Page 3 of Full Speed to a Crash Landing

The last thing I think before it all goes black is:

Fuck.

2

I’m socold.

No, wait. It’s just my nose that’s cold. That’s odd. I squint my eyes open a fraction, then immediately regret that choice and also every choice in my life that led up to this momentof lights so blindingly white that they pierce straight into my brain and fry whatever remaining thoughts I might have.

“Ama Lamarr?” a voice asks gently.

“Ada,” I correct automatically.

“Wow, she’s alive.” A different voice, one a little farther away, mildly surprised.

“I’m not too certain of that,” I grumble. I lift an arm, but that arm feels like a million pounds, so I drop it again. My mouth feels weird. I flop my tongue out—too dry—and try to figure out why everything feels cold again.

Hands grab for me and pull me to a sitting position, a croaking groan escaping my lips. I risk opening my eyes again. It still hurts, but it’s better than being in the dark.

I’m on a floor, legs splayed, and a small bald woman with dark skin is crouching in front of me, eyes concerned. Shenudges my shoulder gently, and I realize there’s a wall behind me. I lean against it, slumping immediately. That takes a lot out of me, so I suck in some air, and that’s when I realize where the weird cold is coming from—a nasal tube is blowing pure oxygen into me.

“Here,” the woman tells me, thrusting a bottle into my hands. I chug it, and icy liquid slithers down my throat. I’m so tired of cold. I’m so tired in general.

“My name is Nandina Mohammed,” the woman says. She’s the gentle voice. I like her a lot.

“Nice to meet you,” I croak. “I think my eyes have hemorrhaged.”

She nods. “That was a close call.”

I gulp some more water. “Don’t get me wrong, super grateful to not be dead,” I say, “but what the fuck took so long?” I tip my head back, thunking it against the metal wall, and peer up at the other people. While Nandina is now on her knees, scanning me with something white and flashy and important-looking, there are three other people standing nearby, scowling as if they’re deeply perturbed by the inconvenience of my rescue.

“Hello,” I say, waving cheerily at them with my left hand as Nandina scans my right arm.

“Pulse elevated,” Nandina mutters.

“It’s been an exciting evening.” I think I see her biteback a smile. I glance up at the other people still staring down at me. No reaction. Tough crowd.

The short white woman in front stands with her legs apart, arms crossed, taking up as much room as her petite frame is capable of. Unconsciously, I think. She wears a tight-fitting jacket that has a line of red at the collar. Noted. This ship is large but not large enough for the captain to literally wear a badge of her rank, just the color stripe. She’s got a hard face. Looks like a planner, and I didn’t file the triplicate form to be added to the agenda.

The person just behind her and a little to the left has broad shoulders and big muscles. Seems a little jumpy, eyes darting around, looking for danger in this well-lit corridor tastefully tiled in white enamel and accented with chromium. On the captain’s other side is a man with unkempt hair. Average size, average build. Totally forgettable. Except for the sharpest, clearest hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. I shudder. From the cold air, obviously. Then Nandina rips off the nasal tube, and I flinch at the sudden movement.

“You’re back up to normal levels,” she says.

“That’s me,” I say. “Normal.” I’ve got my eyes on the trio looming over us. The captain ignores the big person—despite the military bearing, they seem to be a subordinate. She keeps turning to the other man, and I’m starting to think maybe the captain’s not as in charge as she wants to be.

“Well, not quite normal.” Nandina’s a smiler. She looks to the captain. “I’d like to get her to the med bay.”

“I’d like to get her off my ship,” the captain says.

“Got any mechanics who can fixmyship’s life support and also the three-meter hole in the side?” I ask.

Her eyes flick to the airlock. Just a quick movement, nothing more, but the meaning is clear. She doesn’t need to fix my ship to toss me back outside. It’s an idle threat.

Probably.

“This is going to be a fun stay aboard HotelHalifax.” I attempt a grin, but it costs too much energy to sustain for more than a second.

“This is a working mission that cannot afford to be interrupted by—” the burly person starts, and then the captain interrupts them.

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