Chapter 2

Sophia should have been happy. As she wiped a filthy hand on her jumpsuit, she listed all the reasons why she should have been downright ecstatic.

She'd found the Silvana.

She'd made it aboard.

She'd survived making it aboard the Silvana with far fewer injuries that she'd expected.

She wasn't dead, which is what she'd expected.

But when she touched the black side of the Warlock, she could taste the ash in her mouth, and it wasn't from the remnants of the fire.

Grimly she hefted the pry bar in her hand and went back to work, prying open all the metal panels that had partially welded in their slots because of the fire and the slide across the docking bay floor. It was a grueling job because she had to try and unscrew the panels, then use her whole body to get enough power to lever any of them open.

The mechanics were no help, although Banks had moved the Warlock further into the bay so she wasn't sweating ice and throwing up bile every time she glanced out over the yawning abyss that trailed behind the Silvana.

But beyond that, she'd received no assistance.

She remembered waking up on a pile of dirty laundry, warm and surrounded by the smells and sounds of a workshop in full operation. Her chrono said it was on the cusp between night and morning. The time when the air was chilly and crisp, making it the best time to do all the heavy work on a ship, before the day got too warm and muscles got too tired.

She'd knotted a few jumpsuits together and hauled herself out of the bag of laundry to jump down the short distance to the floor, far too used to the pranks played on her by mechanics and pilots from all the other docks she'd stayed in to be more than momentarily disconcerted.

There was not a single word spoken by any of the mechanics as they watched her climb out and down. But when she started trying to pry open an outer compartment on the Warlock with little success, a heavy toolbox full of basic repair equipment appeared near her feet with the spine-shuddering screech of being slid across the metal flooring.

Sophia had looked up, startled. One of the mechanics was already walking away from her. He was neither the Head mechanic, Banks, nor was he the one man who'd been more kind to her at first, Naylor. She'd glanced around, but everyone else had been pointedly concentrating on their own work.

So now she was working on the Warlock alone, doing all the heavy work first, opening up as many compartments and removing as many panels as she could to better assess the damage to the ship. Then she was planning to eat and clean herself up, then start vacuuming impact foam and fire foam out of the pilot and navigator chairs and the forward cabin. With any luck, she could sleep in the Warlock by nightfall.

It took her hours to get just the lower panels off, and some of them she left on the ship when she felt the metal started to bend under the pry bar's focused pressure. She kept reminding herself that she was working on the most difficult panels first — the ones that had been in contact with the metal floor during the slide. For some of them, the bolts holding the panels down had fused to the panels and the frame itself, and she'd had to tear the panel off entirely. Her upper arms gave out several times and she had to switch to removing the far less damaged panels. She kept changing from side to side until she couldn't do any more.

She checked her chrono. It was before lunch time. She would go find out what she was being given in terms of concessions aboard the Silvana, then make use of whatever she was given. All she knew so far was that she hadn't been thrown off the Silvana, and she'd been given some tools, although that may have been simply charity. Naylor had asked for a rough idea of how much time it would take to repair the Warlock, and then had walked away once he'd gotten her answer. So, what did that mean? Hopefully she was going to be allowed to take those three weeks she'd claimed.

Sophia hadn't lied about the time either, although she had worried that she would have to, before she'd skipped the Warlock across the docking bay floor. Now she had the perfect excuse to stay aboard the Silvana.

Perfect. Her mouth turned down, and she leaned her head against the side of the Warlock for a moment. The metal was cool, lifeless for the moment, until she could get the engines running again.

Sophia pushed herself away from the Warlock and slotted the pry bar and screwdriver back into their places in the toolbox, which she left on the floor where it was. If it was going to be taken away from her again, that was fine. She could reach the Warlock's own tool compartments now.

When she headed for the lifts to leave the flight deck, no one tried to stop her and tell her where she was supposed to go. In fact, no one looked at her or said anything to her at all. That wasn't helpful. She scanned the massive space with narrowed eyes, looking for Naylor. There were various ships neatly parked between the massive pillars, and equipment and mechanics attending various ships, but none of them looked like Naylor. However, she did see Banks' directing the upgrade of a small fueler nearby. He would have to do.

He raked a glance over her when she interrupted him and asked where to go to find out what her concessions were. His gaze was sharp, but not as hostile as it had been. "You're assigned to a cabin, one deck up." He gave her the number and went back to concentrating on what his bppm meter was telling him, ignoring her completely.

Sophia blinked once, then turned and went to the lifts. She was too tired to decide if there had been any subtle messages in the few words Banks had said to her. He was probably just waiting for her to leave so he and the other mechanics could pull some new prank on her. As long as they didn't damage the Warlock, she didn't care.