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Piloting Fury Part 40: A KDG Scifi Romance

Good morning, my lovelies. Welcome to another cheeky Monday morning read!  Huge apologies for missing a week. I’m catching up in Prague at the moment. It’s been a whirlwind couple of weeks — first a glorious retreat at Gladstone’s Library and then a quick turnaround to Prague for a  long weekend.  In this week’s episode of  Piloting Fury,   we’re still learning more of Manning and Fury’s story.  If you have just arrived and would like to start at the beginning of Piloting Fury, follow the link, and enjoy!

 

Piloting Fury

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It was 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 1st 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 40: I Need You

“Will the Authority not pursue you when they learn you have escaped and are doing business again?” I asked.

“I’m a nobody, not important, and they’ll figure if I escaped, I’ll die of the virus anyway. To them I’m already dead.” I could not miss the bitterness in his voice, and I made my first effort to move my consciousness toward him, to comfort him. He tensed, then let out a little sigh and relaxed.

“I believe to them, I am also already dead,” I said. Then I added, more than a little excited about a future that was not at all what I expected, but at least hopeful. “Once you have given me the parameters you will need for a cargo ship, the refitting will not take me long. I have but to think it to make it so.”

“Fucking hell,” he said with a low whistle. “Great trick if you can do it.”

“I assure you, I can do it. When shall we begin?”

“No time like the present,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, there is one very important thing, Fury.”

“What is it, Richard Manning.”

“You’re going to have to make yourself look a whole lot less pretty. I need you to look old and battered and like I put you together with wire and a glue gun, can you do that?”

“Of course I can do that,” I said. “I am not attached to the way I look. I did not expect to remain as I am.”

“Good. Then with your insides meeting my parameters and your outsides looking like something that is barely space worthy, I think we’ll do just fine.”

That evening, I replicated another ancient Terran dish called tacos, which Manning ate with relish, washed down with a Terran drink called Margaritas. It was a celebration, he said, and so it was. It was a new beginning I had not anticipated, and while we were both awake and my decks echoed with his curses and his strange sense of humor, we both did well. But while Manning could not go without rest – especially not in his state of recovery, I did not sleep. For a few hours I worked with the schematics he had given me, creating below deck a cargo bay with another cargo bay hidden underneath for less than aboveboard goods, upgrading the shield and downgrading my outward appearance. I wished to surprise Richard Manning when he woke up.

My attention was on making my outer hull look as though it had been through several meteor storms when I heard him cry out in his sleep. While his vital signs were within the normal range, it was obvious he was in REM dream state and his dreams were not pleasant. I went to him without thinking. While I had avoided going into the chamber I had set aside for him, as much for his privacy as for the fact that it was to have belonged to my compliment, I entered now, and I was moved as I had never been moved before.

He lay naked with the coverings thrown off his body, which glistened with the perspiration of his stressful dreams, and he fought valiantly with whatever demon it was that had invaded his unconscious world. While I had seen him naked many times during his healing process, I had never seen him so vulnerable, nor had I realized just how nearly healed he now was.

He cried out again, loud enough that it would have startled another humanoid. It was then that I discovered I had the ability to do more than replicate molecules. With what, at the time, was little more than my ability to imagine what his caress had felt like against my console, I created such a caress and touched him gently on the shoulder.

“Richard Manning, wake up. You are having a bad dream.”

He came into the waking world with a shriek of terror, shoving himself into a seated position on the bed. His pulse was much too fast, and I found that I could create an embrace of sort, as I had seen represented among humanoids as an act of comfort, as an act of affection, as I had often imagined doing with my compliment. In truth Richard Manning was my compliment now, and seeing that his needs were met was paramount.

I had not expected tears when he woke up from the nightmare. I knew enough about the strange codes of manliness most humanoid males lived by to understand that the shedding of tears was not an acceptable show of manhood, that he might be embarrassed by the act. But I also understood that that this humanoid had been shaken to the core by what demons had confronted him in the world of his dreams. And I was feeling quite vulnerable myself under our shared circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” he managed between gasps for breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You cannot disturb me, Richard Manning. You are the only humanoid onboard. You will always be my central concern.”

“That doesn’t make me particularly comfortable,” he said.

“You will get used to it.”

 

 

“Not that I’m sorry for you waking me up right now, believe me.” When he had calmed a little, and I sensed his unease at my closeness and I pulled my physicality back enough to eliminate his discomfort. “I am always at your service.”

For a time, he sat in silence, his hands resting on his thighs, but in that way of humanoids, I could see the tension, feel the slight acceleration of pulse that informed me, he wished to speak, but was not quite sure he should. “Richard Manning, you may always speak freely with me. If you wish to talk about your dream, I will listen. It is not as though I will divulge to anyone your secrets.”

At that, he offered a hiccup of a chuckle. “No, I suppose not.”

I replicated a glass of water for him and waited quietly while he drank it in thirsty gulps.

At last he spoke. “When the Authority arrested me, I wasn’t alone on the Bourdieu. My cargo was humanoid, a dozen fugitives escaping the shackle. Friends of theirs smuggled them off Terra Nova Prime on the night before they were taken. Three families with small children, and two promising young bioengineers. I was transporting them to the outer rim and to freedom. They were hiding in the cargo bay. When I smuggled people, I had a plan for if we were ever boarded. There was a space we’d created that was sensor proof. If we were boarded it would always appear that there was only one person onboard the ship. I always set the Bourdieu on a laid in course for the safest spot, just in case I was arrested. Up until that time it had never happened. The ship always looked empty, and while I might get a fine for some trumped up infraction, it was the most the Authority could charge me with, which I paid off, thumbed my nose at their backsides and delivered my cargo safely to their destinations. Of course as a smuggler, the odds are never in your favor if you get boarded. You learn to stack the deck. I knew that and my passengers all knew that. Whatever risk they were taking with me were risks they all took willingly, and with good reasons.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard, his shoulders tense, his breathing harsh and uneven. I feared he might be about to vomit, but instead the tears returned to his eyes. “Fritz, the bastard who betrayed us thought he’d get the ship. Instead, he was lucky to get off without ending up in a shackle. The Authority Hunters, they didn’t give the ship to anyone. They didn’t even tractor it back to spaceport. They just blew it up. Fifteen people onboard in the hold, and the bloody fuckers knew it. They knew it. All I could do was watch.”

This time when I moved to embrace him, he did not push me away, and I formed the molecular structure as close to a humanoid hand as I could and stroked his back, making sure that I had enough of a physical form for him to hold on to and to rest his body against. “I am very sorry for your loss, Richard Manning. There has been so very much loss, and far too little hope. But you are free now, and you are with me. We will press on, as we must, in spite of our losses.”

He gave a slight nod against me and pulled closer to me. For what seemed like an age, and that to me, one who can measure the passage of space time in nanoseconds, we held each other. But it was long enough for me to perceive that his pain, though deeper than anything I could reach to heal, was manifesting itself in the humanoid way I myself felt but did not fully understand, in the desire to be intimate.

That I understood that desire, that I anticipated it and responded to it so quickly still astounds me, in that I had no experience of humanoid intimacy other than what I could call up in my database. But when Richard Manning sought me out with his lips, I was ready, my molecules forming and shaping to his needs, which were so deeply my own. I could barely comprehend that the press of his kiss, the exploration of his tongue, the movement of his hands over the shape of me that formed instantaneously at his body’s desire, were indeed my own desires, what I would have done with my compliment once we had gotten to know each other. I reminded myself once again, as he guided the hand I had formed down to his erect penis, that this humanoid, this wounded and damaged humanoid who needed almost as desperately as I did, was indeed now my compliment. It would be to him that I would give myself for the first time, for every time, as long and as often as he had desire for me – as we had desire for each other.

“Fury, I need you,” he whispered as he pulled away from my mouth just enough for his teeth to rake over the lips I had not known I could create, the lips I had not known could feel such electrifying sensations.

“And I need you, Richard Manning. I very much need you.” With that I guided his hand down to my own physical need, the biology of me, heavy and hard and more ready than I could have ever imagined, ready to explore this physical side of my nature. Richard Manning was willing and able and intuitive, as he guided me, for the first time, in the pleasures of the flesh and the intimate act that would, with time, bring healing for both of us.

 

“Fury, are you familiar with the ancient Terran term, TMI.” It was the sound of Manning’s voice that made me aware that I was floating in that space between wakefulness and sleep. Manning reached over me and slapped Fury on the flank.

“I am indeed familiar with the term, Richard Manning.” Fury reached to return the favor, pausing to kiss my neck. “But our Diana Mac knows us both intimately, and all she need do is look, and all will be revealed.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Not without permission,” I said.

“Permission is not needed amongst us, at least it should not be, and something passed between him and Manning that was lost to me because after such a dream, all three of us were in dire need of a cold shower if we didn’t take care of each other. And lying sandwiched between too such virile males, I was soon rendered speechless and probably would have forgotten my own name, let alone the need to pursue the intimacy issue between the three of us. After that, the sleep was dreamless.

 

Piloting Fury Part 20: A KGD Scifi Romance

 

Good morning, my lovelies. Welcome to another cheeky Monday read. Here’s this week’s episode of  Piloting Fury.  

Last  week Mac got a healthy dose of the truth, and a dangerous storm. This week she rides the storm out.

If you have just arrived and would like to start at the beginning of Piloting Fury, follow the link, and enjoy!

 

Piloting Fury

“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 1st 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 20: Riding the Storm Out

As it turned out, the ride was way rougher than I’d anticipated. We’d had even less warning than the Pandora Base computer had predicted. When it became clear I wouldn’t be able to fly straight out, nor was I able to jump, I had no choice but to ride out the storm, seeking with Fury’s telemetry, the levels where the winds were less fierce, and that wasn’t saying much. For the next four hours, I had little time to think about what was going on in Manning’s quarters. There were no updates from Stanislovski on his condition. I figured they were as busy trying to keep from being battered to death while Fury bucked and twisted, as I was. It took all my focus, and then some, just to keep the winds from tearing us apart. “I got you,” I spoke under my breath. “Hang on Fury, work with me, just work with me. Don’t worry. I got you.”

“Diana Mac, I am not programed to worry,” came the calm response from the ship’s computer.

“Wish I could say the same. Any suggestions?”

“Hang on, Diana Mac. I got you.” Came the response, and I gave what couldn’t have been less than a maniacal laugh.

“But you were programed with a sense of humor, I see.”

“Not a very fucking good one, as Richard Manning often reminds me.”

“Well, what the hell does Manning know anyway,” I managed before we hit an eddie that all but spun us a three-sixty, and I cursed and fought the wave feeling like Fury really was working with me, anticipating my efforts, like a lover, I thought. Not that I’d ever had one – a lover that is. Not that I’d ever had a ship of my own either. But then again, Fury wasn’t really mine.

“Diana Mac, sensors indicate a calmer airstream three thousand meters lower.”

“I’m on it! Thanks Pal,” I said.

There was a strange sound from the com that sounded almost like a chuckle. I certainly hoped it wasn’t a malfunction because I sure as hell had no time to fix the computer. “You all right?” I ask.

“Five by five … Pal.”

I smiled, gritted my teeth and fought to bring us down to the altitude Fury recommended, which, while it wasn’t spinning us about like a mad centrifuge, was bone jarring and teeth rattling at best.

“Can you set broken bones?” I managed as the ship juddered and bounced.

“My auto surgery is programmed for general orthopedic damage to humanoids. Are you broken, Diana Mac?”

“No. I’m fine,” I managed correcting hard left. Then I chuckled, “My sense of humor’s not very fucking good either.”

For the next hour, I didn’t speak, and neither did Fury, though I felt the ship working with me as clearly as I felt the movement of my own hands across the consol. It was as though the ship were anticipating my every move. I’d had moments like that onboard the Dubrovnik, moments of connection, moments when I was so in tune with the ship that it felt as though my very skin had dissolved and whatever boundary separated ship from pilot temporarily disappeared. But it was only ever momentary, and never really very personal. Lots of pilots felt that connection on those occasions when the situation demanded the most from the pilot and the ship. But the components that were always working in the equation of me piloting the Dubrovnik, the failsafe barriers and safety protocols separating ship from pilot didn’t exist with the Fury. Somehow I had more control, and that seemed to, in some strange way, give the ship more control as well. With Fury, I realized, we were always skin-to-skin.

“I recommend supplement AR 1.” Fury’s computer interrupted my ruminations.

“For what? What’s supplement AR1?” I asked, taking us up again to a higher level that was no less turbulent, but brought us closer to our goal of escaping the upper atmosphere.

“It will help you feel less tired, more energetic. It is Richard Manning’s own formula.”

“What does the AR stand for, I asked?”

“Adrenalin Rush.”

I laughed and risked taking the ship up a little higher still. “Oh that sounds delightful. But maybe later. I think we’re almost free.”

“Sensors indicate that we are, indeed almost free of the planet’s atmosphere.”

“What do you think? Shall we risk an attempt to break the bitch?”

“The odds are fifty-fifty, Diana Mac. Worth the gamble.”

I laughed and nosed us up a little more. “Has Manning been playing poker with you, because he cheated, you know?”

 

 

“Of course he cheated.” Came the reply. “I did warn him that he would lose, if he attempted such an illogical wager against you.”

“Oh?” The ship began to judder hard, and I gritted my teeth, forced the nose up another few meters and levelled off again. “So he ignored you?”

“He did not ignore me, Diana Mac. He took my advice.”

“You told him to cheat?”

For a moment there was silence as the ship bucked and shimmied, and I feared I’d have to bring us back down again. “Goddamn it! I’m sick of this shit, and I’m starving, Fury let’s get the fuck out of this mess.”

“Don’t worry, Diana Mac. I got you,” came the reply.

We took a bloody battering, but together we kept our nose up and didn’t retreat, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, we pulled free of the planet’s exosphere with a sudden burst of acceleration that had my stomach in my throat and my brain about to pop out my eyeballs. I think I might have let out some very undignified war whoop, and then we were free. The Fury settled like a seabird on calm water, and I ran a hand, suddenly none too steady, across my sweaty forehead.

“We did it,” I managed once I was sure all my innards were back in their proper place.

“Fucking A,” came the response that had me laughing out loud.

“You’ve spent too much time around Manning,” I said.

I had read that Plague One was noted for it’s horrendous planet-wide storms, and from the beginning the plague colonies had been built below ground. No one could have survived on the surface in a full blown planet-wide, and what made the storms even worse was that the only safe distance was beyond high orbit.

Once we were out of harm’s way, too exhausted to move, I just sat and looked back at the planet, ghost white against the black of deep space, it’s own sun little more than a distant yellow speck. The entire atmosphere was a mesmerizing jumble of massive hurricane swirls. Goose bumps rose along my spine and I laid a hand on the console. “We did good,” I spoke softly to Fury. “We’re still alive. We did real good.”

“Real good, indeed,” came the response.

“So,” I said gazing down at Plague One still in the throes of the storm. “You advised Manning to cheat me at poker?”

“I did. Yes.”

“Mind telling me why?”

There was a long pause, and I half expected the ship’s computer to ask me to rephrase the question. But at last Fury answered. “I needed a decent pilot.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Well you got the best now, but that’s a helluva way to get you one.”

“Indeed.”

I let my mind swirled with the clouds, as I slumped deeper into the pilot’s chair nearly falling asleep before my stomach growled. Then I undid my restraints and stumbled to the galley. I stopped at Manning’s door and lifted a hand to knock, but then thought better of it.

By the time I reached the galley and replicated a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee, I was wondering if Manning was even still alive. Surely Stanislovski would have commed me if his situation had worsened. Not that I could have done anything. What if they were both dead? I mean the storm was seriously rough going. If they hadn’t been able to strap in in time, anything might have happened. I took a bite of my sandwich and scalded my mouth on the coffee.

“Fury, can you tell me Manning’s condition,” I asked. Then I shot a glance over my shoulder just in case the man was watching, as he’d been known to do.

“Richard Manning is resting comfortably,” Fury’s computer replied.

“And Ina Stanislovski?”

“Ina Stanislovski is resting comfortably. Their vital signs are normal, and Richard Manning is fully recovered from his incident.”

Relief left me feeling like my bones had turned soft. I glanced over my shoulder again. “Fury, can you tell me what Manning’s condition is?”

“I cannot,” came the response.

“Cannot or will not?”

“You must ask Richard Manning.”

“Do you know what Richard Manning suffers from?”

“Of course I do. He is my captain.”

“But you’re not authorized to tell me.”

“I am not.”

“Bloody bastard.” I didn’t bother to speak quietly. I didn’t care if he heard me. “I’m his goddamn pilot. Doesn’t he think I have a right to know if he suffers from some debilitating disease that leaves me alone and in charge at the absolute worst possible time?” Then I tried another approach. “Has he had this condition long?”

“All of his life.”

Then it hit me like an orca class freighter. “Is that why he made the bet with me? Is he no longer able to captain you alone?”

“His condition is stable, and he is quite capable of performing his duties to me. You were brought onboard for other reasons.”

“What other reasons?”

“Because I needed a pilot,” came the reply.

“You’re not very fucking good at lying either, Fury.” I shoved half my sandwich into my mouth, and chewed angrily. “Stupid me. I’m just the fucking indentured. You’re probably not authorized to tell me anything. I’m just an expendable tool.”

“We are all expendable tools, Diana Mac. I do not understand your anger.”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important.” Since there was nothing I could do about being kept in the dark where Manning’s condition was concerned, I pulled up the Pilot’s log and entered as much detail about the storm as I could remember, checking back over the computer records of the past four hours. The only sound in the galley was the soft hum of the life support systems.

Piloting Fury Part 14: A KDG Scifi Romance

Good morning, my lovelies. Sorry for the two weeks of radio silence. I had a nice summer run-in with Covid, but am back to my old self now and ready to share more Fury. Welcome to another cheeky Monday read. Here’s this week’s episode of  Piloting Fury.  

Last  week Rab found himself stuck with Gerando Fallon  as his partner in efforts to find Diana Mac. This week, Diana Mac confronts old demons.

Catch up here if you missed last week’s episode of Piloting Fury.

If you have just arrived and would like to start at the beginning of Piloting Fury, follow the link, and enjoy!

 

Piloting Fury

“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 1st 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 14: Nightmares and Demons

Below deck, I lost myself in the work. I wasn’t a natural born medic. I didn’t like being around sick people, but neither did I like suffering, and I’d seen a shitload of it in my life, so I did what I could to make sure everyone was comfortable. I could already see improvements in the patients who had received the vaccine. But I knew for a fact that something this wonderful couldn’t be kept secret, and as soon as the Authorities found out about it, they’d confiscate it, and make it unavailable. Oh they wouldn’t destroy it altogether. The truth was it increased the usefulness of the SNT virus for biochemical warfare. I’d lived close enough to these sick bastards to understand how their minds worked, what they’d want. At the end of the day, we’d have been better off blowing the victims out the airlock. At least then their suffering would be over. Even healed they were still criminals, runaways, just like I was. I bathed the fevered face of the young boy, who was taking longer to recover than the others. I figured that was because he was so malnourished and abused. I could see the burn scars on both his arms and the place where his protruding collarbone had been broken at least twice. “You’ll be okay. I got you,” I whispered. He was less likely to hear the tightness in my voice, if I whispered, less likely to understand that I was only hoping for his recovery rather than expecting it. “I got you now. You rest awhile, and when you wake up, you’ll feel better.”

“I need the coordinates to the McAllister Wormhole, Mac.”

Manning joined me, holding out his device.

I took it from him and punched them in without looking at him.

“Can you lay in a course for the Svalbard?” His voice was quiet, tired, I thought.

I nodded.

“Do you need the atlas?”

I shook my head and glanced up at him. “Not for that. I have that memorized from anywhere in space I’ve ever been, and it’s the first route I memorize wherever I am.” I focused my attention on the keypad entering the route. “It’s the only thing in the galaxy I can almost believe is mine.” I handed it back to him, and returned my attention to kid, who was now shivering. There were no more blankets to put over him, and I had nothing warmer than my T-shirt, which was soaked in my own perspiration from the efforts in the hot cargo hold.

“Here. Help me.” I was surprised when Manning laid aside his device and shed his bomber jacket. I eased the boy into a sitting position, and Manning helped him into it telling him that it was a genuine Terran flight jacket — the same story he had told me before I won it off of him, but the boy’s attention was riveted “Brings good luck,” Manning said, as the fever-ravaged kid all but fell asleep in his arms, and we lowered him back onto the stretcher.

“You should get some sleep, Mac. There’s nothing more you can do for him. The medics will stay here through the night.”

“Unless that’s a direct order, I’d like to stay.”

The muscles along his cheekbone jerked and twitched and he gave me a quick nod. “All right. If you’re sure. We leave for Plague One as soon as the Svalbard is away. The medics will stay onboard and care for their charges until then. Afterwards, Ina will stay with us to care for them until we reach Plague One. The sooner we get there, the better.” There was nothing happy-go-lucky about Manning now, and nothing but dread on my part when it came to our next port of call.

Long toward morning the boy died. I didn’t cry. He wasn’t the first indentured barely old enough to be out of diapers I’d seen die, and he wasn’t likely to be the last. His body was wrapped in a shroud from the Svalbard and sent into space with all the proper words, as though that made us all feel any better. None of us believed in an afterlife, and any indentured knew that the void of death was far better than what our lives would likely be.

I stumbled back to my room dry-eyed and stayed in the shower for ages rubbing at the damned shackle until the skin around it was angry red. Manning’s microsurgery was all but invisible beneath the number that was the only identity I had since my father died – at least the only one the Authority recognized. Then the debt of the Merlin and its destruction was saddled on him post mortem and, by proxy, his only living relative. I’d clung viciously to my name and to my memories, I’d worked hard, I’d gambled hard and saved away every credit to buy back my freedom and the chance to clear my father’s name. And now here I was, no closer to that goal than I had been the day they came for me, and me still holding desperately to the belief that my father would be cleared of all crimes, of all debts. I should have run. I should have escaped to some system on the Rim. I could have started a life as a free woman rather than clinging stubbornly to the beliefs that because I was a law-abiding citizen, as my father had been, justice would triumph.

I fell onto the bed too exhausted to mourn another loss that no one cared about. I slept, and for the first night in a long time I dreamed.

 

 

I wandered the deserted decks of the Merlin. That was how it always began. Even when the conscious part of me saw it coming, I could never get out of it until I’d seen it through to the bitter end. I was excited to see my father’s ship, a work of art, he’d told me, a pilot’s dream come true, and it really was beautiful, like no other ship ever built.

“She slices through space like a sharp knife through birthday cake.” I heard his voice as though he stood right there next to me, but he didn’t. He never did. I was always alone.

I walked the whole ship, from the bridge to the cargo hold, trying to find him, calling out to him over and over again. But he never answered, and my dread always grew the longer I searched. I ended up on the bridge trying to contact him on the com. It was his ship, after all. He had to be there somewhere. He wouldn’t leave his ship, and he wouldn’t leave his only daughter alone.

And then the screen flashed bright and I was staring into his fever bright eyes.  He sat propped in the engineering room against the door. There were radiation burns along his cheekbones and down his neck. It was then that I heard the first explosion and the ship juddered from a direct hit. “Daddy? Daddy what’s going on? What’s happening?” Another impact and I thought the Merlin would shake apart.

“Diana, I need you to get into one of the escape pods. Now.”

“Daddy, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be afraid, angel. Just do as I asked. Everything will be all right.”

And then I was screaming and hammering on the airlock of an escape pod as I watched the Merlin explode into a fireball with my father still inside.

After that I was running, running from Fallon, endlessly running from Fallon until I stumbled and he caught me by the collar. Two of his men held me while he inserted the shackle, chuckling to himself all the while. “You’re not daddy’s little girl anymore, 1215Mac035. You’re just a number, just a tool, and you belong to me.” And then my arm broke out in a rash, and he watched it spread. While he drank New Sicilian wine and fucked some nameless woman, I shivered with fever and screamed at the hallucinations the virus elicited. “This will teach you,” he said, lifting his glass as though he were offering me a toast. “This will remind you what will happen if you ever cross me, if you ever displease me. Then he took up a syringe and inserted it into my shackle. “Only I have the antidote, only I can make you all better, just like that Diana.”

But I didn’t get better, my skin reddened then blackened and pealed away. And he laughed. “Oops. Sorry about that girl. Guess I was a little bit late this time. Bad luck that. Never mind. Next stop Plague One.”

I woke drenched in sweat and gasping for air. I stumbled from the bed and barely made it to the bathroom in time to vomit until my whole body convulsed with dry heaves, until there was nothing left in me at all. And then I did cry, leaning back against the tiles, cradling my arm with the disease-free shackle against my chest, weeping for all I’d lost, weeping for the helplessness that was still the center of my existence, weeping for the death of one little boy whose name I didn’t even know, ashamed and embarrassed that even after all this time I could still let it matter.

It was a long while before I calmed enough to realize that I wasn’t alone. Manning knelt beside me, wiping my face with a cool cloth and offering me a glass.

“Drink this. It’s Fury’s special formula. It’ll balance the electrolytes in your system and help you sleep.” He held my gaze. “Without dreams.” He sat down on the floor next to me and handed me the concoction. I drank it back, not sure I could keep it down. To my surprise it felt good against my battered insides.

“Better?” he asked, still mopping sweat from my neck and forehead.

I nodded.

“I don’t want to go there,” I managed. Then my throat tightened and I was sobbing again like some blubbing baby.

To my surprise, he pulled me onto his lap and rocked me. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” I hiccupped.

His chuckle was a soft rumble deep in his chest. “Not like either of us does, it would seem.” Then he added, smoothing the hair away from my face. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you still get your twenty percent.”

And in spite of myself I laughed. “I should have held out for twenty-five.”

Hi smile turned wicked. “Hell, another minute or two in the Braid and I’d have happily given you thirty.” Then, with me still in his arms, he stood effortlessly and carried me back to the bed. Strangely enough the sweaty sheets had been replaced and the bed turned down. “Fury’s a bit of a mother hen when it comes to taking care of his crew,” he said as he settled me down and pulled the blanket up over me. “Get some sleep. The Svalbard sets off at 0600, and we’ll be taking the fastest route to Plague One.” He stood and headed for the door. Then he stopped. “Oh and Mac,” he said without turning back. “I’m the captain, not you. In front of our clients, even when they’re friends, like the Svalbard, both our lives may depend on at least the appearance of a strict order of command. Understood?”

“Understood,” I said.

“Good. Now sleep.”

 

Piloting Fury is Back! Part 58: Brand New KDG Read!

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 1st 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.

 

Piloting Fury Part 26: Brand New KDG Read

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 1st 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.”