Fear sank sharp claws into his brain, and Nolan realized that if he didn’t do something fast, he was going to die in a blazing fireball.
The ship was plummeting toward the ground.
Chapter Four
“Taia, situation report!” Nolan’s head spun from the impact with the bulkhead, but the pain in his still-healing arms and chest kept his mind sharp.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” the AI replied, “and I can’t get wireless access to the ship’s electronics. I need you to get me to an access panel, now!”
Nolan’s gaze cast around the cargo bay, desperate. His heart leaped as he spotted a small metallic door set into one of the bulkheads. That has to be it!
Pushing himself off the wall, he struggled to wheel his chair forward. Gravity worked against him, pulling him to the side and tilting his chair at a steep angle. The ship shuddered and twisted, losing the battle to remain airborne. Any minute now, they’d go into a freefall and it would be game over.
“Hurry!” Taia shouted in his earpiece.
“Working…on…it!” Nolan growled through clenched teeth. He poured all his strength into pushing his chair off the wall with one hand while rolling forward with the other. His arms, chest, and shoulders hadn’t yet recovered from Wolfe’s bullets, and every movement sent pain stabbing through wounded muscles. The five-meter distance to the access panel seemed interminable.
Fear fueled his body. He’d faced death far too many times before and walked away—he couldn’t go out now, not like this.
The ship suddenly righted, then pitched noseward, sending Nolan’s wheelchair flying forward. In desperation, he reached for the bulkhead and locked his fingers around a steel I-beam. The abrupt jerk sent twin spikes of pain through his shoulders, arms, and wrists, but he held on with every shred of strength. His empty wheelchair flew through the cargo bay and crashed into the bulkhead.
Snarling with the effort, Nolan hauled himself back along the pillar, clawing his way toward the access panel. He reached, straining his arms, and managed to catch onto the edge of the panel. He nearly tore the steel door off its hinges as he opened it and pressed his right hand against the blinking lights, empty ports, and tangled wires within. “Do it, Taia!”
To his surprise, the metallic lines of his Silverguard tattoo shifted and writhed like serpents beneath his flesh. The dagger’s blade seemed to disappear, absorbed into his skin, and Nolan grunted in pain as the carbon nanofibers slithered down his arm and punched through the palm of his hand. Smart filaments thinner than the finest thread inserted into one of the empty ports.
“I’m in!” Taia’s voice sounded far too calm given their circumstances. “Oh, dear.”
“What’s wrong?” Nolan’s gut twisted even tighter. That was the AI’s equivalent of being about to lose her shit.
“Engines two and four are malfunctioning, and we’re losing altitude fast.”
“Tell me there’s something you can do about it!” Desperation surged within Nolan. The muscles of his left arm ached from holding himself in place in the weird half-pull-up position, but if he pulled his right hand away, Taia’s connection with the ship would be severed. “And sooner rather than later would be bloody nice!”
“Working on it.” A tingle of electricity ran through Nolan’s arm—either feedback from the ship’s electrical power grid, or Taia’s not-so-gentle way of telling him to shut up and let her concentrate. Strange behavior for an AI, but at the moment, Nolan was too busy trying to stay alive to care.
Then, gradually, the ship’s careening, haphazard descent slowed and stopped. The freight hauler leveled out, righting itself, and the gut-wrenching sensation of impending death passed.
“Fixed!” Taia chirped, her voice more bright and cheerful than usual. “Engines back online and operating at full capacity. And I’ve established a link that allows me wireless access to the ship’s electronics.” The smart steel filaments slipped out of the access panel and disappeared beneath Nolan’s skin once more, freeing his hand.
“Hooray for us,” Nolan grunted as he pushed his upper body off the floor. A pair of bruises on the back of his head and his right arm joined the injuries left from his battle with Wolfe.
Twinges of pain lanced through his exhausted body as he clawed his way along the floor toward his wheelchair and hauled himself into his seat.
With a half-gasp, half-sigh of relief, Nolan settled into his chair’s comfortable cushions. “What’s the ship’s status?” He wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead, trying to ignore the shaking in his hands as he checked to make certain his Echoblade was still in its place. He’d never liked space travel. Something about being trapped in a glorified tin can with far too little metal between him and the icy vacuum of space left him profoundly uneasy. Things like this just made it all the worse. “Can it get us where we need to go, or are we going to have to turn back?”
“Running diagnostics now,” Taia replied.
Nolan flexed his cramping left hand. The muscles of his left arm still quivered from the exertion of clinging to the bulkhead, and the joint screamed with every movement. But in pain was always better than dead, so he wouldn’t complain. Much.
He looked down at the tattoo on his right forearm. The dagger was once again whole, the blade as inert and gleaming bright as ever. Truth be told, he’d all but forgotten that he’d given Taia permission to overlay the silver-colored tattooing ink with smart carbon nanofiber filaments similar to those in his combat suit and his Reinforcement Protocol wheelchair. He’d never had need to use it until now. But he was damned glad he’d listened to the AI’s suggestion—it had just saved both their lives.
“Diagnostics complete,” Taia’s voice echoed in his earpiece. “Engines two and four are back online but operating at fifty-two percent capacity. However, with the torchdrives still fully operational, our journey to Moabus shouldn’t be impacted once we break atmosphere.” A moment of silence. “Confirming that. Our pilot just radioed ground control and informed them that we will continue.”
“But with two engines, we won’t be able to make landfall on Moabus, right?” Nolan’s grasp of space flight was as rudimentary as any Silverguard’s, just enough to make sure they survived to reach their destination. Ground-level troops rarely bothered with spaceships, which were the domain of the Imperial Interstellar Fleet and the Silverguard’s counterparts, the Voidmarine Corps—star-humpers, as they were congenially known among the infantry. Yet he still knew enough about spaceships and their operations to know a freight hauler with two crippled engines was a serious problem.
“Correct,” Taia replied. “But Agent Styver’s instructions in your mission brief were clear: you were to take the starspeeder and fly down to Moabus alone. The freight hauler will wait in orbit until the mission is done.”
Nolan cocked an eyebrow. “And get repairs done so we can make the trip home, right?”
“Of course. A message has already been relayed to Moabus.”
“Good.” Nolan nodded. The Protection Bureau was nothing if not efficient.