Things were not going at all as planned. Ardoss wanted to slip on the ship, Open Sky, undetected, get to the rendezvous with Pietro Marquez, and arrest the lot of them.

Now, some stuffy politician too big for his very expensive suit had ruined Ardoss’ cover, leading to a showdown in the cargo bay. And now it looked like the situation was about to go from bad to even worse.

“Someone’s hijacked your ship?” asked Ardoss.

“No idea,” said Ruskella, “but I have a schedule to keep. Mickey will have my head if I’m late.”

“What do you want to do about him?” asked the co-pilot, jerking her head in Ardoss’ direction.

“I can’t let him loose on the ship,” said Ruskella. “We’ll have to put him in the locker.”

“I can help,” said Ardoss.

“Not a chance,” said Ruskella.

“You forget,” said Ardoss, “if you miss your meeting with Pietro, so do I. We both have a vested interest in what happens on this ship and where it goes.”

“And when we get there,” said Ruskella, “you’re going to arrest Pietro Marquez and I’m going to die. I see it as a conflict of interest rather than a mutual goal.”

“I could arrest him after you drop off your package,” said Ardoss.

Ruskella creased his brow.

“Go on,” said the co-pilot.

“You’re only supposed to drop it off, right?” said Ardoss. “Mickey never said anything about seeing him off safely?”

“He didn’t,” said Ruskella, “but he also told me to kill you.”

“And you didn’t,” said Ardoss. “Either way, you’re defying your boss. Drop off your package, then let me have Pietro. That way, we both get what we want.”

“He’s got a point, Jo,” the co-pilot said.

“And if I don’t?” said Ruskella.

“You’ll be arrested for aiding and abetting,” said Ardoss. “What do you think Mickey will do with you then? Help me and I can protect you.”

Ruskella’s nostrils flared and his jaws clenched.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “You help us and you don’t stab me in the back and I just might do as you ask. First, we get the ship back.”

“That’s fair,” said Ardoss. “So how do you want to handle it?”

“We kick them out of the cockpit,” said Ruskella.

Ardoss raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t strike me as the violent type.”

Ruskella’s face reddened. “It’s my ship. I want it back.”

“Okay,” said Ardoss. “Let’s say you storm up there and pull whoever it is from your seat. Or try to. Then what?”

Ruskella looked at the floor. “I don’t know. Lock them up?”

“And if they put up a fight?”

“I fought you.”

“And lost.”

Ruskella glared at him, but the co-pilot stepped forward.

“I’ll handle it,” she said.

Ardoss shook his head. “Let me handle it.”

Both pilot and co looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“I’m an Agent,” said Ardoss. “I’m trained for this.” Ruskella shot the co-pilot a look.

She shrugged, “He’s got a point.”

“You’re not getting the gun,” warned Ruskella.

“I don’t need it,” Ardross returned.

“Fine,” the pilot conceded, “what’s the plan?”

“First, we see what the hell is going on out there.”

“After you,” said the co-pilot, gesturing to the door. Ardoss nodded. His plan, he’d go first.

He reached for the door and turned the wheel.

It didn’t budge.

He put his weight on it, but still it wouldn’t move. “It’s stuck.”

The co-pilot pushed him out of the way, and she shoved her own weight against the door, her face turning red from the exertion. “No way in hell it’s stuck,” she said and pushed again. “We keep this ship in tip-top condition.” The door’s inability to move was a personal affront to her.

She tried the door one last time before finally accepting the reality of their situation. She peered through the window.

“I see the woman and the kid,” said Ardoss, “but no sign of the politician. I guess we know who’s behind this.”

“He didn’t seem like the hijacking type,” said Ruskella. She shrugged. “We’re assuming this is a hijacking.”

“The door’s locked,” said Ardoss.

“Point,” she said. She knocked on the door and peered through the glass. She pounded on the door. Nothing.

“It’s too thick,” she said. “I would try the comms, but it would alert Thrumm or whoever took over.”

“The emergency hatch,” said Ruskella.

The co-pilot looked at him and narrowed her eyes.

“If we go that way, one of us has to operate the airlock and one of us has to go out there,” she said. “Someone will have to be alone with the Agent.”

“I can retake the cockpit,” Ardoss said.

Ruskella shook his head. “I can’t risk you taking over the ship and leaving us back here. One of us needs to go too.”

“I’ll go,” said the co-pilot. “I have more zero-g training and you’d be in the locker as soon as I leave.”

“Fine,” said Ruskella. “We’re getting farther off course the longer we stand here arguing. Char, take the Agent and get me my ship back.”

Ardoss could see in the man’s face he’d rather be the one going. He must have had a lot of trust in this woman. Ardoss knew what that was like, to trust someone to do what needed to be done.

But that was gone now, ripped away when he found out about Pietro’s dealings. Twenty years they were together and never a word, not a hint.

The three of them made quick work to strap down the cargo hold. Ruskella helped Ardoss and the co-pilot into the evac suits.

“Wait. What about you?” asked Ardoss, “There’s no airshield on this ship’s hold.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Ruskella.

Ardoss raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got it rigged,” said Ruskella. He pointed to a small seat with straps and an O2 tank right by the control panel. It had a small enclosure with a door around it, barely big enough for a person.

“You two have done this before,” said Ardoss. “Must be interesting working for Mickey.”

The co-pilot stole a hard look at Ruskella. “Couldn’t say.”

Ruskella turned bright red, something unspoken passing between the two. Changing the subject the pilot said, “We need to hurry.”

Ardoss nodded and, with help, donned his helmet. It snapped into place. His breath warmed the dome and the visor fogged a little. The familiar hissing started, followed by the clinical, yet somewhat musty odor of oxygen filtered into the suit. He coughed once as it filled his lungs.

“Can you hear me?” the co-pilot asked over the suit comms.

“Loud and clear,” replied Ardoss. “It’s Char, right?”

She took a moment to respond.

“Yeah,” she said. “Now grab the railing. We’ve only got one really good chance at doing this.”

He nodded, aware as soon as he did it that the suit swallowed simple gestures.

Char grabbed the rail and gave a thumbs up to Ruskella. Ardoss followed her example. Ruskella had an O2 mask strapped to his face and returned the gesture, punching a button on the console.

Vacuum yanked at Ardoss. He lost his footing, but kept his hand tight on the rail. Just as his fingers started to slip, the pressure equalized and the pull lessened.

“Ready?” asked Char.

“Yes.”

She reached outside the ship and grabbed a hold on the hull. Ardoss followed.

Once they were outside, the door closed. He could only imagine what kind of discomfort Ruskella must be in. It was gutsy for sure. And downright dangerous.

He suddenly thought better of the man.

“You guys are pretty close,” said Ardoss.

Char didn’t say anything.

“You get that way, I suppose,” he continued, “out here alone, just the two of you.”

Silence.

“That’s how Pietro and I were,” he said. “Or I thought we were. Twenty years together and I never had a clue he was working for Mickey. Betrayal like that makes you question everything.”

“I wouldn’t do that to Jonah,” she said.

“What about him screwing you over?” he said. “It’s clear that he ran with Mickey and didn’t tell you about it.”

“He didn’t have to,” she said. “I wouldn’t be a good partner if I didn’t notice the little things. He didn’t bring it up, so I didn’t mention it. We’ve known each other for sixteen years, he’s worked for Mickey for ten. I knew the day Mickey approached him.”

“Are you two . . .?” said Ardoss.

She laughed. “Of course not. Jonah is married with three children. I introduced him to his wife.”

“That doesn’t keep people from enjoying the company of each other,” he said.

He could almost feel the scowl she must have given him.

“I owe him more than you could understand,” she said. “Jonah’s a good man. He wouldn’t work for Mickey if he had a choice.”

“Are you saying he was coerced?” he said.

“Of course he was,” she said. “That’s the way Mickey Black works. He finds something on you, a way to squeeze you. He manipulates you into doing what he needs done.”

Ardoss wanted to ask more, but they had reached the cockpit.

“This will be just like the cargo hold,” she said. “When I open the door, the cabin will decompress. Grab onto something or you may be blasted out into space.”

“Understood,” said Ardoss.

She reached for the latch and Ardoss looked around for a hook or a bar or something to hold onto. There was a small ledge and he dug his fingers in.

“Ready,” he said.

Without another word, she twisted the handle and the door popped open. Air whooshed past them, knocking Ardoss’ hands loose from his hold. He tried to grab back onto something, anything, but he’d already drifted away from the ship. Food wrappers expelled from the cockpit whirled around him.

He stared for a moment as the ship grew smaller. The hiss of air pumping into his suit was the only sound. Gradually, the panic built as he realized the ship wasn’t coming back. The pounding of his own heart and his rapid breathing smothered the sound of the oxygen.

A red light blinked on his display. His O2 was low. These suits weren’t meant for long excursions. He had minutes. Ardoss steadied his breathing. He needed to conserve. If he was going to survive, he needed to be calm.

The ship dwindled smaller and Ardoss couldn’t help but feeling he was about to die.

To be continued