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table from her. He was about 35 and had scruffy brown hair. He wore a leather jacket and looked straight out of a cop show. He scanned over her file on his personal data unit. “Lieutenant Commander Zoey Bryant. Assigned to the Scorpion . Former, Lieutenant Commander.
    There was that damn phrase again— Former Lieutenant Commander.
    “You have quite an interesting resume.” He read over her list of priors. “Drunk and disorderly. Disturbing the peace. Public intoxication. Assault… should I continue?”
    Zoey shrugged. “All lies. I’m just a soft cuddly girl.”
    The detective chuckled. “I’ve had an opportunity to review the security camera footage from the bar. The video doesn’t lie. It looks like you threw the first punch. That makes you liable for this whole event.”
    Zoey scoffed. “That’s bullshit. What was I supposed to do, let him swing first. I don’t know if you’ve gotten a good look at that guy, but he’s a wrecking machine.”
    “You seem like the kind of girl whose mouth gets her in a whole lot of trouble.”
    Zoey couldn’t argue with that one.
    The detective read from his PDU. “Zoey Bryant is an excellent pilot, but is too impulsive and lacks respect for authority.” He scanned through her file. “Reason for discharge: personality disorder .” He looked at her with condescending eyes.
    Zoey shrugged. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”
    “You’re lucky nobody got hurt.”
    “Newsflash. Have you see my face?” The sclera of her eye was filled with blood from ruptured capillaries. She had a dark circle under her eye that was purple and green and yellow. She looked like she just stepped out of the ring with the heavyweight champion of the world.
    “Unfortunately, the bar owner doesn’t want to press charges. If it were up to me, I’d nail your ass to the wall.”
    “I bet you’d like that,” Zoey smirked.
    The detective sighed. “Get out of here before I change my mind.” The detective released her cuffs and let her out of the interrogation room. “You might want to work on that attitude of yours.”
    “But it’s my strong point.”
    The detective shook his head.
    8-Ball had already been released and was waiting on the street for her outside of the jail. It was 0330 hours. They had thirty minutes to get to the space port.

11

Zoey
    Z oey cringed . “That’s your ship?”
    “Yes,” Declan said. “That’s my ship. You got a problem with it?”
    They stood in a docking bay in the Wright-Hammond Space Port.
    “It looks like it’s held together with bubblegum and duck tape.” Zoey quipped.
    The ship was scarred and tattered from years of battle. The hull had been patched in many places, and no consideration had been given to the appearance of the repair work.
    “She may be old, but she’s fast and built like a tank.”
    “It has a quantum drive, right?”
    “Yes, dear. It has a quantum drive. It’s not that old.”
    “That’s a pre-war Thunder Cat , isn’t it?” 8-Ball asked.
    Declan nodded.
    “I didn’t think there were any of these left,” 8-Ball said.
    “Trust me. She’s space worthy. I’ve done all the maintenance myself.” Declan looked at the vessel with a grin. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
    “Well, all aboard the flying museum,” Zoey snarked. She started toward the ship.
    “Hold up. Not so fast,” Declan said. “Weapons aren’t allowed on board.”
    “What about him?” Zoey said, eyeing Jaxon. He was clutching an M729 Light Automatic Weapon. It was a selective fire machine gun, and was never far from his grasp. You could tell he was just itching for any opportunity to use it.
    “Passengers aren’t allowed weapons.” Declan proceeded to frisk Zoey. He patted her waistline and felt up and down her thighs.
    “You enjoying yourself?”
    His eyes narrowed at her. “What happened to your face?”
    “I tripped.”
    “It’s an improvement.”
    Zoey scowled at him.
    Declan frisked 8-Ball. Both of them were clean.
    “Can I