Page 41 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

“Confirmed.”

“Point-defense turret Alpha is operational but suffered targeting sensor degradation,” Letitia continued. “Accuracy reduced by approximately forty percent. Turret Beta is inoperative.”

At least they still hadsomeweaponry. The thrusters, on the other hand, were a death sentence if they had to run or dodge again.

Carmen pushed herself out of the chair, the movement sharp. The adrenaline was gone, leaving a hollow ache in her muscles and a familiar, grinding weight in her chest. Responsibility. Always responsibility.

“All right. Sark, hold her steady; maintain course. Minimal systems.

“Zed, pipe your full damage assessment to the viewscreen.”

Unable to stop herself, she paced the tiny bridge while she waited. Her boots echoed too loudly in the sudden quiet. The air felt thicker, carrying the lingering tang of scorched metal, and something else – that faint, maddeningly sweet musk. Mila. Was she still wet from her shower? Was the memory of the scent in her quarters just refusing to dissipate?

Carmen gritted her teeth, forcing her focus onto the flickering viewscreen in front of her, the slight vibration in the deck plates. She couldn’t afford distractions. Not now. Not with the ship hanging by a thread and her crew’s lives depending on her next call.

The memory of Mila’s calm voice identifying the pirate ship’s weakness flashed in her mind – sharp, intelligent, unexpected. Respect warred with the low, persistent thirst of unwanted attraction.

Focus, Díaz.

Zed’s voice crackled from the speaker, pulling everyone’s attention.

“Full damage assessment summary available on viewscreen, Captain.”

The image of hyperspace vanished, replaced with a complex schematic of theAntilles, sections highlighted in angry-red and cautionary-yellow. Zed’s calm narration began, detailing the thruster damage with clinical precision, the shield emitter failures, the weapons degradation, the microfractures stressed by the gas-giant dive and the jump. The numbers were stark.The prognosis grim. Seeing it on-screen gave it a more visceral reality than just hearing the report.

Antilleswasn’t just wounded; she was crippled.

Silence hung heavy when Zed finished. Letitia stared at the schematic, her jaw tight. Norvik remained impassive, but his fingers tapped a silent rhythm on his console. Sark ran a webbed hand over his face.

“Eighteen percent thrust,” Sark said with a sigh. “We’re a brick, Cap. A slow, fat brick. Forget dodging pirates. A determined tow-vessel could outmaneuver us.”

He looked up, desperation in his large, brown eyes.

“We can’t fight; we can’t run. What’s the play?” he asked.

“The play hasn’t changed,” Carmen stated, her voice firm, cutting through the despair.

She met each of their gazes in turn – Letitia’s worried but steady, Norvik’s analytical, Sark’s fearful. Mila watched her, those green eyes unreadable.

“We take Mila home,” she continued. “To the Forbidden Zone.”

“Captain, the operational parameters have shifted drastically,” Norvik said, leaning forward. “Our projected survival probability for reaching the Forbidden Zone perimeter, let alone penetrating it and locating the XenX homeworld, has decreased significantly. TheAntilleslacks the maneuverability to evade interdiction satellites or patrol craft. Engaging in combat is not a viable option.”

“We don’t need combat,” Carmen shot back, the frustration bubbling up. “We need stealth. We need to be smart. We slip through the perimeter, find her people, drop her off, and slip back out.”

“With thrusters at eighteen percent?” Sark cried. “Cap, it only takes one COPS interdictor to come across us, one spy probe to spot us and call in interceptors. We need to be nimbleas hell to survive an encounter with ships like that! We barely made it out of the gas giant!”

“Mila knows the approaches,” Carmen countered, gesturing towards the Xena. “She can navigate us through.”

“I possess general knowledge of common transit corridors and sensor blind spots utilized by Kovoid freighters entering and exiting the so-called Forbidden Zone,” she confirmed.

“See?” Carmen pressed. “We’ve got an edge.”

“But my knowledge is confined to the non-UPA side of the perimeter,” Mila went on. “I cannot account for all the variables we may encounter.”

“Who the hell’s side are you on?” Carmen snapped.

“I was not aware there were ‘sides,’ Captain,” Mila said, looking shocked. “Nor that I was required to take one.”