Drifters' Alliance, Book 1

by Elle Casey

  “Ow! That hurts!” I yank my arm away from him. “Quit pushing me around!”

  He grabs a handful of my hair near my ear and yanks on it. Leaning in, he growls his words in my face. “I’m going to do a lot worse than push you around if you don’t shut your mouth.”

  I reach up to wipe my face. “Say it, don’t spray it, plonk.”

  The hold he has on my hair loosens. “Are you kidding me?” He’s back to being confused.

  “I just took a shower, all right? I don’t need you splattering your sexually frustrated words all over my face.” I stand up straighter and pull my jacket down, pretending he’s wrinkled it when I know better. It’s just that he’s gotten me a bit ruffled on the inside, and I need a few seconds to think. I look down at my hands as they smooth out the uncreased material of my jacket, and I have to work at getting back to equilibrium. What’s wrong with me? Why am I baiting him like this?

  “I’m not sexually frustrated,” he finally says.

  “I really don’t want to know, okay?” I laugh and look up at him, now back on two feet after hearing the lack of confidence in his tone. “Your business is yours and mine is mine. So, what do you say we go our separate ways and pretend this never happened?”

  His voice goes cold. “I’m telling him where you are.”

  Does this mean the picochip wasn’t a locator? I’m not sure if that’s good news or bad news.

  “Him who?” Every ounce of calm I have left in my body and brain is funneled into those words. It’s almost good enough to fool even me that I’m that clueless. Him. Of course I know who he’s referring to.

  “Him, your father. As if you didn’t know.” He’s back to being a tough guy. I guess my attempt at being cool was a total bust.

  I shrug. “So. Tell him whatever you want. I don’t give a floating crystallized shit flake and neither does he.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Something in his eyes tells me he knows a hell of a lot better than I do what my father thinks, feels, and wants. My father could be his commanding officer for all I know. The panic starts to take over at the very idea. I’ve worked for so long, so tirelessly for three years to keep my independence, and this guy could end that right now just by being in a bad mood.

  “Fuck you, Overshine.” The words come out kind of choked. Then some very irritating and inconvenient tears appear in the corners of my eyes. I tip my head back to try and make them go away. “Rrrrr … fuck!” I swipe at my face, hoping he’ll pretend along with me that it’s sweat dripping down my cheeks.

  We stand there, the two of us, just staring at one another. He looks angry, and I know I’m pissed. I want to cut him so bad, but I know that’ll just make my situation worse. My hand is shaking with the effort of staying away from my dagger.

  “What do you want?” I finally say, clearing my throat to get rid of the lump in it.

  “What do I want?” He looks surprised.

  “Yeah. That’s what I said. What do you want?”

  His eyebrows draw together. “What exactly are you asking?”

  I hiss out a long breath. “You can’t really be that dense, can you?” I shift my weight over to one leg. “You’re the captain of a warship. Tell me you know how to negotiate.”

  “Oh, I know you’re trying to negotiate. I just don’t know what it is you’re offering.” He still looks mad. It’s strange to see a person getting pissed about a potential trade; that’s a new one for me, especially considering what I’m offering.

  I lift my chin. “What do you want?”

  He steps closer. “There’s only one thing on this ship that I want.”

  The way he’s staring down at me, I’m pretty sure I know what he’s referring to, but I just can’t believe it. He never expressed that kind of interest in me or anyone else I ever knew. He was always too focused on clawing and beating his way to the top to think about people as potential sleepmates. I always got the impression that he saw everyone as his next potential beatdown victim.

  “And what would that be?” I say, cool as can be.

  “Guess.”

  “Water?” I hate that my tone is so meek.

  His hand comes up and rests on the wall behind me, near the side of my head. His tone goes warmer. “No, it’s not water. I’m at full capacity.”

  Or maybe I’m just imagining that tone in his voice. Warm is never a word one would use to describe Terrick Overshine. I’m falling into panic mode now and blurt out the first thing I think of.

  “Nuts? We have some nuts we traded for before. We could give those to you.” Hopefully Beltz will forgive the fact that I’m trading his nuts away. Please let Overshine want my nuts.

  “No. It’s not nuts that I want.”

  Dammit. No nuts. I shrug, trying to appear casual. “Sorry, but that’s about all we have of value on this ship.”

  He shakes his head but says nothing. The heat between us is rising. Panic, panic, panic…

  He can’t possibly mean me, though. Right? Right?! This is just a game he’s playing to mess with my head. It has to be. He was around me for years and years and never once acknowledged my existence, unless you count that one time he went after Drake Borgland, the guy who dogged me with a sucker punch when I was bent over to help a comrade in arms. It was kind of impressive how Overshine gave the kid a compound fracture in his right arm right there on the mat, but I always wrote it off as him teaching his teammate a valuable lesson in fair play.

  “No, there’s something else of value here,” he assures me. Then he chuckles. “And it ain’t nuts.”

  “Where?” I look to my left and right, barely missing brushing his nose with mine in the process.

  “Captain!” comes a voice from down the corridor.

  Overshine stands up straight and moves back away from me, his gaze darting for a split second toward his approaching crew member. That’s when I realize he’s nervous about being caught standing so close to me. He must be ill; it’s the only excuse for him showing any emotion other than supreme confidence.

  It makes me feel powerful, like maybe I do have a bargaining chip I can use. The question is, how far will it get me? Because if I’m right about what he’s hinting at, it’s the kind of chip you can only really use once.

  “Yes, Lieutenant?” Overshine clasps his hands behind his back as his crew member walks around the corner.

  “We’re getting a call from the flightdeck that needs your attention, Sir.”

  Overshine nods once. “I’ll be right there. Prepare to disengage with the DS Kinsblade.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The guy jogs back down the corridor toward the airlocks, leaving us standing there alone again. The particles between us are charged enough that they send my heart racing.

  “It’s the DS Anarchy now,” I say in a rush. My nostrils flare as I force my mouth shut in an effort to control myself. I want this guy gone, but then again, I wish I knew what had almost passed between us. It’s very frustrating to be so confused about a situation; usually I’m pretty clear about what I’m doing and what other people mean when they say things to me, even when they’re talking around a subject and not coming right out and saying what they mean. I want to stab him and I want to talk to him, ask him what he’s all about. Ask him what happened in his training after I left. I must be crazy.

  “You named your ship the DS Anarchy?” His eyebrow goes up.

  “Yep.” I nod to add to the strength of my conviction.

  The corner of his mouth quirks up for a brief moment and then the emotion disappears as quickly as it arrived and he becomes a steeloid wall again. “Figures.”

  I shrug. “What can I say? Subtlety is not one of my strong points.”

  “Could have fooled me.” He steps forward without another word, takes my chin in his hand, and leans down, pressing his lips against mine.

  Shock. Surprise. Fear. Loathing. Breathlessness. Ack! I feel all of these things at the exact same time in one big wave of emotion and physical sensation. I w
asn’t prepared for it. That’s my excuse for not stabbing him in the eyeball right away. I’m too stunned to compute exactly what’s happening. He despises me but he kisses me? In what galaxy does that make sense? Not in the Triangulum, that’s for sure.

  Thankfully, even though my brain is offline, my instinct is not; I slide my dagger free and bring it up to the side of his neck to rest at his pulse. His lips break free but hover just above mine.

  I’m surprised how calm and cool I can speak, all things considered. “Back away, Overshine, really fucking slowly, or I’m going to open up your carotid artery and let you bleed out in front of my bedroom door.”

  He leans away five centimeters and stares down into my eyes, not a single ounce of fear showing there. “That’s your bedroom in there?” His gaze flicks to his left.

  I nod, pressing the knife in harder. It pricks his skin, drawing blood.

  “Too bad you didn’t let me know that sooner.” And then, without another word, he stands and backs away, taking a square of cloth from his pocket to press against his bleeding neck. The cocky asshole is back, and I see the same guy I saw bashing people on the mat all those years ago. But then again, I don’t see the same guy anymore. Now he’s someone totally different — a guy who kissed me for no damn good reason that I can come up with. Oh well. Doesn’t matter. He’s an OSG disciple and I’m not. Goodbye, Overshine. Don’t let the airlock door hit you on the ass on the way out. No wait … on second thought … go ahead and let it.

  Now that all is right with my world, I can stop acting like a brainless twink. I wipe his blood off on my pant leg and slide the knife back into its sheath at my thigh.

  “I’m letting you go this time, Cass,” he says, walking backward down the corridor, practically strutting. “It’s not going to happen a second time.”

  “Please.” I snort. “I’m letting you go.” I’m making no sense, but whatever. I have to say something because I’m not going to stand here like a little girl mooning over a kiss from a cute guy. He’s the enemy, not boyfriend material. And even if he were boyfriend material, I wouldn’t be interested.

  “You need to stay away from the water sources,” he says. And I could swear I see an emotion flicker across his face that I know doesn’t appear there very often: sadness. But a half a second later it’s gone making me think I probably just imagined it.

  “Yeah, sure,” I say bitterly. “I’ll stay away from the water, as soon as I figure out how to survive without it.”

  “I’m not kidding. He’s looking for you. He knows you’ll have to show up eventually.”

  I say nothing to that. Just the idea of that man coming for me makes me physically ill. A burning starts in my stomach and spreads from there. I’m too angry and scared to face the situation head on, to say what needs to be said to Terrick Overshine in the face of his threat. Instead, I place my shaking hand over the keypad, open the door to my room, and quickly step inside, letting it close behind me. I slide to the floor as my entire body starts to shake and my legs go out beneath me.

  He’s after me. He’s looking for me. And now, thanks to Overshine, he’ll know where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m flying. I am so totally and completely screwed. The only light at the end of the very dark tunnel I see in front of me is the Alliance. More eyes, more ears, and the best chance I have at getting away from the one person I swore I never wanted to see again.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I’M SITTING AT THE HEAD of my dining table, which has been extended to admit three additional guests: Captain Beltz, Jens Beltz, and Jacov last name unknown. Everyone’s waiting for me to be the first one to break the bread. And when Jeffers told me that was the case, I hadn’t realized he meant it literally.

  “This bread is as hard as a rock,” I say, straining to take a piece from the end of the loaf we’re supposed to share.

  “Give it to me,” Beltz says, taking it from my hand. He whacks it on the edge of the table between us like it’s some kind of ion saber meant to cut the table in two. Everyone jumps as a thousand crumbs and a huge chunk from the end of the loaf fly up into the air and rain down on our plates.

  I lean over and snatch my piece from the air just before it falls into a bowl of carrots.

  “Good catch,” Jens says. “You have great reflexes.” He’s staring at my chest. Again.

  Baebong slaps him on the back of the head. “Head out of the waste pipe, germ.”

  Jens ducks down and scowls at his empty dish.

  “Welcome to my table,” I say to our guests and my crew, trying to bring a modicum of solemnity back into the room. “And thank you for sharing your food with us.” I hold up the rock that’s supposed to be my share of the bread.

  Gus hides a snort of laugher in the back of his hand and then jumps when his brother nudges him in the ribs with his elbow.

  “We’re grateful to you also for the trade you made us yesterday for the boom chuck.” I grin like a girl who barely escaped the clutches of Death, which I’m pretty sure I did. “Worked like a charm.”

  “We’re lucky it didn’t get frozen off,” Baebong mumbles.

  “That was not luck,” Beltz says in a booming voice. “That was skill.”

  “Thank you, Beltz.” I nod at him regally.

  “Call me Gunter.” He winks at me and wiggles his eyebrows a little.

  “How come she gets to call you Gunter?” Jens asks.

  “Shut up, boy. Eat your carrots.” Gunter doesn’t spare his cousin even a glance. His eyes are on me. “Tell us, Captain Cass. What is your plan for the future?”

  I look around at all my crew members and the stowaway who has yet to prove his worth to me, taking in the fearful and questioning expressions I see on all of their faces. I never appreciated before the tremendous responsibility I would have as captain of a DS. I’m not regretting my decision to play that hand of givit, but I am wondering if I’m really good enough, tough enough, and smart enough to do this job.

  “Well, we have a decision to make.” I fold my hands and rest them on the table in front of my plate full of crumbs. “As you now know, the OSG has changed its focus from that of colonizing the habitable planets of the Triangulum Galaxy to one of resource management.”

  “More like resource control,” Lucinda says, scowling.

  “Changing the rules to suit themselves,” Rollo adds.

  “Exactly. They seek to control our access to water. Today it’s water, but who knows what it’ll be tomorrow?” I look around at the concerned people before me. “I don’t know about any of you, but this doesn’t come as a surprise to me.”

  “You knew they were going to do this?” Gus asks.

  “No, not exactly. But I spent over ten years training to be a part of the defense forces for the OSG, and based on what I learned, I would say they are more than prepared to fight and fight hard. You don’t set up a defense force like that unless you expect to run into some pretty serious resistance. And where else would that resistance come from if not people like us?”

  “You never mentioned you were part of the OSG to me,” Baebong says, the accusation lacing his words with bitterness.

  “You never asked.” I shrug, acting like that should be enough. But when he glares back at me, I know I won’t be able to walk away with just that between us. I sigh, hating the fact that I have to confess something that seems like it should have nothing to do with my life anymore.

  “Perhaps if you just share how you ended up getting from there to here,” Jeffers suggests. He gives me a warm smile that I know is designed to make me feel more comfortable, but all it does is slather on the guilt. I should have said something to Baebong before. He deserved that instead of having to hear it at this table. I look at him as I speak, hoping he sees this as the apology it is.

  “My father is First Major General Valemar Kennedy of the Omega Systems Group Defense Station, Elite Command.”

  There are some gasps of recognition and then fear around the table, but I ignore those, focus
ing only on my best friend. He hasn’t moved a muscle, so I can’t tell if he even knows of my father.

  “I was brought into training at the age of six. Earlier, actually, but that training was done at home. It wasn’t officially started until I was the legal age to enter.”

  “They start training at six years of age? That’s wild.” I look over to see Jens shaking his head and smiling.

  I find it sad that he seems to admire their tactics. Lucky for him he’s so sheltered that he can afford to spare that emotion. People who’ve been forced to be a part of it know better. “Don’t be impressed, Jens. It’s no life for a kid.”

  His smile disappears in an instant. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “What about your mother?” asks Jeffers, doing a great job of pulling the attention away from Jens’s embarrassment. “Was she part of the command as well?”

  I shake my head. “No. She wasn’t.” I’m not willing to say any more about her, so I quickly move on with a more self-directed explanation.

  “My training was rigorous. Tough. I rose up through the ranks to Level Ten by the age of fifteen.”

  “I still do not believe that,” Gunter says. His eyes are gleaming, though. I think he’d like to fight me just to see if it’s true, but I’m not about to hold another knife to his throat. I don’t like treating my friends like that, and I consider him a friend now. Kind of.

  I go back to focusing on Baebong. “I was officially part of the peacekeeping defense forces, but my father’s idea of peacekeeping is very different from mine. To reach Level Ten, I had to enter and win a fight to the death.”

  “Did you win?” Rollo asks.

  Lucinda rolls her eyes.

  It’s not nearly as stupid a question as it seems, so I answer him. “Nearly.”

  “Nearly?” Gus laughs, but it’s the nervous kind. “What does that mean? You turn your opponent into a droid or what?”

  I shake my head. “No. It means I left him needing a lot of MI to get back to functionality again.” I’ll never get the image of that guy out of my head — a boy who’d been a good friend to me for most of my life, bleeding out on the mat, looking up at me as his eyes went from desperate to glassy.