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1
No Fancy-Pancy Weapons
“Ready for takeoff?”
Miya shot an exasperated look at the Commander in the co-pilot seat next to her. This was the fifth time in the last 30 minutes that he was asking her that question.
The military unit’s leader was big, buff and with the look of someone used to giving orders and being obeyed right away. He seemed in his early thirties, suggesting he was good at his job to have already reached such a rank.
Well, Miya believed she was good at what she did for a living too. So, the Commander was going to wait a little longer, and that was that.
“We’re not ready yet,” she told him as politely as possible. Just like she had done the previous four times. “I’ll tell you as soon as we are, Commander.”
She heard him ground his teeth. Someone’s patience was running low.
Miya kept going with the pre-flight check on the console in front of her, not sparing him a glance.
“How much longer are we going to wait?” he snapped. “My unit is tired: we’ve been traveling for seven days now! We have another three days left, and it appears they’ll turn into four because of your–”
“You want them to turn into never?” She turned to face him this time around.
His eyes were shooting lasers at her. “Excuse me?”
Miya gave him a look that said she was not impressed. This was not her first time transporting demanding assholes with authority in outer space.
“Why do you think I’m playing with the equipment here? Trust me, I don’t want to delay this trip either. The faster I deliver your team to your destination, the sooner I can return to my rudely interrupted paid leave.” Miya turned away from his scowling face and resumed her work with the console. “However, what’s more important to me than my holiday is being alive. So that I can actuallybeon holiday. Which might not happen if we depart without having ensured the ship is fully operational first.”
“How much does this stupid check take?” he grumbled. “You said 30 minutes, and that was 50 minutes ago.”
She sighed. “One of the relays needed replacing,” she reminded him. As if he hadn’t been breathing down her neck throughout the repair. “Another pilot would require 10 minutes to fix the problem, while all I needed was 5.Andif I hadn’t done that, the autopilot would have given us the finger in less than a day.”
That shut the Commander up.
Blessed silence fell in the cockpit… for ten seconds. “How much longer?” he said through gritted teeth.
Miya barely resisted the urge to tell him to pilot the ship himself. Her patience was nearly gone too. “I’m almost done with the diagnostics here. Then I have to make sure the cargo is secured. If all is well back there, we’ll be taking off in 15 minu–”
“The cargo hold is off limits to you,” he cut Miya off with a tone that brooked no argument. “All that’s in there has been more than secured, don’t doubt that. If it weren’t, my unit would not have reached this space station alive.”
That didn’t sound ominous at all. “I’m sorry, but I have to personally make sure of that. The vibrations from each landing cause slight shifts, and taking off with an imbalanced cargo at the back of the ship is–”
“There is no fucking imbalance back there.” One glance his way showed Miya he was red in the face. “Our pilot already told you: the ship is in perfect order!”
“Forgive me for not trusting the words of a person affected by cosmic fever,” Miya muttered.
Having finished her work in the cockpit, she turned to fully face her tomato-faced client with her hands in the pockets of her blue jumpsuit. Someone needed the reminder that he might be in charge of ten heavily-armed soldiers – some human and some extraterrestrial – but she was the only pilot the space station could lend his unit at the moment. Meaning he couldn’t ignore her opinion.
“While your pilot is being treated at the station,” she told the man eyeing her angrily, “I am the person who says where there are or aren’t imbalances. Unless I personally make sure all is tip-top in the cargo hold, I’m not taking this ship out of the docks.”
And she had thought his face had been red before. “Should I remind you,pilot,” he bit out the last word, “that this trip has been ordered by the Intergalactic Council? Let me explain to you what that means.”
Oh, goodie. He would teach her what every toddler in the system knew. How had she won this honor?
“It means that anyone preventing my unit from performing this trip is committing treason. Both to their species and to the Intergalactic Union.”
Miya shrugged at the risk of making him explode. “In order to be declared a traitor by a court, I need to be alive, right? Should I waste your time explaining what will happen if there is a significant imbalance in the cargo hold upon takeoff, Commander?”
He said nothing, just kept clenching his jaw hard enough to cause himself teeth problems.
