Claimed by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 6)

Three more tries and the thing chugs to life. I can’t interpret any of the ship’s readouts because they haven’t been programmed to pair with my sensing system, so all I can do is wait, holding my breath, as Benn goes through the checks.

“I think it’s going to fly!” he says after testing everything.

“What about comms?”

“They’re operational. We should be able to make contact once we’re off-planet.”

“Let’s try it.” My stomach churns. I scan the area around us. “All clear from my sensors.”

“Initiating flight.” Benn lifts the craft slowly into the air. It’s old and heavy, but once it gains some momentum, the metal stops shaking and we rise in altitude.

We are near the edge of the atmosphere when I pick up three fighter ships speeding our way.

“Incoming ships, coming fast. There’s no way we can outrun them.”

“And there’s no defense system on this thing,” Benn grits. “If we head straight out, we’ll be in the debris field. This thing does not have the speed or navigational capacity to dodge debris like you did coming in.”

The fighter ships close in. “Give me the controls,” I snap, taking them before he moves. I jump us through the atmosphere. We’re hit immediately by a scrap of metal, which sends the ship into a tailspin.

I work hard to pull us out of it, narrowly avoiding three objects that fly past. “Well, the good news about the debris field is they didn’t follow us in.” I pull up hard to jump over another hurtling object.

“And the bad news is when we’re hit by an object large enough to knock us out of the sky, we have no escape pod this time.”

“You work the comms. I’ll keep us in the air.”

There are moments when there is no choice but to make something work. Death is not an option—not for either of us. We have young at home.

I utilize every skill I’ve gained with my implants to keep us from getting crushed while Benn sends out a distress signal on the Zandian frequency.

“We copy, Benn. What are your coordinates?” Captain Rok’s crisp voice comes through immediately, as if they were waiting for us to make contact.

Thank veck.

“Undetermined. We’re in the debris field in a barely functioning ship,” Benn reports.

I give my best guess at our coordinates based on my sensor readouts.

“We copy. You’re twenty-three leagues from free space traveling at fifty-nine degrees. We will rendezvous there and take out any potential threats before you arrive.”

“Copy that. We’ll do our best to get through,” Benn says and I give a nod of agreement, not daring taking my focus from the debris field for even a millisecond.

My palms sweat, my breath is short and flat as I navigate through layer after layer of dangerous objects.

Benn keeps silent.

It takes every bit of my concentration just to keep us from getting crushed. We take hit after hit from smaller items as I dodge the larger ones. It seems to take forever, but at last, we near the coordinates Captain Rok gave. Except the debris field’s even denser. There’s no way to get out.

I turn and loop around, attempt to circle back.

Veck.

I can’t get through. It’s just too dense.

“We have you in our coordinates,” Captain Rok says. “Coming in.”

“No—don’t,” I bark. They wouldn’t survive it either.

Benn gasps and a moment later I understand why—a blast goes off right in front of us. “They’re firing on the debris!” Benn exclaims.