Taken By Terror by Lolita Lopez

Chapter Sixteen

Stupid. Fucking. Idiot.

Terror silently berated himself as he led Maisie through the labyrinth of ship corridors. They were headed to the smaller shuttle that would be making a stop on The Cur to drop off a load of the much larger cargo ship’s hazardous waste. One of the only industries on the wild, lawless planet was waste disposal. It was a nasty, dangerous business that left the slums polluted. The wealthier inhabitants of the small planet lived in tall structures overlooking the poorer neighborhoods, breathing in detoxified air, eating safe imported food and drinking purified water.

Over the thrum of the ship, Terror heard the sounds of cargo pallets being loaded onto the shuttle. There were a few voices, most of them barely discernible beneath the noisy crane moving the pallets and the ship’s nearby engine bays. He pressed a finger to his lips and gestured for Maisie to stay hidden while he performed a quick recon. She rolled her eyes as if to say, “Obviously,” and then faded into the shadows.

Ignoring her bratty response, he crept forward to check out the situation. The shuttle was an older decommissioned Sky Corps ship that had been retrofitted for junk work. He spotted two pilots going through their pre-flight check of the ship’s exterior. The loadmaster stood in the cargo bay to oversee the pallets of waste being stacked on the deck. Somewhere inside the ship there was likely an engineer or two.

He spotted the access panel they would use to sneak onto the ship. They would need to be quick and silent, but he was fairly certain they could manage it, especially with all the noise and distraction of the crane and the pallets knocking against each other. Once they were on the ship, they would need to stowaway in one of the access corridors until they landed. It wouldn’t be a particularly comfortable ride, but it would get them where they needed to be.

Not wanting to waste their chance to board the ship, he gestured toward the shadows where he had left Maisie. She emerged a moment later, keeping low to the ground as she crept toward him. When she was at his side, he pointed out the access panel he intended to open and then the pilots, the loadmaster and the crane operator. They had discussed the plan numerous times back in their bunkroom. There wasn’t any reason to go over it again here, not when there was precious time to waste.

With a final nod, he eyed the crewmembers to confirm they were out of sight and slipped his multi-tool between his teeth. He scuttled forward to the access panel, thanking the universe for the bad lighting in the poorly maintained shuttle bay, and made quick work of disengaging the locking mechanism. He opened the panel just far enough to squeeze through and then gestured for Maisie to follow.

She looked left and right and then hurried to join him. She slipped into the space and wiggled around him, her lithe body rubbing against his in a way that had his traitorous mind flashing right back to their failed tryst. Ignoring the need she awakened in him, he re-engaged the locking mechanism from the control panel on the inside of the ship. He pointed toward the corridor ahead, silently telling her to move. The engineer would probably see the panel fault alarm and come to investigate whether or not the panel was open. Hopefully, the engineer would assume it was a bad sensor and not go looking for possible stowaways.

Better equipped in this sort of situation, Terror took the lead. He navigated the tight corridors of the shuttle’s belly until they reached a wider, taller emergency corridor that ran parallel to the hold. It was the safest place to ride-out the descent and landing. As the pathway between the cockpit and the escape pods, this emergency corridor would remain properly pressurized and oxygenated for the entirety of the flight.

Maisie leaned against a wall and slid down until she sat cross-legged on the metal grate floor. She kept her gaze fixed on the opposite wall and seemed perfectly happy to ignore him completely. He tried not to let it bother him, but he wasn’t very successful. He already missed the way she used to seek out his gaze and smile shyly at him.

The minutes of tense silence ticked by until the shuttle began to vibrate as the engines came online. Maisie glanced around and put her palms on the metal grates on either side of her to feel the ship’s movements. When the ship started to reverse, she rose to her feet and reached for the railing lining either side of the corridor. He did the same, already anticipating the stomach-churning free fall of the shuttle exiting the main ship. These older cargo ships were bare-bones and rarely had proper shuttle launching gear. Instead, the shuttles reversed out of the cargo ship’s departure doors straight into space, often falling hundreds of feet before their engines fully engaged.

As expected, the shuttle dropped out of the ship. They lifted off the floor, their bodies momentarily weightless until the shuttle surged to life. Their feet connected hard with the metal grates, and he grunted against the sudden forces compressing their bodies. After a few uncomfortable moments, the pressure eased, and the shuttle leveled out while picking up speed.

Eventually, the shuttle pitched forward slightly as it started its descent into the planet’s atmosphere. The incline sharpened, and he worried Maisie would lose her balance. He glanced back at her, but she was braced against the wall and seemed to be maintaining her position easier than he was.

Despite his lingering gaze, her focus never shifted from his boots. She was deliberately ignoring him. Ever since he had ended their tryst, she had shut down. He had expected irritation or anger, but the indifference was unsettling.

Grimacing at the memory of the way he had so roughly used her, Terror felt a fresh wave of shame. Never in his life had he been so careless with a woman. Maisie had consented to a little pain to amplify her pleasure, but she hadn’t consented to the cruel way he had buried his cock inside her. He gritted his teeth against the revulsion that burned him as he imagined how much pain he had caused her. All this time, he had sworn to protect her, to keep her safe, and the first chance he had, he broke that promise by bending her over a table.

She deserved so much better. She was absolutely precious, and he had treated her like something cheap and expendable. And then, to make matter worse, he had treated her like a child, handing her that pair of overalls without giving her a chance to say another word. He was piling fuck-ups on fuck-ups.

The ship suddenly hit turbulence, knocking all thoughts of the fiasco in their bunkroom out of his head. His boots came up off the floor, and he grasped at the bulkhead before finally catching a pipe. His grip slipped when the ship lurched up, and he barely managed to avoid slamming his face into the wall. Unsurprisingly, Maisie dangled gracefully from the same pipe he had failed to catch. She seemed amused by his near-miss.

Another pocket of turbulence lifted him from the ground. The ship took a sharp nosedive, and metal groaned all around them. He went airborne and flipped backwards, tumbling dangerously toward certain injury. A pair of slim but strong legs caught him around the waist, stopping his dangerous trajectory and giving him a few seconds to grasp for purchase overhead. He righted himself as the ship took another wild lurch up and down.

The ship made a terrible noise as metal warped and clanged under the intense pressure of the descent. Maise couldn’t hear the sounds, but she seemed to feel them. Her expression morphed from one of amusement at his bungled attempt to stay on his feet to one of serious concern. She dropped her legs from his waist and lifted them higher until they were hooked around the pipes. She wasn’t taking any chances until the flight leveled.

Glad she had the training and experience to know how to keep herself alive, he followed suit, latching onto the pipes and wishing like hell he never had to deal with turbulence like this again. As old as this ship was, it wasn’t in the best condition for the intense pressure forces being exerted upon it. He tried not to think about the shoddy maintenance, or how quickly the entire ship could break apart and send them hurtling toward the planet’s surface in a death spiral.

The ship shuddered violently, and he swore and grunted against the painful pressure squeezing his body. Then, in a moment of absolute relief, the ship entered a clear path and resumed normal flight. He waited a few moments before finally uncurling himself and dropping back down to the floor. Maisie did the same and wiped her hands on her coveralls, smearing grease and a little blood on them.

Realizing she was hurt, he stepped forward and grabbed her hand. She tried to pull it back but he frowned at her and held tighter. He examined the gash on her palm and made a face. The wound was filthy from the pipe she had been holding, and it would get infected if they weren’t careful.

“When we get on the ground, we’ll get this treated.” He waited for her response, and she shrugged carelessly before yanking her hand free and pushing by him. He stared at her and reminded himself that he was the cause of her behavior. Not wanting to get into an argument, he fell into step behind her, certain she would be able to find her way through the ship after looking at the specs with him earlier. She had a keen eye for details, and he trusted her to get them where they needed to be.

After taking many turns and descending numerous ladders, they reached the access door just above the main cargo deck. This close to the outer shell of the ship the heat from re-entry penetrated the shielding. It was another uncomfortable reminder of how poorly maintained the ship was. He glanced at his watch, noting the time and the altitude, and figured they were far enough into the descent and low enough that they weren’t going to end up toasted to a crisp.

If we make it out of this whole mess alive, I’m giving Orion a swift kick in the ass for putting us on this deathtrap.

Terror waited patiently behind Maisie who seemed intent on ignoring his very existence. Deciding he would deal with that later, he checked his watch again and started a mental countdown to touchdown on the planet’s surface. He hadn’t been to The Cur in more than three years, but he doubted the place had done much to improve their infrastructure. The airport had been a ramshackle collection of buildings and hangars with outdated radar systems. He couldn’t even imagine the disrepair three years later.

When the shuttle finally touched down, Maisie glanced back at him. He used combat hand signals to give her directions. She nodded to confirm her understanding. He moved closer, breathing in the sharp scent of the ship’s cheap soap that clung to her skin. He hated that he couldn’t provide her with more comfort and luxury, especially after all she had survived since his rescue.

Soon, he promised himself. Once they reached the safe house, he would figure out a way to get them onto a ship with better amenities like real food, hot showers and a proper bed. She might have finished her course of antibiotics and fluids, but she was still recovering from a terrible ordeal and needed space and time to rest.

The shuttle lurched forward as the tarmac brakes were latched into place, holding the aircraft still for the unloading that would soon start. The lights around them dimmed as all but one of the engines powered down. A moment later, the loud clangs and whine of an opening cargo door echoed in the ship.

Taking up a position near the rear escape hatch, he carefully disabled the pressurized seal, bleeding it off slowly until it finally released. With as little noise as possible, he pushed the escape hatch down and to the side, sliding it into the bracket mounted on the exterior that would hold it in place. He listened intently before poking his head through the hatch to examine their surroundings.

It was pitch black outside and storming violently. The torrential downpour was so heavy he could barely see the wheels of the rear landing gear. Wind howled and rain battered the ship and tarmac. The state of the weather lessened the need to perfectly time their exit. There was enough cover to allow them to escape without detection.

Turning back to Maisie, he signaled it was time to go. She followed close behind, sliding out of the ship after him and standing watch as he slipped the hatch back into place. Grimacing against the cold rain blowing into his face, he crouched and led her away from the shuttle. He used the disorganized tarmac littered with stacks of excess cargo to shield them. The dim lights on the airfield barely penetrated the dense rain and the darkness.

Getting off the airfield proved easy enough. Navigating the cramped, filthy streets of Low Track, the tenements and slums of the planet, proved much harder. They had to slosh through calf-deep water filled with floating trash and worse. The smell that filled the air made even his strong stomach turn, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a bad decision to stop here on this backwater hellhole.

As they cut through a street lined with shacks built from scavenged metal, he reached back and took Maisie’s hand. They were entering an area of the slum that set off his inner alarm bells. Street lights flickered on and off, the neon orange and yellow glow reflecting off the waterlogged pavement in a way that colored everything a sickly shade. Bedraggled women wearing little more than underwear stood on the flooded street, shaking in the cold as they offered their bodies for a handful of credits. Their pimps stood silhouetted in the doorways of dilapidated lean-tos, most of them holding weapons in anticipation of trouble.

He didn’t miss the predatory stares trained on Maisie. Men were sizing her up and estimating how much they could make from a young beautiful woman. There were plenty of skin traders with lists of private clients who would pay exorbitant amounts to own a woman like her. If a private sale didn’t pan out, there were sky brothels that trafficked women, girls and boys for money. They were the sorts of brothels that burned through fresh bodies within weeks from the constant abuse.

Up ahead, hidden only partially by a few overflowing trash cans, a woman was on her knees sucking off an angry drunk. The man walloped her in the side of the head, and Maisie gasped with anger. She took a step toward the couple, ready to raise hell and intervene, but Terror tugged hard to pull her back to his side. He gave her a warning look, silently telling her to mind her own business, and she pursed her lips in frustration.

He understood her anger. Any other night, he would have intervened to help the woman, but right now, his only priority was Maisie. He couldn’t risk getting involved in a street brawl where he would be outnumbered easily. Worse, a fight would draw attention, and there was no telling who might be looking for him or Maisie by now. There were bounty hunters all over this sector of the galaxy, and a place like The Cur was a favorite stopover for many of them.

Glad Maisie couldn’t hear the disgusting catcalls that erupted as they passed a group of men, he pulled her even closer and tightened his grip on her hand. She hastened her pace to keep up with him, warily eyeing the crowd of men. She might not be able to hear the filth they hurled at her, but she could read their body language. She sensed the danger and walked with more urgency, seemingly desperate to get out of this neighborhood as quickly as possible.

He took a chance cutting down an alley. She kept close, her boots kicking up water that splashed his pants. The dark alley opened up into a better lit street lined with gambling dens. These shacks were sturdier and larger than the lurid sex trade neighborhood they had just traversed. Signs flashed advertisements for games and booze. There was an easily spotted criminal element here, but they weren’t looking to kidnap or murder. They were here to keep the peace and keep money pouring into their games.

Their journey continued for almost an hour. They sloshed through floodwaters, sidestepped drunken brawls, turned their gazes away from brazen public sex and warily eyed packs of roving dogs. Eventually, they pushed through a loud, smelly crowd clamoring for food rations at government station at the very edge of Low Track.

When they reached the Middle Track, the streets were a little wider and cleaner. The buildings were larger and better built, but they were just as densely packed. They were on higher ground now so the flooding noticeably lessened. Filthy water only reached their ankles as they trudged through the street to a safe house he hadn’t visited in a long time. He could only hope his contact, Pamilla, hadn’t moved on or switched sides.

But, even if Pam did still live in that safe house, he couldn’t be absolutely sure she would offer him any help, not after the way they had parted. If she opened the door to him, she was either going to punch him right in the mouth—or kiss him.

Glancing over at Maisie who was probably still mad at him, he couldn’t decide which would be worse.