Ryce pursed his lips into a thin line at the slur, but simultaneously put a hand on Matt’s elbow, holding him off.
“Does she know who adopted me?” he persisted, pointedly ignoring both the direct and the implied insult.
“She doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Brinan gritted out. “You should forget about her altogether. She’ll never acknowledge you as her own; whatever sham you have in mind, it won’t work.”
“With all due respect, it’s not your decision to make,” Ryce said fiercely, his immaculate calm finally cracking to reveal the anger underneath. “Neither on my part nor on hers. If you truly care for her as a friend, you’ll leave the choice to her—no matter how distasteful my existence is to you.”
With a sharp toss of his head, Ryce turned and headed back to the exit without waiting for a response. Matt glanced after him but lingered for a moment. Something the Onorean had said nagged at him. His imagination was probably running away with him, but he couldn’t help but focus on this little detail.
“The pirates’ ship that’d attacked you…You said it was black?” he asked Brinan.
It was nothing, Matt told himself. There were plenty of black ships out there. All it took was a couple of canisters of metal paint. And yet, he couldn’t stop his heart from hammering.
“Yes,” the Onorean said in a clipped tone. He looked Matt over as if he were a peculiar but slightly disgusting creature. “The Black Baza, I think it was called. Now, I must ask you to leave before I call security. I’ve been patient enough with the two of you.”
Matt gave him a curt nod and hurried out of the room. Ryce was nowhere to been seen. For a while, Matt stood there in the empty hallway, staring blankly into space, until he finally fumbled for his commlink to notify Tony that she and Ryce should head home, seeing the evening was effectively ruined—and that he would be getting in late.
Chapter Seven
MATT’S HEAD WAS spinning so hard he already knew he was going to bitterly regret going on an impromptu drinking binge. It hadn’t happened in a while, and his alcohol intake wasn’t what it used to be. And future hangover aside, spending money on booze at a bar was a luxury he couldn’t really afford—even though he’d stuck to the shitty cheap stuff.
At least his head was spinning for a better reason than it had earlier. He kept telling himself it couldn’t have been right, that the Onorean guy was mistaken or misremembering. Matt hated the word “nemesis”—it smacked of low-grade action movies and sounded too cheesy to take seriously. But if there was ever a word to describe what the notorious pirate Dylan Rodgers, captain of the Black Baza, was to him, “nemesis” fit the bill perfectly. To consider, even for a moment, there might be a connection between that man and Ryce, his Ryce, was unthinkable.
So he did his darndest to avoid thinking about it. But then all their other current problems kept popping into his mind, no matter how many whiskeys he downed to chase them away.
It was an all-around bad decision, but being drunk off one’s ass also brought a certain sense of freedom and fearlessness, unencumbered by sound judgment. So, Matt did one of the things he’d been telling himself he shouldn’t do—namely, head to Val’s cabin and have an honest talk. At least meddling in his engineer’s problems would take his mind off all the stuff he didn’t want to ponder at the moment.
He took a deep breath and knocked on Val’s door. It opened so quickly he lost his balance and tumbled forward, catching himself from falling on his face at the last second.
Val took a step back, letting him inside. He said nothing, but his expression clearly indicated he wasn’t overly impressed with Matt’s performance.
Unlike Matt’s cabin, which was messy and cluttered, Val’s living space was almost Spartan. Everything, from clothes to books, was neatly arranged in the cupboards, and the bunk bed was immaculately made. The only evidence of activity was the pile of old electronic circuit boards Val had been disassembling on the little table. A blaster gun lay on the edge of the table next to the commlink.
Matt zeroed in on the gun. Much like Tony and himself, Val owned a personal weapon but rarely carried it, and when he did, it was as a precaution rather than actual need. Getting in gunfights was bad for business, and Val’s looks were usually enough of a deterrent to anybody considering robbing him.
“I think we should have a chat,” Matt announced, plopping down on a chair without waiting for an invitation.
Val didn’t respond. He hesitated a fraction of a second before sitting on the bed. At least getting him to listen was a good sign, and Matt held on to that.
“You might fool Ryce into thinking you’re being sensible, but you can’t fool me,” he said without preamble. “I’ve known you for too long. I know you’re planning on going after Ander.”
Not that Matt could blame him, really. He could very well understand Val’s need to avenge the person he’d held most dear. If something had happened to Ryce, and Matt knew who was responsible, he would have gone after that person too, consequences be damned.
The most telling thing was Val didn’t even bother denying it. He merely shrugged.
“With all due respect, Captain, you can’t stop me.”
“I’m not here to stop you. I realize it’s useless to appeal to reason and try to talk you out of it.”
Frankly, it was surprising he could talk at all in his current state of inebriation, but he’d had a lot of practice over the years. Also, he’d had a chance to think about what he was going to say to Val in advance.
Val leaned back slightly, watching him with narrowed eyes.
“Then why are you here?” he asked, in a less than polite tone.
“I’m here to ask you to put that gun aside for a moment and think. Ander is an enforcer for a black-market big shot. He’s successfully evaded being captured by Federal authorities on murder charges for years. He’s not somebody you can just corner in some deserted nook of the station and shoot in the back.”
“It wouldn’t be in the back,” Val said darkly.
“Even worse. What I’m saying is you want to nail the guy—fine, I get it. But give me a chance to help you do it properly before you go dashing after him with no clear idea of what you’re doing and getting yourself killed. Let me gather some info, see what I can find on him. It might be my military experience talking here, but you don’t go rushing into action without some solid intel.”
Val stared at him. Granted, Matt was having some difficulty judging facial expressions right now, but he hoped what he was reading was thoughtfulness, and not hostility.
“I don’t want you to get involved in any of this,” Val said finally.
“I’m not gonna be involved,” Matt said, secretly rejoicing at the lack of outright refusal. “I’ll just do some digging around, that’s all. Maybe after we know more about the guy and his associates, a better plan of action would present itself. Instead of, you know, running after him around the station, guns blazing.”
There was another pause.
“Okay,” Val said wearily. “Let’s see what you manage to dig up. But if he uses this opportunity to bolt again, Matt, I swear to God—”
“He won’t,” Matt said hastily. “I have a plan of getting closer to him without making him suspicious. Just…try to focus on something else in the meantime, okay? I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.”
“It’s not like we have a shortage of problems to focus on,” Val remarked.
Matt only wished he could disagree with that observation.
THE DISTANCE FROM Val’s cabin to his own seemed longer than he remembered. When Matt finally dragged himself inside, all he wanted to do was crash on the bed and sleep for the next six to seven hours—which, considering how late it was already, probably wasn’t in his future.
He hadn’t counted on Ryce waiting for him there, sitting primly on the only chair, still wearing that figure-hugging white shirt, and reading the ridiculous paper book Val had given him. Ryce raised his head as
Matt entered and frowned.
Usually Matt was more than happy to see Ryce hanging out in his cabin, but he was cranky, tired, and nursing the beginnings of what promised to be a magnificent headache. Besides, after what he’d heard from Prof. Brinan, he was secretly hoping to avoid Ryce for a bit longer. He was more than a little freaked out about the possible implications of the Onorean’s revelation, and he still had no idea what, if anything, he should tell Ryce.
“Sorry about bailing out on the movie night, but I don’t think I’m gonna be much fun,” he said, lowering himself on the bed heavily and stretching out with a groan, shoes and all.
Ryce snapped the book closed and got up.
“You drink too much,” he said.
Matt looked up at him. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t aware of this, but he was used to his crew carefully avoiding pointing it out, so the unexpected bluntness took him aback.
Ryce’s eyes, as he stared at him, were the exact shade of gray storm clouds. Now that he thought about it, Matt had seen this particular rare color before on a man he really didn’t want to think about at the moment. In fact, he’d spent the entire evening getting wasted so as not to think about him. “Yeah, whatever works,” he muttered, turning away.
“Works? What’s so terrible about your life that you need alcohol to work? Aside from our financial difficulties, which, I might remind you, are hardly the most awful ordeal you’ve ever faced.”
“Listen, this is none of your business,” Matt said, growing more and more irate.
“All things considered, I think it might be a bit of my business.”
A flash of panic shot through Matt’s alcohol-addled brain. Could Ryce possibly have some inkling as to Matt’s suspicions? Was he waiting there in hopes of discussing them? But no. That couldn’t have been what he meant. He had to have been referring to their relationship. And he was right in that Matt’s vices were, in fact, his business too, if they called themselves partners. No doubt, Matt’s poor decisions put a strain on him as well.
“I grant you, it hasn’t happened in a while,” Ryce continued with the same resolute expression, as if he’d been keeping all of this bottled inside for some time, and now finally had a reason to pour it all out. “But every time you go to a bar or a canteen, even if it’s ostensibly to do business, I wonder if you’re going to return wasted. Not to mention that little stash you have in the rec room which keeps winking at you every time you’re feeling moody.”
Matt couldn’t deny there was some truth to what Ryce was saying. And he couldn’t deny he felt a little bit relieved that he was wrong about the subject of Ryce’s mistrust. It wasn’t Matt’s fidelity he doubted, but his tendency to fall into bad habits. It was just that Matt couldn’t deal with any of this right now.
“Fine, whatever. You can tell me off tomorrow,” he said curtly. “If it’s okay with you, I could use some shut-eye.”
“I merely wanted to inform you that I’ve set up a long-distance meeting with Nora and her commander over the interstellar communications channels tomorrow morning to discuss their proposal,” Ryce said. “At oh eight hundred hours. It would be nice if you could join in, but seeing as you’re—”
“I’ll be there,” Matt cut him off. “With bells and whistles on, all chirpy. Now, can I please get some sleep before I throw up all over myself?”
Without another word, Ryce turned and left. The cabin door slid shut behind him with a low hiss.
Matt groaned and buried his head in the pillow. It seemed his tried-and-true way of dealing with crises wasn’t helping him at all this time around.
MATT’S MOOD HADN’T gotten any better by the time he sat in the copilot seat. Thankfully, his sleep had been dreamless, but it hadn’t been restful, and even the strong coffee gulped down on the way didn’t help. There wasn’t any time for this. He had some snooping around to do regarding Eddie Ander, and he really, really had to find some other job to sustain them for a few more days of docking fees. The gray market loan idea, as dubious as it might be, was beginning to sound more and more appealing.
He also wanted his stomach to stop tying itself into a knot every time he recalled what the Onorean had said about Ryce’s father, but that probably wasn’t happening anytime soon.
“Thank you for coming in,” Ryce said when they were both settled on the bridge. He was, once again, cool and collected, despite what had to have been an unpleasant experience yesterday. Matt could tell he’d been badly shaken by the run-in with his nominal kinsman, and he felt a pang of guilt for not doing something to comfort him, too immersed as he was in his own inner turmoil. The thought fouled his mood even further. Ryce was worthy of so much more than Matt, with his emotional immaturity, could offer him.
“Sure,” he said. “Um, sorry about yesterday.”
Ryce shrugged, focusing on the control panel instead of looking at him.
“No, really,” Matt insisted. “I was being a jerk again, and you didn’t deserve that.”
“Don’t mention it. We were all a little upset yesterday,” Ryce said, his tone softening somewhat.
“You can say that again. I didn’t know you wanted to find your birth mother.” Matt fidgeted in his chair.
“I’m not sure I do.” The look in Ryce’s eyes became distant, almost pensive. “I’ve never blamed the woman, whoever she might be, for abandoning me. Intellectually, at least, I can understand why she did it, and I was lucky to have grown up in a good home, with a loving family. But now, my parents are dead. I have no family left, aside from her. I know it’s not my place to actively seek her out, but if she ever wants to contact me, I won’t say no to that.”
Sometimes, it was easy to forget how young Ryce was. No matter how tumultuous his life had been so far, he was only twenty-two. No wonder he still yearned for a parent even if his adoptive family was gone. Matt opened his mouth to respond with words of encouragement (and perhaps another heartfelt apology for not discussing something like that sooner) but was cut short by an incoming call alert.
“Ready?” Ryce asked, sitting up straight.
When Matt nodded, Ryce opened the interstellar communications channel. The image filled the huge screen in front of them, showing two uniformed women sitting alone at a large conference desk, with a holographic star map spread out on the tabletop.
One of them was Major Nora Cummings, Matt’s older and, until about seven months ago, estranged sister. Her green eyes darted in Matt’s direction, but she said nothing to indicate whether she was pleased to see him. He recalled, guiltily, that they hadn’t spoken in a while. Apparently, old habits die hard, and that estrangement thing had proven hard to let go of entirely.
Matt didn’t know the other officer, a stern-looking older woman whose slicked gray hair appeared almost white against her deep dark skin. The insignia on the collar of her jacket marked her a Colonel, and just her air of authority made him want to sit up at attention. He slouched back into his chair pointedly to resist the urge. His military days were thankfully over and done with.
Ryce, of course, was much more diplomatic.
“Colonel,” he said with a polite nod. “Major. Pleasure to see you again.”
“Nice to see you again too, Mr. Easom,” Nora said. “This is Colonel Mensah.”
“And who is this gentleman?” the Colonel asked dryly, gesturing in Matt’s direction.
“This is Captain Spears of the Lady Lisa.” Ryce hastened to introduce him before Nora had the chance to launch into explanations. “He’s my partner and employer, and whatever you say to me, you can say in his hearing.”
“This is highly irregular,” Colonel Mensah said, glancing at Nora. “His clearance—”
“He was as much involved in the Colanta affair as Mr. Easom,” Nora said a touch wearily. It had certainly required a lot of effort on her part to get Matt out of that “affair,” as she put it, without him being charged with federal treason. “Besides, Mr. Easom is a civilian now. His level of clearance is also no longer relevant.”
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Colonel Mensah eyed Matt critically but eventually nodded.
“Let’s get started, then,” she said briskly. “Mr. Easom, it may come as no surprise to you that the Research and Development Branch of the Fleet has begun extensive excavation at the Mnirian site you’ve discovered on the Colanta-3 moon. I am the Branch Coordinator for this project, replacing Major Cummings here.” She nodded toward Nora.
“Is Commodore Archer a part of this project?” Ryce asked.
James Archer had been the one to involve both Ryce and Matt in his quest for a Mnirian superweapon. At that time, Ryce had believed in the high-mindedness of his former commander in doing so but had been left sorely disappointed when it became apparent Archer intended to use the ancient weapon to wipe out the Alraki home world. The humans had been at war with the Alraki for years, locked in a bloody standstill with nothing to change the tide. While Archer’s plan would certainly win them the war, luckily, no one except him was prepared to pay the price, and only his war-hero status had saved him from a dishonorable discharge over his rogue escapade.
“No,” Colonel Mensah said with a tiny frown. “Commodore Archer has been reassigned back to the Salua sector. He has no bearing on this project.”
“That’s good to hear,” Ryce said. “Seeing as you’re keen on finding someone with such specific credentials, I can assume you’ve uncovered something of particular interest?”
“I’m sure you understand why I cannot go into much detail regarding the progress status of the excavation,” the Colonel said. “But at this juncture, we need someone with both your expertise in Mnirian linguistics and technology, as well as your experience with military operations. I cannot stress enough how delicate this matter is. We’d rather not bring a civilian scholar on board—certainly not when we have someone of your academic stature whom we can hire as a consultant.”
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