Held Between Stars

Hale

Silence fills my headset.

My entire crew is holding their breaths.

Everyone on the other side of that camera will be holding their breaths.

This needs no commentary.

This part never does.

All we can do is wait.

And then it comes through. Mace's voice. "One alive."

I sigh a heavy breath of relief, making sure it's loud enough to be heard on camera. The monitor showing the stream to my left still displays Mace in the midst of this rescue. I don't have to sculpt my face into something big and false.

Yet.

Mace continues relaying his assessment. I soak up every damn word like my life depends on it. Not mine. His. My jaw aches by the time he's finished.

"There we are, everyone," I say, the relief still hooked onto my voice, a smile spread on my face. Not because the viewers can see it, because they'll hear it. Because they need it. Beneath the console, my knee continues to bounce its chaotic rhythm until Mace is back onboard. "A survivor. Without us, no one could've reached them."

I pick my words carefully. It's not that other teams couldn't reach them. It's that they don't even fucking try.

Written off. Collateral. Forgotten.

The drone's single torch sweeps over the hull of my ship, reflecting the orange panelling in a wide arc.

"There she is. Mercy. My beautiful girl. Our beacon of hope. And there's Lifeline." I exaggerate the awe in my voice as the camera spans back to Mace. My fingernails bite into my palms, tension coiled around my forearms pressed against the console. "Our. Fucking. Hero."

I break, letting Mace's voice take over as he talks to our casualty, gentle like he's in bed with a lover.

His face helps.

But that damn voice, that's what pays our bills.

"That's okay," he says, voice dipping deeper. "We'll get you out."

The dip is barely noticeable, but it sends my heart through the floor. A dip like that means things aren't going Mace's way.

A dip like that means a hundred million viewers might have just lost their happy ending.

"Hale." Silas' voice cuts across the rumbling of the ship, not my earpiece, loud enough that everyone at home would've heard him too. "You need to see this?"

He tosses his tablet into the space between my arms, chin jerking in my direction. The camera appears in the side of my vision, my face filling the monitor to my left.

Nowhere to hide now.

I tear my gaze away from Mace for a single heartbeat to look at the tablet. The stream's chat is racing across the screen faster than I can register in the glances I allow myself.

Then I catch it and my heart pulses in my throat.

My mechanic's wife. She's gone into labour eight weeks early.

I give myself a second to make sure the dread clawing at my spine isn't visible. "Does he know?"

Silas shakes his head, face pale. I know fuck all about childbirth. Don't need to, not to know this is still in the danger zone.

But...

But.

A baby?

It's the happy ending we all need.

Standing, I flatten my palms against the console, shoulder blades grinding together, and watch Mace bring the casualty back on board.

He's home.

I turn towards the camera, grin never twitching once, voice excited. All of it practiced.

"Then we'd better go tell him." I point down the lens. "You lot get to come share this with me."

Boots pound against the metal grates as the three of us hurry through the ship to find Ryker.

The camera sweeps over Mace when we reach him, lingering just long enough fans get their hit. They'll catch the body on the stretcher by his feet too.

Just not whether his chest is moving.

I don't check. I can't. Not while the camera is inches from my face.

"He made it, folks. Our boy is home. Safe and sound. Let's all give him the appreciation he deserves." I clap my hands several times before sliding open the door to the maintenance bay. "We'll be enjoying a celebratory beer tonight. And here's the guy you're all asking to see. Greasy boy."

The camera pans to Ryker, head nodding to whatever hip-hop he's got blasting through his headphones beneath the welding mask.

On the other side of the camera, my medic drops to his knees beside his patient.

I slam my boot against the panel Ryker's stood on to get his attention. He flinches, curses, and lifts his gaze to us. The mask hides whatever reaction he has about me shoving the camera in his face.

He lifts it off, tilts his head back in acknowledgment. "What's up, gang?"

I clap him on the arm, making sure not to block the camera. Behind my smile, I swallow back the acid lining my throat. "Congrats, man. Guess who's gone into labour."

The helmet slips from Ryker's fingers, smashing into the metal below our feet. I can't tell what's real or for the camera anymore.

"Is... Is she okay? Tell me they'll be okay."

I know better than to promise him things I can't control. So I tell him what I can. "We're already on our way. We'll make it."

But what we'll make it to, I have no idea.

Sweat beads down my spine as my grin widens.

"We've got a little surprise for you." I stare into the camera. Not Ryker. "For all of you, wherever you are too."

Silas lifts his tablet, showing the video call to Ryker's wife. She looks well. Tired. The subtle beep of machinery in the background.

Ryker's breath hitches. He releases me and strides towards Silas, the camera capturing every heartbeat.

"Baby." He snatches the screen from Silas, keeping her face obscured. "You're okay."

"I'm okay. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I couldn't reach you any other way."

Ryker shakes his head. "I don't care how you reached me. Just that you did."

I grab the side of the camera and walk it away from Ryker.

"You all heard that. She’s okay. I don't know how to thank you all for doing this for them. Without you, we never would've known. And Grease's wife would've had to face this without the father." I shake my head, eyes low and just for a single heartbeat, I let my true emotions show on my face. The shutter comes up. My mask set in place. "But that's another day over. Thanks for hanging around. See you next time."

The camera drops from my vision and my back slams into the nearest wall. I drag my hand down my face hard enough it stings. That's all I allow myself before I straighten, stretching out the tightness in my neck.

"Good work today, guys. Go get some sleep."

Silas scoffs. "Are you serious? You think any of us are going to sleep? We're having a baby."

My stomach lurches. I can't think about Ryker or his family right now. So I don't.

My check in on med bay is brief. Neither Mace or my medic look up. It's going to be a long night for them.

Or a very, very short one.

The door snags as I shut it and turn to Silas. "Talk to me about mechanics."

I catch his hesitation before I head up the stairs. The way he glances at med bay and then maintenance bay like my attention should be on one of them right now.

He follows me with quieter steps. Not calmer, just less demanding. "Ryker's replacement is stuck in a contract until he starts here. Other than that, it's slim pickings."

I grimace as I turn into the galley.

Two months. Longer than I would like to leave Mercy without a mechanic. The conditions we push her through aren't easy. But she was built on strong bones. I trust Ryker has done enough to keep us doing what we need to do.

We don't need her to be brilliant anyway.

We just need her airborne.

Renn hands me and Silas a mug each when we walk into the galley, catching the end of our conversation. "What about Eliot Thorne?"

"No." My answer is instant. One thing I've not had to think about today.

Silas places his coffee on the table and consults his tablet. "He's available."

Kasper strolls in from replacing his camera, harness still strapped around his chest. He scoffs, a rough noise in the back of his throat. "Eliot Thorne is always fucking available."

"Exactly." My voice is raw, scraping over my dry throat. I haven't had a drink since we got the distress signal. My first sip of coffee burns before easing the ache. "Who else you got?"

Renn hands Kasper his coffee and grabs a bottle of sparkling vitamin water from the fridge. "Why not Eliot Thorne?"

I stagger as white hot pain shoots through the base of my skull. Just once. Replaced by a dull pounding.

There goes the adrenaline that was keeping me upright.

Nearly twenty-six hours since I last slept and the edges of my vision blur every time I move.

I sit on the closest bench, squeezing my temples. It does nothing to ease the headache. "Got a reputation, kid."

Renn shakes his bottle and twists the lid to let out some of the fizz. "Of course he does. He's brilliant. He aligned a magnetic containment field in the fusion core while it was still hot." He opens his fizzed up bottle a little too quickly and the water tumbles over his fingers. "With his bare hands."

Silas frowns, dropping into the opposite bench with a groan. "What's that?"

Renn screws the lid back on and gives the bottle another shake, eyes wide, body vibrating. "Alright. How about the time he switched out the pressure bulkhead in space?"

When none of us shares his enthusiasm again, all his excitement leaks out his expression.

"Really? None of you?" He exhales through his nose. The closest thing Renn gets to sighing. "Fine. He's known to work on engines mid-flight."

That I understand. "That's..."

"Hot," Kasper says, mouth around a cereal bar.

"Impossible," I say, ignoring his input. "How?"

Kasper swallows and shrugs. "You always complain we don't have a long enough turnaround to actually do the work she needs. If Eliot Thorne is willing to burn his hands off for the name of speed, does it matter how?"

I stare at the coffee, mug slotted between my palms. Never been one for routine. Can't be when life exists between the unknown. But this, same order, same mug, my crew coming together after every rescue – when they all get here. It's the only time something ever feels settled in my chest. And now Ryker's leaving, maybe I'll never find it again.

I glance at Silas. "You think he's the right fit for the team?"

"You mean the girls?" Silas takes a sip of his coffee, brows lifting above the rim.

"The girls. The boys. His inability to take a long term contract. Is that reputation something we want associated with our brand?"

"Why?" Renn's holding the bottle to his ear, turning the lid again. He's pacing the two steps between the kettle and the sink. Won't sit down until he's made coffee for us all. "You aren't worried about the brand when everyone else does it."

Kasper claps a hand on Renn's shoulder. "Because when I fuck the fans, I do it in the name of the brand."

"What do the fans think?" I ask Silas.

He slides his tablet across the table to me. "Eliot Thorne is being thrown around the most. So is the fact that he probably doesn't exist."

"What do you mean?"

Renn lowers his drink from his lips, flicking the cap through his fingers. Always amazes me how still he becomes the moment he's behind a drone.

"He's in forums everywhere. But he has no online presence. Theories range from an AI who's discovered a sense of humour to a bitter middle aged man who's trying to get back at an ex-business partner. Though I don't really understand why anyone thinks these things."

"Point is," Silas says between sips. "No one's figured out how he's become so infamous but kept his identity hidden. But that does mean he's used to the fame that comes with Mercy."

I lean forward in my seat, elbows digging into tight muscles, palm pressed against my eyes.

If it was just the cameras that were unusual about this role, I wouldn't have a problem hiring. People have offered some weird shit just to get on Mercy.

But the moment I mention there's a chance they might not make it home, I lose nearly all of them.

And the rest I don't trust.

I sigh, turning my attention to Renn. "Then how do I even reach him?"

He grins. "You don't. He's got an app. You apply for his services. He chooses which contracts he takes."

"Apply for his services?" Kasper releases a long low whistle that echoes around the empty room. "Imagine being so big in your field that you actually have to fight off contracts."

I lift my gaze to Kaspers, slow, deliberate, brows furrowed. "Broadcasting to millions of viewers not big enough for you, hotshot?"

He folds his arms, jumpsuit pulling against his shoulders built by carrying camera rigs for years. "You know what I meant."

I shake my head. Eliot Thorne is not what I want. But my ship needs him. The casualties only we can reach need him.

"Okay. If we do get him, I don't want any of you sleeping with him. I have rules in place for a reason. Distractions get people killed. Understood?"

Silas rolls his eyes. Renn doesn't reply.

Kasper grunts and jerks his chin towards the door behind me. "Think it's him you should be warning."

I turn to find Mace standing in the doorway, hair damp from his shower. My medic stands just behind him, blank expression the way it is every time Mace drags him up here after a rescue.

Mace runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head.

Just as I thought.

No survivors.