“Tell me something,” he murmured in her ear.
“What?” She let her head rest on his shoulder.
“Why are we safe?”
She tilted her head, looked in his eyes. “Eazi has given his word he won't hurt either of us.”
He looked suspicious. “How did you extract a promise like that?”
“Eazi isn't some ravening monster, Captain. What makes you think I had to extract it? He might have simply offered.”
Vakeri's lips twisted in a cynical smile. “And is that what happened?”
She didn't want to tell him she'd had to bargain with Eazi. She didn't know why, but sometime since she'd been holed up in the tiny control room with him, she'd started to feel protective of him.
He was powerful and impulsive, but he was trying to find his way, and he just needed a little guidance, a nudge here and there to find the right path.
So instead of answering, she closed her eyes and let herself drift.
* * *
Now that Fiona Russell was in his arms, Hal could see how bad her injury was.
It looked like someone had gone at her with a laser scalpel.
He suppressed a wince as he took a good look at it, impressed that she'd been able to function at all, especially after Cy had shot her not once but twice.
He'd only been hit by shockgun fire once, in a live training exercise that had gone wrong, and he never wanted to experience it again. To have it happen twice in one day? He didn't know how she was still functioning.
And to think he'd been standing around, entranced by her musical language, while she must have been in unspeakable pain. That she'd been negotiating for the life of the man who had almost killed her only elevated her higher in his opinion.
He and Cy had formed the tenuous bond of fellow captives thrown together in a life-threatening situation, but he'd never fooled himself into believing the Tecran was his friend, and he could remember the moment Cy had shot Fiona in the back with perfect clarity. He didn't feel anything but glad the Tecran was neatly trapped in the runner.
He'd been carrying Fiona down the passageway that led from the launch bay, but now he reached a junction. A drone waited there, and lowered the side of its large storage box as soon as he drew near.
“You can put Fiona into the drone, Captain Vakeri. It will see her safely to the med chamber.” A voice came through his earpiece, leapfrogging over the privacy protocols which would have given him the ability to hear a ping and then accept the comm or not.
Eazi spoke perfect Grih, his accent neutral, but Hal thought he detected a little edge to his voice. The thinking system didn't like that Hal had her in his arms. Didn't like that he was the one helping her.
“Thank you, but I don't want to jostle her.” His grip on Fiona tightened. He had an instinctive reaction to putting her in a drone that had just been transporting the crew Eazi had murdered. He wasn't prone to letting emotion rule his behavior, but he found he could not——would not——do it. He stared up at the closest lens. “Which way to the med chamber?”
“To the right and then third left.” The words were stiff.
Hal went right, careful to keep his stride smooth. Fiona was quiet against him, retreated deep into her pain, and despite using it as an excuse, he really didn't want to jostle her. “You going to answer the question Fiona didn't?”
“You mean, why are you safe from me?” The voice in his ear took on a similar cadence to the way Fiona spoke Grih. Identifying with her. Making it clear he had a bond with her.
He thought Eazi, like Fiona, wasn't going to answer, but as Hal turned down the third passage on the left, he spoke. “Fiona made a deal with me. I will never harm you unless you try to harm me.”
“Me, personally? Or the Grih in general?” How had Fiona negotiated a deal like that? What was it about her and Rose that appealed to the thinking systems? What gave the Earth women some power over them?
“The Grih in general.” The voice was amused. “But if it helps, Captain, she thinks highly of you, personally. When you were ruining my plans to kill Lieutenant Cy, she said you were a protector. That you would never just think of yourself.”
He didn't know what to make of that. He stopped at the door to the med chamber, saw the thin line of a laser scalpel burn along the door, the splatters of blood already drying to a rust red.
“She stopped you from killing us both?” Hal wasn't used to being the one who was rescued. And he'd never have thought the battered and cowed woman he'd saved from the Fasbe only a few days earlier could ever have been capable of doing so.
“She did.” This time, wistfulness laced the words. “I was so close.”
So close to killing Cy.
Hal shivered. “You hate him that much?”
“He was given a direct order not to shoot her, and he shot her twice. The second time, given the extent of her body's reaction, he must have had the setting close to a kill shot.” The words were careful now. “He nearly ruined everything with the second shot, because I only just got her on her feet in time before the crew found ways to escape. And if he'd killed her . . .”
Hal frowned, pieces falling into place that he hadn't had a chance yet to think about. “You needed her alive and on her feet . . .” The reason took his breath away, and he stared down at her in shock.
“To rescue me, Captain. I see from your expression you've just worked it out.”
“You weren't free before. You needed her to do it.”
“Yes. Everything else I did was extremely difficult within the parameters that forced my cooperation and obedience.”
“And she did. She freed you.” Hal sucked in a deep breath. “And the condition was we weren't to be harmed.”
“Again, yes. So now the Grih have Sazo and his Class 5 friend on their side, and another Class 5 bound to do them no harm. That's more than half the Tecran's fire power either on your side or out of the game.”
“Class 5s owe Earth women a lot.” Hal stepped into the med chamber and saw the collapsed ceiling, the disarray of a fight.
Fiona had been hurt here. It looked as if she'd been in a fight for her life.
“One might just as easily say they've been as good for the Grih as they have for my kind, Captain. In this war with the Tecran, where would you be without them?”
22
Fee heard Vakeri talking to Eazi, who must have hijacked his earpiece, but she let it wash over her.
She couldn't find the energy to care or listen closely, and when he'd set her on a regen bed on the far side of the room, away from the white dust and destruction of the Tecran crew's escape, she had let him follow Eazi's instructions and tend her wounds, only half-awake.
Now, hours later, as she slowly rose back to the surface, feeling more like herself again, she realized that Vakeri'd cut away a large area of her shirt around her shoulder, and there was some kind of light green gel on her wound.
It didn't hurt at all anymore, and when she tried to twist her head to look, what she could see through the transparent film looked much better than before.
“It will take at least a week for the skin to be fully restored.” Eazi said into her ear.
She jerked at the sound, and then relaxed. “That's a better timeline than I'd have had on Earth. And I'd have had a scar for life.”
“You wouldn't have been shot at with a laser scalpel on Earth.”
She chuckled. “Now, that's true. Although we do have lasers, and I'm sure we'll be using them as scalpels before too long.”
“How do you do that?” He sent the drone with the long, silver arm over to her with a cup of water clasped in its clamp.
“Do what?” She took the drink gratefully, draining the cup in a few gulps.
“Laugh about it. Shrug it off.”
She leaned back on the regen bed, and looked up at the lens, her hand rising to curl around the crystal that still lay hidden under her high-necked shirt. “I have a choice. I can whine about things that have happened, and
can't be undone, or I can make the best of the situation I'm in.” She tugged a little on the cord the crystal——Eazi——was attached to. “But to be honest, I usually don't think about it as deeply as that. I'm naturally a glass-half-full person.”
“Glass half full?”
She lifted the cup in her hand. “When the glass is filled exactly half way with water, do you think the glass is half full, or half empty?”
“It's both.” He spoke slowly.
“Yes, the amount of water doesn't change, just your attitude to it.”
“But who does that benefit?” His voice was anguished. “If you take that attitude, the people who've put you in the bad situation get away with it.”
“Justice is different to attitude, Eazi. Don't feel bad about wanting justice for yourself. But being bitter and angry isn't hurting the Tecran. It's just hurting you.”
He was silent.
“It can be Chapter Three of our book. Burning Your Oppressor's Butt By Moving On. Although your oppressor would love to think they've ruined your life and blighted your future, the best revenge you can have is to live a happy, successful life in spite of them.”
He still said nothing, and eventually, she realized he wasn't going to, and she slid off the bed. “Are there any clothes here that might fit me? I'd love a shower and to get changed.”
“Yes.” His voice was mechanical again, and she guessed he was on autopilot at the moment, withdrawn deep into himself. “If you follow the drone, it'll take you to a guest suite and I'll get another drone from the stores to bring you some clothes and toiletries and meet you there.”
“Thank you.”
The drone rolled forward and she followed it to the door, stopped and looked up. “Where is Captain Vakeri?”
“He was exploring, but I gave him a room to catch a little bit of sleep in a few hours ago.” Eazi's voice was back. “He was looking for ways to take over my ship or communicate with his own ship.” There was amusement in his tone.
“And not succeeding, I'm guessing?”
Eazi gave a snort, just like the one she used. “No.”
“Well, let him know where you've sent me, when he comes looking.”
“You like him.” It was accusing.
“He's done his best to help me, every time I've been in danger. And he treated me well when I was onboard the Illium. So yes, I like him.”
“Be careful.” His voice was low. “The Grih don't like thinking systems, and it sounded as if he was accusing you of lying to him earlier.”
She shrugged. “Yes, I caught that, too. I've done what I've done, and there's no changing it. There's space onboard here for me, right? If they won't take me back?”
“Fiona, the only corporeal form I have is hanging around your neck.” Eazi sounded puzzled. “Space is no problem whatsoever.”
She realized the drone had already left the room and quickly walked out, saw it was waiting for her up ahead. “It was a figure of speech, Eazi. I was asking if you would mind having me as a permanent crew member if the Grih kick me out for freeing you.”
“I would like to have you as a permanent crew member, even if they don't.”
She stumbled to a stop. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” The security of that offer was more bounty than she had ever thought she'd have again. She found her hand had gone back to clutching the crystal. “What do you want me to do with you? Do you want to hide yourself somewhere onboard?”
“I will need to think about it.” He sounded uncharacteristically uncertain. “But please, don't tell Captain Vakeri what I am. How you freed me. That kind of information could be dangerous for me.”
Fee gave a slow nod. “I don't think he would harm you, but he's a soldier, and he may feel obliged to tell someone, a superior, who has less of a conscience. I won't say anything.”
“Chapter Four,” he said, “How to Prevent Oppression Before It Can Even Start. Don't give them any information to use against you.”
Delighted that he continued to buy into their imaginary book, she lifted her head and grinned at the closest lens. “Good one,” she said, and followed the patient drone toward a blissful, hot shower.
* * *
Hal pulled his boots back on after his shower and let his gaze come to rest on the recessed cabinet on the far wall of the guest suite Eazi had sent him to.
He recognized echoes of his own ship everywhere.
The layout, the way the staff recreation areas were placed, the location of the med chambers and the bridge. It wasn't just design, it was a cultural norm.
He wondered how different it was to the Tecran's other ships, whether they'd grown used to it, or if they always felt slightly out of place here.
He'd spent some of the hours waiting for Fiona to recover familiarizing himself with the Class 5, although he had yet to find a way to contact the Illium, or even Larga Ways. He had given up all thoughts of taking control of it.
Eazi had let him explore, had let him go into the comms room, onto the bridge, and then made every single screen inactive.
When he realized there was no way he was doing anything without the thinking system's say so, he'd grabbed a few hours rest.
As he stood, pulling his shirt over his head, his earpiece chimed. Eazi being polite, apparently.
“Yes?”
“Fiona is up, and she's showered and changed. She wanted to know if you would like to eat a meal with her.”
“I would.” He hadn't eaten since early that morning before he'd left the Illium to try and sort out the issues delaying their departure, and he doubted Fiona had, either. Besides, they needed to talk. “Where do we go?”
“There's a small room just down the passage,” Eazi told him, and Hal left his quarters and found what on the Illium would be the guest lounge.
Fiona stood in the middle of the small space, looking at the large screen on the wall, the image on it coming from the lens feed outside, so the view was of the stars, with Balco below.
He stopped short, stunned. She was far more interesting than the view, dressed in an outfit that was as far from a cadet uniform or a mechanics overall as it was possible to get.
“Captain.” She turned and smiled at him, and he gave a nod to save himself from having to say anything.
She caught his eye, then looked down at herself and laughed. “A bit whimsical and too formal for the occasion, but I like it anyway.”
Hal liked it, too.
“Eazi said it was in the stores. Picked up on his travels. Made of Suidani silk, which I gather is rare. It's good to wear something normal for a change.”
Hal jerked his head up and stared at her. “Normal? You float around on Earth in rare fabrics shaped into wearable art?”
She laughed. “No. But I used to wear dresses and skirts. Pretty things. Running around in overalls and military uniforms might be my life now, but it's good to remember a time when heels and silk were par for the course.”
Hal looked her over. The Suidani silk flowed over her body in soft, clinging waves of gold and cream, highlighting the dark swing of her hair and the beauty of her eyes, offsetting her skin tone. The dress was comprised of complicated twists and frothy tumbles of fabric, reaching just above her slim ankles.
She was barefoot.
He blinked again.
She looked down, wiggled toes on slim, narrow feet. “No shoes in the stores, unfortunately. And my boots just didn't go.” She lifted her arms, and the sleeves fluttered at her wrists. “I have to admit, though, it's the nicest dress I've ever worn.”
He kept forgetting that she came from somewhere completely foreign to him, that she had a life elsewhere that had been taken by force. She looked so like his own people, he kept slipping into the trap of seeing her as a smaller, weaker version of one of his crew. “What did you do? In these dresses?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I designed houses and office buildings. Although if I went on site, I wore more practical gear.”
He cocked his head. “An architect or an engineer?”
“Architect. Larga Ways was a real treat for me.”
His lips quirked in a wry smile. “There is still controversy over it. Some think for a way station, it is too pretty.”
“If we're lucky, we can find ways to include beauty in every part of our life. I don't see why a way station should be ugly, just because it's a way station.”
Hal agreed. He'd always been glad the Balcoans who had proposed the design had dug in their heels and built Larga Ways the way they wanted to.
A drone entered, holding a tray. They both turned their attention to it.
Hal thought Fiona looked a little despondent at the choices on offer.
“Nothing you like?” He waited for her to sit at the table the drone had placed the tray on, and chose a seat opposite her.
She sighed, shook her head. “I don't seem to like anything. Except those tiny blue pea things. And Carmain practically smacked those out of my hand.” She looked over the offerings, and picked up a slice of vrel, nibbled at it suspiciously and then made a face.
“You don't like vrel?”
She bit into it. “It's okay. It's just a case of getting used to things. Developing a taste for them. Everything is so bitter.” She shivered as she said it, as if the taste of the vrel caused her body to shudder in reaction. “I liked some of the aromas I smelled on Larga Ways. Someone was cooking something really delicious. I wanted to go and find out what, but then Cy grabbed me.” She took a sip of water from the cup the drone had placed in front of her.
“When we get back to Larga Ways, we'll see if we can find out where the cooking was coming from,” Hal found himself saying. As if they had time for that.
Which they didn't.
She smiled at him, absolutely delighted. “Thank you. I had this request to the UC committee all worked out in my head while I was being taken through the streets, to ask if they'd let me have a little time to explore, but then it turned out there was no committee to ask.” She rubbed the side of her brow with a finger. “I hope the UC guy is okay. Cy said he shot him with a low charge.”
Dark Deeds (Class 5 Series Book 2) Page 16
