's not get lazy."

"Roger that."

"Come on," Shiloh said with a toss of her head. "Can you stand?"

"I hope so." Griff managed to push himself upright with his legs dangling off the side of the table. His head swam again and he closed his eyes against the sensation. He adjusted the sheet around his waist. Shiloh stood with her arms crossed, waiting, although he wasn't sure if it was patiently. He was fairly certain Doc would help him if he fell flat on his face, but more in a science and research type of help, nothing personal, not that he wanted it.

Griff slid from the table and landed squarely on his feet. Since the tech was gone from his head it was much easier to concentrate on things like standing, breathing, and just plain realizing that he was alive when it appeared that everyone else on the Paul Ryan was not.

"Um, I need some clothes."

The woman smiled, quickly, fleetingly, more of a hint of one instead of the genuine thing. "In the head," she said. "We grabbed your stuff out of your locker."

"Thanks," he said and just for fun he dropped the sheet and staggered to the door she'd indicated. They'd all seen him naked, and if she wasn't going to be shy about it then neither would he. Still, a sense of satisfaction filled him when her face flushed pink and she quickly averted her eyes. It wasn't the same as a kick to the knee, but it would suffice.

"Doc can show you the way to the galley," she said, "In case you want to shower."

Ouch. He did a quick sniff. No body odor that he could tell but maybe his nose had quit working.

The head was much as he thought it would be. Functional and sterile, just like the ones from his past. Griff stared at his reflection in the mirror. You would think that being an extra two hundred plus years would age a person, but everything was pretty much the same except for a couple days growth of beard. He searched his eyes for a long moment. They still looked as empty as he felt, body and soul. He checked his go bag. Everything was as he remembered it and his uniform, which had been sealed in an airless bag, was as new as the day he'd hung it in his locker.

He came out of the head ten minutes later, feeling a bit more normal after showering. To his surprise Shiloh was still there, or had come back, and he followed her from sickbay to a catwalk that overlooked a large hold.

"So I didn't imagine them," he said when he saw a half dozen chickens scratching about.

"No reason we can't have fresh eggs," Shiloh replied.

"Works for me."

"In the years since you've left earth a lot about deep space travel has changed."

Griff looked around the tidy ship. Even though it was nothing he'd ever seen before he could tell it wasn't new. Things were cobbled together and clean, but there were signs of wear and tear. "Held together with duct tape and baling wire." He didn't mean it as an insult. It was something he'd heard his dad say at least a thousand times when growing up on their ranch in Montana. Was Montana still there? Was Earth still there for that matter?

"I expect I can change that once we get the Paul Ryan back to port." Griff spared Shiloh a look. She wasn't insulted, just confirming his observation. So why did he feel like she was sizing him up as if wondering how much he was worth?

He opened his mouth to say something. Something like over my dead body. Nobody was going anywhere with his ship, at least not until he had a chance to figure out what had happened to them. But now was not the time to act. He didn't have enough information to form a plan.

Planning was much easier with a full stomach. Shiloh led him to a cozy galley/lounge combination where the smell of bacon set his mouth to watering. She indicated a seat at a bar that curved around the cooking area, and a woman set a plate containing a bacon omelet down before him.

"This is Greta," Shiloh said.

"Chief cook and bottle washer," Greta said with a smile. She was older than Shiloh by at least twenty years, possibly more. Griff found that it was hard to pin down Shiloh's age. She didn't seem more than thirty, which put her in his range, give or take two hundred years. But something about her eyes, with the addition of the gruesome looking scar, made her seem older.

Greta seemed pleasant enough with her ready smile. Her eyes were bright blue and twinkled merrily from beneath her bangs. She wore her blonde hair in two braids that were pinned in a coil atop her head. She had a good thirty to forty pounds on Shiloh but looked solid, strong and like she'd be handy in a fight. Griff, always one to trust his instincts, decided she was okay and gave her a smile of gratitude as he dug into his plate. His mouth started watering immediately as the combination of fresh eggs and melted cheese hit his tongue. Griff closed his eyes as he chewed and, when he finally swallowed, he looked at Greta in appreciation.

"Ma'am, I think you must be the best kept secret in the galaxy." He shook his head. "Chickens in space. I'm sold," and he took another bite.

"Oh, you are a charmer." Greta produced a small brown bottle from beneath the bar and flipped the lid off. "Try this." She sat it in front of him. "It's my own brew."

The beer was icy cold and felt so good going down Griff wanted nothing more than to drain it, but he knew he'd better slow down. Shiloh sat on a stool next to him. Greta handed her a beer and opened one for herself.

"There's this fantastic tavern back on the grid that will take as much of this as I can brew," Greta said. "If we ever get back there.

"I'm working on it," Shiloh said. She sat so that her scar was not visible. He got a glimpse of it now and then when she turned to say something to him.

"The grid?" Griff asked.

Shiloh picked up a plastic placemat from a stack and laid it on the bar. She put her bottle cap in the middle. "This is the grid," she said. She picked up Griff's cap and placed it to the left and off the placemat. "This is us, on the edge. Everything inside this costs credits, which I don't have at the moment. So we are staying on the edge and out of the way."

"So where is Earth in this grid?" He took another drink of beer even though his heart was racing. What if Earth was no longer there?

Shiloh studied him for a moment, and Griff thought the words he dreaded to hear were coming. Instead she picked up a saltshaker and placed it several inches away on the opposite side of the placemat. "Earth is here," she said. "About a six-week trip, give or take."

Griff didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath until he let it out. "Six weeks?"

"A lot has changed in the past two hundred years. We've got a thing called FLEX drive now."

"FLEX?"

"Forward leap engine exchange."

"I'm not surprised." Technology seemed to change exponentially. The more things grew, the faster it changed. Griff was actually surprised there weren't androids around. Maybe there were and he just hadn't seen them yet. "It was bound to happen sooner or later," he observed.

"Not long after you guys left."

"What's it like?"

"Earth?" Shiloh took a long draw from her beer. "It's peaceful, from what I've heard. No more holy wars. Somebody causes a problem and they just shoot them off into space."

"Makes it our problem," Greta said. "It's still a beautiful planet though."

"Greta's been there," Shiloh said.

"I was born there as a matter of fact," Greta added.

"Really?" Griff asked, genuinely pleased and interested. "Where?"

"A small town in North Carolina." Greta folded a dishtowel and turned to face him. "How about you?"

"A ranch in Montana."

"So how did a cowboy from Montana end up sleeping in space for two hundred years?" Shiloh asked. What she was really asking about was his mission, but Griff wasn't in any hurry to answer those questions so he took the long way around it.

"Back before Earth became such a peaceful place, the United States of America, is there still a United States of America?" Greta nodded and clinked her bottle against his. "Was involved in the war against terror. For a long time most of that stuff took place in the Middle East, but because of some really stupid immigration shit that went down earlier, the war was brought home. So while I was off getting shot at, a religious zealot walked into my sister's high school graduation and blew the entire community of Devotion, Montana, to kingdom come. And thus I became what is commonly known as a volunteer."

Even though it had happened six years ago in his memory, give or take the two hundred, the pain still sliced through him like a knife. His entire family, parents, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins were all killed, along with fifteen hundred other people.

Griff took another swallow of beer. His head was beginning to swim so he followed it up with another couple of bites of the omelet.

Greta placed her hand on his arm. "Bless your heart," she said.

Griff shook his head and smiled. "I'm glad to see some things haven't changed." Shiloh just drank her beer and stayed quiet. He imagined she had her own story to tell. A scar like that made one curious. A scar like that made one hesitant to ask her questions.

He finished the omelet in the next few bites while his head swam with more questions. Shiloh was restless. Like she should be somewhere else, but didn't want to leave him.

"So what happens next?" Griff asked. As he spoke, a fluffy black cat jumped onto the bar and stalked down their way, taking a moment to sniff at Griff's empty plate. He knew the women were watching for his reaction, so he did what came instinctively to him. He stuck out his hand for the cat to sniff and then rubbed the top of his head. The cat arched against his hand and let loose with a deep, rumbly purr.

It was as if he passed a test. A quick smile moved over Shiloh's face as she tapped her finger on the bar. The cat immediately went to her and sat down. Shiloh rubbed beneath his chin.

"This is Cisco," Greta handed him another beer. "Still hungry?"

"I feel like a bottomless pit."

Shiloh stood. "Greta will take care of you," she said. "And I'll have Fi set up a pad so you can catch up on what you've missed while you were sleeping."

"You didn't answer my question," Griff pointed out. "What happens next?"

"As soon as I think it's safe, we'll go back over to Paul Ryan. Maybe you'll be able to figure out what happened." She left without another word.

Griff watched her go. It was a lot to absorb, and if not for the smell of the food, and the warmth in his belly, he'd think he was caught up in some weird dream brought on by the stasis. Maybe he was. Right now there wasn't a thing he could do about it, so he might as well sit back and enjoy the ride until he figured it out.

"How do you feel about pancakes?" Greta asked.

"If you fix them I'll eat them."

# Chapter 4

Shiloh didn't bother to kick off her boots before she stretched out on her bunk. She desperately needed to sleep, but circumstances, worry and bad dreams that never truly went away conspired to keep her from it. And now...now she was sitting on the prize of the millennium with no way to get it back and a pretty good chance that every pirate in the edge would try to blow her ship out of the sky

Shiloh closed her eyes. If only she could sleep. She felt the hum of Mustang around her, the quiet reassurance that her ship was running well, despite the duct tape and baling wire. A smile quirked at the corners of her mouth at the thought before she felt herself drifting and consciously made the decision to just let go for just a few minutes.

It always started the same way. The sensation of falling from the sky. Shiloh knew she was dreaming, but just like when it happened, she was powerless to stop it.

She knew the ship was heavy when she took off, but there was no way she was leaving anyone behind, especially the wounded. The mechs did not understand mercy, even though at one time they had been as human as the soldiers they were fighting.

Shiloh carried the last one in with Thomas, the medic, while the third member of her crew, Stanis, gave them cover from the hatch above.

"There's no room," Thomas said. Shiloh looked at the wounded, tucked against the wall on stretchers, with some lying beneath, while others, who staggered aboard under their own power, huddled on the deck. The stench of blood, shit, and metal was overpowering. She couldn't get to the pit without stepping on them.

"I'll put him up front with me," Shiloh said as the med-evac ship shuttered from the battery guns that covered them. "Lock us up. We're taking off now."

"Roger that," Thomas said.

"Stanis?"

"Closing up here," the gunner replied.

Shiloh took the weight of the soldier onto her side and half carried him, half dragged him as those on the floor tried to shift out of her way. The poor guy had a head injury but she had more important things to worry about so she pretty much dropped him at her feet and slid into her seat.

Shiloh fired the thrusters and placed her hands on the yoke. "Come on baby." She urged the shuttle upward and the ship shuddered with the extra weight.

"Company's coming!" Stanis's voice held a panic that she'd never heard before.

"Move it you bitch!" Shiloh yelled at the ship as if her voice alone would propel them into space. She was conscious of the soldier at her feet moaning, and moving, but she ignored him as she was busy trying to keep the shuttle from spinning out as it tossed the precious cargo in back around. Screams and moans carried through the ship as she fought for control. Finally, she got them moving in the right direction as the boom of a cannon sounded on their heels.

Their tail was dragging. Was she right to overload them? Triage and playing God was not her thing. Who was she to determine who stayed behind and who made it to safety? Right now Shiloh doubted if any of them would make it. She searched the darkening sky as her arms strained on the yoke. Where was their cover?

The soldier from the floor pulled his body up and into the co-seat while the wounded in the bay moaned and shrieked in pain from their haphazard ride. At least they were climbing. It was slow, but as soon as they reached low gravity, they'd be fine.

Almost there...

"Shi!" Stanis's yell came to her through the shuttle instead of her com. In the next instant she felt the impact of the blast as the ship was suddenly much lighter.

They hovered there, almost in space, for an instant that lasted an eternity. The moment that would never leave her, when Shiloh realized that the bay was gone and with it those forty souls she had tried to save, along with Thomas and Stanis.

They fell from the sky in that gut wrenching, stomach in your throat, weightlessness, Shiloh working the yoke even though the engine was gone and there was no response. But she was a pilot, and instincts took over, even when common sense said there was nothing she could do.

The crash should kill them.

God please let it kill us...

Shiloh woke with a start as she always did, her body and mind refusing to let her hit ground again.

Once was enough.

At least this nightmare gave her some inspiration.

"Jacks." Shiloh sat up on her bunk and rubbed her eyes. Jacks was the soldier with the head injury. The only one she'd saved that day, although they both needed saving in the end. She needed to bounce a signal to him. He had the contacts and the credits to grease some palms. Knowing him, he was probably sitting in the middle of a poker game at Jupiter Moon Casino. Contacting him there would be the same as pointing a sign at Mustang and letting everyone line up to take a shot at them. The Paul Ryan was too big to hide, but as long as her claim was on it, no one could take it, legally, as long as she was alive. Of course her claim also couldn't stop anyone from stripping it down either, if they so desired, and any profits would be long gone way before she could prove her ownership in the courts.

There was no way Mustang could tow Paul Ryan, although it should be pretty simple for Paul Ryan to tow Mustang. The thought made her feel vulnerable. Plain and simple, she needed another pilot, but more importantly, she needed a pilot she could trust.

Griffin's a pilot...Yeah, he was a problem. As he had dibs on the Paul Ryan before she did, even with her claim announcing to the 'verse that it was hers. Of course he would need a partner to help him understand just how things operated in this time.

Shiloh punched her com. "Fi?" Her voice was hoarse from her brief sleep.

"Here."

Shiloh cleared her throat. "How's it going with those files?"

"So far, two hundred years' worth of nothing."

"What about the tech from his head?"

"Pretty basic. It's part of a web program that linked all the sleepers together. Prime directive was protect the ship, after that, I don't know. It's all heavily protected. It would be simpler to ask Griffin than for me to waste a lot of time figuring out something that didn't happen two hundred years ago."

"Got it." Shiloh rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had a headache. "Send me what you got on our new friend."

"Roger that."

"And see if you can locate Jacks."

"Oh," Fi replied. "Good idea." It was no secret to anyone on Mustang that Fi had a crush on Jacks, who was rich enough, and definitely good looking enough to have any woman in the galaxy. He was also a gentleman and could be trusted, especially since he owed his life to Shiloh, despite her best efforts to get him killed.

Shiloh's pad blipped and she opened the file on Lt. Griffin Pace. There was nothing about the current mission, just the basics, which she already knew. He was decorated, many times over, which was typical of a soldier who had nothing to lose, and no one waiting for him on the other side of the battle. It was all pretty much what she expected. Lots of facts on the soldier, but nothing on the man.

Shiloh tossed her pad aside and closed her eyes once more. If only she could get some sleep. She concentrated on the deep breathing techniques the shrink had recommended during her rehab after the crash.

Exhale.

Inhale to four.

Hold for seven.

Exhale for eight.

Repeat until you fall asleep or drive yourself crazy trying to keep up with the count because keeping up with the count was much better than thinking about your med-evac ship breaking up and knowing that any survivors would be mechanized and sent back to fight for the metal bastards that had shot you down in the first place.

Don't think about the days you spent in what was left of the pit with a broken back and half your face torn off while you prayed that you'd have enough guts to kill yourself if it came down to the mechs finding you before your people did.

Just concentrate on the breathing.

Breathing was much easier than dreaming.

# Chapter 5

Griff sat back in the pilot's seat and stared up at the infinite sky. An occasional rock floated by; except for that distraction, it looked pretty much the same as it did in Montana. They used to call it the big empty, an eternity ago, when he was just a boy and Devotion, Montana, was an actual place, instead of a footnote in the history books. Back then, the thought of other people, much less other life forms, living in the cosmos was nothing more than the wonderings of anyone who happened to look up at the starry sky.

Then an alien race was discovered, the Dimadians, and protecting Earth and its solar system became a number one priority. Guess that war fizzled out just like his mission.

"What a waste," he said to the sky. Some of the soldiers entombed on Paul Ryan had been friends. He needed to know what happened to them. And why it didn't happen to him.

The black cat jumped onto the console and joined him in looking up at the stars. Griff hadn't come here to stargaze and Cisco's entrance reminded him he had a lot of catching up to do. The pad that controlled the ship was locked, but there was another one plugged into the com, set up by Fi. Simple to use, since the basic concept hadn't changed while he was asleep. He typed a query into the search bar and smiled when he saw the results. Then he touched an icon that said GNN, and the app opened onto a news show. He sat back in the chair and watched the various stories and reports that trailed across the screen.

He felt her presence at the same time as the cat. Cisco rolled over on his back and batted at her image in the window. Griff looked up at her reflection. "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"What do you mean?" Shiloh came in and faced him, leaning back against the panel as she crossed her arms. She placed herself so the scar was away from him. She'd removed her leather jacket but not her weapon, which was still lashed securely to her hip. She seemed more at ease than before. Maybe she'd decided to trust him, or maybe the blaster on her hip made up for her lack of trust. She also seemed tired, as if she hadn't slept in a while. No way he could relate to that feeling.

Griff waved at the pad. Different names and places, same old stuff. He tapped the Apple logo on the com. "These guys are even still around."

"I know. Makes for some awesome music too. You wouldn't believe the number of iPods we've found in salvage. Fi downloads all the music here." Shiloh touched the iTunes app and Griff looked at the list appreciatively as a Stevie Wonder tune filled the air.

"Motown," Griff said. "Nice.'

Shiloh looked at him questioningly.

"That's what they called Detroit, where this was recorded. Short for Motor City. Where cars were invented?"

"Oh yeah, cars. There's a version still around."

"Do they fly?"

Her smile moved quickly across her face and Shiloh rubbed at a scrape on the floor with the toe of her boot. "Some of them do."

Griff hadn't thought about it before, due to the scar distracting him. She really was pretty, in an unassuming way. She didn't wear make-up. He knew it was still around because the little redhead had a ton on. Shiloh didn't need it. Her lashes were long and dark, a striking contrast against the vividness of her eyes. Her skin was unmarred, except for the scar, and no amount of cosmetics in the world would cover it. She bit at her plump lower lip with perfect teeth as if she were making a decision.

"So what's your story?" he asked, his curiosity about the scar overcoming his common sense.

She tilted her head as she glanced at him, and then did a quick scan of the sky above. She was cautious, careful. Griff knew her decision to speak of herself did not come easy.

"I'm just like everyone else on the edge. Trying to make a living."

"Family anywhere?"

"Just my uncle, and he's part of the crew. Handy. He's in the engine room with the duct tape and baling wire. He'll come out when he's ready to meet you."

Griff shrugged sheepishly at the reminder of his comment. "I seem to remember a big guy with a bigger gun?"

"That's Finn, twins with Fi. And that bigger gun is just one of many.'

Griff considered himself warned.

"So why out here on the edge?" Griff asked. "What's the draw? Are there that many derelict ships out here?"

"The war left the entire 'verse derelict," she said. "Of course that's all a matter of opinion."

"The war?"

"The Mech Wars." She tapped an app and a vid popped onto the screen. "Consider this a lesson in recent history. And please vacate my chair. I need to check on the systems."

"Yes, sir," Griff said. He quickly moved over to the co-seat as the vid started. Shiloh handed him a set of ear buds. "I don't need to hear it since I lived it."

It didn't take long for Griff to see the tragedy of the Mech Wars. The most horrifying part was that innocent people, mostly settlers on outlying planets, were taken and turned into machines by a large corporation. When a protest arose, the corporation had plenty of mechanized soldiers to send into the breach. The Mech Wars were brutal, much more so than anything he'd ever experienced, and during his career he'd been in some pretty shitty situations, but nothing like this. He'd never seen an entire planet firebombed to extinction levels because of greed.

Griff glanced at the scar on her face. She was lucky that was all she came out with. "At least the good guys won." Griff dropped the ear buds onto the console.

"After almost wiping out the human race," Shiloh replied. Griff looked back at the screen. The death totals were in the billions.

"You were in the middle of it."

Shiloh looked up from her screen and studied him with her extraordinary eyes. "I flew med-evac."

He knew it all then. Her entire history in that one simple statement. She'd flown into the zone, probably without cover most of the time, getting the injured out, and most of the time finding them more dead than alive, yet not willing to leave one of them behind, if there were any signs of life. He knew courage when he saw it and there were no words that could express it, so he simply nodded and went back to studying the screen.

"So what's your story?" Shiloh asked. "Your ship was pretty ambitious for that time."

Griff's first instinct was to clam up. His mission was top secret but then again, what difference did it make now? Everyone involved was dead and obviously the human race and earth had survived what at his time was the biggest threat to mankind.

"We were supposed to build a secret base on what we hoped was a inhabitable planet to monitor the Dimadians and their threat to earth. Be a first line of defense." Griff shook his head and laughed. "Obviously we survived that threat too.'

"Yeah," Shiloh said. "They don't even exist anymore. Apparently they were allergic to humans and we killed them."

"Are you kidding?"

"That's the simple version." Shiloh motioned to his pad. "May I?" Griff handed it over. Shiloh typed in the search bar and then gave it back. The entire history was before him, from the first contact, which set his current life track in motion, and then the first face to face, which happened shortly after his launch. Then came the first human to set foot on the planet and the subsequent discovery that the entire race had died, complete with a visual tour of their planet. He saw beautiful works of art, hauntingly empty buildings and pictures of skeletons that were reminiscent of the bodies left after the destruction of Pompeii. It looked as if some of them had just lay down and died.

The records left by the Dimedians who bore a strong resemblance to humans, with some notable differences around the eyes and ears, said that the first ambassadors to earth had carried a plague back. A plague that made it through all their systems to prevent that very thing from happening.

"It turns out they were a very peaceful race and only interested in exchanging knowledge," he read from the page.

"They all succumbed to the common cold," Shiloh said. "Which still does not have a cure."

"At the time I thought at last we'd quit killing each other and work together for the good of the planet. For the good of the human race." The thought of all his teammates and the crew entombed on the Paul Ryan made him sick to his stomach. "What a waste.'

There was a star chart off to the side of the page and he clicked on it. It showed the location of Dimedia. Then he typed in the coordinates of where they were supposed to set up the base. "Where are we now, in relationship to this?"

Shiloh glanced at the chart, and then typed in some numbers on her console. She sent it to the one he was stationed at. Griff looked at the chart and was stunned. "It looks like we just kept going on into space."

"When the crew didn't wake up at the proper time, the Paul Ryan just kept to its course." Shiloh said. "Until you got sucked into the gravity field of this planet."

Griff shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe we didn't crash into a sun or a planet."

"You were lucky," she agreed.

Was he? Was he the only one that survived and if so, then why?

Fi's voice came over the com as her face appeared on the screen. "Shi, I'm picking up some weird signals from Paul Ryan."

"What do you mean weird?"

Griff looked at Shiloh's screen. Fi looked worried, and the place where the tech had been implanted tingled like there were pieces of it left inside his brain.

"I can't tell. We're going to have to get closer. If it's someone else, they've got one hell of a cloaking device."

"Do those actually exist?" Griff asked.

"Not that I know of." Shiloh worked the thrusters, and slowly and silently lifted Mustang from behind the huge space boulder until they were positioned aft of the Paul Ryan. Shiloh studied the scanners while Griff peered through the window. It was his first look at the exterior of his ship since he'd boarded it. The vessel appeared as if it had been through hell and back. Griff knew it was a miracle that he was alive at all.

"They sure knew how to build them in your day." Shiloh read his mind. "Fi?"

"The best I can guess is life form readings. It sounds like someone is walking around. No sign of any other ships."

"I thought you said everyone was dead," Griff said.

"I thought they were," Shiloh punched a button. "Finn, saddle up. We're going back to Paul Ryan." Griff watched as she slickly maneuvered Mustang in position to board.

Griff turned to go and, before he could blink, she was standing in front of him, staring him down even though he towered over her. Griff stepped back, crossed his arms and gave her the look that used to make the grunts beneath him piss their pants. "I'm going with you," he said.

"Yes, you are," Shiloh replied. "But only on my terms. It's that, or I'll have Finn hold you down while Doc gives you a trank so big you'll think the last 200 years was a short nap. Do you copy, Finn?"

"Not only do I copy, but my hard-on is back."

Griff felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a quick grin. "Hey Finn," he said. "After I kick your ass, how about we have a beer?"

Finn laughed. Shiloh didn't. He was tempted to pick her up, to prove that he was stronger than her, and he could take her, but the twinge in his knee from her earlier kick reminded him it wouldn't be that easy. He believed she would do what she said if she felt the need.

"What are your terms?" She opened her mouth to speak, and he interrupted. "Oh hell, it doesn't really matter. I looked up the rights to salvage, and it's my ship. So if you want any part of it, you're either going to have to kill me or be my partner.'

Shiloh's mouth snapped shut so hard that he heard the click of her teeth.

"If anyone else is alive over there, they are operating with the tech. Prime directive is protect the ship." He arched an eyebrow at her expectantly. "They'll blow you away in a heartbeat."

"Fifty-Fifty," she said. "Half for me and you share your half with your friends, if that's who's walking around."

Griff stuck out his hand to shake hers.

She ignored his hand. "Remember that without me, you won't get anything. I'm the one who knows how the 'verse operates. There are those out here that will blow you out of the sky and sell Paul Ryan for scraps without losing any sleep over it."

"Roger that."

She studied him for a long minute, weighing him. He guessed that her head was at war with her instincts. Griff knew it because he knew how she felt. Unfortunately, he didn't know which part of her trusted him. They needed each other, yet they didn't know each other. Shiloh shook his hand, but didn't let go, her eyes on his face, still weighing him and her judgment. Yeah, she was cautious.

"Are you guys coming?" Fi's voice sounded over the com.

"Maybe they're just now breathing hard," Finn added.

She dropped his hand and Griffin felt the loss of her touch. "Finn!" Shiloh's voice promised a proper ass kicking for his insubordination. "Outfit my partner with some weapons and a vest."

"Yes sir," Finn was sufficiently chastised. "Roger that."

"On our way."

Griff moved to go and Shiloh stopped him with a hand on his chest. "If I even think you're going to screw me over-- I. Will. Drop. You."

Griff couldn't help but smile. "Roger that."

# Chapter 6

Shiloh nodded to Handy, who'd looked at Griff and grunted before he opened the hatch to the Paul Ryan. Finn stepped through, Shiloh right on his heels, then Griff, followed by Fi. Griff had sketched out a quick diagram of the ship and it overlaid the signal on Fi's scanner.

Fi shrugged. "I got nothing. As soon as we stepped on board, it went dead.'

Whoever was on board was using jammers. Whoever...were there more survivors like Griff?

Griff. She felt him like a wall behind her; the two blasters and stun grenades Finn begrudgingly gave him at the ready. Could she trust him?

Shiloh shut her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. She focused on the sound of the ship, on the quietness that filled it, different now than it was before. Before, it was like they'd arrived at a party too early. Now it felt as if the party was anxiously awaiting their entry. Shiloh's intuition told her she wasn't going to like it when they yelled surprise. Experience had taught her to listen, especially when the hair on the back of her neck stood up, as it was now.

"Handy?"

"Still here." Thankfully, the jammers weren't working on their coms. Could be because they didn't know the frequency, or it could be the jammers on board wouldn't work against their advanced tech.

"Firefly protocol."

"Shiloh," Handy began as Fi and Finn both gave her looks.

"That's an order."

"Roger that."

Shiloh pointed forward. "Fi, Finn." She jerked her head to the left. "We'll go aft.'

They moved silently off, the twins frowning and resolute, with their weapons raised. Fi's scanner hung from its strap on her hip.

"You going to tell me what Firefly protocol is?" Griff asked as they cautiously walked the curve of the passage.

"It means if I go down, or I give the order, the ship bugs out, with or without us.'

"Sounds desperate." His voice rumbled beside her.

"As long as we have the ship, we've got a chance. If we lose the ship then we're all screwed." Shiloh spared him a look. She wasn't one to gamble, especially when the lives of her people were at stake. Yet she felt like she was sitting in a high stakes poker game and whatever card Griff turned over was the difference between life and death. What card would he play? His face was unreadable and her instincts screamed to cut and run. She couldn't. They were barely hanging on as it was. They needed this ship. She had to score big. It was that or find a piece of dirt somewhere and call it quits. If there was dirt to be had.

"What's back here?"

"Crew quarters and ready room on this deck, below, is the hangar."

"There are ships on board?"

"Five. Two fighters, two shuttles and a troop carrier."

"Sounds like you were planning some sort of invasion."

"Sounds like," Griff agreed. "It's all moot now."

"Roger that," Shiloh replied. "You got any ideas as to what we're going to find?"

"I'm hoping for some answers," Griff replied. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Shiloh would have laughed. His humor was dry, something she would appreciate if circumstances were different.

Then he put his arm in front of her, stopping her with his hand to her stomach, in an instinctual protective gesture. He tilted his head, and Shiloh knew he was listening.

She knew the sounds her ship made as well as she knew her own body, so she gave Griff the benefit of the doubt and slowed her breathing, her ears straining.

They both ducked as the whine of a shot sounded behind them, followed by the boom of Finn's big blaster.

"We are under fire! Repeat! Under fire!"

"Fi! Where's it coming from?"

"The bridge."

"Get back to Mustang. We're coming to cover you."

"Roger that."

Shiloh turned to aid her crew but Griff stopped her by grabbing her arm. "Wait," he said. "We've got to know who it is first."

"I don't care who it is," Shiloh wrenched her arm from his grasp. It wasn't easy, and she knew she broke free because he allowed it, not from her own force of will. "They are firing on my people."

"And what if it's my people? Still operating with the tech because there was no one to take it out? First protocol is protect the ship. I'm not going to let you kill people who are just doing their job." His eyes blazed, and Shiloh knew she shouldn't turn her back. She couldn't protect her people if he took her out. She had to stand and face him.

"I knew I should have left you behind." Shiloh touched her com. "Finn, use stun."

"Are you freaking kidding me? They're trying to kill us."

"Can you see them?"

"NO!" A loud boom accompanied Finn's answer, and the floor shook beneath their feet.

"Sounds like they blew a bulkhead," Griff said.

"How about we help them before they blow up the ship." Shiloh took off at a run. Griff passed her in a few steps.

"Handy, was that boom from the outside?"

"Negative. We're still alone as far as I can tell."

That didn't sound reassuring. "Finn? Fi?" There was no answer. "Get to Mustang." She hoped she wasn't talking to air. They rounded the passage and saw debris scattered about, and a large hole in the interior bulkhead. It was between them and the port to Mustang. Shots came at them from the hole, and they both hit the deck hard as they ricocheted over their heads. The next thing Shiloh knew, she was rolling, held inside Griff's arms as he moved them behind a piece of the bulkhead. As soon as he released her, she braced her elbows on the deck and returned fire.

"Fi's down, I repeat Fi is down."

"Finn, what's your location?"

"We're close to Mustang. They've got us pinned. Shots coming from both directions. The cargo bay and the hole they just blew. Handy is covering us but it's not enough."

Damn. Handy was in the firefight. Shiloh's desperation factor just multiplied tenfold. Once Handy was in, he was in all the way. He wouldn't abandon the twins just because she told him to. "We've got to get them out."

Griff nodded. "Cover me."

The man was quick. Especially for his size. Before she could give cover, he was up to his feet and pressed against the bulkhead. She fired a couple of rounds and joined him. He gave a quick look inside and then tossed in a stun grenade.

"Move," he said, and they took off toward Finn and Fi.

"Hang on Finn." Then to Griff. "Did you see who it was?"

"Yes. It's part of my team. What's left of them."

He was helping her. "The stun won't kill them," Shiloh assured him. "They'll be out ten minutes tops."

"And much harder to deal with when they come around. It's the tech."

"I'm all for reasoning with them." Shiloh touched his arm. She could feel the heat of his body through his shirt "But first I've got to save my people."

Once more he put out the protective arm as they came upon the door to the cargo hold. They pressed flat against the wall. Finn and Fi were pinned down, lying on the floor against a curve, as there was no cover. Shiloh was relieved to see Fi was alive, but bloody, and doing her best to help Finn. Handy and Greta returned fire, one popping out to shoot, then the other, trying to give Finn enough of a break to haul Fi into Mustang.

There was just too many of them. It was up to Shiloh and Griff to even the odds. She was amazed at how well he read her, or maybe just read the situation. She was relieved, knowing that he was so cool under pressure.

"Ready?" he asked.

Shiloh nodded and as one they stepped out and shot, creating a barrage of fire that drove back the guns firing on Finn and Fi. Finn grabbed Fi under one arm and blasted with his big gun as he dove into Mustang.

"Come on!" Handy yelled from the port. As Shiloh took her first step toward the port, Griff stopped her. The little robot vacuum was rolling down the hall with something strapped to its back.

"Shock bomb, "Griff said. "They won't make it and neither will we."

"Handy, Firefly now!" Shiloh said into her com as they both turned and ran.

Handy dropped a curse into her ear, and Finn yelled behind him. She could only hope that they closed the hatch in time and got Mustang away. Handy could do it. Shiloh prayed her com wouldn't go out as the force of the blast lifted her and Griff from their feet and sent them tumbling down the corridor. The instant they hit, Griff picked her up by the back of her jacket and half dragged, half carried her aft as shots bounced off the bulkhead above them. Worst of all, her com was dead. She had no way of knowing if Mustang was away.

Shiloh's ears rang and her vision blurred. Her bones felt like they were in a million pieces, rattling around inside her skin as Griff propelled her onward. How was he still on his feet? He truly was a super-soldier. How many of his kind were left that were trying to kill them? She'd only seen two rows when they found him. There could be seventy or more alive, all operating on the first prerogative. Protect The Ship.

"We've got to make the hangar." His voice sounded so far away, over the ringing, over the blaster shots that whined around them. "It's our only chance."

"Are you sure you can't talk to them?"

"Oh, we are way past talking." He let go of Shiloh as she found her feet. A quick glance showed a bevy of doors in this part of the corridor, which meant anyone of them could have a soldier waiting to fire on them. She could only hope that Griff knew where he was going.

He did, he burst through a door with stairs and Shiloh almost fell down as she scrambled in after him, with the heat of a blaster burn on the back of her arm urging her on.

"You hit?" he asked as the smell of scorched fabric and flesh filled the stairwell.

"Not enough to notice." It hurt like hell, but they didn't have time to lose. Their pursuers would be through the door any second. Griff shot the handle, efficiently melting it, which would only slow them down, not stop them. They clattered down two sets of steps. Griff held up his hand when they reached the door that led to the hangar.

"There'll be someone waiting on the other side." Of course there would. Because this couldn't be easy. Shiloh put her back to the wall and checked her weapon. She was down to half power, and a quick glance at Griff's blaster told her he was the same. Above, the sound of the door giving away carried down to where they waited. Her mind flashed back to the Mech Wars, where she stood in the very same position, ready to give cover to the medics and pick up the wounded.

To the day when she'd nearly died and received the scar that would never let her forget it.

"You okay?" Griff asked.

God, did it show? Shiloh nodded and rolled her shoulders. "I'm ready."

He opened the door.

# Chapter 7

Griff knew the soldiers now active on the ship would kill him, without giving it a second thought. He was no longer connected to them without his tech, which had been created to keep them linked together, no matter what alien technology they ran into on their mission. Yeah, that was a bust. Still, Griff knew exactly what the members of her team were thinking, because it was the same thing that had overwhelmed his brain when Shiloh and her crew carried him off.

Protect the ship.

He should have looked into the tech before he came back on. But the thought that his comrades might also have survived had overwhelmed his common sense.

His gut also told him to trust Shiloh. But now he wasn't so sure. She'd been cool so far, concentrating on getting her crew out, and saving her ship, like any good captain should.

But now, no matter where his allegiance lay, it was too late to change anything. The only chance the two of them had of surviving this was to get to one of the fighters. His gut clenched at the thought of how many of his people he would have to take out so the two of them could escape

Griff opened the door, took a look, and ducked back in next to Shiloh, who luckily didn't seem as pale as she was a second ago. Carrying her out of here would interfere greatly with their chances of survival.

"There's two, one at each door. The blast door is closed which means we're going to have to blow our way out."

"And take everything in the hangar with us," Shiloh surmised quickly.

Griff nodded. He heard noise above them. It was time to move. "Stay on my six and make your shots count."

"Roger that." Her eyes were steady as she looked at him. She really did have beautiful eyes, so pretty that they overshadowed the scar on her face. They were more than likely going to die in the next few moments. He might as well take something with him, something worth dying over, so he quickly kissed her, hard and fast, before taking off for the Skyhawk that was number one in the bay.

His Skyhawk.

There were no calls to halt. No offer for surrender. Nothing but the determination of the soldiers connected to a tech no longer required, to kill them. There was no time to look at faces or recall names. All he could do was duck and run and shoot and hope Shiloh could do the same.

Griff grunted as a bullet hit his thigh. He led Shiloh through the hangar, using the ships as cover, knowing that the army after them would try for position while others continued the heavy barrage of fire. They only had seconds, seconds that had to count. If another shock bomb came at them they were done. He ducked under a shuttle and saw the familiar nose of his fighter. Griff slapped his palm on the lock and couldn't believe it when the door actually slid open. Shiloh had her back to him, shooting at anything that moved. He picked her up and tossed her inside, and then dove in behind her, closing the hatch as he rolled past Shiloh and staggered to the pilot's seat.

"I can't believe we made it." Shiloh slid into the co seat.

"We haven't yet." Griff hit the ignition switch. Had 200 years of just sitting ruined her? She was supposed to be on a maintenance cycle, battle ready for when they reached their target. His luck couldn't be that good, could it?

The engines roared to life, filling the hangar with the noise and temporarily silencing their pursuers. They had to know what was coming next.

"I'm guessing we're going to blast our way out of here?"

"Unless you can talk them into opening the door." Griff checked his weapons charge.

"How long will it take to equalize?" Shiloh's concern for his crewmates was welcome, given how he felt at the thought of his friends being sucked into space. Yet he knew there was no reasoning with them; that they were merely following the orders implanted in the tech and until it was overridden, there was nothing any of them could do.

"I have no idea." It could just as easily be him down there, shooting at any of the others. It was just luck that he was the one Shiloh pulled from the ship, based on nothing more than which row she chose to walk down when she discovered them.

Griff took the stick in hand and his Skyhawk responded shakily, acting as if she was anxious to be off and tired of waiting. He was wasting time. He should have blown the hatch and been gone, but he was delaying, hoping to give them time to clear the bay.

He caught movement at his eleven. "Crosby." He stood next to the Skyhawk and the look on his face...was he daring Griff to blow the hatch? Crosby raised his weapon. Griff had no choice. He fired two missiles and the door blew out into space. Griff punched the Skyhawk out as stuff from the hangar followed them. He looked quickly behind and saw Crosby hanging on, fighting the pull of the vacuum.

"Can the ship fire on us?"

"The tech should identify our ship as friendly." Griff shook his head. How many soldiers had just died a needless death? And speaking of...he turned the Skyhawk to parallel the Paul Ryan. There was no sign of debris. Her sign of relief echoed his.

"Mustang, come in." Shiloh shook her head. "It must have bugged out when we were hit." They were by the hatch where Mustang had been docked. It looked secure so they had to have gotten away safely. She refused to believe otherwise. Griff's eyes were on the sky while hers darted to his hip. Blood seeped down his leg. She'd bet money the bullet was still in there. Blaster fire or bullets. The battle they'd just survived had been a game of pick your poison. Both left scars. "You got a kit on board?"

Griff jerked his head at a panel behind her seat as he studied the scanners. "What's your protocol?" She gave him the coordinates where Mustang should be and slid back into the co-seat. He unconsciously jerked when she bent to his leg. Shiloh quickly figured out what was what and dumped some morphine powder on the wound.

"Thanks." Griff looked at her. "How's that shoulder?"

Shiloh leaned forward so he could see the wound. His hand was gentle as he touched her back. "I think it's just a graze."

"You were lucky." He moved his hand back to the controls and made an adjustment. Shiloh watched him for a moment. He was good. Flying was second nature to him, just as it was with her.

His kiss still tingled on her lips. He'd taken her totally by surprise with that kiss. She needed time to think on it. After she found her ship.

"We both were." Shiloh touched his arm. She couldn't seem to help herself. Touching him felt as natural as handling the controls to Mustang. "Griff. I know what you did back there was hard. They were your friends."

"That wasn't my friends we fought. That was the tech."

"We'll figure it out. We'll go back." She meant it. And it wasn't just because of the salvage. There were people there, people who needed help.

Griff swallowed and nodded. His eyes were moist. The giant warrior had a heart. All the doubts Shiloh had about him faded away. Especially when he pointed his finger into space. "Look familiar?"

"Mustang." Right where they were supposed to be. Maybe their luck had changed for the better.

Griff punched a button on his board. "Hailing frequencies open."

Shiloh gave him a smile. "Roger that."

# Chapter 8

They were able to dock Griff's Skyhawk to the underside port and enter Mustang, much to Shiloh's relief. After what they'd been through, she didn't want to take the time to find a habitable planet. Fi, thankfully, would pull through. Truth be told, Finn looked worse than she did. Shiloh found both of them in the med bay. Fi with her arm bandaged and in a sling and Finn having a patch on his back looked at where a blast burn had gotten through his vest.

Doc slapped some ointment on Shiloh's shoulder and dug the bullet out of Griff's thigh without any trouble. Griff bore it with a local, declaring that he'd slept enough recently.

He was worried about his friends. Shiloh couldn't blame him in the least. "How about we go back and take a look?"

Griff was dressed again, his face grim at the memory of the soldiers who died when the vacuum filled the hanger. He nodded in agreement.

"Do you think it would be possible to talk them down?" Shiloh asked as they made their way to the pit.

"You mean make them see reason?" Griff replied. "I seriously doubt it. There was a process we were supposed to go through upon awakening. A series of codes that signified all is well. The tech's main purpose was to keep us together as a unit. The failsafe was protect the ship, in case we got boarded during stasis. Without the codes the prime directive just takes over."

Shiloh took her seat and Griff slid gingerly into the co with a grimace as he put weight on his wound. He soldiered on. She would not have expected any less.

"When you woke me, I was confused because I didn't recognize you and there was no codes. The further you took me from the tube, the more the tech pulsed because it was linked to the others. I had to fight, it wouldn't let me not fight."

"Because of the pain?"

"Yes, which is related to the directive. When you put me down, we were so far from the others that the pain was so intense that I couldn't fight."

"Guess it defeated its own purpose with you."

"We were supposed to be a unit."

Shiloh shook her head. "I don't understand how you let them put it in there in the first place."

"You've got to remember, I haven't seen what you saw in your wars. It made sense. We didn't know what we would be facing out here. Turns out it was a whole bunch of nothing."

"Fi's pretty much a wiz with tech. Between her and Doc, I bet they can figure out someway to neutralize it."

"I hope so."

They were back in the debris field. There was more to it now. Stuff that had come out of the Paul Ryan when the hatch was blown. Shiloh touched her com. "Finn. If I told you there was a bounty of salvage just floating around in space would you be able to set up a tow field? Or is your pansy ass still lying around in the infirmary?" She knew the challenge would get him up faster than the prospect of some credits.

"I'm on it," Finn replied. "Both me and my hard-on."

"Roger that."

"Me too," Fi echoed. "Only without the hard-on."

Shiloh couldn't help but smile, even though Griff was scanning the sky for bodies. For his friends.

She let the smile go. "We'll set up a magnetic pulse," Shiloh explained to Griff. "It will grab anything made of metal into a field and pull it into the bay underneath." She shrugged. "It will mean a walk outside for Finn but it will be worth it."

"I'd like to help, "Griff said. "Do you have a suit that will fit me?"

She wasn't surprised. If it were her crew out there, she'd want to be a part of it. She'd want to know. "Fortunately for you they're one size fits all," Shiloh replied. "Finn? Griff's going out with you."

"Roger that."

"I'll set him up," Handy chimed in. Bless him. He knew what Griff was thinking too. Griff left the pit just as Cisco came in. He jumped onto the console as if he knew there was going to be a show.

They'd been lucky today. So very lucky. She could have lost the twins. She could have lost her ship. She could have lost her life. But she hadn't. Now there was the possibility of the treasure floating in space around them. Now there were all kinds of possibilities.

"We're heading out." Finn's voice came over her com. Video is on."

"Roger that," Shiloh replied. She'd be taking directions from Finn now, as he would guide them into the best position for recovery.

As would Griff. Her partner now. When it came down to it, where would his allegiance lay? He needed her help to make his way around the new 'verse he found himself in. But the men on the Paul Ryan were his comrades. His friends. If they could get through the tech would he turn on her? He might need her savvy to understand the way things were now, but the Paul Ryan could easily blow them out of the sky.

She needed her mind in the present, not chasing what ifs across the galaxy. Shiloh turned her eyes to the screen on her com. It was split with two views, one from Finn and the other from Griff. They both wore cables that kept them attached to the lower bay. Shiloh blew up Finn's camera and saw his hands examining the salvage that floated in. Shiloh recognized some as weapons, others as pieces of tech that Griff would know the use of. Through Finn's camera Shiloh caught glimpses of Griff, who was further out.

She switched to his view and saw the face of a woman. Her face, covered with the frost of deep space, was frozen in the panicked grimace of one who knew they would suffocate. Griff pulled a chain with tags from around her neck and stuffed it into a pocket in his suit. She recognized it as the same type of chain she'd seen around his neck. Shiloh watched as his hand moved over her face and shut her eyes. Then he turned her loose, pushing her away from the ship and out into space.

He felt responsible. Shiloh felt it in her gut, because she knew the feeling well. The woman had died when they blew the hatch. It was a choice that he made to save their lives. A sacrifice every soldier had to make at some time, especially in battle.

That didn't make it hurt any less.

Shiloh followed Finn's commands as she negotiated the ship through the debris field using the thrusters. She kept an eye on the Paul Ryan, making sure they didn't get too close. In that time Griff found three more bodies. Shiloh studied their faces as he did the same for each that he did for the woman; all the time wondering how close was he to each of them?

There were times when it didn't pay to get close to anyone.

"That's it for now," Finn said. "We're full." Finn raised his arm so Shiloh could see his monitors. He tapped his finger on the oxygen level. His was low, which meant Griff's was too.

"Roger that," Shiloh checked Griff's screen. He stared out into space, looking for more bodies. None showed but that didn't mean they weren't there.

"Time to come in, Griff." She switched the com so only he could hear her.

His voice was full of emotion. "Roger that."

# Chapter 9

Four bodies. Four of his comrades dead. How many of the original hundred died in stasis? How many survived as he did, only to lose their lives when he blew the hatch?

All because of a stupid piece of tech that had outlived its use.

They stood on a platform in the lower hatch. Finn punched a button that closed the bay doors and they waited while the pressure equalized and they could remove their helmets.

"Were any of them your friends?" Finn asked.

"One was," Griff replied. "The others..." Part of his unit. Names. Talents. One was an asshole from the start. The woman...Jacey...they'd enjoyed each other's company a number of times. There was no love there, but there had been affection. She didn't deserve to die like she did. None of them did.

"Sorry, man," Finn said. His obligation taken care of, Finn's eyes darted to the salvage below.

Handy opened the hatch. Shiloh and Fi were waiting beyond, no doubt ready to tally up the treasure. Fi blew right by him as he stepped into bay. Doc and Greta stood above on the catwalk and the chickens went about their business as if nothing had changed.

For them nothing had. Maybe he was stuck in a surrealist nightmare of some sort and he would wake up as he was supposed to some two hundred years in the past.

No, the pain in his thigh was much too real.

Shiloh waited, those beautiful clear eyes of hers beneath the thick lashes turned upon him as if she could see right into his soul. "It has come to my attention that I never showed you to your cabin."

Griff cleared his throat. "My cabin?"

"You're still my partner?"

"Yes."

"You have a cabin."

"Let's get you out of that suit first." Handy took the helmet and then touched the panel on the chest of the suit, releasing the pressure. The suit fell away, suddenly three sizes too big, and Griff stepped out of it. His boots were right where he'd left them. Shiloh waited patiently while he pulled them on. Handy gave him the four sets of tags from the pocket of the suit. Griff didn't know what to do with them so he kept them gripped in his hand as Shiloh led him up the catwalk and aft, past the galley and lounge and then down a small flight of stairs.

"This is me," she said, pointing to a door. Cisco strolled up and wound his way between his legs with his tail straight up like a brush "Handy, Greta, Finn, Fi." She pointed to the cabins in succession down the hall and then back up. "Doc has a room next to the infirmary. "This one is yours." It was across from Shiloh's. She punched in a code on a pad. "It's unlocked now. You can code it for privacy."

The door slid open and Cisco strolled in like he owned it. Griff's noticed his go-bag was already here, sitting on a freshly made bed. Cisco jumped up and sniffed around, then lay down and began the process of washing his face.

"Greta," Shiloh said when he saw his things. She shut the door behind them.

The room was suitable, much like his cabin on the Paul Ryan, with a wide bunk, desk, dresser and a head that included a shower. A vid screen hung on the wall. There was a small porthole opposite.

"This was Nance's," Shiloh explained. "My former co-pilot. He got a better offer."

"He should have stuck around for your latest score." Yes, he sounded pissy, but he didn't care.

"Were you close?" Shiloh asked. "To her?" She touched his arm and he felt it down to his bones. "To any of them?"

Griff looked down at her hand. Her touch was gentle, yet certain. He raised his gaze to her eyes. He saw the honesty in them. There was no bullshit about her, nor guile. He knew she was cautious, that had been easy enough to figure out. She really cared. Cared that he was hurting.

"I was," he said. "With her. A long time ago." He still held the tags in his fist. He dropped them on the desk. "Her name was Jacey. We went through training together." Griff flexed his hand. He hadn't realized how tightly he'd held them until he let them go. "The others, I knew them. Crosby wasn't among them."

"The guy in the hanger," Shiloh started.

"Yeah, him." He looked through the port. "He could still be out there."

"Hey Shi," Fi's voice came over her com.

"Can it wait?" Shiloh asked. She kept her eyes on Griff.

"I've figured out a way to contact the Paul Ryan using Griff's ship ID."

"Roger that. I'll get back to you." Shiloh took her piece from her ear and stuck it in the pocket of her pants. She didn't take her eyes off Griff. "Do you want to talk to them?'

"Until we figure out how to bypass the tech it won't matter what I say."

She nodded. "There's a place for you here. You can fly and I need a co-pilot." She turned to go. "We'll figure it out. I give you my word." He knew she'd stand by it. There was no doubt in his mind. She stopped at the door, for just a second, and then raised her hand to open it.

"Shiloh?"

She looked over her shoulder, her scar turned away. He'd forgotten about the scar until he realized that every move she made was done to hide it. She used her long braid to cover it, keeping it over her shoulder on the right side. It took him three steps to touch her, to turn her so that she faced him. Griff pushed her braid back over her shoulder and ran his thumb down the length of the raised edge. Shiloh lowered her eyes. Was she frightened? Afraid he'd condemn her because of the scar? Griff put his finger under her chin and raised it so that he could look into her clear, beautiful eyes.

She had no idea how truly beautiful she was.

He kissed her. Her breath jerked in and he thought for a second, that she would push him away, fight him, and possibly even shoot him.

She leaned into him with her breasts, put her hands on his waist and pulled him against her. She returned his kiss, hungrily. Griff pressed forward, pinning her against the door. When he needed to breathe he pulled back. Shiloh gasped for air, her eyes were wide with shock, anger...

Passion.

The air between them danced as if charged and it only took an instant, or maybe, Griff thought before he kissed her again, it was a lifetime.

A lifetime would never be enough with this woman.

# Chapter 10

Shiloh couldn't count the times she'd been to the Jupiter Moon Casino, but this was the first time she'd walked through the front door in a fancy dress on the arm of a handsome guy. It was definitely the first time she'd come in with credits to her name. They scored enough from the stuff they gathered floating around the Paul Ryan to pay off her debts and overhaul Mustang. And since the space station they were currently on was considered a free zone, she didn't have to worry about bounty hunters being after her or the twins.

The presence of Griff was enough to dissuade those who thought otherwise. Shiloh looked up at her partner. They stood on a balcony overlooking the casino floor and he was taking it all in, his eyes roaming over the bright lights, the stage, the innumerable vid screens scattered about.

"Vegas in space," he said with a grin.

"I'll have to take your word for it." Shiloh had heard about Vegas. It was hard to imagine a place like this dirtside. Especially since Jupiter Moon was composed of a bunch of Class B freighters linked around an old space station on the outskirts a now defunct mining colony. The Casino and luxury hotel/spa inhabited the space station. The freighters held an array of boutiques, pubs, bars, cheap hotels and the occasional whorehouse. Paradise if you had the credits and liked that sort of thing.

Although lately Shiloh's idea of paradise was leaning more towards a private beach and a turquoise ocean and the chance of getting to know the man by her side a lot better. Foolish thoughts, especially since he was her partner and her new copilot. Very foolish thoughts since the Paul Ryan was still out there and she'd promised him they'd go back and help his friends. Where her thoughts were leading her would complicate things.

At least for now the pressure was off, thanks to Jacks, who met them as soon as they docked. Her crew was taken care of. Greta was out talking to the pubs about her brew and Handy was with her. Finn and Fi had taken off to God knows where, but as long as they were back on board at the scheduled time, she didn't care.

Hopefully she wouldn't have to bail them out of jail.

Doc was sitting on a bar stool somewhere. Surprisingly he always turned up when he was supposed to.

And Griff...They'd gone shopping first. Buying him clothes and assorted sundries that he would need for day-to-day living on Mustang. He was the one who talked her into the dress when he saw it in the window of one of the boutiques. It was a white lace creation, not too sexy, which she would have balked at, but pretty and delicate with crystals sewn into the lace that caught the lights and winked back like the stars.

A moment of foolishness on her part. Yet she felt pretty. She hadn't in a very long time. She had her hair down, instead of the usual braid, and wore it over her right shoulder. She'd even added some lip gloss and a touch of mascara, borrowed from Fi.

"So..." Shiloh looked up at Griff. "What do you want to do first?"

A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. Griff looked out over the casino, took it all in, and then turned to look at her. His large hand cupped her cheek and raised her face as his thumb traced the line of her scar.

"This," he said, just before he kissed her.

# About the Author

Award winning author Cindy Holby doesn't let genre define her writing. She is published in historical, sci/fi, paranormal, dystopian, fantasy, and young adult. Her stories are character driven with action and adventure throughout. Reviewers note that her characters and plot blend flawlessly for well-rounded stories and hard-won happily ever afters. She takes us on an incredible journey of love, betrayal and the will to survive. Cindy Holby (writing as Colby Hodge) takes us on adventure at a breath-taking clip. She (writing as Kassy Tayler) writes with haunting precision and you'll fall in love with her characters.

* * *

Before her writing career took off, Cindy Holby held many jobs that ranged from bartending at a local disco to teaching first graders how to read. She lives in the foothills of North Carolina with her husband Rob, three rescue cats and a doxie named Cody. She is the proud mother of two sons who live close by. When she isn't writing, she creates beautiful quilts and works in animal rescue. Readers can find her at http://www.cindyholby.com and on all social media outlets.

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