Fight or Flight (2 page)

The big pugilist training her seemed unfazed by the ferocious grunts she made as she hit the weighted bag; every so often he corrected her form with a bland comment. After a few rounds with the bag, the man sent her to a chinner bar to pull up. She favored her left arm. Zeke looked at his notes—she’d broken that one in the accident. She was clearly a tough little number, but nothing about her made him think, “hardened criminal.” Even the cuff looked more like a fashion statement than a tracking device.

It didn’t make sense to him why a highly decorated pilot like Tirzah Simonian would have been in that brig—for assault, no less—in the first place, let alone steal a transport to try to escape.
A hero of the Fleet.
He shook his head, looking at his notes again. Both the warden and her husband had been shot when she stole the transport, but why?

“What were you running from, Simonian?” he whispered, watching her grimace as she dropped from the bar and walked to the treadmill. Her trainer called something out and she flashed him an angry one-fingered salute. Zeke’s lips twitched, and he tried not to smile as she ran.

“Don’t let her size fool you; that woman is a beast.”

Zeke turned at the voice behind him. Nick Guszak, the investigating commandant, stood a few feet away, pinning the little redhead with a glare. Guszak rubbed him the wrong way. The commandant seemed overly eager to see the woman prosecuted, as if it were personal. That never boded well.

“A beast, really?” Zeke raised an eyebrow at the florid-faced man. “Why would you say that? There’s no sign of anything to her actions but desperation. The court officer saw fit to release her on bail in spite of the severity of the charges, even. What do you see in her that I’m missing?”

“You need to close this one hard, Lucassen—we’ve given you the information you need to send the bitch to jail. She killed a hero of the Fleet in cold blood. The CO of her outpost. Don’t be seduced by her sweet face. We’re counting on you.”

“She’s a hero of the Fleet too.” He looked back at his reader. She’d been responsible for flying one of the most dangerous missions in history against the Coronals, just a few months before her marriage to the man she’d killed. The wedding had made the news vids, a flashy Christmas affair with some of the top brass paying their respects to the happy couple. A symbol of excellence in the Fleet. How had she ended up in the brig not three years later?

“Not anymore she’s not.” The commandant pointed at the woman in question one more time. “Close this one.”

* * * *

Tirzah tried not to fidget as she sat at the table with Josiah at her side. His hand slipped under the table and closed over her knee, stilling the foot she hadn’t realized she tapped. A court officer stood by to issue orders once the plea had been entered. She glanced over as the door opened and a huge man walked into the conference room. Her breath caught a little as he nodded in her direction. Broad shoulders filled his advocate uniform, narrowing to a trim waist and powerful thighs. Sharp green eyes bored into her, startling in their lightness from a dark-complexioned face. His hair was braided into tight rows, close to his scalp. He looked rigid, unyielding.
Terrifying.
Every bit of him looked sharp and dangerous.

There had been a time in her life when the appeal of a dangerous man had been as seductive as the appeal of steering a fighter through space. Her body still, on some level, reacted to the raw power of a big, strong man, even though the man she married had eventually turned on her, terrorized her.

This man in front of her saw right through her. Her heartbeat grew frantic—she knew now how small creatures felt under the gaze of a bird of prey.

Fight or flight.

She’d fought Walter and she’d lost. She’d flown and she’d fallen.

Now another big, terrifying man had her pinned to the wall, and there was nowhere to go, no escape possible.

“I’m Advocate-Commander Zeke Lucassen, the prosecutor assigned to the case of Captain Tirzah Simonian. This is an informal hearing that will serve as your arraignment. Are you prepared to proceed?”

“We are.” Josiah’s voice rang out in the small room.

The officer of the court looked at Tirzah. “We will enter your plea on the first count of murder now.”

The prosecutor sat across the table from her, his eyes still piercing into her. She swallowed, trying to force her gaze away, to still her rapid heartbeat before the treacherous organ imploded.

“Tirz, you need to enter your own plea, I can’t do it for you,” Josiah reminded her, giving her leg another squeeze.

“N-n-not guilty,” she stammered, looking at the table.

“We will enter your plea on the second count of murder now.”

Second count of murder. They were charging her for the man Walter had killed, the warden who had helped her escape.

“Not guilty.” Her chin lifted in defiance as she looked back at the prosecutor.

“We will enter your plea on the charge of taking a star-transport without prior requisition and approval.”

“Oh, I’m guilty of that one.” Tirzah turned to the officer of the court. “I knew my commanding officer would not approve the requisition, so I took it.”

“Please note, Captain Simonian has already paid the fine, paid repairs, and served two weeks in the brig for that misdemeanor,” Josiah said, looking from the prosecutor to the court officer.

“I see.” The prosecutor looked at his reader, and then back at Tirzah. “Prosecution agrees to drop the charge of taking the star-transport and accept time and monies already rendered in lieu of further punishment on that charge.”

He made a note on his reader and then continued. “We will seek a trial by court martial on the murder charges before the Solomon Tribunal. Captain Simonian, as a citizen of Earth, and a member of the Fleet, you have the right to be tried before a panel of your fellow officers, unless you waive that right.”

“I do not waive my rights.”

“So ordered.” The court officer banged a gavel. “You will be informed of the trial date. Until such a time as the trial is held, unless otherwise ordered by this court, you are grounded, Captain Simonian. Please turn in your wings to this court.”

She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she unpinned the silver—not gold; she’d lost fight command status when Walter had first thrown her in the brig and she’d missed the qualifying exam renewal—wings from her uniform. Of course, she hadn’t flown since the crash, but her wings, a symbol of her status as a pilot, had remained pinned to her uniform, giving her hope. She nodded, forcing the lump in her throat back down.

Disgraced. Humiliated. Grounded.

“When the mighty fall, they fall hard.” A nasal voice sounded from the doorway. Tirzah looked into the red face of the investigating commandant. He’d had a hard-on for her wings since the day he’d taken the case. Snarling, she leaped to her feet, ripping her elbow out of Josiah’s grasp, her only thought to get out of this room where the walls were too close and the stares too pointed.

Chapter 3

Alone in his quarters, Zeke looked over the hospital reports on his reader. He wasn’t familiar with all the terminology, but the post-accident medical treatment didn’t all match with the information in the commandant’s report. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the looming headache to subside. He was getting lots of pressure from career military to prosecute Captain Simonian quickly and lock her away in the work camps. Hints had been dropped at promotion opportunities, and veiled threats had been leveled should he fail to close this one.

He couldn’t deny the high-profile nature of the case had been part of what had attracted him. Unlike Josiah Beckett, he didn’t quite have his choice of assignments, despite having years of experience on the other man. Winning against Beckett could make his career, and Guszak had handed him what appeared on the surface to be an open-shut case.

But his gut said there was more to the little red-haired pixie who’d confessed to stealing a transport all while disavowing the murder of her husband. He just wished someone had witnessed whatever had happened on that launch pad last year. With the only possible witness dead, it was her word against the weight of the Fleet’s top brass. He glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost dinnertime. A following glance at the food generator made him frown.

No, he wanted something real. Something cooked. Which meant the mess hall. All those people crowded around made a jolt of panic rise in his insides. He didn’t like to spend a lot of time in public. He used to enjoy the politics of his position. He’d go to parties, a beautiful woman on his arm, and he’d court advancement and opportunity like every young prosecutor.

He was different now. Now justice was his companion. He chose to forgo the fancy dinners and the parties, and the endless ass-kissing opportunities. As for women? His only lover was a ghost, a golden-haired memory who visited him in starlit dreams and fog-filled nightmares.

Pushing the discontent away with a growl, he threw a jacket over his shoulders and headed for the mess, his reader tucked under his arm. He had to get out of his quarters at least. There was only madness waiting for him if he followed that train of thought, and once it started … distraction was the only answer.

As he walked, he took in the sights of the indoor city surrounding him. Solomon City was a typical frontier city, settled by a group of mostly eastern European civilians back when bickering factions of the Earth government had been grasping for territory.

But then the war with the Coronals—an offshoot of settlers who didn’t recognize the authority of the Earth government—had happened. Instead, they had preyed upon the government-provisioned outposts and settlements, become space-age pirates.

The Coronals managed something unexpected: they’d united the factions of Earth against a common enemy.

A place like Solomon, isolated on the edge of Earth-governed territory, had been a prime target for piracy until fighter squadrons like Tirzah Simonian’s had brought the Coronals to their knees and an agreement could be forged between them and Earth’s government.

The peace accords were holding, but the military presence here on Solomon was still strong. Civilians and military mixed, but there was a transient feel to the place, as though half the population was just waiting for orders to go somewhere else. It was depressing to Zeke, who’d spent most of his military service closer to the political heart of the sector, on well-established planets.

Zeke was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t see Simonian until he’d walked right into her, knocking her tray out of her hands and spilling her drink down the front of his clothing.

“Damn it,” she muttered, looking at her food all over the floor, following the line of culinary debris up his trousers to his shirt, and finally meeting his eyes. The melancholy slump to her shoulders compounded, and she looked like she was about to cry. Her full bottom lip clenched between her teeth, turning white where they bit, and her brows furrowed in annoyance.

“I’m sorry about your clothes.” She gestured at him, averting her eyes.

“No, Captain, I’m the one who should be apologizing, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Can I buy you another dinner?” he asked.

She met his eyes again; this time surprise widened hers. They were the color of chocolate, rich and deep, and his analytical brain began cataloging everything about her, but it wasn’t this mental inventory that hardened his body in response to those ginger-lashed eyes. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Shock tingled down his spine as he recognized attraction stirring his senses.

“You want to buy me dinner?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

“It’s the least I could do.” He looked at the food on the floor that the serv-droids were already cleaning.

And then she laughed.

The sound that pealed from her was genuine mirth, and her shoulders shook with it. Dimly he realized buying her dinner would be a disaster for him politically, but he could hardly rescind the invitation, and frankly, he didn’t want to—she’d been transformed by laughter. The melancholy he’d observed was gone, replaced by an infectious joy. Suddenly he felt an urge to make her smile as often as he could, just to see that joy light up her face. She was beautiful when she laughed, so damned lovely.

They were attracting stares from other officers, some of whom looked unsure whether they should investigate. As if she’d noticed, she drew her shoulders up, collecting herself. One last giggle escaped as she wiped a tear from her eyes and looked at him with a wide, genuine grin on her face.

“That’s a good one, Advocate. Maybe sometime when you aren’t prosecuting me for murder.”

* * * *

Tirzah’s face flushed as she hurried back to her quarters. What the hell kind of game was the advocate playing? Inviting her to dinner? And the look in his eyes just before she’d lurched into hysterics? It was like he wanted to eat her alive.
And she’d liked it.
Her nipples had gotten hard and she’d fucking blushed.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She shook her head, fighting back the panic as she palmed open her door and stepped inside. As soon as the door slid shut behind her, she sank to the floor, shaking.

The ’com on the wall was just out of reach, so she pulled her personal ’com out of a pocket and called Josiah.

“Tirz?”

“Becky,” she whispered. “Something just happened I don’t really understand.”

“Okay, honey. Hold on a sec…” There was a murmured voice in the background, a muffled laugh, and then Josiah was back. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She moved away from the door, but stayed on the floor. Call it an overreaction, but she felt safer low to the ground. After Walter’s abuse, it was an automatic defensive posture.

Moments later, Josiah palmed open her door, dropped to the floor next to her, and slipped an arm around her.

“Shhhh … Tirzah love, I’m here now. What’s going on?”

“It’s stupid. I don’t know what happened.” She sniffed, dragging her uniform sleeve across her eyes before looking at her friend. Josiah was out of uniform, dressed in civ attire, looking sharp.
Oh no.