Kraft threw herself on the bed, winced when her belly protested, then pondered what Jace had said. It wasn’t true. When her life had been happy, he was the one who messed it up, not her. And she didn’t wear black because she was in mourning—she wore it because it didn’t show dirt. At least, that’s what she’d always told herself.
She’d started wearing black eight years ago when she’d taken Parkhill to Kali. After giving him most of the money from the sale of the ship, she sold her IWOG uniform to a woman hucking clothes off her doorstep. Kraft found crisp black clothes that fit her perfectly and a private place to dress. She emerged to the street from the cold, bare room.
“Riven’s,” the woman said, nodding. “Had ’em made for her love’s funeral, but she never made it that far.”
“Riven died before she could attend her lover’s funeral.”
The woman nodded resolutely, obviously pained that she would likely lose the sale for her honesty.
Kraft considered what she wore. The fabric was impossibly new, clear of any emotional impression. She’d felt nothing when she’d pulled the clothing on. Considering the exhausted woman before her, Kraft said, “You made it for her.”
“I did.”
“Black for a funeral.” Kraft looked down at herself again. Black was oft a color for mourning and, even though she had much to celebrate, Kraft had much to mourn. “Do you have anything else Riven or her love wore?”
The woman’s eyes did not light with dollar signs. Instead they burned with understanding. She fished about the racks of clothing and handed Kraft an almost impossibly worn soft leather duster and also a pair of thick black boots.
“Beck wore these, almost the whole of his life.”
“How’d you get them?”
“They forced her to cremate him. I found them in the trash behind.”
Kraft nodded. She knew well the drill. It was cheaper to burn them than to bury them. When Riven protested, they shot her. The IWOG officers striped them both then tossed the clothes and burned the bodies. “What do you want for them?” Kraft had still not touched the boots or the leather duster.
“In trade for an official IWOG officer uniform? I’d call it even.”
Kraft nodded. “So would I.”
To Kraft, it was a journey. A penance. Almost as if a crusade. She didn’t look to glorify any god, but only to find out who and what she really was. And she did it in cast off clothing…
She bolted upright on the bed. It had started as mourning. And she’d just gotten comfortable with it. Jace was a better reader than he knew. But he made it clear he didn’t want her on his ship. And if she was very honest with herself, she knew she’d fixed it so she couldn’t stay.
There was a tentative knock on her door. “Can I come in?”
“It’s your ship, isn’t it?”
Jace opened the door, his expression guarded. “It’s time for another round of let’s cut the crap and I still think it’s ladies first. You lied, didn’t you? You very literally killed yourself.”
“Yes.” The single word hung there for a moment, shocking her with how final it sounded. “There is no Julie, no Kraft. My fingerprints won’t trace back to anyone, anywhere. I’m a non-entity. And you have no choice but to put me off your ship.” Unable to look him in the eye, she turned her attention to smoothing her bedding. “You can now go legitimate. And with that you can’t have an unknown on board.”
“You really fixed it well, didn’t you?” She expected him to sound bitter or angry, but instead, he sounded sadly disappointed.
“I gave you back your life, as close as I could.”
“By killing yourself.”
His accusation grated because it was far too close to the truth. “It’s not like that.”
“Explain it to me. I’m too pretty to understand.”
She flashed him a brief smile that vanished when she saw the hard cast of his jaw. “I’m not like you. I’d never make it in the legitimate world because those old warrants of me are going to be floating around for at least another ten years. I’ve got no choice but to keep living in the very darkest reaches of the Void.”
“Just the way you like it.”
“You think I like being a hunted woman?” She practically snarled the question as she dug her fingers into the bedcover.
“You must. Because it didn’t have to shake out that way.” Arms tight at his sides, he refused to look away.
“Lord on high, you’ve got some kind of inflated notion of what I’m capable of doing. I can’t use the power of my brain and destroy all those old warrants. I can’t wipe my face from every IWOG ditto-head’s brain.”
“That warrant is eight years old, Kraft. And you don’t much look like that photo anymore.” He shook his head, clearly dissatisfied with her excuse. “I’ve not noticed one IWOG officer raise so much as a curious brow your way when you walk past.”
“I’m not going to argue this with you anymore.” Pushing herself up from the bed, she strode toward the bathroom.
“Because you know I’m right.”
She stopped mid-stride but didn’t turn around. “Because it isn’t your choice.”
“You’re right. It’s entirely up to you if you want to live like a cockroach.”
Slowly she turned and faced him. “Nice analogy.”
“It’s true enough, isn’t it?” Jace asked, arching his brows, challenging her with his gaze.
“What do you care?” she asked, challenging him right back. “In twenty-four hours I’ll be off your ship, out of your hair, and out of your life forever. You got my word on it.”
“Because I sure as hell don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?” He crossed his arms over his chest as if holding back the true force of his fury.
“Just for fun, let’s pretend that you do have a choice in the matter, what would you choose? Are you willing to toss the safety of your crew aside just so you can diddle me?”
Jace shook his head and looked at her dumbfounded. “That’s honestly what you think this is about? That I just haven’t scratched my itch enough?” He groaned and scowled. “If that’s what you think of me why did you tell me that you love me?”
Kraft felt the moment spin out like salt water taffy in the sun. She made the decision to end everything permanently by making it easy for him. “I lied.”
Jace stood there for a moment, just looking at her.
“Don’t get me wrong, it was fun and all, but nothing I’d be willing to give my life up for.” She studied her short nails, checked her non-existent watch. “If I told you that I loved you, you’d be more inclined to save me, just like you did.”
“Then why did you do all of that? Make up the bonafides, the bonded commission?”
“I felt sorry for you.” She laughed, deliberately low and mean. “You folks are so clueless! I can’t believe you’ve survived seven years in the Void running salvage. You’re better off going legitimate. Leave the tougher stuff to those who can actually handle it.”
“Like you.”
“Yeah. Cockroaches like me.”
“You are determined to leave this on a bad note.”
“No, an honest one. Like you said, I don’t pull any punches. You’d never survive the world I live in. You barely made it through seven years. If I hadn’t pulled your butt out of the flames, you’d be dead. Twice, no, three times over by my reckoning.”
“You seem to forget we pulled your butt out too.” Jace didn’t sound defensive, only determined to remind her of the truth. If nothing else, he wasn’t going to let her belittle his accomplishments.
“No, I’m not forgetting that. I give credit where credit is due. I owe you for saving my life. Twice over, I think. Means I’m one up on you.”
“Tit for tat.”
“An interesting turn of phrase.”
“What do I owe you?”
Caught off guard, Kraft asked, “For what?”
“The IWOG attack ship, the bonafides.”
“A
hundred and fifty.”
“K?”
“No. Flat. That’s a tenth of what you paid Trickster for me, right?”
Jace counted it out, tossing fives and tens to the battered table in her new bedroom. “I guess this squares us.”
“I guess it does.”
“I’d appreciate it if, before you left, you’d keep your word to Heller.”
Jace just confirmed he’d been eavesdropping on her conversation with Heller. “I will.”
“Good night then, Kraft.”
“Good night, Captain Lawless.”
He walked away with his head held high and she had to admire his spirit. She’d kicked him, hard, again and again, but he just wouldn’t stay down.
“He’s stronger now than he was before, and he’s better off without me.” Kraft pondered that for a moment. “Then why do I feel like crap?”
She stood, slapped the com to close her door and considered the money on the table. A money belt with over 500K and a measly, scattered pile of one hundred and fifty flat.
One was so tainted she didn’t dare touch it with her bare fingertips. The other? Well, both were tainted but the smaller pile less so. She slipped the one fifty flat into her pocket before she felt the full impression from it. Even in the quick flash, pain filled her. Jace had shelled it out willingly enough but he gave it to her, reluctantly, for he didn’t agree with her assessment of their affair.
The word turned over in her mind.
Affair?
Why did that strike her with such curiosity?
So what if he called it an affair? What would she call it? Courting? Kraft rolled her eyes. A minor interlude. A dance that went fast and slow but ultimately ended.
“And so I set the tune for a new dance.”
She checked her possessions. She wore Jace’s shirt, his trousers, Bailey’s boots, her own blades. One fifty flat barely made a lump in her pocket.
“Got everything I need.”
She looked around the room again. A mirror image of the room next door, her bedroom turned prison, where Heller had been kept.
“For mutiny or for turning on me?”
She wondered. It didn’t really matter why. Heller did what he did and it all turned out for the best.
“I’m still alive.”
Kraft laughed.
“Barely. But still.”
She looked at the money belt again and sighed. She really should leave some kind of note. Take a stab at explaining.
“And just what would I say? Here’s a bunch of script. Take it and buy yourselves whatever kind of life you want, because I’m happy that I still have feet.” She wiggled her toes in Bailey’s old boots. They were a shade too tight but she hadn’t stressed her toe leather too much.
She’d done what she said she would. Call it delusions of grandeur but she didn’t lie about her abilities. “The IWOG crafted me into an incredible weapon. Thanks to them that’s all I’ll ever be.” She looked at the money belt again.
“Script opens wide the doors to the hell on any port city.”
If she flashed the money belt around, she’d be whisked to the big table so fast her head would damn near fall off, no matter what she wore or even if her picture hung behind the bar riddled with darts. Lots of script made everyone sit up and play nice.
But that would be too easy.
Kraft would take the one fifty flat and go from there. Let Jace and his crew take the other. They would need that kind of script to upgrade the ship. If she did nothing else, she should at least tell them what they should get to upgrade Mutiny.
“Prospect.” She corrected. She’d thought it odd anyone would name a ship Mutiny and when she’d been under pressure to craft a new name, she’d plucked Prospect out of the air. It was far better than Mutiny. More so in that mutiny had been committed aboard Mutiny. “Prospect is at least more hopeful.”
So what would she name her new ship?
“Dismal.”
For that’s how she felt. She’d lied when she told Jace she didn’t love him when she did. Told him she was dead in the Void when she wasn’t. She’d not been willing to tell him or his crew the truth because she was safer if she didn’t. He couldn’t ever be in the position to rat her out if he didn’t know, nor could his crew. When Kraft had saved Parkhill, she’d made the same call.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Jace, it was just safer if she disappeared and started over yet again. A new name, a new ship, perhaps as a cook—
She shook her head as she made her way to the bridge of Prospect. She’d enjoyed being a cook again while on Jace’s ship. And too, she’d enjoyed passing along her recipes. Maybe she’d take her one fifty, wager it up and start an underground cooking school.
She laughed. Given her druthers, she’d rather teach every soul in the Void to cook rather than teach even one more soul to fight. Still laughing to herself, she entered the bridge.
“Having a good time?” Jace sat in the pilot chair. He didn’t turn to look at her.
“I thought Bailey was on duty.”
“I gave him the night off for good behavior.” Jace turned and faced her as she stood in the doorway. “Let me guess.” He put his fingertips to his forehead, closed his eyes and hummed. “You are here, to…” He shook his head as if reading the vapors. “You are here to tell me how to live high off the hog in the IWOG world.”
Kraft clapped slowly but precisely. “Very good.”
Jace bowed while sitting.
“Do you do kids’ parties?” As soon as she said it she realized how cutting those words were.
“Not since my three were killed.” Jace yanked the chair around and faced the console. “Spit it out, Kraft, whatever it is.” His back, cold and unconcerned, cut her in a way she was not prepared for.
“Upgrade your ship. Your console, including your sensors, fore and aft, need a good twenty year upgrade. So does your engine. Put in more responsive engine controls for your pilot. It’s ridiculous to expect Garrett or Heller to fill in for what Bailey should be able to access from the bridge.” Even though she’d installed a small Tasher unit, she suggested putting in a full Tasher drive.
“Excellent idea.” Jace nodded. “I’ll do that as soon as we hit Borealis.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to tell Bailey.”
“I’m sure he’ll pass it along to his next captain.”
“What?”
“He’s not staying with me. He knows he can do bigger and better elsewhere.” Jace swiveled the chair so that he faced her. “He wants to make a play for your ship.” Jace laughed. “Bailey, Bailey.”
“You think I aim to steal him from you?”
“No, I think Bailey is one step from having his heart stomped. Lucky me, I get to watch you do it.” Jace glared at her. “Bailey doesn’t suspect a thing.”
Kraft stiffened. “I’m not after your crew. If Bailey has some grand plan to follow me, he’ll be disappointed.”
“I know that, and you know that, but Bailey doesn’t. We know that he’ll be disappointed as hell, because as soon as we hit port, you’ll disappear.”
Kraft laughed. “Any reason I should stick around?” Jace didn’t react. “I didn’t think so.”
“Try real hard not to crush him.”
“Bailey?”
“Poor boy.”
“No, he’s not. He won’t follow me, Heller will. And perhaps you.”
“No, not me. I don’t care anymore, Kraft.” Jace turned his back on her. “Go kill yourself. That’s your goal, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you.”
“Such vulgar language for a lady.” Jace laughed while eyeing her reflection in the bridge window. “Besides, by my recollection, you’ve already done that.”
The next morning, Kraft taught Payton how to make omelets. Payton was easy to teach and did everything with neat, quick, medical precision. “You’re a natural.”
“I learned a bit of cooking, back on Gilgamesh.”
Kraft nodded. “B
efore you ran from your abusive IWOG husband.”
Payton almost dropped the spatula. “Jace told you.”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“I’m a reader, Payton.”
“I thought that was just a myth.”
“Readers are real. When I first came on board, I knew then. I know what you’ve been running from, what you’ve protected Charissa from.”
“Jace has protected us both.” Payton said as she worked at the stove. “He’s a good man who would-”
“You don’t have to worry anymore.” Kraft did not want to talk about how good Jace was as both a captain and a friend. “Your husband won’t look for you anymore, Payton. You’re safer now than you’ve ever been. So is Charissa.”
“Thank—”
“Please don’t thank me for giving you a life in the dark. I don’t think I can bear it right now.” Kraft turned away and buttered toast. “I really don’t know if I’ve done any of you any favors by doing what I’ve done.”
“Regardless, you want no thanks for it.” Payton’s voice was surprisingly calm.
“No. I don’t.”
“Because you might have to thank us too.”
“I do thank you, Payton. You saved my life, and for that I am truly grateful.”
“But I can’t be grateful in turn.”
“Like I said, I don’t know if I’ve really done you any favors.”
Jace came in, took one look at her and left.
“Well, that was odd.” Payton flipped one of the omelets. “He must have forgotten something.”
“His memory works fine. I do believe he’ll be avoiding me on this last day.”
Payton considered her then the empty doorway. “Will you be teaching him how to cook something?”
“Oh, I think I’ve taught him quite enough.”
Payton called everyone to breakfast, and Kraft was relieved she didn’t have to sit next to Jace. As if reading her mind, he came in and sat, as close as he could, on the little bench. Mashing into her side, Jace let loose a deep breath that tickled her neck.
Thief: Fringe, Book 1 Page 29
