Chapter 5: Vertical Escape
The greased rung slipped from Zara’s grasp with sickening suddenness. One moment she was hauling herself upward, muscles screaming, the next she was falling backwards into darkness, a choked gasp escaping her lips. The ship-wide alarm chose that exact second to shatter the oppressive hum of the maintenance shaft. It wasn't just a sound; it was a physical assault – a wailing, klaxon shriek that vibrated the metal walls and drilled into the skull.
Jax reacted faster than thought. His hand shot down, not to grab her flailing hand, but to clamp like a steel manacle around her wrist. He yanked hard, stopping her fall dead. Momentum slammed her body flush against his. Chest to chest, hip to hip, in the cramped, oily darkness. Her forehead bumped his chin.
"Easy," he growled, the word barely audible under the siren's banshee wail. His breath was warm and rapid against her sweat-slicked temple.
Zara clung, her fingers digging into the rough fabric of his fatigues, nails biting into the muscle of his shoulders. Her heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The scent of him – sweat, ozone, dried synth-ale, and the faint, coppery tang of Vorlag’s blood – flooded her senses, overwhelming the lingering sweetness of her own expensive perfume. Below, the rhythmic thud of heavy boots pounded past an access panel, muffled but terrifyingly close. Security. Hunting them.
"Gods," Zara breathed, her voice shaky, edged with near-hysteria. "He's really... they found him? Already?" The image of Vorlag’s bulging eyes, the terrible gurgle, the crimson flood – it flashed behind her eyelids, stark and visceral against the darkness.
"Course they did," Jax rasped, his body rigid, listening intently to the receding boots. His grip on her wrist was unyielding, anchoring her. "Ship this size? Someone brings synth-ale, someone finds the body." He shifted slightly, the movement pressing her even tighter against him in the confined space. "Can you climb? Or do I drag you?"
The blunt question, devoid of sympathy, jarred her back to the immediate peril. Indignation flickered through the terror. "I can climb!" she snapped, trying to push away, but the shaft offered no room. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the slick rung behind his back. "Just... give me a second. And maybe don't sound so thrilled about my potential demise."
"Thrilled keeps me alive, Princess," he retorted, his voice flat. "Sentiment gets you spaced. Now move. That patrol circles back."
They resumed the awkward, clanging ascent. Zara focused on each rung, each burning pull of her arms, forcing the horrifying images away. The klaxon screamed its relentless accusation. Sweat stung her eyes, mingling with the grime coating the ladder. Below, another set of boots echoed, closer this time. She froze, heart in her throat.
Jax’s hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, pushing her upward. "Don't stop. Faster." His voice was low, urgent, cutting through the din.
They scrambled higher, the shaft narrowing slightly. Zara’s expensive, impractical top snagged on a protruding conduit, ripping with a sharp sound that seemed deafening. She cursed, a surprisingly crude word that earned a faint, almost imperceptible grunt from Jax. Was that... amusement?
Suddenly, a new voice crackled through the pervasive alarm, amplified over the ship's internal comms. Lysa’s voice, strained with manufactured panic. "Security! Intruders! I saw them! Deck C, aft section! Near the secondary cargo hold! Two of them, heading towards engineering!" Her words tumbled out fast, breathless. "Hurry!"
The pounding boots below instantly changed direction, fading rapidly towards the stern of the ship. A momentary reprieve.
"Lysa," Zara gasped, relief washing over her. "She bought us time."
"Smart," Jax acknowledged tersely. He pushed past her on the ladder, his larger frame forcing her tighter against the wall. "Up here. Service hatch. Leads to the dorsal spine." He reached above him, muscles straining, and hauled open another heavy hatch. Cooler air washed down, carrying the faint, incongruous scent of recycled flowers – probably from the nearby hydroponics for the crew lounge.
He boosted Zara up through the opening. She tumbled onto a narrow gantry walkway running along the top of the ship's main structural spine. Conduits and thick power cables snaked alongside it. The ambient light was marginally better here, emergency strips casting long, angular shadows. The klaxon's wail was slightly muted.
Jax hauled himself up beside her, sealing the hatch with a heavy thud. They crouched in the relative quiet, breathing hard. The vast curve of the Star Drifter’s outer hull stretched away on either side, visible through reinforced viewports that showed the streaking stars of warp-space beyond.
Zara leaned back against a cold conduit, trembling. She looked down at her hands. They were scratched, smeared with grease and something darker, flaky. Vorlag’s blood. A shudder racked her frame. She wiped them frantically on her already ruined leggings. "It... it happened so fast," she whispered, more to herself than to him. Her eyes, wide and haunted in the dim light, lifted to Jax’s face. "You just... cut him. Like it was nothing."
Jax was scanning the gantry, his expression unreadable in the shadows. He didn't look at her. "He touched you. He threatened you. He was drawing his weapon." His voice was matter-of-fact, devoid of regret. "Choices get made fast in close quarters. Wrong choice gets you dead." He finally glanced at her, his blue eyes catching the emergency light, cold and assessing. "You okay? Hurt?"
The question, so bluntly practical after what she'd witnessed, threw her. "Hurt? I... no. Not physically." She paused, the full reality of their situation still dawning on her. "You killed the Captain of this ship! They won't stop looking!"
"Didn't plan on him sharing his toys," Jax said, a dark echo of Lysa’s warning. He pulled something from his belt – the compact comms device Lysa had slipped him when he pinned her against the bulkhead. He activated it. A soft green light pulsed. "Lysa. Status."
The device crackled. “Still searching aft,” Lysa replied, “I assumed you’d be in the fore section.”
“Thanks for that,” Jax said, “I owe you one.”
“I’m not even sure who you are,” Lysa said, “but I’ll hold you to that.” Her voice sounded more confident, even flirty.
Zara was watching him with confusion and curiosity. “Who the hell are you?” she asked. “You don’t seem like one of my father’s usual goons.”
Jax pocketed the comm, his gaze finally locking onto hers in the dim gantry light. "Name's Jax Holloway." The wail of the distant alarm underscored his rough voice. "Your father hired me to find you, Zara." He watched her eyes widen slightly, the emerald depths flickering with surprise and suspicion. "But," he added, his tone flat and final, cutting through the ship's thrum, "I'm not one of his goons."
Lysa's crackling voice erupted from the comm again, sharp with sudden alarm. "Jax! They doubled back! Someone found Ulf! They're tearing apart the forward sections!"
Boots pounded on the deck plating far below their narrow gantry, the sound echoing up through ventilation grates like a drumbeat of pursuit.
The metallic drumbeat of boots echoed closer through the grates, vibrating the gantry beneath their crouched forms. Jax scanned the narrow walkway, options vanishing like airlock venting. Forward led deeper into the exposed spine, aft would drop them back into the hunted decks below. Trapped. Zara’s ragged breathing hitched beside him, her knuckles white where she gripped a conduit. "Plan B involve swimming in the void?" she choked out, her usual bravado frayed but present.
Before Jax could snap a reply, a heavy thunk sounded directly above them. A service hatch Jax hadn’t spotted, recessed into the curved ceiling of the spine corridor, suddenly swung open. Dust motes danced in the emergency light as a figure dropped down onto the gantry with surprisingly quiet grace, landing in a crouch between them and the forward path.
The man straightened. He was wiry, clad in the same dark blue jumpsuit as Lysa but cleaner, his bearing alert and calm. Dark, intelligent eyes assessed them swiftly, lingering on Jax’s blood-smeared sleeve and the Kestrel rifle, then flicking to Zara’s pale, grease-streaked face. He didn't reach for a weapon. Instead, he held up an open palm in a gesture of wary neutrality. "Easy," he murmured, his voice a low, steady baritone cutting through the klaxon’s wail. "Didn't expect company up here."
Jax shifted instantly, placing himself slightly in front of Zara, his body coiled. The knife was still in his hand, glinting darkly. "Who are you?" The demand was a low growl.
"Ruben Paruna. Helm." The man’s gaze didn’t waver from Jax’s. He jerked his chin towards the sounds of pursuit filtering up. "Sounds like you’ve ticked off the welcome committee. Vorlag’s loyalists." He said the captain’s name with distinct distaste. "They found him, then? Good riddance. Bastard bled yet?"
Zara made a small, involuntary sound at the blunt question. Ruben’s eyes flicked to her, softening slightly. "Apologies, miss. But you won’t find tears shed for Borus Vorlag among half this crew. Especially not from the group I run with." He looked back at Jax, a flicker of respect in his eyes. "Saw the feed snippet Lysa rerouted before she fried the main node. Clean work. Messy, but clean." He nodded at the blood. "You Holloway? The marine Lysa whispered about?"
Jax didn’t relax, but the knife lowered a fraction. "Holloway." He jerked his head towards Zara. "She’s the package."
"Valerius," Zara managed, finding her voice. It sounded thin. "Zara Valerius. And you’re… celebrating our murderous fugitive status?"
Ruben’s lips twitched, almost a smile. "Celebrating Vorlag finally meeting a sharper knife than his own tongue. We’ve been waiting for someone, anyone, to make a move. He ran this tub like a tyrant, skimmed profits, beat crew… smuggled nasty things." His gaze sharpened, locking onto Jax. "Things like the crate he had stashed behind the deuterium filters. Weaponized nanites. Consortium-restricted grade."
The revelation landed like a physical blow. Jax’s expression hardened. "Orth." The name was a curse. The corrupt scientist Inaya had warned him about. "He’s supplying him."
"Was supplying him," Ruben corrected, a grim satisfaction in his tone. "Past tense now, thanks to you. But his buyers on Veridian Station won’t be pleased their delivery just got… cancelled. Or that their supplier is dead meat." He glanced towards the aft end of the gantry; the boot sounds were getting louder, more purposeful. Someone was climbing nearby access ladders. "Point is, we share a problem. Vorlag’s dead, but his loyalists aren't. And they control the comms, the armory… and the bridge. For now."
Jax processed this rapidly. A mutiny simmering beneath the surface. Useful. Dangerous. "Your group. How many?"
"Enough to make life difficult. Not enough to storm the bridge yet." Ruben’s eyes darted towards the ceiling hatch he’d come from. "This spine connects to the primary sensor cluster housing. Forgotten space. Safe, for a few minutes. We can talk. Plan. Maybe help each other." He extended a hand, not for shaking, but pointing upwards. "Coming? Or do you prefer explaining to Vorlag's pet thugs why the Captain's decorating his deck?"
A shout echoed from below, shockingly close. "Check the dorsal spine vents! Now!"
Ruben scrambled back up through the hatch without waiting for an answer. Jax shoved Zara forward, her hands slipping on the greasy rim as he practically lifted her through the opening after Ruben. The hidden compartment was barely larger than a storage locker, tucked behind a false panel near the primary sensor array housing, smelling of dust and warm electronics. Ruben slid the panel shut behind them, plunging them into near-total darkness save for a single flickering status light on a console bank, the frantic shouts and bootsteps outside muffled but terrifyingly close.
After the bootstraps receded, Ruben spoke. “We’ll be safe in here for a few minutes, at least.” He turned to Jax. “I guess I could say I owe you one for taking out the captain,” he said slowly, “but I have to ask, why?”