“Well, technically I shouldn’t, since you’re a subordinate,” the captain said. “I doubt Falta is going to do anything even if he knows the damage Q-Bots do, and we both know that the Fleet isn’t going to surprise Captain Dennir with a new freighter or cover her boat’s repair costs.”
“I figured as much. She’s planning on returning to the commercial shipping business.”
In a rare moment of sensitivity, Setroff asked, “How is she faring personally, Lieutenant?”
Their aborted middle-of-the-night encounter flashed through Kai’s mind, and with it, a corresponding ache around his heart. He doubted the captain wanted to hear that. “Very well for someone who’s losing her home, her job, and is being blackmailed,” he said finally. “A-okay. She’s very angry, but we’re on course for Ishka and I’ve fixed a few things around her ship. Just the replicator and the water distribution. I haven’t touched the Q-Bot.”
“And you?”
“Reading up on some engineering theory,” Kai said. “I’m putting in another transfer request when I get back to the Starspot.”
“You’ve been putting in transfer requests since you left the academy.”
“I’m not really suited to communications.”
“If you’d quit goofing off, maybe you would get that transfer already. The Fleet doesn’t look kindly on officers who reprogram bots into a choreographed dance. They tend not to trust those people with energy reactors.”
“First, I don’t want to work with an energy reactor, I want to program. And second, I did them a favor with those cargo bots,” Kai said. “All I did was demonstrate a vulnerability in their programming that made the bots vulnerable to remote access in a fun and humorous manner. Besides, you’ve seen my work with the comm badge channel and transporter code. I’m being wasted in communications.” If he was going to be stuck with a desk job once his medical leave was over, it needed to be something he was actually interested in.
“I’m not saying I disagree with you, and I’ll write another recommendation for your transfer.” Setroff steered the conversation back to the mission. “We’ll be reaching the Rims by the military lanes,” he said. Those star lanes were heavily guarded, with fortified Fleet-controlled spaceports along the way.
“Isn’t that a little obvious?”
“We doubt anyone will be keeping tabs on the military lanes, even if they wanted to. We’re free to move until we’re ready to ambush Wethmore. The crew is getting a little antsy, actually. They’re not used to not having anything to do, especially since you’re not around to liven things up a bit.”
Kai doubted that, particularly since he had been on his best behavior most of the time since his transfer to the Starspot. That ship’s crew was a lot more serious and straitlaced than Kai was used to. “My apologies for not being there to hack into the porn stash security maintains,” he said.
It took a few seconds for his words to reach Setroff. “Porn stash? What porn stash?”
Kai smiled and flicked the side of his datapad with his fingernail. “I’ll tweak this a little more, and get rid of the delays,” he said.
“Damn it, Toric…”
“Console two, in a file with code Ensign Bavel was playing with a few months ago. The name is something with ‘Modded’ in it, with his initials.”
“I don’t like to see time wasted, Lieutenant,” Setroff said.
“I know you don’t, which is why I’m telling you. According to our coordinates, we should both be in approximately the same area within the next seventy-two hours, right, Captain?”
“Correct, and I was also referring to the contraband you’ve just told me about.”
They signed off, and Kai was still smirking a little when he flipped the datapad over and pried off its backing. He made a few minute adjustments with a pair of sonic tweezers, hoping to eliminate the delay in transmits.
“How was it?” Brya asked from the doorway.
He looked up. She looked a little more relaxed today, and the last two nights hadn’t roused him from sleep from one of her nightmares, but he could still see the tension in her face, around her eyes. He felt something within himself search her, involuntarily looking for an aura. He had found himself doing that on occasion back on the Starspot in recent years, but it was more pronounced around Brya. Based on his limited knowledge of mind talents, he guessed it was because she was a fellow Ra’lanian. It felt like he was groping around in a darkened room for one of the old-fashioned light switches around the Rapture and he couldn’t find it.
“It’s fine,” Kai said. “I spoke to Captain Setroff, and they’re on course for the Rims. What does it look like out there?”
“We’ll be out of the Landen lane in about an hour, and then we have to divert from the hypergate at the end,” she said. “I told you my hyperspace engine is on the fritz. If it weren’t, we could be in Ishka’s vicinity in twelve hours.”
“Will you need any help getting around the gate?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve traveled this lane plenty of times. It’s an easy diversion, then we set the course for the Rims.”
“How’s the fuel line?”
“Everything’s fine, Kai. I know what I’m doing,” she said. “Except for the Q-Bot.”
Now he saw and felt it. The worry over her ship and its eventual loss, the systems too corrupted to even be sold for scrap. Her frustration and anger rippled around the room in palpable waves. He blinked.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. I just felt something.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Shit. I didn’t.” She looked at the deck, as though she expected to hear a rumble from the engine below.
“Not that. I felt you. In my head.”
Relief suffused her face, and with it, her waves of negative emotion shimmered into something pleasant and peaceful.
“Like a telepath.”
“No,” he said. “Like an empath. Usually I don’t pick up what you’re feeling, unless it’s really strong. You weren’t upset, but I could sense your unease over all of this, and then when I told you I didn’t feel something about to erupt on board, it… dissolved. That’s the only way to describe it.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you’re a late bloomer.”
“While that’s a possibility, my theory is that it’s because you’re also from Ra’lani.”
“But I’m not a telepath or empath.”
He shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got to go on. I’m thinking it’s an origins-based thing. I can hardly pick up anything from Earthers or their descendants. I don’t do too badly with Kalifrans or Saatis.” They were the only large group of people with mind talents in the Alliance, and he could only faintly pick up auras from them. “You’re the first person from Ra’lani I’ve known since I’ve been in the Alliance.”
She sidled into the room and sat at the foot of the bed, across from him. “I don’t know anyone who actually grew up on Earth.”
“I’ve met a few,” he said. “But you’re right, most of them don’t stick around Earth unless they work in the shipyards. It’s too hot and there’s too little space.”
“Have you been there?”
“No, just heard stories from one of the navigators on the Starspot. She grew up in a shipyard family.”
“She?” She looked at her hands, avoiding his eyes, and while Kai couldn’t detect any emotion with his empathic sense, he knew she was curious. Maybe a little jealous?
“She’s just my friend,” he said to reassure her. Why was he doing that? He and Brya had made it perfectly clear to one another that nothing that wasn’t platonic would transpire between them. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.”
“What else do you want to know?”
“Nothing right now. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
He wanted to tell her that there was no one special in his life at the moment, but what would that have accomplished? Both had made it perfectly clear that noth
ing but a professional relationship could transpire between them, something he was already regretting. In fact, he already almost wished he hadn’t agreed to this mission, just so he would have an innocent excuse to start something with her.
She searched his face. “Is something wrong?”
Yes, something was definitely wrong. He was still the awkward, lovestruck teenager in her presence, only he’d had a few years to learn to hide his feelings. He paused, unsure how to answer without telling her what was really on his mind and further fucking up everything between them.
“No,” he said when he found his voice. “Just thinking.” She was wearing a sleeveless red t-shirt today, exposing more sparkly tattoos. The work was well-done, but there was a blurry spot on the inside of her left forearm and he focused on it. A large, intricate black rose had been inked on the area, but it was obscuring something. He touched it and she started a little. “What’s this?”
“Just a flower I saw in a gardening holo-catalogue when I was looking for ideas for new tattoos.”
“What’s underneath it?”
“Oh. That. It was Dav’s name at one point,” she said. “He had mine tattooed on his arm, too, and when I left Wethmore’s freighter I had it covered up by a guy I met on Prime. We were sharing an apartment in employee housing, and he tattooed on the side for extra credits. It was cheaper than removal, and besides, the original was done the old-fashioned way, with needles and ink. Way too expensive to remove, even if I could find someone who knew how to.”
The mention of needles made Kai flinch, along with the revelation that she’d lived with someone. It shouldn’t, since he was sure three laser strikes to the leg and wrist were probably more painful and the gods knew he hadn’t been a monk since they parted ways. “He?” he said, echoing her earlier question in a single word.
“Yes, he, and he was gay.”
That set his mind at ease, somewhat. There was still the matter of her tattoos. “Why the hell would you do that with needles instead of a laser?”
“We were on a freighter when we had them done, and those were the supplies at hand. Come on, it didn’t hurt that much.” She smiled. “If it puts you more at ease, everything else was done with a laser. That only tickles a little. You’ve never had anything done?”
He shook his head. “Not my style, I’m afraid.” He turned her arm slightly to look at the tattooed stars gracing her skin in irregular loops. They were done in iridescent gold and silver and shimmered under the cabin lights. “Is this a constellation or something?” he asked.
“No, I just wanted stars there. Almost all of them are just things I wanted, without any reasons behind them. Mostly flowers and stars. You know, girly stuff.” She smiled, turned her head, and pushed down one her shirt’s straps to reveal the pink and gold vine roses emblazoned on her shoulder. “I always liked these,” she said. “They grew up the side of the wall of our house on Ra’lani, remember?”
He did. He didn’t mind them, but he recalled that a lot of people considered vine roses weeds.
“I have blue Abela daisies here,” she said, moving on the bed so he could see her other side. The delicate design crept over her shoulder down her upper arm, the small flowers blooming along trailing green vines speckled with tiny leaves. “During my second year with Wethmore, we stopped at a spaceport in the Outer Rims for a few days. There was a great body mod shop there and I went overboard.” Kai’s breath hitched when she lifted her t-shirt up to reveal a wide swath of black and purple stars decorating her side. They extended past her clothing, disappearing under the waistband of her black pants.
“Huh,” was all he could manage.
She readjusted her clothing and stood up. His empathic sense started reaching out of its own accord but detected nothing, so he guessed she wasn’t deliberately trying to torture him. He forced his expression to remain neutral. “They’re beautiful.” Damn. That didn’t come out right. He tried again. “Very well done.”
“I really look like a pirate, don’t I?” she said, a teasing lilt to her voice.
“You don’t look like any of the pirates I’ve seen,” he replied. “If you want to know, you look like the kind of pirates the Fleet wishes exist. It would make our jobs more pleasant.”
She tilted her head. “I never pegged you as sexist.”
“Sexism has nothing to do with it. When you see vids or read about pirates, they never look like the real thing. They don’t often bathe daily, for one.”
“I see.” She eyed him one last time. “I’m going to check on the Landen exit.”
****
There wasn’t much to do to get out of the star lane. Brya just had to ignore her ship’s hypergate warning and avoid getting sucked into it. The gate here had a weak pull, another one of Landen’s perks. She plotted a short course around the entrance to hyperspace and transferred the Rapture to the Packer lane, one of the original trading routes. They passed a communications beacon and she downloaded a traffic report. There was nothing surprising in it, just the usual traffic, including Renascent Galactic Shipping freighters, a small Fleet patrol ship, and a couple of independent boats whose captains she was acquainted with. There were no reports of accidents or unusual occurrences along Packer, and she was relieved to hear of it. She always picked Packer coming out of Landen because it was a legal lane. The Fleet presence strongly discouraged smugglers and pirates.
While she technically fell into that category with the cargo she was currently carrying, she wasn’t going to dwell on it. She had every faith that if for some strange reason she was hailed by the Fleet, she would be allowed to go on her way. If she couldn’t, that just meant they had lost an opportunity to get a boil on the ass of the galaxy on a prison colony. It came down to traveling through unregulated stretches of dead space without worrying about the Fleet, or taking a safe route and risking being busted for illegal cargo she was sanctioned to move. It was an easy choice to make.
It didn’t take much concentration to navigate her ship into the Packer lane, and she could turn the controls over to autopilot and relax if she wanted to. But she stayed in the captain’s seat, unsure what to do.
She had been an idiot, showing off her tattoos to a man who probably thought she was trying to tease him. Not just a man, she corrected herself. Her former husband and the man she had tossed away, who she had no right to be interested in. But she hadn’t meant to come across that way. He had asked about the work she had done, artwork that she was still delighted to have decorating her body and proud of, and like a Fleet station groupie, she had shown off a lot. It had been a very stupid and thoughtless thing to do. Brya didn’t tease. She never had in her limited experience. Of course there had been Dav, and she had been faithful to him for the duration of their marriage. Morality hadn’t brought that about, especially during their last years together, rather it was fear of what Dav would say, and Wethmore do, if she had so much as spoken to another man, let alone left. Since Dav’s death, there had been a short, meaningless affair with another Angel Transport employee whose wife had recently divorced him, and a one-night stand. And that was it. Meeting Dav at the age she had meant she hadn’t had the opportunity to develop the man-eater skills other women her age possessed.
If she had them, she would know what to do about Kai. She knew what she wanted, but she had no idea how to go about it and had already resigned herself to the reality that nothing could happen. He was still Kai, but he was with the Fleet. Fleet officers didn’t take up with former smugglers and current small-time freighter operators.
She sighed and turned back to the navigation console in front of her. It was less than three days before they reached Ishka. The final twenty-four hours would require her to be on full alert. They were heading into an area with unregulated traffic and sparsely patrolled by the Fleet. For the first time, she wished the Rapture was equipped with a full weapons array.
Sad and frustrated, Brya leaned back in the captain’s seat. She didn’t know until now that it was possible t
o be lonelier working with someone than alone.
Chapter Nine
A red alert siren erupting through the ship roused Brya from sleep, and she bolted out of bed and dashed for the cockpit. Her bare feet slapped against the cold deck and her heart pounded as she slid into the captain’s seat. She didn’t have to check the computer’s reports to see what the problem was: it was staring at her through the forward viewport.
A gigantic cluster of space junk loomed dead ahead, about ten minutes away at the speed the Rapture was traveling. It shimmered against the black backdrop of space and stars, highlighting hard clumps that indicated used fuel waste.
She had been roused out of bed by a pile of garbage.
She felt her panic ebb away, and she almost laughed at her relief. She altered the ship’s course slightly to avoid a collision, and silenced the alarms. Then she opened the messages waiting for her on the navigation console, a generic one sent out to all ships in the Packer lane in the garbage’s vicinity. It was sent out by a Fleet ship patrolling the lane and had prompted the red alert. The Rapture was set to issue a less ominous yellow alert at sensing anything large and cumbersome in her way, like garbage or an asteroid, and wouldn’t have sent her scrambling out of bed at—she checked the time. Two-forty in the morning.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Illegal dumping wasn’t much of a problem in the big star lanes shared by transport and commercial traffic, especially when they were as heavily patrolled as the Packer lane. Someone thought they were being smart and could avoid disposal fees at a spaceport by jettisoning their waste in the middle of the night. It was the work of an amateur. Any captain worth his ship knew the Fleet never slept, and whoever had dumped their garbage was looking at a hefty fine.
Kai appeared next to her, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“That’s your response to a red alert?”
“I’ve been through enough false alarms to not get worked up about it. I’m sort of trained to remain calm.”
“Smartass,” she muttered.
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