Arbor shrugged. “What would be the point? Then we’d both be outcasts on the ship and we’d be stuck with each other. I don’t want to get to know you that well.”
One would have thought Costa impervious to the dig, but he flinched at the comment. His cocky demeanor frayed and he looked completely uncomfortable as he rubbed his left arm with his right hand. Perhaps he wasn’t accustomed to people not falling over themselves to get to know him.
“Even so, I would like to thank you for using your discretion in this matter.”
Arbor glanced at Priest before turning on his heel and heading down the hall, giving them his back. “Trust me. I’m not doing it for your sake.”
WALKING AWAY FROM Priest was excruciating. A lot of effort had gone into avoiding him and Arbor knew it couldn’t last forever, but he wanted to keep contact minimal until Costa McQuillen was off the ship. The beautiful para-human was too much of a distraction for Priest, and Arbor knew he couldn’t compete with his level of allure. Why would he want a dwarf when he could have the prince? The idea of the two of them naked and writhing was more than he could stand.
Priest was a free spirit. He couldn’t be tied down to one man, and pretending otherwise was a source of grief. It would be best to let Priest do what he wanted with whomever he wanted, and Arbor take what affection he could get, but he couldn’t bring himself to share. Not with Priest.
Once he turned the corner, Arbor stopped. With a hand pressed to the wall, he took three slow, deep breaths coupled with a mnemonic chant—his mother’s technique—to quell the shaking in his chest and tried to burrow his short fingers into the unyielding hull. He had work to do and this wouldn’t make him effectual in the least.
He needed to be useful. Mr. Wiggles had yet to emerge. The ransom coms had reduced in frequency, but there was no end in sight. The crew was polite yet still evasive. Conversations were still coming to a halt as he stepped into occupied rooms. It was exhausting at the best of times. He tried to smile and pretend like being isolated wasn’t so painful. But in the end, he knew he’d colored their early opinions with those public scenes and it would take time to change their perceptions. For now, Mac and Priest were the only ones who actually engaged him on a regular basis.
Well…Mac did. He couldn't face Priest now.
Arbor shook his head and resumed his path. There wasn’t time for self-pity and endless indulgences in life’s unfair circumstances. He would be strong and find a place amongst the crew somehow. He would perform his duties and prove his value. He would learn to sleep without wondering what Priest was up to while he was alone in the dark. Arbor could learn to stop craving his caresses. He could learn to be alone. Again. No one wounds you when you’re alone. It would be for the best.
Right.
Arbor headed for the databank, a subsection of engineering housing the primary computer core, which connected every system, including Mrs. Claus’s AI. Mac’s com asked to meet him there, hoping to help find the cause of the repeating appearances of software corruption.
There was no question Costa was responsible, but his tentative reaction told Arbor it was accidental. He couldn’t imagine Priest would stand up for him if it were otherwise. Priest was many things: a scoundrel, a schemer, and a thoughtless clod at times. But he wasn’t heartless. He wouldn’t risk the lives of the crew. It wasn’t his nature.
Mac’s message was quick and to the point. No pleasantries or chatty jokes were present in the com. I need you at the databank. Right now. There was no question whether his frustration over the random tech failures was growing.
Voices drifted through the hall as he approached. Mac and Danverse. Mac paced the room, completely ignoring the walls of monitors and circuit boards. It was like the tech access panels found throughout the ship’s hallways, but all in one location. A complete battery of the ship’s knowledge and code streaming through every fiber filament cast a wave of awe over Arbor. Mac was not feeling the same.
“There has to be an answer! Events like this don’t spontaneously happen!” Mac’s hands flew about wildly as he threatened to wear a path into the metal flooring. His footsteps were approaching a manic circle.
Danverse stood still, yet followed Mac's every move. “Do you have any idea what could be causing it?”
“No! I don’t! If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”
“Mac…” Danverse growled his displeasure at Mac’s tone.
Mac’s pace increased as well as the rate of his speech. “It doesn’t make any sense! Things like this just don’t happen. I watch everything. I adjust and tweak every aspect of Mrs. Claus. There is no way this corrupt data should be appearing. There’s no foreign code in the system. There’s no trace of data conflict.”
“What can we do?”
“I have no idea!” A crazed vibration raced through Mac as his frustration peaked. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to find a solution and all I can see is the possibility of it hitting a critical system and—”
“Mac, calm down.” Danverse tried to interrupt, but Mac’s tirade was gaining speed.
“—killing someone and it will be all my fault because I couldn’t focus enough to find a solution that could keep us all safe because that’s my job that I signed up for and everyone is counting on me and if anyone gets hurt I’ll never—”
“Mac.”
“—forgive myself and what if something happens and a crew member is crippled and Doc Bosch can’t fix it, or during the landing on Omoikane and we crash the ship and everyone dies in a giant ball of fire and—”
Danverse shouted, interrupting Mac's rant. “At ease, boy! Stand up straight! Eyes ahead!”
Mac startled and froze, his back ramrod straight, eyes fixed on a point many kilometers away. The command held such force, Arbor found himself complying in kind.
Danverse walked around him, his hands clasped behind his back as he inspected his charge with the countenance of a military official. He tapped Mac’s feet apart a few millimeters with his boot and nodded in approval.
“I want you to calm down, boy. You’re letting this whole thing overwhelm you. I don’t like seeing you this way. It hurts me.”
“But what if—?”
“Nothing. You will step back and take the help you have.” The commandant pose relaxed as Danverse cupped Mac’s face in his powerful hands, locking their gazes on one another. “I will help you keep your thoughts from running wild like I always do. You’re too damn intelligent for your own good. And you’ll have the dwarf help you. That’s what he’s on board for.” Mac buried his face into Danverse’s chest as the captain wrapped his thick arms around him and planted a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.
“Arbor.” Mac’s voice was muffled in the valley of Danverse’s breast.
“What?”
Mac tipped his head back to look into the captain’s eyes. “His name is Arbor. Don’t call him ‘dwarf.’”
“You’re right.” Danverse’s shoulders softened. “I’m not the most tolerant man, but for you, I’ll do better. Making you happy is all that matters to me. You’re all that matters to me, Mac. You’re all I have that really matters.”
The two men embraced, holding onto one another like the rest of the universe didn’t exist.
Arbor held back in the hall, waiting for the moment to pass. The sight of their devotion to one another dug another unfair knife into his heart. Being a voyeur was never one of his personal kinks, and the last thing he wanted was to embarrass Mac or the captain. He hated seeing Mac so distressed. He was the only real friend Arbor had on board.
Hopefully, he could find a method to manage the issue until Costa could get off the ship and be on his merry little way. Part of him wanted to tell Mac and the captain what he’d seen, but if they reacted badly to a pariah on the ship, it could splash back on Priest, and Arbor wasn’t angry enough to cause that kind of chaos.
No. He would find a better way to remedy the problem. He owed Mac. It was time to start workin
g on a proper solution to Costa McQuillen.
Chapter Ten
“WHAT DO YOU mean it’s bloody empty?”
Priest shook the little black Calm dispenser near his ear, listening for any sound. “The reader says there’s more doses left, but there’s nothing in here. This bitch is empty.”
“It can’t be. You’re clearly reading it wrong.”
“I don’t think so, Costa. I think someone’s been using it more often than the schedule we set up.” Priest’s accusing stare enflamed Costa.
Costa’s mouth drew a tight, thin line. How dare he suggest such a thing? It was true he had been forced to take a dose or two off-schedule, but it shouldn’t have depleted the dispenser so quickly. The idea was ludicrous.
He looked around the room, refusing to acknowledge Priest. Invisible threads of binary code ran through the air, connecting every device and system in the room. Each line was a gateway his thoughts could ride into the Santa Claus and disconnect from the ugliness of the real world. The shimmering data bathed him in all directions, but he needed to not peer directly into it for too long. Once, the ones and zeroes were a lovely tapestry to explore, but since his power grew with all the additional terabytes stored in his head, the simple numbers were too painful. Their crystal beauty shined too bright now and burned his eyes and mind if he stared too long. He needed the Calm to dim the brightness and keep his skills manageable, bringing the constant roar in his head to a tolerable level.
The extra travel time to Omoikane was stressing his limits. The complex data in his head was becoming fragile and easy to corrupt. Years had been spent compiling all the errant fragments. He couldn’t risk the loss of any portion. It was too precious a thing.
There’s no way Priest, or anyone for that matter, could understand his pain, and he certainly wasn’t planning on subjecting himself to his judgments, either.
“Don’t be so ridiculous. Why on earth would I do such a thing? It makes no sense.”
“You need to go to Doc Bosch and get set up—”
“I have already told you no, Priest! The last time I allowed a doctor to scan me I ended up on a laboratory table for days. I won’t go through that again.”
The only doctors he allowed to scan him since he was free were the physicians attached to the Mayflower Ark. There was no choice really, but their entire focus was making sure all the immigrants arrived alive. It was part of the contract. Casualties were worth no payment.
When Costa’s para-human skills appeared, the doctors were only too excited to scan, poke, and prod him. Their medical curiosity outweighed any portion of their oath to do no harm. Even when he screamed and begged, they ignored him, treating him as something less than human. Strapped into the chair, they installed the pacifier at the base of his skull to ensure his obedience and branded the facial tattoos into his flesh, permanently marking him as an outcast. Once they finished their examination, Costa had been deemed too dangerous and a threat to global security. When he became suspicious of the whispers surrounding him, Costa found his pending extermination order in their files.
Time was critical. He sent private communiqués to several world leaders and defense contractors to prepare a bidding war. North American Continent Ambassador, Terese Dodge, had the political clout to stay the execution and place Costa in her permanent employ. As Dodge’s new assistant, his skills and looks were worth more than the doctors’ paranoid assessments. The scrutiny and lack of safety was over—for a time.
“Bosch isn’t like that, Costa. He’s a good guy. He wants to take care of us. That’s why he’s on board. He’ll find a way to manage your powers so you don’t have to be hooked on a drug.”
Costa snarled, his voice twisting into something less human. “I’m not addicted to anything.”
“You’re a total fucking addict and too stubborn to admit it.”
“I have no intention of listening to your groundless accusations. If you’re not here to help, you can just fuck off.” Costa didn’t understand why he was lashing out at Priest. He wanted his help—needed it even. Alienating his one confidant was a poor move in the scheme of things. But the constant pain and need to control it was making him so impatient. He knew it wasn’t like him, but he couldn’t stop it either.
“I am here to help.”
“Then find a new supply to keep me from imploding!”
Priest’s shoulders slumped as his arms fell to his sides. “You can’t get new Calm without the Doc, and I’m not stealing from him.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Costa…”
“If you’re not helping me, I don’t have any use for you—hang on…” Costa froze and risked scanning around the room, reading the errant code. “The engines have stopped.”
“What?”
Panic mixed with rage fueled the volume of his voice. “Why have the bloody engines stopped?”
“YOU WANT TO explain why you shut down the engines on my ship?”
Even though Danverse's question wasn’t directed to Arbor, the thundering tone made his hackles rise. Arbor, Mac, and the captain were all standing in the main engine room with Sheldon, the engine specialist. Mac and Sheldon had been discussing the situation before they powered down the engine and contacted Danverse and himself. It took the captain less than five seconds to notice and demand an explanation.
Sheldon and Mac kept close to the main control access panel, away from the door. It was likely an effort to keep some distance from the irate captain.
Mac spoke first, probably figuring his relationship would be a shield of sorts. “It’s about the corrupted data that keeps appearing.”
“What does that have to do with delaying our arrival to Omoikane?”
Sheldon cleared his throat as his dirty hands fiddled with his suspenders. “Because it’s spread to the power flow systems.”
“What does that mean?”
“Until we can purge it and re-initialize the core, it’s not safe to run the engines,” Mac said.
“Explain.” Danverse’s demand flared directly to Sheldon.
“The fuel flow is really delicate. I spend a lot of time calibrating it for peak efficiency. If the random crap data imbalances the way it goes through the fuselage chambers, it could cause a number of problems.”
“Like what?”
Sheldon started ticking off reasons on his fingers. “The engine could start misfiring and shut itself down. It could freeze up and not turn off at all, which would take the chance of landing down to zero percent. A power surge could imbalance the reactor and blow us all to hell. Those are the best scenarios.”
Danverse scrubbed his hand over his face. “How long is this going to take to fix? Some of our cargo is time sensitive. If we don’t get there on time, we don’t get paid.”
“We’re not sure. The system is supposed to be secure and contained. This has never happened before.”
“Son of a bitch!” Danverse whirled on Mac. “I thought you and Arbor were coming up with a solution to this shit.”
Mac’s brow creased and his back stiffened. “Don’t blame me. You of all people know we’ve been working our asses off on this. Every time we clean up one of these fucking events, a new one sprouts from somewhere. I can’t even tell what’s spawning it or what the source is.”
Guilt rose in Arbor’s chest. He knew the source of all the data corruption, but had kept quiet since it hadn’t affected a key system like this. Now, peoples’ lives were at risk if the side effects of Costa’s powers were left unchecked—this incident was proof. Protecting Priest’s relationship with the crew was the only reason he’d kept silent. Arbor was used to being on the fringe. He didn’t want Priest to know what it was like.
But now there wasn’t a choice. The staff needed to know and he could only hope his knowledge wouldn’t cause more trouble than it was intended to save.
Arbor gripped the shoulder strap on his bag as his breathing quickened. Danverse and Mac were still arguing out of fr
ustration, and an anxious heat rose in his chest and face. He was about to open his mouth to interrupt the pair, when a voice down the main hall did the job for him.
“You can’t go in there. You don’t have clearance!”
“Take your bloody hands off me!”
Costa stormed into the room, Priest right behind him. What happened to Costa? Tired and frail, with harsh shadows under his eyes, his natural elegance was diminished to haggard tremors shaking his whole body. Costa’s skin was pale and sickly, and the once pretty eyes were wide and crazed with a facial expression to match.
“I demand to know why we’ve stopped moving!”
Priest followed behind Costa, his slumped shoulders apologetic and chastened. “I’m sorry, Captain. I tried to stop him.”
The captain didn’t even look at Priest. His torso swelled in dominance as he purposely towered over his rude trespasser. Costa shook, but given his tight jaw, it had nothing to do with submission.
“Mr. McQuillen, did you happen to miss the signs and com notices that explained this area is off-limits to passengers?”
Standing shorter than the captain, Costa still managed to look down his nose at him. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”
The challenge made Arbor uneasy. Danverse did not come off as a man who took insubordination lightly, and Costa was a snob. Nothing about the exchange spelled a recipe for a happy outcome. All Arbor wanted was to make himself even smaller and avoid the upcoming bloodbath.
“We’re having technical difficulties. The engines will come back on once we determine it’s safe to do so.”
“I don’t have time for this nonsense. Restart the engines this instant.”
Danverse turned his back on Costa and returned to his earlier position. “I don’t make a habit of bowing down to little men. So fuck off and let me figure out how to fix my ship.”
“I will not be made light of by a group of military rejects with delusions of grandeur! You will start these engines and take me to Omoikane now! I will not accept any more delays from you and your incompetent crew!”
Priest and Pariahs Page 16
