Read Online Girl From Above #3: Trapped by Pippa DaCosta - Free Book Online
Authors: Pippa DaCosta
Ads: Link
us. So for the foreseeable future, no one leaves this ship.”
Bren frowned and looked at #1001. The doctor was looking at her too, but she only had eyes for me.
“There’s something else,” she said. “Something you’re not telling us.”
“There is.” I had to be careful. At this moment, the synth was the most dangerous threat to me. If she knew what I had planned … I stopped those thoughts right there. “I have a way off Lyra, but I can’t tell you how, so don’t ask. All we have to do is sit tight for two more days. No leaving the ship. No wandering off to check the newsfeeds. We eat and sleep on Starscream. Everyone understand?”
“You’re asking us to trust that you’ll miraculously slip the Lyra police, a drug lord who owns half the Lyra strips, and a male synthetic?”
Of course the question came from my brother. He would be the one to doubt me. Why couldn’t he just trust me? “Walk out the door if you want. That psycho synth will find you and break your neck like he did Jesse’s. This isn’t about options, Bren. We’re stuck here whether we like it or not.”
“Can’t we just take off?” the doctor asked, his voice pitching ever higher as panic crept in. If he freaked out, I’d gladly punch him out—for his own safety.
“We could use Starscream’s engines to break free of the docking locks, but we wouldn’t get far. Notice the big fucking domes we’re in? If we punched through those, the toxic air, change in air pressure, and drop in temperature would kill everyone on Lyra in minutes. I’m selfish, but I ain’t that selfish, Doctor. We need clearance to pass through three domelocks, and we can’t do that while harboring my fugitive ass.”
“So, how?”
Maybe I should just punch him anyway. “Didn’t I just say? Don’t ask.”
“Yeah, but … why not? We’re all in this together.”
If I told him about the Nine, he’d never shut up. “I’ve connected with some people who can help. That’s all you need to know. And no I can’t say another fucking word.” Bren and the synth would immediately know the people I’d reached out to, but they wouldn’t know the terms of our rescue. “So”—I clapped my hands together, making James jump, and plastered an overly enthusiastic smile on my face—“there are plenty of maintenance jobs on Starscream to keep us occupied. Two days together. Let’s try and keep it civil, shall we?”
I looked at my unwilling cellmates and wondered if the next two days would be the longest ones of my life.
----
W ithin hours , I was ready to break my own rules. I’d tried focusing on some minor repair work inside Starscream’s engine hatches—the parts I could get to without going outside—but a pounding headache had loomed out of the dark, and not long after, my hands had started to shake.
Fuck. Mouth dry and heart racing, I was craving a drink and knew exactly which gun barrel I was staring down: withdrawal. The same as Fran back on Asgard. Aw, shit. I couldn’t think about her. Too much crap in my head meant focusing on even the littlest things ended in disaster. I left the engine hatches and searched all of Starscream’s various hiding places for alcohol. I’d cleared them out days ago, but it didn’t hurt to check again. But in the back of my mind, I already knew there was something on Starscream that would ease my symptoms: Fran’s supply of phencyl.
I found myself outside Fran’s old cabin, now the doctor’s. The door was open, so I could see inside. #1001 was lying on the bunk with her eyes open, without seeing. Seated beside her, Lloyd monitored his datapad. From over his shoulder, I could see various streams of information flowing across the wafer-thin display. It might as well have been a foreign language for all the chance I had of reading it.
“It’s okay, Captain,” Lloyd eventually said. “She’s engaged her rest protocols. She’s essentially asleep.”
She sleeps with her eyes open. I stepped inside
Bren frowned and looked at #1001. The doctor was looking at her too, but she only had eyes for me.
“There’s something else,” she said. “Something you’re not telling us.”
“There is.” I had to be careful. At this moment, the synth was the most dangerous threat to me. If she knew what I had planned … I stopped those thoughts right there. “I have a way off Lyra, but I can’t tell you how, so don’t ask. All we have to do is sit tight for two more days. No leaving the ship. No wandering off to check the newsfeeds. We eat and sleep on Starscream. Everyone understand?”
“You’re asking us to trust that you’ll miraculously slip the Lyra police, a drug lord who owns half the Lyra strips, and a male synthetic?”
Of course the question came from my brother. He would be the one to doubt me. Why couldn’t he just trust me? “Walk out the door if you want. That psycho synth will find you and break your neck like he did Jesse’s. This isn’t about options, Bren. We’re stuck here whether we like it or not.”
“Can’t we just take off?” the doctor asked, his voice pitching ever higher as panic crept in. If he freaked out, I’d gladly punch him out—for his own safety.
“We could use Starscream’s engines to break free of the docking locks, but we wouldn’t get far. Notice the big fucking domes we’re in? If we punched through those, the toxic air, change in air pressure, and drop in temperature would kill everyone on Lyra in minutes. I’m selfish, but I ain’t that selfish, Doctor. We need clearance to pass through three domelocks, and we can’t do that while harboring my fugitive ass.”
“So, how?”
Maybe I should just punch him anyway. “Didn’t I just say? Don’t ask.”
“Yeah, but … why not? We’re all in this together.”
If I told him about the Nine, he’d never shut up. “I’ve connected with some people who can help. That’s all you need to know. And no I can’t say another fucking word.” Bren and the synth would immediately know the people I’d reached out to, but they wouldn’t know the terms of our rescue. “So”—I clapped my hands together, making James jump, and plastered an overly enthusiastic smile on my face—“there are plenty of maintenance jobs on Starscream to keep us occupied. Two days together. Let’s try and keep it civil, shall we?”
I looked at my unwilling cellmates and wondered if the next two days would be the longest ones of my life.
----
W ithin hours , I was ready to break my own rules. I’d tried focusing on some minor repair work inside Starscream’s engine hatches—the parts I could get to without going outside—but a pounding headache had loomed out of the dark, and not long after, my hands had started to shake.
Fuck. Mouth dry and heart racing, I was craving a drink and knew exactly which gun barrel I was staring down: withdrawal. The same as Fran back on Asgard. Aw, shit. I couldn’t think about her. Too much crap in my head meant focusing on even the littlest things ended in disaster. I left the engine hatches and searched all of Starscream’s various hiding places for alcohol. I’d cleared them out days ago, but it didn’t hurt to check again. But in the back of my mind, I already knew there was something on Starscream that would ease my symptoms: Fran’s supply of phencyl.
I found myself outside Fran’s old cabin, now the doctor’s. The door was open, so I could see inside. #1001 was lying on the bunk with her eyes open, without seeing. Seated beside her, Lloyd monitored his datapad. From over his shoulder, I could see various streams of information flowing across the wafer-thin display. It might as well have been a foreign language for all the chance I had of reading it.
“It’s okay, Captain,” Lloyd eventually said. “She’s engaged her rest protocols. She’s essentially asleep.”
She sleeps with her eyes open. I stepped inside
Similar Books
