Mandrake Company- The Complete Series

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  She shook her head, wondering why she was thinking about this. It wasn’t as if Marat had given some indication that he wanted her in his arms.

  “I’m fine. Is it my turn to stand watch?” Ying did not want to go back to sleep, not when the possibility of her nightmare returning lurked in the dim recesses of her unconsciousness.

  Marat was gazing at her. Not intrusively, but as if he didn’t know if he should ignore her startled lurch out of sleep or not. Ying hoped she hadn’t been whimpering or thrashing about before waking up. She had never liked to appear vulnerable, especially not after she had joined her father’s ship. Vulnerability among pirates could get a person taken advantage of—or killed.

  “It hasn’t been long. You can go back to sleep. I can stay awake a little longer,” Marat said. “I was doing some research.”

  He looked at her a moment longer, then returned his attention to the holodisplay.

  Ying plucked at the frayed fringe of her robe’s hem, groping for a way to tell him that she didn’t want to go back to sleep. If she had a tablet of her own, she could pull it out to read, but she had nothing except the damned robe.

  “I—ah. I’m not tired anymore. What are you reading?” She shifted around until her back was against the same wall as his, though she didn’t presume to move closer to him, not sure he would want someone peering over his shoulder.

  “Bad dream?” Marat asked.

  Ying grimaced. She had been whimpering or thrashing—something that let him know she wasn’t sleeping peacefully.

  “Bad dream,” she agreed, hoping he wouldn’t ask her about it.

  “Been there,” he said, then switched the settings so she could see the display, as well. “Reading about Captain Wolf and the bounties on his head.”

  “Ah. I assume he has some?” Ying scooted closer to read the display, though she found herself more aware of Marat than the words and images floating in the air.

  He gazed down at her, and for a moment, she thought he might lift his arm to offer a spot against his side. But he didn’t. She couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved.

  “Mostly piddling ones,” Marat said. “Five thousand here, two thousand there. It might be worth it to a bounty hunter, but probably not for a ship full of mercenaries to go through the work of collecting them.”

  Ying wasn’t sure why he brought up his ship full of mercenaries, but reflexively said, “Wolf’s ship is worth a lot more than those bounties. Killers keepers, that’s the law.”

  His brow wrinkled. “What?”

  “You haven’t heard that? It’s a pirate saying. If someone kills the captain—who’s usually the owner of the ship—then the ship is theirs, if they have the might to claim it. On the Death Knot...” Her teeth ground as she recalled the crew’s betrayal when she had tried to claim the ship for her own. Her father had owned it outright, and it had always been understood that he intended her to be his heir, but First Mate Deng had said it was his now, unless she could take it from him. He had stood there from the safety of the bridge, while she was at a comm console on the station, challenging her with his eyes. At that point, he had already pulled the ship away from the Salvation Locks, knowing full well that she had no means to fly out and reach him. His betrayal hadn’t been that surprising—Deng had always been vocal about his dislike for assassins, for people who killed from the shadows, and he’d refused to eat the meals she prepared—but the rest of the crew’s betrayal... That had stung. She’d had friends there, or so she had thought, but nobody had offered to help her avenge her father’s death or to claim the ship for her own. It was almost as if they had been planning for her father’s death. And maybe someone had been. More than once, she had wondered if someone on the inside had betrayed her father to Wolf. Those two had been enemies for years, and it was always possible Wolf had bribed someone on the crew. Ying hoped she got a chance to ask him that before she killed him.

  Remembering that she had been in the middle of a sentence, she cleared her throat, pushing aside the emotions that were close to the surface after that dream. “You kill a man, his ship is yours. That’s pirate law. You steal a man’s ship, it’s yours too. If someone can’t hang onto it...” She shrugged. “The Death Knot was supposed to be mine, but I was caught by surprise, as much as my father was. I confess, I never saw myself as a captain, anyway. That’s why I didn’t fight harder to get the ship back. All I know how to do...” She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “This is all I know how to do. Kill the man responsible for my father’s death. After that... I haven’t figured out after that.”

  “Ah.” Marat’s hand lifted a few inches toward her. He hesitated, then he dropped it again.

  Had he been thinking of offering her that arm again? A half embrace? It might have felt nice, but she wasn’t sure she had it in her to accept an embrace, not one for comfort. After she finished her mission, she might entertain embraces for other reasons, but not now. She wasn’t even sure she wanted a man or sex again any time soon. Her last lover had been on the Death Knot. He had sent her a long message and condolences for her father’s death, but he hadn’t offered her anything, no help with the revenge and no hint that he would consider helping her get the ship back if she wanted it. In fact, he had finished the message with an, “I’ll miss you.” She snorted. She had decided then and there that she wouldn’t miss him.

  “So,” Marat said slowly, carefully, “you’re saying that Captain Wolf’s ship would be something that could be sold if somebody killed him? It wouldn’t default to a bank or an insurance company?”

  “An insurance company?”

  “Well, it’s not as if Mandrake owns the Albatross outright, at least I’m fairly certain he doesn’t,” Marat said dryly. “Spaceships aren’t inexpensive. I just assumed that wherever pirates got their ships, they weren’t legally acquired. And that if we got Wolf’s ship, for example, we’d be expected to turn it back over to the original owner.”

  “Oh. There is that.” Ying chewed on her lip. Maybe it was naive, but it hadn’t even occurred to her that her father’s ship might not truly be his, at least not according to the GalCon legal system. Pirates had their own laws—Killers keepers was just one example—and didn’t worry about what the government thought. “Well, maybe there’s a reward for Wolf’s ship then. It used to be a Fleet medical ship, after all. Albeit it looks more like a dreadnought now.”

  “Medical ship?”

  “Yes. I know that doesn’t sound very inimical, but it’s rumored to have a lot of interesting equipment that he’s used for torturing enemies in a variety of ways.” If Ying couldn’t convince the man to ingest one of her poisons, poisons she hadn’t had a chance to remake yet, maybe she could strap him to a chair and torment him with his own equipment.

  “Interesting.” Marat scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “Maybe that would make the pot more enticing.”

  “Torture victims?”

  “No, a medical ship. Maybe Mandrake would be more interested in picking a fight if he knew there was some valuable equipment up for grabs.”

  “Valuable equipment? I don’t think it would be sickbay supplies. Those medical cruisers are research vessels.”

  “I know. I did a tour on one my first year in the Fleet. Might even be the same model.” Marat tapped his fingers on his tablet. “The captain’s girlfriend runs a medical research business of some kind. I’m not sure on all of the details, but I do know the company owns a percentage of it. I also know their lab on our ship isn’t all that state-of-the-art. Maybe the captain would go after Wolf if he knew he could get some expensive medical equipment. Even if Dr. Keys didn’t need it, the company could sell it.”

  Ying frowned at him. Was he truly trying to come up with a way to convince his captain to start a war with Wolf? What a lunatic.

  “You know I’m not asking you to help me with my problem, right? I’m planning to take care of Wolf myself. I’ll be happy to sell your captain the equipment on that ship after
it’s mine.”

  Marat blinked at her. “You want Wolf’s ship?”

  She could use the money, but she had to admit that it would be crazy to assume that she could kill Wolf and get rid of the rest of the crew by herself. Wolf did some big raids. He had to have at least fifty men if not a hundred. “I just want the bastard dead.”

  “All right. That’s what I want to help you with. I know you don’t need my help,” he said, even as she opened her mouth to object, “but I’m in a conundrum, on account of my impulsiveness. Wolf knows Striker and I came from Mandrake Company, and he had a word with my captain. I’ve been ordered to report back to the ship in the morning.”

  “Oh.” So, she would be on her own with her problem. He would have to go back to his ship, and she would have to figure things out for herself again.

  “Mandrake said he doesn’t want an expensive fight for no reason, but I thought if I could give him a reason, if there was incentive enough to make it worth the effort to attack Wolf...”

  Ying wasn’t sure why Marat had decided to make Wolf part of his agenda, but she had to admit the idea of some mercenaries swooping in and starting a firefight with Wolf was appealing. If nothing else, they might provide a diversion so she could slip in and get to the captain in her own way.

  “It’s just an idea right now,” Marat said, “but I am going to send the captain what you’ve told me and what I know about those old medical cruisers, as well.”

  “Good.” Ying scooted a little closer, so she could get a look at those bounties on Wolf’s head before he switched to a new search. Five thousand or two thousand aurums might not be a big deal to an entire company, but that money could go a long way toward helping her financially—she had some gold stashed in a locker back on the Salvation Locks, but not a lot. She had always expected her father would be around much longer, and that she would continue to have a place on the Death Knot even if something happened to him. It hadn’t occurred to her to think about a retirement fund.

  When her shoulder touched Marat’s, he looked down at her, his jaw close to her temple. Even though he had been running around with her, sweating and dodging androids, he smelled appealing, a mix of some lingering cologne or shaving soap and a masculine scent that she found herself noticing for the first time. She also noticed the hardness of the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt.

  “Just looking at those bounties,” she said. He kept gazing down at her. Maybe he didn’t appreciate the closeness of some pirate girl who thought nothing of the origins of stolen ships or worrying about bank notes or insurers. “I don’t have my own tablet.”

  “No, I understand. I was just wondering...”

  She met his eyes, and her earlier thoughts about not wanting anything to do with men or sex drifted right out of her mind. Even after crawling through dusty tunnels and surviving a firefight, he was handsome. The day’s beard growth did nothing to diminish the strong line of his jaw or the faint cleft in his chin.

  “Yes?” she murmured, now wondering what he was wondering. If he should kiss her?

  “Would you tell me your Grenavinian name?”

  Ying blinked. “What?”

  “It might make a difference to the captain.”

  Ying did not give anyone her real name, and she wanted to bristle at the idea of sending it off to some man she had never met, but as Marat continued to gaze down at her, nothing but earnestness in his eyes, she heard herself saying, “Bryony. Bryony Brooksmouth.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled so warmly that her breath caught.

  He broke the gaze, facing his tablet again and bringing up the holo keys to type his message.

  She should have moved away to give him his privacy, but she wasn’t looking at what he was writing. She kept gazing up at him, trying to figure out why he was trying so hard to help her. By now, she believed he was being honest, that he truly cared, but she couldn’t imagine why. He wasn’t attracted to her, was he? He didn’t act like he wanted or expected anything from her. Besides, her amorphous gray robe wasn’t the sort of thing to make men’s minds go crazy thinking about sex and plotting ways to get that sex. Of course, he had seen her naked already, on that degrading slave block. Ying wondered what he would think if she suggested it was only fair that he show her what he looked like under his clothes. His trousers, long-sleeved shirt, and jacket weren’t revealing, but she could feel the outline of his hard body through the fabric. He was much more fit than the average pirate.

  Yeah, Ying, wake up from dreaming about your dead father and start thinking about naked men. That’s classy.

  She sighed at herself and tried to focus on the display. He had sent his message and was back to browsing an entry on Wolf.

  “It’s hard to let go, isn’t it?” Marat murmured.

  Huh? What had he read in her face that had prompted him to ask that?

  “During the day, you can, when you’re busy with work or... plotting revenge, whatever. But at night, when you’re alone with your thoughts, it’s hard to distract your mind.”

  “Are we still talking about me?” Ying asked, suddenly curious what he had meant when he had said “been there.” Earlier, he had implied a loss of his own.

  Marat’s mouth quirked wryly. It wasn’t quite as attractive as his grin, but she found herself watching his lips, anyway. They were expressive. “If it applies. You seem a little lost in thought there. Upset.”

  “That’s how my last three months have been.” Ying shrugged. She didn’t want to complain or whine. She hadn’t meant to look forlorn—or whatever expression had prompted his comment. Though she supposed she was relieved that he had believed she was thinking dark brooding thoughts, rather than wondering what he looked like with his shirt off. “But you haven’t told me about your bad dreams or why you were beating up mercenaries in a random spaceport.”

  “No,” he agreed, his face toward the display. Or maybe he was looking at the wall behind it. He hadn’t interacted with the tablet for several minutes.

  “And you’re not going to? All right, I’m not one to pry. Though I’ll let you see my dragon tattoo if you share.” She smirked at him, knowing full well he had already seen that tattoo in its entirety.

  “Oh?” Marat actually looked intrigued.

  Ying blushed at the idea that he might take her up on the offer. Maybe he had been too busy glowering at Wolf to notice her leg earlier? Or maybe he just wanted another look? Here in the privacy of this alluring and mood-enhancing maintenance shaft? She supposed the soft glow of the light stick was almost like candlelight.

  Marat looked back toward the display, sighed, then shut it down. He folded his tablet and stuck it back in his pocket. “Last year... oh, I guess it’s been closer to eighteen months now... I lost my daughter. She was about to turn eight at the time. I was serving in the Fleet then, so I wasn’t home as much as I would have liked, but I—I adored her. She and Karena—my ex-wife—and I used to go camping and flying and climbing, all manner of adventures when I was home.” He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. “I’ve told this story to people a few times now, and you’d think it would get easier, but it’s like I said. Night is the worst, isn’t it? When it’s quiet, and there’s nowhere for you to hide from your thoughts.”

  Ying’s humor had drained from her as soon as he had started speaking. All she could do was nod her head in agreement, though he couldn’t see it with his eyes closed, moisture glinting on his lashes. He had hinted at losses, but she had assumed they would be something like older family members recently departed, taken by some disease. It wasn’t easy to lose anyone—oh, how she knew that—but with a child, it must be particularly difficult, a deviation from the natural order of life.

  “It was my fault,” Marat went on. “I’d just come home on leave, dropped my gear by the door, and run into the house to greet my wife. Maya had a couple of friends over. They were playing some game or another and dug into my gear. One of the younger boys—it wasn’t his fault; he was too young to know be
tter. I’d had the safety on, but he must have bumped it off, or turned it. Out of curiosity. I don’t know. But there was no question. It was my fault, one careless moment.” He swallowed.

  “What happened?” Ying whispered.

  “We were in the kitchen, on the other side of the house, but I heard the laser fire as clearly as if it were right behind me. I was there in a second, but it was already too late.”

  Ying wiped at her eyes, not sure when they, too, had grown moist and not sure whether the emotion was for her loss or his. Or both. He’d been just as helpless as she in the end.

  “The next few months were a blur of pain and helplessness and a need for endurance that I didn’t have. My wife wanted a divorce. I got out of the Fleet, thinking that if we had time, if I was home, we could figure things out. I at least hoped she would be able to look me in the eyes again. I don’t know. I never forgave myself, so I’m not sure why I expected her to forgive me. The day I was up on that space station, getting drunk and trying to figure out where I could fly that would make life better, that was the day I’d signed the divorce papers, that I’d finally accepted that there wasn’t going to be a solution to the problem.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ying said. Useless words, but it had stung when nobody had said them to her after her father’s death.

  “You don’t have to be.” He gave her a sad smile—she had wanted that smile to return all night, but not in this fashion. She had wanted the boyish grin. He lifted an arm, offering the hug he had hesitated over earlier.

  She scooted closer, not hesitating to accept it. This wasn’t about her and whether she needed anyone; it was about offering comfort to someone else.

  “A year hasn’t made the pain go away, has it?” she asked, wondering if her own pain would fade once she had accomplished her mission.

  “I suppose time has dulled it somewhat, but I can’t help thinking about Maya in the quieter moments and sometimes in the hellish moments too. Sometimes when we’re in a battle, in the middle of some jungle on a moon with enemy soldiers all around us, I’ll have these flashes of thought where I’m almost existing outside of my body, looking in from the outside, you know? And I wonder what happened, how I came to be there, in this moment, covered with mud and sweat and blood. I mourn the loss of my daughter and my wife, but there’s a selfish part, too, that’s about me mourning the loss of what I thought my life was going to be.”