Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (29 page)

Face to face, Buck stared into O’Dare’s eyes for a long
moment then shoved him angrily. “My, my. You wasted all that time looking for
something that didn’t exist. You are quite the fool, aren’t you?”

O’Dare dropped his head. “Yeah, yeah. Fool, liar, spy,

“. . .
whatever
.”

“Well, we know you’re a liar,” Josh said. “But beyond that,
what are you, really?”

O’Dare looked up at the boy. “I’m Eddie’s kid brother. And
yeah. Years ago he disowned me. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Rage flared, a fist flew, and Buck suddenly found himself
held back by several guards. O’Dare lay dazed on the ground with blood gushing
from his lip.

“Bounty hunter,” Buck said. “Before you turned your
attention toward these special—
so called
—ships, you hunted
us
,
didn’t you?”

O’Dare didn’t answer.

“Didn’t you!”

“Rebels?” Ericca asked.

“Believers,” Buck answered without taking his eyes off O’Dare.
“Followers of the Way. The Confederacy has a bounty on my people—on the heads
of believers.”

Ericca’s eyes widened. Now things were becoming clear. Rhone
wasn’t just a rebel hiding place, it was a Followers’ stronghold. Like Mara,
these people believed in, and followed, Yahweh. Jordon Kori didn’t believe.
That she knew. But he
had
said he trusted these people more than any
other. He had once told her that, as far as he was concerned, Believers of
The
Way
were harmless; a
live-and-let-live
people. But in that
conversation Jordon had added, ‘At a moment’s notice believers will defend
themselves.’ Ed Richardson was a Believer as well. Nice guy. A soldier with a
tender heart. He and his men had helped her at Los Dabaron and were responsible
for saving her and Riley’s lives. Now, here was Eddie’s brother; a complete
opposite. Despite his subterfuge, there was now no doubt about how O’Dare
learned of
Freefall
.

Buck glared at the downed man, and spoke Ericca’s mind.
“Make a few bucks off your own brother, did you? Was turning him over to the
Confederates worth it?”

O’Dare looked up and met Buck’s angry scowl with
indifference. With a voice buttery smooth, he said, “Nothing personal. It was
just business.”

A shot rang out. Everyone flinched and drew their weapons. Tyson
and two others were fighting to hold Ericca back and rest a smoking pistol from
her hands. She had yanked the gun from a nearby guard’s holster. She intended
to use it on O’Dare.

Tyson tugged the gun from her hand.

Ericca and Buck exchanged a look, and with that, she pushed free
of Tyson and walked away.

Tyson ran to catch up, grabbed her hand, and spun her to
him. “Are you okay?” he said softly, releasing her hand.

“I need air. Would you mind walking me down to the village?”

“Need a drink?”

“I do. Take me to the tavern?”

Ty nodded, pushed his hands into his pockets, and turned to
the foot trail leading down the hill.

Ericca entwined her arm in his and they took their time as
they went.

“I do love you, Ericca. I suppose I always will. Are you
sure you won’t reconsider?”

She sighed. “You really have no idea how much you hurt me,
do you?”

For a long moment, he was silent. “I got scared.” He
shrugged as if that were enough to appease her.

“Yes, well . . . that’s just too bad isn’t it. I
was broken. Damaged goods. Who’d want that?”

Right then Dr. Emory came to her mind. He hadn’t left her.
He didn’t care that she was broken. And luckily, he had the means to fix her.

When they finally reached the tavern, the moment Tyson
stepped into the room the atmosphere change. Every man had some sort of salute
to offer their king; every woman a curtsey. Marrying him, Ericca wouldn’t be
Queen, but she’d still get a like response from this kingdom’s people. Is that something
she wanted though—bows and salutes and pasted-on smiles? The only temptation
was, she could do a lot of good as Tyson’s consort. She could see to the
building of proper schools and community centers and hospitals and
. . . and she could . . .

. . . she could rub Mara’s nose in it.

“Perfect,” she said under her breath. She and Tyson would be
known as the Pirate King and his lady. There was a time when that would have
been enough. It could easily become her reality if only she could bring herself
to capitulate.

A week later:

After a day in Rhone City, near sunset, Ericca struck out on
her own. She found and followed a trail that ran beside the Rhone River, a
manmade construct that meandered as it circled Rhone’s interior at the equator.
It twisted and switched back and forth as it followed the distant upturned
curve of the hollow moon, disappearing to a sliver as it climbed toward the pseudo-sunlit
roof. It never truly got dark anywhere inside Rhone. There was always enough
light reflected off the far, lit side to dimly illuminate the dark side. Just
outside the city, on a footbridge that crossed the river, Ericca found a lone
fisherman dangling his bare feet over the edge. Even under the muzzy street
lamps she could see it was Dr. Emory. He had a small, handheld device that he
cast like a fishing pole.

She stepped quietly onto the bridge. “Hi there.”

He turned with a start. “Ah, Miss Archer. How are you this
evening?” he said with a friendly smile.

“Mind if I sit?” she said as she took a place beside him.

He dipped his head and cast once more. “So how’s the arm?”
he asked casually.

She raised the chrome hand to see, and rubbed her fingers
together. “Not quite the same, but I like it.”

“Well, your mind will compensate. The more you use it, the
more natural it’ll feel.”

“Look. Can we not talk shop for a moment?”

“Sure. I’m . . .”

“I was heartbroken to hear you’d died,” she said, easing
down onto the wood-planked bridge.

He stopped casting, and paused without turning.

“Seeing you lying there, that hurt even more.”

He set down his device and looked at her. “So you know who I
am?”

“Why did you want me left in the dark?”

Emory turned away from her, back to the water moving beneath
the bridge. He dropped his eyes to stare at his lap perhaps, or perhaps the
fish swimming by. “Hurting you was never my intent, Ericca.”

“Oh, that I don’t doubt. You have a tender heart. I don’t think
there’s a soul in the ‘verse you would try to hurt. I, on the other
hand . . .”

He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a friendly
squeeze. “You’re not the badass you want everyone to believe you are. But, you
have a level head. I could stand to be a little more like you.”

“And I more like you. I’m thinking, you and I would make a
pretty good team if we actually listened to each other.”

“A team? You and me? I’d like that.” He offered his hand as
if to seal the deal.

Ericca looked at it, grinned, then leaned to kiss his cheek.
“So, how did you fool Hammond’s doctor?”

He looked at her intently. “Dr. Emory was there, but someone
else took Jordon’s place on the slab. Hammond’s Doc didn’t see past the
holo-projector to question who was actually laying there. It seems even doctors
don’t like handling dead bodies more than they have too. The oddest thing was
attending my own viewing.”

She snickered, and entwined her arm in his. “I’m just glad
to have you back.”

“So when did you figure all this out, my deception and all?”

“Seriously? How many fidgety gadget guys can there be in the
‘verse?”

“Point taken.”

“I know what I want,” she repeated.

“Yeah?”

“I want to start a flight school. I want to train Rhone kids
to fly small assault craft; build a defensive force for added protection.”

“Sounds ambitious.”

“I could use your help. Would you be my gadget guy?”

“Hell no.”

“Oh, right. The military weapons thing you just got away
from. Got it.”

He rose, took her hand, and brought her to her feet. He
picked up his fishing thingy, and she interlaced her arm in his for a casual
stroll back to the city.

“Small craft, huh?” he said. His voice was distant and
ponderous. “Something similar to
Viper
. I wonder if there’s a way to
fight a war without killing people?”

“In war, people die, Jordy. Ain’t no getting around that.”
She watched the city lights begin to flick out here and there as folks bedded
down and prepared for another day.

“I don’t believe that. Certainly a smart man could come up
with something.”

“Men are stubborn creatures, Jordy. Even if you take away
there every weapon, they’ll still try to find some way to kill.”

“No, wait!” He stopped walking. Ericca could almost see the
cogs of thought grinding in his head. “Something about fight or flight. Backed
in a corner . . .” He began to draw in the air as if on an
invisible chalkboard. Once he’d written quite a bit, he folded his arms.
Tapping his chin with a forefinger, he nodded his approval. “Yes. That could
work.”

Suddenly, Jordon turned to Ericca excitedly, cupped her face
in his hands, and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you!” He spun to hurry away,
but stopped after two steps. Wearing a perplexed face, he turned back to her.
“Um, did I just . . .?”

Ericca smiled and raised a coy brow.

“Sorry, I, um, I lost my head.”

She stepped closer to him. “Is that what you call it?”

“Huh? What?”

She kissed his cheek. “You’ll figure it out,
eventually
.”
With that she turned to head off into the darken streets toward her new home.
The crisp air was just beginning to chill.

Someone caught her arm and turned her around. It was Jordon.

“I almost forgot to thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?”

“For making me see I was no ship’s captain.”

She felt her own cheeks rise in a smile. “So, Doc, how’s
working with amputees?”

“It has some very interesting, ah hum,
very
unexpected perks.”

“Seriously, do you like it?”

“I’m certainly no weapons engineer or ship’s captain. God,
how I hated that life.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad you were a ship’s captain when you
were. You rescued Riley and me from a bad situation, and gave us a home. For
that, I’ll always be grateful.”

“Can I show you something?” Before she could answer, Jordon
touched his belt and his holo-projected disguise melted away. He was Jordy
again. He touched it again, and vanished. Ericca felt him. She just couldn’t
see him. He reappeared as Emory.

“You and your gadgets,” she said with a chuckle.

He shrugged. “I was thinking. If you could sneak up on an
enemy craft completely invisible, would you be able to disable it so no one
dies?”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “
Reliant
had that
ability.”

“It did? But I just figured this out a short time ago. I
gave
Freefall
the ability but even in her it wasn’t energy effective. And
I know Dad didn’t know how to do it, and he was the one who made
Reliant
.”

“
Reliant
could not only vanish, but she could cast
false readings a certain distance away from where she actually was. We called
it Shadow-casting, or Ghosting.”

He rubbed his brow. “That can’t be right. This technology
didn’t exist back then.”

“Well, it did, actually,” she said flatly. “How does it
work?”

“Well, I wrote a complex algorithm to modify shield
frequencies. Light is bent around the object so shielded.”

“Well, what can I say?
Reliant
did it.” She glanced
over her shoulder to insure their privacy. “Look, I’ve been meaning to ask you,
does Riley know you’re alive?”

“He helped me plan this little escape.”

“Did he?”

“He, Mara, Rachel . . . and Buck. I asked Riley
not to tell you.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged again. “I thought you hated me.”

She looked at him then wrapped both arms around his middle
to hug him tightly. When she finally released him, she considered his face. “So
that’s the reason you were always nervous around me? Mara said I was the only
person who made you feel that way.”

“I was responsible for your parents’ deaths . . .
my tech anyway. I thought . . .”

“My daddy was a test pilot, Jordon. His job got him killed.
Not you. If anything, your tech saved him more often than I can count.”

He sighed. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“So now what? Are you still going to create things?”

“I am. Bio-prosthetics right here in Rhone. Buck will bring
me injured folks, and with Penko’s help, I’ll get them back on their feet.”

“And do you like your new job?”

“Yes, actually, I love it. I feel like this is what I was
meant to do. But . . .” Jordon looked around as if to find
eavesdropping ears or prying eyes.

“But what?”

“Come to my house in the morning, early. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

“Then we’ll talk about this then.”

The following morning, Ericca went to the Emory home. Rachel,
wearing dark goggles strapped to her forehead, met her at their door, let her
in, and led her to the basement workshop. Wearing magnifying eyewear, Jordon
sat on a stool looking at some new creation, a coin-sized disc. Ericca
recognized some of the equipment surrounding him, and some of those along the
walls. Others were new to her. On a nearby table, a half constructed mechanical
leg rested on a stand. Rachel pulled her goggles down over her eyes and sat
down to working on the leg. Sparks spit and flew as she attached other pieces
to it.

“Got this stuff off
Freefall
?” Ericca asked casually.

“That’s the reason we brought our ship into Rhone,” Rachel
told her without turning from her project. “And that’s why
Freefall
didn’t join the fight. To get it done, Nate, Mom, and I worked through the
night.”

“No one saw you moving this stuff?”

“And that brings us to why I wanted you here,” Jordon said.
He took the glasses from his face, and held the disc he’d been fiddling with out
to her.

Taking it from him, she looked it over carefully before
handing it back. “What is that?”

Jordon turned to Rachel. “Can you help her change, sis?”

“Sure,” Race said, “One moment.” A few more sparks flew.
“There!” She rose and led Ericca to a small dressing room. “Take off all your
clothes and put that on, then come back out here when you’re ready.” She pointed
to a small cloth something hanging on a wall hook, and closed the door behind
her.

Ericca unfolded the thin material. It was a black, one piece
workout leotard. It was armless and legless but had a belt. She quickly
stripped off her clothes and pulled it on and tightened the belt, then
considered herself in the mirror. Luckily she had a body able to pull off the look.
She stepped from the room, and Mara led her back to Jordon.

Taking her hand, Jordon pressed a hidden button and a small
compartment in her forearm opened. Using a special tool Jordon inserted the metal
disc and closed the arm. “Step closer. Give me your leg.”

When Ericca offered him her bionic leg, he touched a certain
place and a hole appeared in her upper thigh. He inserted another disc and
closed it back up. “All set.”

Ericca looked at Race quizzically. “Sure, I guess.”

“In your mind’s eye, Ericca, picture a pretty dress,” Jordon
said.

Ericca closed her eyes, did as he asked, then opened them
again. The dress she’d visualized was what she now wore. “Wow. This is
incredible. How does this work.”

Jordy grinned. “Now
think
the words, and I mean
loudly inside your head, ‘Reset dress’.”

Ericca did so, but nothing changed.

“Now think of jeans and a top.”

She did so and what she imagined replaced the dress.

“There you go,” Jordon said.

“What is this, Captain?”

He snorted a laugh. “My captaining days are done. Call me
Doctor or Doc.”

“Sorry,
Doc
.” She hesitated. “Hmph! That’ll take some
getting used to.”

“The two chips—
the main and its redundant backup
—allow
your limbs to project clothing holographically. Go ahead, touch them. Feel
them.”

The material felt real and responded to her touch just as
cloth would have. “How is this possible?”

Mara trundled down the stairs.

“Mom,” Jordon said. “Show Ericca what you can do.”

Mara’s dress suddenly changed to a pantsuit, then to a
dress, to a full length overcoat, and then back to her original dress just that
quick.

Ericca’s jaw dropped.

Mara grinned at that.

“Ericca,” Race said, “for all intents and purposes, Mom was Jordy’s
prototype. She spurred his work with holo-projectors.”

Mara nodded. “Jordy discovered certain energy frequencies
can, in a manner, be felt. Though invisible, these frequencies can not only
mimic tactile sensations but can bend visible light in predictable ways. A
dress made of this energy, to a point, moves and responds like the material
it’s programmed to imitate; it reacts so closely to what it should, it’ll fool
the average Joe if he isn’t looking too closely.”

Jordon considered Ericca thoughtfully. “I’ve simply learned
how to fool the eye, fool the senses, and thus fool the mind. What you think
you’re touching is a simple . . . well, not so simple . . .
nudge to the nerves in your skin. You think you’re feeling cloth, but you
aren’t really. The brain merely translates the stimulus given it into
recognizable patterns.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Show her, Mom,” Race said.

Jordon dipped his head. “Go ahead.”

Looking squarely at Ericca, Mara’s appearance suddenly
changed. No longer holographically hidden, her chest, neck, and left side of
her face to the ear bore severe scarring, probably from a fire. Her arm, too,
was scarred, but less so.

Mara raised a wry smile, skewed by scars that held the left
side of her face frozen. “From the very beginning, Jordy was bothered by how
others reacted to my scars. I think he felt my pain as much as I did. Unlike
everyone else, he never showed any sign of revulsion, but instead he sought to
solve the problem. I am the result.”

“Ma’am, I didn’t know,” Ericca said.

Mara’s face changed back. She took a breath. “Because these
scars prevent my mouth from moving right, the holographic overlay has to be
regulated by something else.”

“It reads her mind,” Jordon said, “and translates that into
an expression.”

“Do you see the problem?” Rachel asked.

Ericca thought for a moment. “Oh, I see. Unlike us, Mara,
you can’t hide your feelings. Your face gives you away.”

“It’s frustrating,” Mara said. “My displeasure in some of
the things you do, Ericca, translates into displeasure in you.”

“Your face betrays you,” Ericca said. “While I can smile at
someone who’s upset me, you can’t. I am so sorry.”

“Yes, well. Maybe we can put that all behind us. You are
always welcome in my home, Ericca. Just don’t read too much into my face.”

Ericca stepped forward to hug her. “We’re good, then?”

“Right as rain,” Mara said, and she smiled. It was good to
know that this one wasn’t anything other than what it was; an honest smile.

Ericca’s eyes unexpectedly welled. The image of Jordon
mooning over his Mom before their little Talon theft now made perfect sense. He
wasn’t faking anything. He wasn’t putting on a show. He truly and deeply loved
his mom, and saw no reason to hide that love from anyone.

Mara, though . . . Ericca now understood the older
woman’s disadvantage. Her soured expression wasn’t to be read into as Ericca
once thought. Her smiles were genuine, but the resentment written in her face
could be caused by so many things it’d be unfair to take it personally.

Back when Archer and Ericca were sitting in
Viper
perched
on the
Prince
, Archer had said, “Some people can see beyond skin’s
surface.” He was referring to Jordon as the seer, not Mara.

Presently Mara smiled, and for the first time Ericca saw
something in her eyes she’d never before noticed. How could she have so
misjudged the older woman; Mara and Jordon both. Falling into her arms, Ericca
hugged Mara with all the love she would have shown her own mother.

“Now,” Mara said after a moment, “enough of that.” She
kissed Ericca’s cheek and pulled back, and Ericca saw Mara’s eyes had welled.

Ericca sniffled and, with an embarrassed chuckle, wiped the
moisture from her own cheeks.
I’m tougher than this
, she thought.
What’s
with all this blubbering?
She was feeling things now on a very deep level.
Her once hard exterior had cracked and fallen away. What was underneath she
didn’t like, but only because it was new and she hadn’t yet learned to wear it
well. At some point she’d have to get a grip, take stock of who she wanted to
be, and bridle her emotions.

“Let’s talk about why we brought you here,” Mara suggested.

Ericca forced a grin, and shrugged.

“Normal clothes get in the way of your hidden pistol,
right?” Jordon said.

“Doesn’t matter. I haven’t been able to get the mechanism to
work anyway.”

Looking past Ericca, Jordon’s eye grew as large as saucers.
“NO! DON’T SHOOT!”

Ericca spun. There was no one behind her. Then she noticed
the gun in her hand. In the instant it took to turn around, the prosthetic leg
hiding the gun, popped out the weapon to place right where she needed it most,
right where her hand would find it. She had instantly grabbed it and aimed
without thinking.

“Seems fine to me,” Race said. “Maybe you were overthinking
it.”

Mara rubbed Ericca’s back reassuringly. “You’ll get it.
That’s the thing about Jordy’s devices. You don’t have to think about them to
be protected by them.”

Without looking, Ericca lowered her pistol to where she
thought it should go. Without her having to give it any thought, the mechanics
in her leg retrieved the gun and tucked it away. “This is so cool.”

“Just trying to keep you alive,” Jordon said.

Turning to him, she saw his smiling eyes drop to her leg and
he nodded approvingly.

“Truly, I don’t know what to say,” she said turning to Mara.

The older woman’s scars had vanished. Her complexion was
once again smooth and flawless. Well, not so flawless. Small imperfections made
her skin appear real.

“Why are you guys doing all this for me?”

Jordon looked at her with a puzzled expression. “She’s on to
us, Mom. Okay, okay, you caught us. I admit this was just a ploy, a
manipulative plan to get you to come around on Christmas day.”

Mara scowled. “I thought we agreed it’d be Mother’s Day?”

“Oh! Right you are, Mom. My bad.”

Ericca laughed. “I’ll make it both. Ah, what the heck. For
good measure I’ll throw in Freedom Day too.”

“Ericca, you are, on a much smaller scale, a version of
Freefall
.
Like that ship, you are fully shielded. You have the ability to cloak yourself
to become completely invisible, and you can change your appearance at will.”

“That is sooo cool. But do I have a cargo bay like
Freefall
?”
she said jokingly.

“You do, actually,” Race said. “There’s a small, shielded
compartment hidden in your leg. In it you can smuggle items without worry of
detection.”

“Smuggle? But why?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Jordon said. “Ericca Archer is going
to be one formidable woman. I just have a feeling.”

“Fact is, Ericca,” Mara said, “Jordon has given you every
advantage. No matter the difficulty or enemy you face, he’s tried to make it Ericca’s
game to lose. Unless you purposefully hand the victory to them, you should win
every time.”

My game to lose, Ericca thought. What an odd, open-ended
statement. But Mara was right. Up to now, life had just been a game to Ericca.
A game of what, though? Her against the universe? Dodge, parry, thrust? Where
was that feeling of being part of something? She hadn’t felt like a part of
anything since . . . since her folks were murdered. It was her and Archer.
Just her and Archer. She had no home with Madam Lilia. None with Tyson in his
mansion. No home on
Freefall
.

Even her life with her folks on
Reliant
was that of a
traveler. She belonged . . . nowhere.

Then Ericca noticed the scorched cube sitting on a shelf
behind Jordon, and gestured to it. “You said that was an urn. Can I ask you who
it contains?”

Jordon looked back and stretched to retrieve the cube. “This
is all that’s left of
Reliant
. I can’t access it without damaging it
altogether.” He held it out to Ericca.

She lifted her chrome hand palm up, and Jordon set the box
in it. Suddenly blue sparks flashed. Ericca went rigid. Blue streaks of
lightning danced around the cube, found her hand, and disappeared into it.
Unable to move, Ericca watched the room tumble forward and stop when she saw
the ceiling. Her arm, rigid and pointed skyward; her hand, with her fingers
curled, still clutched the box.

Jordon and Mara came into view over her, there faces a mix
of surprise and worry.

Paralyzed, Ericca couldn’t even move her eyes. “Fresh cube,”
she said stiffly. But those words weren’t hers. It was her mouth, but someone
else had said them through her. “Please. New cube.”

Jordon drew away, and she heard him scrambling to paw
through his cabinets. After a moment, he reappeared, pried the scorched cube
from her hand, and replaced it with a new one.

Blue lightning immerged from her hand and arm, flashed and
danced as it had before, then vanished as if sucked into the new cube.

Jordon snatched the cube just as Ericca’s arm collapsed back
to her chest. The room seemed to flicker momentarily, then went completely
dark. A moment later the lights returned, but the ceiling was different.

Dr. Panko came into her view. “How do you feel, child?”

Ericca hesitated. She felt good; better than good; she felt
strong and alive. Sitting up with a jerk, she threw her legs to the floor. They
were no longer in Jordon’s lab, but instead, in a bedroom. Nearby Jordon,
Rachel, and Mara, stared at her in dismay.

“Wow. How long was I out?” she said, studying each face.

“Nearly three hours,” Penko said. He turned to the older couple.
“Her heart rate and vitals are strong. I see no reason to keep her in bed. But
I do want you to go to the hospital for tests. Tomorrow, if you’re up to it.”

“You gave us quite a start, young lady,” Mara said.

“Well, she’s fine now,” Penko said, and with that he
gathered his things, said his goodbyes, and excused himself.

Ericca took and released a cleansing breath, and bolted to
her feet. “I can’t ever remember feeling this good. What on Earth happened?”