Page 42 of The Last Hunt
Maeve
Maeve sleeps like shit the rest of the night. She startles awake around five in the morning and Aethon is already gone. She can hear him talking to the AIs at the front of the ship. Silently, Maeve gets up and gets ready, braiding her hair down her back and pulling it tightly enough to hurt. She shrugs her jacket on over her clothes, and jams a pulse gun in her shoulder holster. She pins her Two Roses crest onto her collar, the cold metal back icy against her skin. Finally, she tucks her croi crystal necklace down behind the front of her black shirt.
It hurt Maeve to reject Aethon last night, but it was for the best. He had looked at her with open adoration and Maeve felt something intense and grasping rising within her. She wanted more than sex. More than even a few nights of pleasure. She wanted him. Aethon. All of him. And that could not be. Her chest aches at the memory of the pain that crossed his face last night before he turned away from her.
Maeve grits her teeth and walks out of her room and back to the front of the Archer. Aethon is leaning against the dash and staring out at the jump point before them. The immense metal ring around the jump point is blinking steadily. No other ships are nearby.
“We ready to jump?” Maeve asks.
Aethon doesn’t turn around, just taps a button on the dash and replies, “TAI says we’re ready to go, but there’s some concern about the support struts this morning.” His voice is normal but completely level and professional. He looks better after a few days of rest, and he’s wearing his normal outfit, complete with his bandolier across his chest. The bandage on his neck looks fresh, and Maeve wonders if he changed it himself this morning. Frustration rises in her chest at the thought that he didn’t ask her to change it for him, but she recognizes the irrationality of that emotion. Why would he ask her for anything now?
“The Archer suffered stress damage from pulling the Menace out of the star’s gravity well,” CAL says. “And our previous three jumps have only exacerbated the problem.”
“I’ll pay for any repairs,” Aethon says, standing up straight and continuing to stare out the viewscreen at the jump point ring. “You can take it out of my cut when we catch Daik.” His jaw is tight, his lips pulled into a thin line.
“You’re as sweet as pie, Aethon,” TAI chirps. Maeve sees his lips tug into a tiny smile.
“Fine,” Maeve replies. “But are you sure we’re good to jump?”
“There’s always a risk with this, Captain Bladesbearer,” CAL says seriously.
“There’s an approximately 85% chance the strut will hold during the jump,” TAI adds.
“I don’t love those odds,” Aethon mutters.
“Me neither,” Maeve says. If a ship breaks down in jump space there’s almost no chance of survival because there’s no way to plot a way out or for anyone to track a lost ship. It’s a dead zone for a ship's instruments. “But we don’t really have another choice unless we want to travel through normal space which would add weeks - or months - on to our trip,” Maeve adds with a sigh. “I think we have to risk it.”
“We should get the ship checked out after we jump, just to be sure everything is ok,” Aethon adds. “There’s no starbase or repair depot for lightyears around here.”
Maeve nods. “Ok.”
Aethon clears his throat and tucks his hand under his bandolier, avoiding her gaze.
Maeve hates that things between them feel stilted and awkward. Before they’d been able to snark with each other, tease, even flirt. Now it’s all business. But Maeve doesn’t know what to do to change where they’re at now. They’ll just have to catch Daik as quickly as possible and then go their separate ways. That thought makes her chest feel tight.
She sits down in her captain’s chair and pulls up the tracking app, flipping it onto the screen. The red dot indicating Daik’s ship pops up. Maeve narrows her gaze and examines the progress he’s made in the last few hours. “Looks like Daik could still be heading for the Tri-Centauri system,” she remarks.
“Definitely,” Aethon says.
“We’re up to a 37% chance now,” TAI says.
“After we jump,” Aethon says. “I’ll reach out to my CHASA contact over subspace and see what I can find out.” He slides his fingers slowly and absentmindedly along the edge of the dash in a motion that makes Maeve’s cheeks flush with memories from last night.
“Good,” she replies. She reaches out and grabs the joystick, accelerating the Archer toward the jump point. “Making the jump in ten seconds.”
Aethon sits down in the co-pilot chair and pulls up the ship’s systems on the dash in front of him, monitoring the stress levels on the hull.
The second the Archer begins the jump, Maeve hears a grinding creaking sound and her heart leaps to her throat. The blue-black of jump point space engulfs them, and Aethon stands, his hands flying over the dash which starts to blink with red and white indicator lights. The ship begins to vibrate and Maeve’s teeth rattle together.
“Maevey - we’ve got a problem!” TAI says, her voice shrill. “Starboard vertical support strut is weakening!”
“Shoring up support!” CAL says.
“We’ve got to make it through the jump point!” Aethon grits out. He glances back at her, his whisky eyes narrow. “If we don’t…” He shakes his head. He doesn’t need to say anything else - she knows. If the Archer breaks down in jump space, they’re dead. Their instruments won’t be able to plot a way out, and no one will be able to find them. Maeve exhales and nods sharply to him. Aethon’s chest rises with a deep breath and his hands fly across the dash, trying to keep up with the alerts popping up. She grips the joystick harder, trying to steady the ship.
“TAI - can we make it?!” Maeve demands, her hands starting to sweat. She can feel the Archer resisting her, the engines stuttering as they fight the drag created by the off-kilter support strut. The creaking whine increases in pitch, searing through Maeve’s head.
“I’m throwing every ounce of energy we have into reinforcing the hull!” TAI says.