After a fairly lengthy hiatus, Piloting Fury is back! I apologise for the delay, but sometimes life gets in the way. For those of you who would like a recap or to start at the beginning, see the link below.

We left Mac and Manning to complete their bonding with Fury, and now it’s time for them to set their plan to save Pandora Station into action. Please spread the word and pass the link to a friend. I love to share my stories with as many people as possible. Once again I’ll be offering a new episode of Fury every Friday.

 

If you would like to recap Fury or if you’re new and would like to read the whole novel so far, go to this link to start at the beginning, and enjoy! : https://kdgrace.co.uk/blog/piloting-fury-new-from-kdg/

 

 

 

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAllister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1^st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

Piloting Fury Part 58: Returning Property

Bro 3 near! Bro 3 near! Need help please! Bro 3 need help!

The message filtered through into Fury’s heart, which was also his brain, loud and clear, startling us all back to the grim reality we now faced, but this time our return message was instantaneous and far less awkward.

Help comes!

And in an instant I was aware that the rough basics of our plan had filtered into the part of Apocalypse that was sentient, the part that longed to connect as much as Fury did. In that same instant, I caught another reassuring voice in the mix, Help Comes! I was surprised to find that it was Gerando Fallon’s.

Fury clothed us all instantly, and we were back on the lift heading to the bridge without any of us commenting on what we’d just experienced. But really there was little need to. We were bonded now, and some things no longer needed to be said.

On the bridge, Stanislavsky met us with Rab and Fallon by her side. Fallon was now the epitome of health thanks to Furry’s blood – well I’d come to think of it as Fury’s blood at least. All eyes were on Manning and me as though perhaps Fury had forgotten to clothe us. I wondered if we looked different, but no one commented.

“The Ares is ready,” Fallon said, looking me up and down.

Manning growled and pulled me close, but I could tell in the feel of his touch that it was now as much for reassurance as it was because he didn’t want me to go.

“You are strong now, Diana Mac. You are infused with my essence. Your presence alone will help Apocalypse.”

“But this will help even more,” Stanislavsky handed me two tiny vials of Fury’s biological soup. “Since Apocalypse is part SNT, and he is equipped with a good mol-tran, if you open the first vial just before you transport and leave it open, the molecules will disperse themselves when you’re recombo’ed onboard the Apocalypse.” She handed me two vials. “The second will do the most good if you can get it into the control room. It’ll be there where Abriad Fallon will have used the most SNT technology, other than the engine room, which you aren’t likely to be able to get to. I’ve equipped Gerando with a vial as well, since he already has a connection with Apocalypse and may have a better chance of getting to the engine room than you will. Use them all if you get the chance, and wherever you and Apocalypse feel they’ll do the most good. It can’t hurt having the bonded compliment of Apocalypse’ brother onboard, nor can it hurt having his own flesh and blood onboard,” she said nodding to Gerando.

I didn’t ask if Fury could keep a lock on me. It was like keeping a lock on himself. Even at that, the situation didn’t make me comfortable. I knew how cunning Fallon was. He didn’t get into such a position of power from being otherwise. Still, I could see no other real way to end his reign of terror.

Keen’s image came up on the viewing screen. He looked from me to Manning and back again. “It’s done then, and just in time. Apocalypse is about to enter Pandora space. Evacuation to the Dubrovnik is moving along as fast as we can manage, but without a major distraction, we won’t be anywhere near finished by the time Fallon has his guns pointed on us, and with the force field down, Fallon can waltz right in and knock at the door. Are you ready?”

We all nodded.

“Diana,” he said turning his attention to me. “This isn’t what I would have chosen, none of it.”

“Me neither,” I said, “but it’s what will work.” I sounded a lot more sure than

I felt.

“I am ready to transport you aboard the Ares,” Fury said. That was what everyone heard, but what I felt was his reassurance, as though he spoke it in my heart.

Gerando blew out a harsh breath, shot me a glance, but then looked away quickly, as though he feared my gaze. “Let’s get it over with then.”

Before we could go, Manning pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard, then he turned to Gerando. “If anything, anything happens to Mac, you’re a dead man, I don’t care whose brother you are. You got that.”

“If anything happens to her I deserve to be a dead man,” came the reply. Then he gently placed a hand beneath my elbow and we all held our breath.

The cold emptiness at the pit of my stomach was not from the mol-tran this time, but from the separation from my ship and compliment. Once we reformed aboard the Ares, that cold became a warm surge, a reminder that I was not alone.

 

 

 

“Fucking hell, I hate those things,” Rab said rubbing his arms as though he were chilled. “I don’t care if they are SNTs and reliable. A body wasn’t meant to be disintegrated and then reassembled.”

“You can sit there.” Gerando nodded me to a seat near the console. “Buckle in. This needs to be a bumpy ride to make it look authentic.” He still avoided my gaze.

“You might want to see what you can do to make her look a bit roughed up,” Rab said, his face turning crimson as he spoke. “The old bastard isn’t going to believe you’d get her here without a fight.”

“Bloody hell,” Gerando cursed under his breath. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“He won’t believe that,” I said. I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

“I don’t care what he believes, I’m not hurting you.”

“What? You afraid of Manning?” Rab asked.

“Fuck you,” came the reply from where Gerando hunched over the console as though he could hide behind his efforts.

“Then you do it,” I said to Rab. “Trust me, there’s nothing you can do to me that I haven’t had done before and worse. I can take it.”

Rab turned a bit green around the edges and shook his head, suddenly finding the console way more interesting to him than I’m sure it really was. Gerando, on the other hand, went angry red. He’d given me more than his fair share of the beatings and abuse I’d received at Fallon family hands, and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some satisfaction in his discomfort, but there was no time to dwell on it and no time for anyone to get their licks in and make me look the part before Abriad Fallon’s voice came over the com.

“I see you’ve survived the virus.”

My own edges turned a little green as I thought of the sonovabitch infecting his own son as he had me.

Gerando had the good sense not to respond to his father’s bating. “We have your property,” was all he said.

For a moment there was silence, and I thought perhaps we’d lost the link. “Is she all right?” he asked at last.

“She’s fine just a little groggy from the knock-out drugs,” he said, and I went limp in the chair in response. He glanced back at me and pulled up the viewing screen. “See for yourself.” It was just as well that I was faking unconsciousness. I didn’t want to see the bastard’s face, at least not just yet, not until I could do something, do anything to make him suffer.

“Good. Then I’ll ‘tran the three of you over as soon as the Apocalypse is in range. ETA 2 minutes.”

We all sat stiff backed and dead silent in our seats while we waited. I clung desperately to the warmth of Fury’s lock. But nothing was certain. We all knew that. Finally I managed a shaky breath, fighting the urge to vomit, and spoke. “Don’t you let him take me alive. Do you understand? If it comes to it, I don’t care, slit my throat, de-mole me, blow me out the fucking airlock, just don’t let him take me back. Promise me!”

Gerando’s jaw tightened and the muscles along his jaw tensed. “I promise.” His voice was barely audible. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but if you would return the favor. I’d appreciate it.”

“Promise,” I said.

“Oh for fuck sake,” Rab cursed. “How about we blow that mother fucking ball-licking sonovabitch out the airlock instead. I’m good with that. I’m real good with that.”

“Me too,” I said with half a hysterical laugh just before we were mol-tranned onboard Apocalypse and I had barely enough time to flip open the top of the vial Stanislavsky had given me.

 

Happy Friday my Lovelies, and time for another chapter of Fury. I don’t feel any older, if you’re wondering. My birthday was quietly, safely just what I wanted and needed in these scary lockdown times. Pride and Prejudice was as fabulous as it always is. I ate too much Pavlova, enjoyed lots of good wine, had some nice walks and totally basked in being queen of the weekend. I hope you all enjoyed the extended instalment of Fury.

If you’re enjoying this rollicking read, please spread the word and pass the link to a friend. I love to share my stories with as many people as possible. I’m offering a new episode of Fury every Friday. Remember this is a work in progress, so please be gentle with me. This week Manning and Fury let Mac in on a game-changing secret.

 

 

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAlister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1^st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

Piloting Fury Part 26:

I materialized on my hands and knees on the deck of the Fury, trying hard not to vomit. Manning mantled me for a moment, then scrambled to his feet.

“We need to jump. Now,” came Manning’s calm voice, and when I was too shaken to move, he yanked me upright; half dragged, half carried me to my chair and belted me in. He’d barely gotten his own belt secured when the g-forces of the pre-laid in jump pushed us back against the seats. Fury was gone and us right along with him.

Once the jump was made, Manning grabbed my hand in a suicide grip. “Mac, I need you to focus. We need to jump again, and then again after that, as quickly as possible. Get us as far into deep space as you can in a quick jump. Just do it!”

“Do not worry Diana Mac, Richard Manning knows what he is doing. We will be very safe if you do as he says.” I had already laid in coordinates by the time Fury finished his pep talk. “Ready to jump,” I said. As we did, I was already halfway through entering the coordinates for two more fast jumps.

The whole sequence took less than five minutes and we came out of hyperspace with a bone-jarring jerk. I sat still waiting for my innards to settle back into place before. Manning spoke between barely parted lips. “Good thing I didn’t have my dinner yet. I’d be losing it about now.” He swallowed hard then laid his head back against the seat. “Nobody with any kind of desire for self preservations would have followed us through that, even if they could have.” Then he covered his mouth with his hand and swallowed several times before the green tinge began to fade from his cheeks.

“Which they could not,” Fury added.

“I ran right into him, and the sonovabitch recognized me. Gerando Fallon recognized me.” Suddenly I was shaking so bad I couldn’t have stayed in the seat if I hadn’t been belted in. “If you hadn’t had a lock on my, I’d have ended up … Christ! He was going to take me back to his father. I’m just a runaway indentured. I’m a fucking fugitive. Fallon would have infected me… There’ll be repercussions for Fury. Jesus, Manning, what are we going to do? What are we going to do?” The deck swam around me, and my vision blurred. Manning threw off his harness and grabbed me up out of my chair with me shivering and babbling like some loony. When I finally came to myself, I was huddled in the middle of my bed in Manning’s arms, as he crooned to me softly.

“He is never going to have you. Ever, Mac, do you hear me? You’re not a fugitive, you belong right here with Fury and me, and no one will ever infect you again.”

“Diana Mac’s vitals are better now,” Fury said. “The likelihood of shock is greatly reduced.” It was strange, but I felt Fury almost as intimately as I felt Manning – not terribly surprising as closely as I’d worked with the ship.

“Mac, listen to me.” Manning eased the combs from my hair and ran his fingers through it. “I promise you no one could have followed us through those jumps, and certainly Fallon’s brat won’t find any allies at Stella’s. Stella turned a blind eye for me because she owes me. That means all the surveillance cameras were turned off. Fallon would have had them turned off anyway. The fact that the man has a reputation of being a drunken asshole means no one will believe even half of what he says, probably not even his father.”

“Jesus, Manning! You can’t be that naïve! It was his father who sent him – sent him looking for me, because he knows the sonovabitch wants me almost as much as his old man does. And if Leo Rab is helping him, well Rab’s no slouch, and he works for Harker on the Dubrovnik. Don’t you get it? They won’t give up. Fallon will never give up. How could I have possibly thought that he would, and now you and Fury are under threat because of me.”

“Don’t you worry about Fury and me. We’re fine, and so are you. Do you hear me, Mac?” He gave me a little shake. “So are you.”

I nodded and gulped a deep breath.

He studied me for a minute as though he doubted that he’d gotten his message through, then he blew out a heavy breath. “As for the Dubrovnik, well it was Harker who helped me get you away. Rab, I don’t know, but I’m guessing he’s not the only one on the Dubrovnik, or any conglomerate ship, for that matter, who gets a little something extra under the table for snitching.”

For a long time no one spoke, and while I could sense Manning’s gaze on me, it was the Fury’s warmth that I felt, a micro-adjustment to the space where I lay, no doubt. Fury was all about the comfort of his crew.

To my surprise, it was Fury who spoke to Manning. “Are you sure it is a good idea, Richard Manning? There are risks.”

“There are always risks,” Manning said, “and it’s time she knew.”

“Knew what?” I asked.

Fury made what sounded like a tutting noise, but then I may have just imagined that. I didn’t imagine the charged air between captain and ship, which made my skin prickle.

Manning took a deep breath and cupped my arm in his hand, holding it so the place where the shackle was implanted was exposed. For a moment, we both stared down at the spot, and then he ran the fingertips of his right hand along the slight roughness of it. “You’re not an indentured anymore, Mac. You’re shackle is empty.”

 

Happy New Year everyone!  2020 has been a rough year for everyone. Wishing you all light love and laughter. We’ll make it through this together and see the sun again.

While Mac and Manning may not be celebrating the New Year at the moment, they are definitely plotting and planning. Mr. Grace and I are celebrating a lockdown New Year as everyone is in the UK right now, keeping in touch with our friends and family on social media, which is more important for all of us in our isolated lives right now. And, as you might guess, there’s a whole lot of escapist reading going on, which brings us to another episode of Piloting Fury.

As we enter the 23nd week of Fury, I hope you’re enjoying the rollicking read. If so, please spread the word and pass the link to a friend. I love to share my stories with as many people as possible. I’m offering a new episode of Fury every Friday. Today, Mac pulls off a little con to get back what was stolen. Happy reading, and stay safe out there!

 

 

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAlister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1^st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

Piloting Fury Part 24: The Con

From low orbit, we Mol-tranned into the alley behind the Corsair and left Fury in charge of getting us back safe and sound. When we ‘tranned, Manning pulled me close like he was afraid he’d lose me. As we rematerialized he stepped back and gave me one last head to toe, then gave me a wicked smile. “If I didn’t know what’s about to happen to the poor bastard, I damn near envy Blake spending the evening with you, and so will everyone else.” He touched my neck where the insert was. “The owner of the Corsair owes me a favor, so I got her to drop the shields that prevent Mol-tranning. Fury has a permanent lock on both of us, and you’ll be out of there in a heartbeat if anything looks even slightly suspicious.”

I nodded and turned to leave, but he pulled me back. “I’m serious, Mac. Nothing we’ve lost is worth losing you over, do you understand?”

I nodded again, already in the zone, knowing what I was about to do was something Manning couldn’t manage without me, and I really wanted to do it for the team I now felt a part of, in spite of the shackle in my forearm.

He took me by my shoulders and gave me a gentle shake, as he might have done to wake me up. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks, all right? You belong to me now, me and Fury. Trust us to take care of you, to keep you safe.”

If that wasn’t enough to make me feel warm and fuzzy clear down to my toes, the bastard took my face in his hands and kissed me. He kissed me like no one had ever kissed me. Oh it was just a quick dart in and back out again, but he left me with no doubt where I belonged. Jesus! He left me with no doubt that I actually didbelong, and possibly for more than what I could contribute to Manning’s own Atlas account.

He checked the layer of Dermanew disguising my shackle and ID number one last time. Then he stepped back. “Go. Stella has a table reserved for you in the corner so you won’t draw too much attention. In fact, I paid her well to be sure it’s only Blake’s attention you draw. I’ll be lurking.” He pulled the hood of the New Vaticana monk’s robe he was wearing up over his head and gave my hand one last squeeze. “Good luck.”

Inside a woman with bright yellow hair piled high on top of her head led me to a table near the back without a word spoken. I wondered if she was Stella. I ordered a drink then pulled out the deck of cards and began a game of solitaire keeping one eye on the main entrance. Manning walked in and, at the sight of a monk, one of the Corsair’s good time girls bowed before him and brought his hand to her lips. He laid a palm on her head and offered her the iglacial symbol for the forgiveness of sins. I wondered how he’d learned to be so priestly. Adjusting his hood, he found a place at the bar, and his gaze moved slowly around the room until it settled briefly on me with a barley perceptible nod. Then he gave a casual glance toward the open door, now completely in the shadow of a mountain of a man. The yellow-haired woman greeted him with an affectionate slap on the back then guided him to a table that was so close it was almost in my lap.

While Banshee Blake was only slightly smaller than Fury’s shuttle, he was most definitely not a fat bastard – well perhaps he was a bastard, a good number of the folks who hung out in places like the Corsair were, but he wasn’t fat. He was just huge. Manning was tall, but this man towered over him by a good half-meter. The heavy brow ridge, the blazing eyes and the way he wore his hair in a top knot told me that at least one of his parents was Polyphemian. They were the giants of the known galaxy. Their size, plus the blazing eyes and luxurious hair were always a dead giveaway. No one with Polyphemian blood in the family tree could hide their ancestry. They were supposedly well endowed in all areas of their anatomy and were considered exquisite lovers. None of this information Manning had bothered to impart. I suspected his little possessive speech about me belonging to him and Fury may have been his warning not to let the guy seduce me. As if that would happen when there were credits to be won and a score to be settled. Manning, more than anyone, should know that by now.

The Ployphemian made no effort to hide his blatant ogling of me as I made an elaborate display of dealing the cards and setting them up for another game of solitaire. I pretended not to notice, pretended to be fully focused on my game as he called the waitress over. I could tell by the nod of his head he was ordering me another drink as well. I was dinking Hebridian ginger beer, but he certainly didn’t know that, and I was counting on him thinking I was drunk enough that, not only would he win, but he’d get a good fuck out of the deal as well.

“Thank you.” When the drinks came, I lifted mine in a salute. As I expected, he took that as an invitation to join me. “I was hoping for someone to play with,” I nodded to the cards but made sure he got the double entendre.

“I’d be happy to play with you, darlin’.” Gone was the flugelhorn bellow of our earlier encounter, replaced by what could only be called a bedroom voice, but that was also a Polyphemian trait. The voice they used with the opposite sex was as seductive as the voice they used with the rest of the world was annoying.

“Do you play Stygian five card?” I asked batting my lashes.

“Honey, I play whatever you want me to play.” He laid a hand on my thigh. In my implant, Manning said some rather rude things about the man’s parentage, and Blake just assumed my chuckled response was me flirting with him. I shoved the deck across to him, and said, “what shall we bet?”

By the third hand I had him empathetic, telling him the bits of truth I’d always told my marks, that I was a low paid pilot trying to make a little extra with a little gambling on the side. From that point on the details varied with the mark. This time I was working for a salvage ship, and business had been bad recently. When it was bad, I supplemented my income however I could, I told him. I left just exactly how I did that to Blake’s imagination and offered him a hint of a smile as he shifted in his seat to make his enthusiasm for helping a girl out a little more comfortable in his trousers. He was feeling generous from the deal he’d just made, he told me.

“I fucking bet he is,” Manning growled into my implant.

Blake lost magnanimously and graciously the next three hands while I proceeded to pump him for details about this great deal he’d made, and the asshole didn’t even try to hide the fact that he’d cheated Manning out of paying him. I knew that about Polyphemians as well. They were always pleased to get something for nothing, and their views on ownership were more about possession than the exchange of legal tender. With a few cleavage swelling gasps and sighs and an enthusiastic stroke of the tree trunk thigh now pressed against mine, I made my admiration for what he’d pulled off clear. Then I leaned in close and told him that the salvage ship I was on had just discovered the mother load of triaxium ore in a wrecked Aranian stingray class freighter. It had been lost ten years ago out near the Katis quasar, not far from here. But my crew had to mark it and leave it because they didn’t have the right equipment, and being an Authority sanctioned ship, they didn’t have mol-tran. So if he were willing to play for my share, I was willing to bet something worthy of such a Polyphemian deal. You could almost see the credit calculations whizzing through his mind. The obvious was that the New Hibernian whiskey was small change compared to a triax treasure trove.

By that time, I was making sure he got generous views down Fury’s exquisitely designed bodice and I was showing the first signs of having just a bit too much to drink. But while my inebriation was faked, his was not. A helpful piece of information Manning had given me was that Blake couldn’t hold his alcohol, but he loved Krinelian brandy, nonetheless. A little dealing under the table by Manning had Stella making sure the alcohol content in Blake’s brandy went up the closer I got to what I wanted. And celebrating his steal of a deal, as he was, fully expecting to take me back to his room for further celebrations, he kept the drinks coming. Now that there was a chance to sweeten the deal beyond his wildest dreams, he had even more reason to celebrate. I was very careful to lose the next two games spectacularly, gambling away all of my share of the triaxium salvage.