Page 63 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

“Sitting here, we die. Slowly. For sure. Stripping the turrets is a gamble – a terrible one. But it’s the only play left on the table.”

She looked at Mila on the screen. The Xena met her gaze steadily. There was no push, no plea in those green eyes. Just the facts. The impossible, necessary facts.

That unwanted pull surged through Carmen’s mind again – not just biological but a profound respect for the calm brilliance facing annihilation without flinching.

“How long to strip the parts and install them in the sub-light engines?”

Mila didn’t hesitate.

“With Zed’s assistance and full crew participation focused on the task? Approximately ninety-six hours.”

Ninety-six hours. Four days. To tear out their own teeth. To make themselves completely vulnerable.

Carmen looked around the table. Sark looked like he might vomit. Letitia’s jaw was clenched so tight a muscle jumped in her cheek, her eyes burning with furious protest she knew was useless. Norvik gave a single, minute nod. Zed’s lights flickered in what might have been affirmation.

The weight of command settled on Carmen’s shoulders, heavier than it had ever been. Heavier than the guilt, than the fear, than the confusing tangle of feelings for the alien woman whose suggestion might save them or doom them faster. There was no good choice. Only survival, bought at the cost of their last line of defense.

She took a deep breath. The air tasted like despair, but there was a nearly imperceptible flavor of possibility in it. It would have to be enough.

“Do it,” she ordered, her voice flat, final. “Letitia, take Sark and Norvik and start stripping the parts. Mila, you and I will work on making the repairs. Zed, you’re our eyes and ears. Guide us through every step and make sure we don’t fuck it up worse.”

She paused and looked them all over. She met every person’s gaze.

“Look, this is no one’s fault but my own. I gave all the orders that got us here.

“But I didn’t choose to bring Mila aboard. Either Maltese had some terrible plan to ruin us, or the gods just decided to fuck us over. Whichever it is doesn’t matter.

“The only thing we can do is deal with the situation in front of us. And the fact is, we are fucking dead, unless we cannibalize the weapons to repair the jump-drive. I don’t want to fucking die. Neither do you. So, let’s do what we have to do and get the hell out of here.

“You’ve all got your orders. Dismissed.”

The command hung in the air, thick and final. Everyone stared at her for what felt like forever. Then, one by one, they each offered, “Aye, Captain.” Even Mila.

She watched them file out of the mess hall. Regret burned in her stomach like plasma fire. They deserved better than this.

But all she could do was tell them to do the work that would save their lives, give them a fighting chance to get out of this horrible mess that greasy bastard, Maltese, had trapped them in.

She prayed it would be enough.

CHAPTER 24

The damage reportscrolled across the screen embedded in Nick’s desk, a relentless, glowing testament to failure. Line after line of red text, blinking warnings, and critical failure icons. He read each one, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle bulged beneath his skin.

Star Shrikegroaned around him, a deep, wounded sound vibrating through the deck plates and up the legs of his heavy command chair. The usual rumble of power was laced now with the higher-pitched whine of overtaxed systems and the intermittent, angry sputter of damaged conduits jury-rigged just enough to keep them from bleeding atmosphere into the void.

Portside shield emitters: OFFLINE.

Structural Integrity: 72%.

Primary sensor array: DEGRADED.

Secondary array: OFFLINE.

Weapons control: PARTIAL.

Jump-drive stability: CRITICAL.

The words burned into his retinas. His beautiful ship – hispride– reduced to a limping, half-blind cripple.