Page 80 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

The familiar command echoed in Carmen’s mind, the bedrock of her identity. But the dread was a rising tide, and Mila’s presence, the scent, the memory of that kiss in the other tube – it was eroding the shore.

Mila crawled out of the access tube, a grease stain on her cheek. It was insanely cute.

Forcing herself to ignore her, Carmen started putting the passcode in to bring the board fully online. It responded immediately:

Invalid entry.

Carmen frowned in surprise. She checked the code Zed had given her and typed it again.

Invalid entry.

“What the fuck?” she swore aloud.

“What’s the matter?” Mila asked.

Carmen ignored her. She tapped the code in slowly, stabbing the keys one at a time. Her face flushed red. She ground her teeth.

Invalid entry.

She screamed like she’d been burned. She cursed the machine, spitting out a guttural string of expletives so foul, she hardly knew what she was saying.

“Captain,” Mila said, worry in her voice.

“Not now, Mila!”

She turned her rage back to the board. Tapped in the code, practically slamming the keys.

“Now, you listen to me, youhijo de puta, you will do what I goddamned tell you,” she growled. “I am the captain. This ismyship, and you will take my fucking command.”

Invalid entry.

“FUCK YOU!”

Tears sprouted at the edges of her eyes. Her vision washed over red. Her blood turned to fire.

“Carmen!”

Mila snatched her wrist in mid-air and held it fast. For a moment, she thought she might kill the Xena.

But then she realized she’d been about to punch the display screen. Mila had stopped her, prevented her powdering her knuckles against the glass and potentially damaging the unit.

What the hell had she been thinking? What was the matter with her?

“Carmen,” Mila said again, her voice softer, soothing. “Calm down. The sensor calibration interface is still slaved to Zed’s wireless command frequency. That’s why the keyboard isn’t taking the code. We need to rewire it for manual input.”

She pointed to a cluster of delicate fiber-optic lines lying at their feet beneath the control board. Carmen blinked at them in stupefaction.

Yes. Of course. They’d had to hardwire the board into the system from the access tube, to bring it online. But they had one more step before they could finish the job. She’d forgotten.

“May I?” Mila said.

Carmen realized Mila was still holding her wrist. Angrily, she snatched it back.

“I’ve got it,” she rasped, grabbing the micro-tool kit clipped to her belt. Her heart thudded in her chest. The touch lingered on her skin, a brand.

Control. You need control.

She fumbled with the tiny fiber-optic connector, her fingers suddenly clumsy. Her vision blurred slightly. A tremor ran through her hand.