by Zen DiPietro
He asked, “Your place or mine?”
“Yours.” She didn’t indicate that she recognized his mild innuendo, though he knew she had.
He liked her style.
He gestured at the lift to the upper decks, then followed her in. She keyed in Deck 5 and the lift rose. He didn’t mind the silence, but an urge seized him; a desire to make her engage in small talk. Just to see if he could.
“How’s Wren these days? I miss seeing her. A lot of people do.”
Fallon frowned, and he got the feeling he’d picked a poor topic of conversation.
“She misses Dragonfire, but loves it on Jamestown. They have her working on some bleeding-edge tech. You know, prototype ships. It’s a dream come true for a mechanic like her, and she couldn’t be happier.”
Fallon had one of the best poker faces he’d ever seen, but he was good at noticing things, storing them away for later reflection, and reading between the lines.
“You don’t think she’s coming back.”
Her full attention clamped onto him and he again felt like a bug in a web.
She tilted her head to one side. “Are we talking for real now? Not just pleasantries?”
He let his amiable demeanor slip and met her gaze. “The state of the galaxy being what it is, I’ve found myself having to be real far too often. But I’m as real with you as I am with anyone. So yes. Let’s go with that.”
Her eyes narrowed a fraction, then her face relaxed. “No. Wren isn’t coming back. Don’t say that to anyone, though. I don’t need people focused on my personal life when there are far more important things.”
“Right. So…” Usually he had easy words for any situation, but he faltered at asking if she and Wren were still romantically involved. It wasn’t his business. And yet…she was his friend. Sort of.
“Our feelings haven’t changed, but our lives seem to be taking us in different directions.” She ran a hand over the short side of her asymmetric haircut.
He recognized her gesture as one of agitation. Or indecision. Another question bubbled up in his mind, but he didn’t speak it. Such personal questions were out of bounds. They shared many a professional secret, but had never spoken about such things.
But they lived in dangerous times when things were changing every day, weren’t they? So he overrode his sense of discretion and asked, anyway.
“Was it a cultural mismatch?” Cabot’s people were intensely monogamous people. Sarkavians were anything but. And humans could be anything in between. As a Rescan, Cabot couldn’t identify with the idea of having more than one romantic relationship, but he wanted Fallon and Wren to be happy. Raptor, too, though Cabot didn’t know him well.
“Not for her. Wren’s just very independent, and I think she’s been overburdened by my duties. This isn’t what she needs, I don’t think.” When she said “this,” she made a gesture that encompassed herself and the station.
“Are you okay with that?” He was still surprised to be talking to her about such personal things. Yet somehow he kept right on doing it.
“I worry about her. But I want what’s best for her.” She rolled a shoulder.
“So you’re just letting her go?”
“Like I said, if she’ll be happier elsewhere, then that’s where she should be. Her fierce independence is one of my favorite things about her. Why, do you think it’s wrong to let her go?”
He hesitated, then put a hand on her elbow. “I think it’s the most loving thing a person can do.”
She let out a small breath, then surprised him by grasping his elbow. Then she dropped her arm and stepped back, giving him a lopsided smile that was almost more of a smirk. “Thanks.”
“The least I can do.” Sensing a need for a change of subject, he said, “Nix was fantastic. You’ve done well with her.”
The set of her jaw eased. “It’s all her. She’s as hard a worker as I’ve ever seen. When she applies to the academy, I’ll sponsor her. Don’t tell her that, though.”
The lift stopped and the doors opened. “It will be our secret.”
They walked side by side down the corridor. They remained silent until they entered his quarters and the doors closed behind them.
“Nix’s early entry into the academy will give her a distinct advantage. Do you think she might go into your particular kind of work?” He didn’t mean standard security and they both knew it. Somehow, even in private, he didn’t like to talk about Blackout and clandestine intelligence operations.
Fallon settled on his couch. “If she keeps going the way she is, I’d expect them to scout her before she even gets to the academy.”
“That young? Is that how it happened for you?”
She frowned. “For me and the rest of my team, yes. That’s how it works.”
He tried to imagine that life, but couldn’t. “Can I offer you a drink?”
She smiled almost insolently, relaxing into the couch and stretching her arms out along the back. She probably didn’t realize it, but she bore an uncanny resemblance to her teammate and lover, Raptor, in that instant.
Interesting.
Fallon and Wren had made a good couple because their differences complemented one another. Fallon and Raptor seemed to be exactly alike.
He needed to make more of an effort to get to know Raptor.
“Sure,” she said. “Offer away.”
He laughed in surprise. “I guess I should be more precise with you. Very well. Would you like a drink?”
“What do you have?”
“Alturian brandy, some sort of Sarkavian red wine, and a nasty Earth beer that I keep meaning to throw away.” He wondered if the person who had given him the beer was mad at him, or just lacked taste buds.
“I’ve had Alturian tea, but never Alturian brandy. Let’s give that a whack.”
“It’s strong,” he warned.
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“Right. I’ll just get the glasses.” He snagged the bottle and two snifters from his kitchenette. Sitting across from her, he poured, then pushed a glass toward her.
She swirled, sniffed, and swigged.
The first time he’d tried Alturian brandy, he’d felt like he’d inhaled orellium fumes and they were burning his esophagus from the inside out.
Fallon’s expression didn’t change. She shrugged a little. “It’s pretty good.”
He wouldn’t mention that a bottle of it cost more than the average PAC officer made in a year.
She drained the snifter and set it down. “Right. So here’s the deal. My team has an asset who’s been reporting to us about who might be involved in smuggling goods out of the PAC zone. He’s a major player in the illegal scene positioned deep inside, and valuable to us. Problem is, he’s gone dark. We need someone who can work through those channels and find out what’s happened to him.” She picked up the glass and pointed it at him. “That’s where you and your friends come in.”
He refilled the glass. “I wouldn’t call them friends. Well, one is. The other, well, I’m not sure she’s anyone’s friend.”
She tossed back more of the brandy. “Whatever. I don’t care about the titles and honorifics involved. We just need to figure out what happened to Arcy.”
“Arcy’s your asset?”
“Hawk’s, technically. I’ve never had any contact with him. Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation. He stays hidden, for obvious reasons.” The kinds of things a guy like Arcy provided were not things that could be brought aboard a PAC station.
“Last we knew, he was on Cerberon. Then he went dark. So that’s where you’re headed.”
Cabot took a sip of his brandy. “Rough place.”
“I’ll send some muscle with you.”
“Hawk?”
“No. Too likely to be recognized. Peregrine.”
Peregrine was a mystery to Cabot. She was built like a Rescan woman, tall and strong, though she was human. A Zerellian, with dark blond hair and skin that was a light shade of tan. She cou
ld pass for a Rescan. But he’d hardly even heard her speak, and he’d definitely never seen her smile.
He tried to imagine Peregrine and Nagali having a conversation, but couldn’t come up with any scenario that didn’t end up with Nagali getting brained.
“Is that a problem?” Fallon prompted.
He smiled. “Not at all. I look forward to getting to know her.”
“We haven’t even discussed your fee.”
He set his brandy down. “Since we’re being real with each other, I’m going to admit that money is not my reason for helping.”
She gave him a long look, then finished her drink. “Good to know.”
“But,” he added, “someday, I might need a favor. I’d like to know that I can count on you.”
She picked up his glass and drained it. “Deal.”
He hadn’t expected it to be so easy. He felt a little awed by the idea of Fallon owing him a favor.
“Deal,” he agreed.
“Since you didn’t bust up my ship last time, I’ll lend you my Outlaw again. You can use it to meet up with your friends. I trust they’re not too far out?”
“I can rendezvous with them about halfway to Cerberon. About a week to meet up, then probably three more to get to Cerberon. Unless we’re talking burn-the-ship-up speed.”
“No. Not this time. Outside of the PAC zone, there’s no telling if you’ll be able to get reliable repairs.”
“Right.”
She should really show some effect from all that brandy, but she looked as steady and intense as ever. “Anything else?”
He knew Peregrine would have any specifics they would need, so he couldn’t think of anything. He felt like he should have something to say, though.
“I’ll ask Arlen to help Lim with the shop, when she gets back. Though she’ll probably be off on another run in no time. I haven’t seen much of her lately.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for her while you’re gone. The shop, too.”
He smiled. She’d answered the question he’d never ask out loud. Arlen was a grown woman, and tough. It was silly for him to want someone to look out for her when he couldn’t.
She tapped the glass. “Thanks for the drink. Let me know if you think of anything else. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have something to take care of.”
“So you’re drinking on the job?”
She paused before activating the doors. “There’s never a time that I’m not on the job. At the moment, though, I’m going to attend to some personal business.”
He wondered if that meant she was on her way to see Raptor, but that was most definitely none of his business.
CABOT LEFT his luggage stowed behind the counter of his shop while he finished up a few business details. It wasn’t easy to leave his shop. The store was more than just a business to him. It was his creation, and his contribution to Dragonfire. Though he liked his quarters, they were just a place to stay. The shop was his true home.
Lim stood on the other side of the shop, praising the virtues of a Vertiglian naked statuette to one of Dragonfire’s mechanics. For someone who wasn’t a true salesperson, Lim wasn’t doing badly. The man was a wizard with numbers and inventory, though, so the store would be in good hands.
Cabot did a last check of his messages, completing his final task. He might as well go to the docking bay to meet Peregrine. While he was gone, he’d keep in touch with Lim via the voicecom, but he didn’t expect anything out of the norm would occur.
Since Lim seemed to be getting close to a sale, Cabot gave a casual wave and ducked out carrying two bags. One held his personal belongings, and the other contained items that might prove helpful on this endeavor. Or they might not. It was always good to be prepared.
Docking Bay 3 was a short hike across the boardwalk. As he stepped in, a familiar face surprised him.
“Nix. What are you doing here?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking like a junior officer rather than a precocious student. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. I saw Fallon leave the reception last night, and saw you follow five minutes after. I also noticed the Outlaw’s intent to depart. I put the ship together with your sudden disappearance two months ago.”
He looked behind him to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation, then stepped further into the docking bay. “Impressive. So what are you going to do with this deduction of yours?”
Her arms remained crossed, and her face was an impassive copy of Fallon’s, when she was being all business. “Nothing. Just see you off.”
“No questions?”
She shook her head. Her springy curls, confined to a tight twist, did not bounce around her face as he was accustomed to. “It’s not my business, until someone makes it my business.”
Her youth was fading before his very eyes. Oh, how things changed. “I see. Well, take care of yourself. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I’m more concerned about you taking care of yourself.” Her stern veneer cracked, letting her worry shine through.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” He gave her his most reassuring smile, the one he reserved for buyers on the cusp of purchasing something they wanted for more than they wanted to pay.
Peregrine strode in, wearing a backpack and a bag over her shoulder. He saw Nix note her presence and process that information.
He’d have to watch himself around the girl. She was getting altogether too clever.
“There’s no choice but to worry these days. But I’ll hold down the fort until you get back.” Nix smiled at him.
“Hold down the fort?” he repeated.
Nix’s eyes sparkled with that old Nix spirit he knew so well. “A human phrase. Fallon taught it to me.” She turned to Peregrine. “I understand Zerellians have many of their own phrases, separate of humans from Earth. Do you know that one?”
Peregrine said, “I do. But even if I didn’t already know it, I’d have learned it from Fallon, too.”
Cabot saw something pass between them. Some sort of understanding, though whether it was about Fallon or something else, he wasn’t sure.
“Are you ready?” Peregrine asked him.
He’d noted before that she tended to be abrupt. She rarely smiled, either. At least, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her smile. Peregrine was a hard case, and he was looking forward to getting to know her better.
“Absolutely.” He gestured at the airlock. “After you.”
3
Peregrine wasn’t a pilot, but she had more experience than Cabot. Not that he was bad at it. He could get a ship from point A to point B. But she was familiar with the Outlaw, and he would have bet money on the idea that she’d seen some high-stakes action in it.
He’d like to hear that story.
“Tell me about these two we’re meeting,” she said. “How long have you known them?”
“Twenty years or so.”
“There aren’t a lot of records on them. What can I expect?” She turned her head slightly to look at him as she sat in the pilot’s seat.
Omar wasn’t hard to describe. “I think you’ll do fine with Omar. Once you get a feel for him, he’s exactly what he seems to be. He’s loyal to his friends and you can count on him in a pinch.”
“And your ex-wife?”
Cabot tried not to wince. He didn’t think of Nagali in those terms. As far as he was concerned, she was a former associate and the sister of his good friend. But, technically, Peregrine was correct.
He didn’t have a good answer. Nagali was not easily defined. “There’s no way to explain her. Like her brother, she is what she seems to be. But you might doubt your initial assessment, because she is the most self-contradictory person I’ve ever met.”
Peregrine studied him. “She’s unstable?”
“No. She’s consistently inconsistent, but there’s nothing mentally incompetent about her. She’s just impulsive. Chaotic. Occasionally brilliant.”
Peregrine kept looking at him wordles
sly, apparently wanting him to say more.
“She’s clever. A keen observer. But you could say, ‘let’s go for an ice cream’ and expect to go down the street, while Nagali would lead you to a spacecraft to visit the planet that serves her favorite flavor. She knows what you’re saying, she just has her own idea about how to do it.”
“Hm.”
He couldn’t tell if that was a thoughtful noise or a disapproving one. He found his lack of insight into Peregrine disturbing. Usually, he could get inside a person’s head within minutes of talking to them. Sometimes he didn’t even need to speak to them—he could just observe them on the boardwalk and figure them out.
But not Peregrine. Not yet, anyway.
He wouldn’t prattle on like some insecure deckhand. If she wanted something from him, she’d have to ask for it.
At the moment, she seemed satisfied with silence. After several minutes, he was about to excuse himself to his quarters, but she spoke up.
“Fallon trusts you. I trust Fallon. But why should I trust you?” She turned to give him the full weight of her stare.
“I can’t think of a single reason.” He stared back.
Her mouth turned down, but he saw a spark of humor in her eyes. “Fair enough,” she said and returned her attention to the navigation panel.
Maybe she wouldn’t be a complete killjoy, after all.
CABOT AND PEREGRINE adopted staggered sleep schedules so they could take turns in the cockpit. She was even more paranoid than he, and didn’t care to leave the ship on autopilot for a significant stretch of time.
He was surprised to come upon her in the mess hall, eating a large bowl of hendaya. The spicy smell of it struck him as soon as he entered.
“Good morning, Peregrine.” He spent an excessive amount of time making a cup of tea, then took a chance by sitting across from her.
She nodded at him when he sat, but kept eating her spicy noodles without a word.
Five days into their mission and he’d made no progress into figuring out what made her tick. It vexed him.
She probably knew that.
He gave her his most benign smile and casually sipped his tea, as if he could not be more content with the situation.
