The ship shuddered, and the whining groan of assaulted metal reverberated through Molly's cabin. She dropped her tablet and rolled over, banging her head on the bulkhead. Moaning while grabbing her forehead, she hissed as the throbbing pain shot darts behind her eyes.

The scowl on her lips sent creased lines to her bruised temple. Gravity stabilizers must have glitched. Another shudder reverberated through the hull, mimicking her trembling hands. Not glitched ... damaged maybe? The stars flew past her floor-to-ceiling windows, the scenery the norm until a burning piece of her ship waved farewell as it jettisoned on its unscheduled voyage.

Groggy and naked, she stumbled out of bed and unhooked her jumpsuit, yanking it on. Her messy braid swayed around her with her jerky movements, forcing her to flick it out of the way. After swiping her boots, she ran toward the aviator pod, wincing as her bare feet slapped the grated metal of the passage. She paused beside her pilot's seat to slide her boots on and zip up her jumpsuit.

"Status?" she asked MARC.

"Death is imminent," MARC intoned. Modified with sarcasm in his last upgrade, his 'manly' voice irritated the shit out of her on an hourly basis, worse now than before the Vargosh incident. Next time he whined about upgrades, she would check the manifest before approving them.

"Thanks, you rust bucket, so helpful as per friggin' usual," she grumbled, sliding into the seat to grip the lever. She didn't remove autopilot just yet, deciding it was better to find out what was going on before she took over. But she did punch in commands, needing to know the extent of the damage. She could ask MARC, but sometimes it felt good to do things on her own. Besides, she couldn't deal with his sass without having had her first or eighth cup of coffee.

"What would you prefer to hear? Your life will flash before your eyes as the Vargosh turn the ship into the galaxy's largest spaghetti strainer?" MARC's sarcasm cut through her shock.

"How do you know what a spaghetti strainer is?" She threw out a hand to silence him as if MARC had eyes. Well, he did if vids counted. "Never mind, I don't wanna know."

"Vargosh are preparing to fire again." MARC sounded bored.

"You don't say? It isn't as if they're the most stubborn race ever to exist? Or that they hold grudges for generations?"

"Just saying, Mols. We could try to dodge this one. You are kinda dilly-dallying."

"Dilly—." She bit her lip as she thumped her thigh. Punching the console wouldn't help, especially if she accidentally jettisoned their stores or opened the cargo bay doors. "Fuck, MARC, I don't need your shit now. Any chance of avoiding these asshats?"

"Asteroid field one click to your right. F.Y.I, for your information, it's suicide. But knowing you, and I do, you'll ignore the warning."

She rolled her eyes at his dramatic, metallic hum, his version of a sigh. "Fine, then you pilot the Jasmine if you are up for the challenge. I'm certain someone of your vast capabilities could navigate such an obstruction. Or would you prefer I try?"

"Flattery and sarcasm do not work on me, but your threats do. I have an extensive file on your reckless piloting skills. That we are alive and well is a miracle. You should be worshipped by the lesser species for your crazy ... I meant, clever, nay, brilliant, miraculous, impressive piloting skills."

Molly sank her nails into her thigh and gritted her teeth. "Can you do it or not?"

Another metallic sigh hummed through the aviator pod. "I should be able to navigate the belt with ease."

The ship banked and swayed as MARC dodged missiles. Bright bursts of flame whizzed past the ship's visors, tempting her to squeeze her eyes shut at every close call. The asteroid belt loomed on the horizon, the extent of it filling the visors. It looked tightly packed, making Molly doubt her decision. Another blast struck the ship's rear, and she grimaced as it moaned in 'agony'. There was no time to change her mind.

"We will need to land once the Vargosh are too far away to realize our situation." Our? His memory banks were uploaded every time they docked. He integrated the ship, the aviator pod, the skipper, and their comm bands. If the Jasmine exploded, he would survive. There was no 'our'.

"Did you say land?" She scanned the wall of vids to her right, flicking her gaze from one circled planet to another. Civilization wasn't as close as she would have liked. "What? Why?"

"We are leaking sol and will be stranded. You would say ducks are squatting? I have directed as much fuel as possible to the backup containers. This might leave us with sufficient power to crash land onto the nearest planet."

"You couldn't even dodge their missiles?" she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice, but she couldn't dwell on how much shit they were in. That road led to panic, sheer, blind panic. She brushed her escaped tendrils out of her face, chewing on her lip in agitation before punching in more commands. She needed most of their cargo to shift to the center of the ship. It might survive the landing.

"They're firing all they have at us, Molly." His tone was serious this time, and it echoed through the metal aviator pod.

Shit. The last time MARC had used that tone, they had limped to the nearest dock. They hadn't made it, and the cost of a tow had been astronomical. There were no stations nearby, so that option was O.U.T. Without batting an eye, she would pay the price for a tow with pleasure. Anything was better than having vindictive Vargosh on her ass.

"I hate those bastards." Ice crawled down her spine to grip her innards, sending shivers and trembles through her. Her breathing shuddered, and she wished, not for the last time, that she had listened to her instincts when the lucrative contract had landed in her lap.

"I'll park Jasmine on the largest asteroid, and power down," MARC said as she watched him hover around a massive 'rock'—the size of a small moon—before tucking the ship into a crevice.

She hurried to strap herself into the seat as Jasmine shut down. With no gravity and life support, they were at a low enough power usage as to be almost undetectable. The oxygen content would last for a few hours on a ship this size before they would need to activate tanks and vents. Her tendrils and braid floated around her as if she was underwater. When her father's locket threatened to slip over her head, she grabbed it and tucked it inside her jumpsuit.

"I've deployed a single decoy in the direction of the farthest habitable planet." MARC's chuckle grated on her ears. "I have it swerving and dodging at full speed. Let's hope it fools the Vargosh."

Her shoulders slumped as the tension oozed out of her. "Tell me Amy didn't just sleep through that?" She didn't expect an answer. Amy had learned as a child to find sleep anywhere no matter the location and the noise levels.

As the seconds ticked by, Molly darted her gaze across the visors and vids, assessing all movement and sensors for a possible Vargosh attack.

"Hoozah!" MARC's triumphant bark drew a yelp from her. "The Vargosh have pursued the decoy. We need only wait until they're out of range. Then we'll put metal to the pedal."

She released a breath in an audible whoosh. She wasn't going to correct MARC on his wording of ancient phrases. He wanted to get a rise out of her, but she was too relieved to fall for it. Drawing in shallow breaths as if the air was too thin, time ticked by in the eerie silence as she monitored the visors, expecting the Vargosh's ship to appear before her, trapping her in the crevice. Blowing up the Jasmine would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Two hours and twenty-two minutes later, MARC powered up the life support and gravity returned. He un-parked the ship and spun it toward a planet he had selected.

"Will we make it?" She studied the sol readings as well as the estimated time and distance to reach the planet. Fifty-four minutes before they broke through its atmosphere, so she didn't need him to answer. That had never stopped him before, though.

"We will make it if you land without crashing—"

"The one time I miss the docking boom, and you won't let me forget it." Scowling at the console, she wished for the thousandth time she had a face to maim.

She forced herself to unclench her fingers, feeling as if the knuckles had petrified into stone since the Vargosh's first strike. A new tension solidified her shoulders and would only ease once she stepped onto terra firma. Escaping the Vargosh for now, only bought them a little time. They were a tenacious species, made worse if they felt wronged. And killing an entire ship of their brethren was definitely a slight against them.

"Of course, it's my duty to remind you, over and over. Humans must learn from their mistakes. Since your lives are in peril, perhaps now would be the perfect opportunity to improve?"

"Once again, thank you for your thoughtfulness." Her voice dripped with insincerity and sarcasm. She had a sneaky suspicion MARC learned from her example. It would be typical of his creators to design such a computer, able to learn the nuances of dealing with a human woman. She tugged out her hairband, unraveled her braid, and finger-combed her hair to keep her hands busy.

"In this instance, the loss of sol is not your fault. However, it does mean you will need to crash since there is insufficient fuel to land this ship in a lady-like manner."

Even though the temptation to respond was strong, she fought it and the impending eyeroll. She hadn't been lady-like a moment in her life. That was more Amy's style.

"Shouldn't we wake Amy?" MARC asked as if he had known the direction her thoughts had taken.

"In a few minutes," she sighed. What did it matter if Amy was awake for the last ten minutes of her life? Molly braided her hair, looping the band around the tip before fetching water from the cooler. Might as well die hydrated. She chuckled at the thought.

The ship tilted as MARC navigated them to their deaths. When the time came, she would take the helm. She hated feeling like a sardine in a tin and not in control of her destiny. The ship bumped against the atmosphere, and she turned in her seat, planting her feet wide with her fingers gripping the lever. She was preparing for the worst, as usual.

"I'll take it from here, MARC." And her shoulders stiffened under the weight of her decision.