by Natalie Grey
“No.” The answer was instant. That would be even worse, caged in Nyx’s rooms and waiting for the woman to come storming in, having figured out everything. Maybe Mala could get this man to take her on a shuttle ride to the nearest space station. She felt a bitter smile touch her lips. There was no way. It was over.
She went to sit with Tersi, curling one leg under herself. It was a relief, in a way, to give up on trying to solve this. There was no way to get into that interrogation; she’d tried. She might as well pass a few minutes learning about the crew before everything went to hell.
She considered.
“So how long has Melissa—Nyx, sorry—commanded this ship? What is it, the….”
“Ariane.” Tersi smiled. “You won’t find a better ship in the Alliance—or a better team. As for Nyx, this is her first mission commanding. Before this, we were under the command of Talon Rift, and Nyx was his second-in-command. She didn’t tell you?”
Mala thought back to the tumult of that night on Seneca, trying to ignore the stab of pain at the memory of how it ended. Her memories before that were a haze of heady desire and laughter. It had been a relief to talk to someone who knew Mala was from the middle of nowhere and didn’t care, and she could remember every flash of Nyx’s smile….
She swallowed and shook her head to clear it.
“I suppose she did. She mentioned that you’d all come in to give testimony. Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to know that. Please don’t say I mentioned it. I’m … I knew her when we were little. I think she just felt like family around me.” She lifted one shoulder, conscious again of the thin, gangly child she had been.
“I’m not too worried about you knowing. You don’t seem like the type to go haring off to the media.” Tersi was smiling slightly. He leaned forward, a curious light in his eyes. “You said you knew her when you were little. You were friends?”
Why he should care, Mala couldn’t imagine, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Nope. She and my brother were best friends, and I was the annoying little sister who followed them around everywhere. I’m pretty sure she hated me.” But Kiran made Melissa promise to protect her. Mala had to remember that. “And now I’m a nuisance again,” she finished softly.
Because, of course, she was. Nyx had needed to wade in and save Mala from her own mess, putting her entire crew at risk in the process, and she was going to be furious about it. It was almost enough to make Mala want to run down to the brig and tell the truth herself, just to get it over with.
Almost.
She realized Tersi had said something, and grimaced. “Sorry. What?”
“I said, for what it’s worth, the commander doesn’t take time for people she doesn’t think are worthy of it.”
“Really?” Mala thought back to the confident woman in the uniform, her weapon held with the ease of familiarity, her movements exact in a way that spoke of long practice. “I would have thought she was very motivated by duty.”
“Oh, she is.” A laugh was hiding in the man’s voice. “But you know when she’s not happy about it.”
“Huh.” Mala wouldn’t have thought the Dragons would promote someone like that.
“A Dragon leader needs a second-in-command like that,” Tersi explained, seeing Mala’s confusion. “The Major never had to doubt whether she would follow orders, but he also never had to doubt that he’d make a stupid decision without her calling him on it.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Mala leaned back against one of the crates, considering. “So what is it that you all do? Can you tell me?”
“Yes, although most people find it a bit of a let down. We do all those things you hear about: track down the baddies and bring them in or take them out, whatever we need to do. But it’s usually not like people think it is. You don’t end up fighting your way through legions of enemies to get to the leader—I mean, not usually. And—” His comm buzzed and he held up a hand to Mala, tilting his head as he listened. He smiled over at her. “The boss is finishing up with our guest, and she said she wants to see you.”
This was it. Mala smoothed her suddenly-clammy palms on her pants and swallowed, nodding jerkily.
“Are you all right?” He frowned at her. “It can be cold on the ship, and you would be far from the first to take hyperspace travel poorly, believe me.”
“Good to know.” There was no way she could even begin to tell him the truth of why she was worried.
The path to Nyx’s cabin wasn’t too far, she knew. Tersi led her out of the armory and down a flight of stairs toward the central control hub of the ship. Dragons were leaning over desks, examining maps and printouts; with a start, Mala recognized the technical specifications from each of the mines supplying Gerren’s Ore. It had taken her weeks to track those down, and the Dragons seemed to have acquired them in less than an hour. Down the central corridor of the ship, Nyx could see the kitchen in one direction and the cockpit in the others. She followed Tersi down yet another flight of stairs to the crew quarters.
What the rest of the quarters looked like, she did not know, but Nyx’s cabin was smaller and more spare than she had expected. A desk with a well-worn chair sat in one corner, facing the door, and the private bathroom was small, but built with a shower that Mala could tell was made for the unusual height of the Dragons. The bed was likewise large, and—one of the few luxuries of the room—spread with a thick comforter that made Mala realize just how cold the ship actually was.
“I’ll leave you here.” Tersi managed an elegant bow, and though she could tell the sweeping movement cost him, his smile was bright when he came up. “Any crew member can help you find food or whatever you need, really. Just ask.”
Mala managed to nod, trying not to explain that what she really wanted right now was to throw up, she was so nervous. She paced once around the room, picking up a frame with a picture of Nyx’s parents and older brother. That picture, the heavy comforter, and the purple mug on the desk seemed to be the only indications that this was Nyx’s room instead of someone else’s.
When the door hissed behind her, Mala jumped and whirled. Nyx was shaking her head as she came into the room.
“Almost nothing useful,” she said ruefully, stripping off her gloves. She began to undo the hooks on the outer plating of her armor and gave a sigh as the thin plating came off. Seeing Mala watching, she tossed one piece over and laughed when Mala almost dropped it. “It’s heavier than it looks, right?”
“So why did you keep it on so long?”
“People are afraid of Dragons, and the only way they recognize us is the black and red armor.” Nyx shrugged. “It’s an advantage. Uncomfortable as hell, though.” Free of the armor, she was wearing a thin, long-sleeved shirt that she stripped off to reveal a tank top, and thin pants that, to Mala’s disappointment, stayed put for the meantime. The soldier flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, rubbing absentmindedly at one rib.
Mala stayed where she was, effectively frozen. She was captivated by the line of Nyx’s neck, by the play of the slim muscles in the woman’s arms. And something about all of this was surprising….
Nyx wasn’t angry.
For the first time, Mala felt hope touch her chest. She managed to sit on the bed, hoping that she wasn’t shaking too obviously, and leaned over to smile at Nyx upside down.
“Nothing useful, you said?”
“Well, yes and no.” Nyx shrugged and rotated her shoulders before sitting up with a groan. “Did he mention someone named Ghost?”
“Yeah, that’s who he thought you were when your shuttle first came in.” Mala shook her head. “That’s the person running the smuggling ring, I take it?”
“Exactly. Unfortunately, our friend knows about as much as you’d expect, given the codename. He gave me everything he could without a fight, though. As far as I can tell, he thinks if he’s going down, everyone else should, too.”
“He seems pretty vengeful.” Mala swallowed.
“Don’t worry.” Nyx was looking over at her. She smi
led. “There’s no way he’s getting out of that brig. He can’t hurt you.”
“Uh-huh.” Mala looked down at the comforter, trying to remember to breathe normally.
How did she normally sit when she wasn’t feeling guilty as hell? What did she do with her hands?
“Hey.” Nyx reached over to squeeze her hand. The touch lingered a moment too long, and when she drew her hand back, two spots of color burned in her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this. And I’m sorry we can’t bring you back immediately, but I think we’re close to—”
“It’s okay.” Mala shook her head. If they went back to Seneca, everything would unravel—she just knew it.
“You don’t need to put a good face on it.”
“This is where I want to be.” Out in the open, the words seemed far too bold and Mala wanted to sink through the floor. It was so obvious, so desperately obvious that—
“Polite to a fault.” Nyx was smiling. “Look, uh … you should eat something, and then get some sleep. Come on, I’ll show you where the food is.”
“Right.”
As Mala stood, Nyx rotated her neck with a sigh. “I can’t tell you how much I miss planet-side food already.”
“What, you don’t like food from a package?”
“Have you had our noodles?”
Mala forced a smile. As they left, Nyx launching into a detailed description of what not to eat, Mala took a deep breath and made herself a promise. She was going to tell the truth. It was better that it came from her, after all. She’d wipe the slate clean and start from zero. All it would take was a few words, and she just had to find the courage for it.
She followed the Dragon down the metal-plated hallways and ignored the niggling voice inside her that told her she’d never find a good time. She would. She promised herself that she would. Maybe after dinner.
17
Morning sunlight filled the room with warmth, and the sound of waves outside made it difficult not to relax. In fact, if anyone had walked into the little study, they might have thought the Dragons were relaxing—without their armor, and with the coffee cups and breakfast plates scattered around the room, everything looked very low-key.
None of them were feeling particularly low-key, however.
“So this is them.” Alina held one of the four dossiers Cade had laid out, staring at it with a look of hunger Talon had never seen in her before. Alina usually fought cold, not hot.
“Again…” Cade sounded cautious. “These are guesses.”
Talon smiled slightly. Cade had always been like this—given any time at all, he began to second-guess himself. In terms of combat, he’d been one of the best the Dragon Corps had ever seen, but in terms of leadership, he was far too inclined to wait for perfect information rather than work with what he had.
And, as the conventional wisdom ran, if you waited for perfect information, you’d never act.
“They’re damned good guesses,” Mase said. “Every one of them makes sense.”
“And it’s hardly as if we’re going to kill them without making sure,” Talon pointed out.
Alina nodded. “You don’t kill Dragons without being sure,” she echoed. “If they’re on the level, they won’t object to us making sure of it. But the kid brings up a good point.”
“Kid?” Cade asked pointedly.
“You’re, what, thirteen?”
“I’m twenty-six!”
“Still young for a Dragon.” Alina grinned at him. “Although Talon blew that out of the water with that farmer-boy from Crius.”
“I’ll have you know that all of Loki’s paperwork puts his age as 19, and Tersi has made absolutely sure it checks out.” Talon picked up one of the other dossiers with a flourish.
“Tersi’s hacked the Intelligence databases and edited all the official records, you mean.” Alina was grinning.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Talon wore a lofty expression. “Tersi would never do such a thing.”
“Of course he wouldn’t.” Cade’s mouth was twitching. “You’d certainly never ask him to, either. And really, what’s wrong with a little tampering in legal records?”
Alina chuckled. She set down the dossier she was holding and looked at the others before holding out her hand for the one Talon had picked up. “That’s Zachary Hinn?”
Talon nodded and passed it over.
Alina scanned it again and gave a decisive nod. “Beckett and I know each other from before the Dragons. I’ll take team 18.”
Everyone exchanged a glance. Many Dragons had been part of the Alliance Navy before being recruited, but the members of the Corps came from all walks of life. Some had been spies or merchant guards. There was even a member of Team 3 who had been a waiter in a restaurant on Seneca; rumor had it that he could only listen to so many discussions between careless, jaded politicians before he decided to join up and be part of the force defending Alliance citizens.
But no one seemed to know Alina’s story, beyond the bare details of where she’d been born. This was an interesting clue.
“Right,” Talon said, before Alina could notice that they were all planning to snoop. “Kuznetsova takes 18. Mase? Wraith?”
“I’ll take Team 5,” Wraith said, after a moment spent considering. Se picked up the dossier and stared at the picture of the woman with fiery red hair and what seemed to be nearly infinite freckles. “Their XO owes me a few favors. I’ll come up with a way to meet them and do what needs to be done. Mase, you know Hera, you want in?”
Mase nodded.
“Cade?” Talon nodded to the two dossiers left. “You want to talk with your associate before choosing?”
“We’ll go wherever we need to,” Cade said easily.
“Wait a second.” Mase frowned. “Cade is taking one? Williams, buddy, you don’t have a team.”
Cade just smiled. He clearly wasn’t about to spill the beans on just who Talon’s girlfriend was. “Trust me when I say I’ll handle it.”
Mase looked a little doubtful, but when he saw Talon wasn’t worried, he just nodded.
“I’ll take Team 22, then,” Talon said. “You take 7.”
Cade picked up the relevant dossier and nodded. He blew his breath out. “Can’t decide if I like the idea of another mission, or not.”
“You do,” Alina told him. “You like knowing that he—” she jerked her head at the paper “—isn’t going to be able to take all our resources and screw over people you care about.”
“I do like that,” Cade said after a moment. “I really do.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” Talon nodded to all of them. “That’s Round 1 of business concluded. Round 2…is drinking a lot. Everyone go get swimsuits on. Rendezvous is on the beach in 15. Don’t be late, this is serious business.”
18
“Are you sure you don’t want to circle around from the south?”
“Yes,” Nyx snapped. She cast a frustrated look over at Tersi, then sighed and hung her head. “What I’m not sure about is landing here rather than heading back to Seneca.”
The crew said nothing, but she could feel their agreement in the minuscule nods of their heads and the tightening of their fingers on the board. At the same time, she knew that they struggled with the same temptation she did. This was almost a perfect opportunity, a warehouse that their prisoner claimed was visited personally by Ghost.
When questioned further, the man swore he knew nothing beyond that. Nyx hadn’t been put off at first. Had Ghost visited in person, or posing as a laborer? Had the mysterious figure been checking anything specifically? Was it before or after the Senate Subcommittee had arranged a tour of the facility? Had more shipments to this location been intercepted than to any other?
Nothing, he knew nothing. He just swore up, down, and sideways that Ghost had information that could only have been obtained via an on-site examination. No one knew much about the overseer, and Ghost could well be that man, or perhaps Ghost was
his guest. Whatever the case, maybe someone remembered something—and it was possible that their quarry was still there.
But it was too easy.
Nyx leaned back and studied the warehouse blueprints in front of her. There weren’t many places that were secluded. The overseer might be shadowy to them but was almost certainly well-known by the warehouse laborers, and Nyx could not see the head of a smuggling operation manning one warehouse indefinitely. Ghost would be well-placed to know what was happening at all locations. And why on earth hadn’t their prisoner, the man who called himself Jeremiah Grose but had at least a dozen other names Nyx had found already, already sent someone to investigate?
That he was Ghost himself, they had considered and rejected. His mannerisms spoke too clearly of a man who wanted what he could not have. Grose struggled against his place as a second-tier smuggler, not content with his riches when others had more. Nyx had seen his kind a hundred times; it would have been difficult to fake such a desperate desire to advance.
“We should go back to Seneca,” she said finally. The very thought of it made her weary, for she would certainly have to go give a report to the Director of Intelligence, and Seneca offered far more places to hide than did a single warehouse in an out-of-the-way star system. Her gut might tell her that Ghost had gone to ground amongst the rich and powerful, but on Seneca, they would be drowning in leads.
“I’ll set our course,” Esu offered. “We can be there within a day and a half.”
“Wait.”
Nyx rubbed at her head. Why was she so unsure? The thought occurred to her that if it had been Talon making the call, she would have advised him to go with his gut. She had done so, time after time: your instincts are good, boss.
It’s hardly scientific.
You’re just calling it your gut because you haven’t figured out what the trigger was yet. But you’ve been in this business a long time. It’s scientific to go with your instincts by now.
She played out the conversation in her head now. Talon would ask her if they could afford not to check the warehouse, and Nyx would tell him that if he was certain Ghost was on Seneca and this was a trap, they should go to Seneca. He would say that they might miss vital information. She would say that Seneca would offer just as much. They should go to Seneca.
