by Lyn Gala
“You’re what?” Ramsay was up and chasing them, clearly trying to get in front, but Da’shay happened to pull Becca close enough to block the captain as she headed for the passage. She pushed Tom toward it, but he balked, grabbing the edge of the wall.
“Now wait,” Tom said.
“Need shopping.” Da’shay showed frustration in every taut line of her body. She did look mighty unnatural when she got good and mad.
“Like Tom said, you need to wait.” Ramsay caught Becca’s other arm so that Becca was caught between Da’shay and the captain, each with an arm. She gave a little squeak and then fell silent.
“I meant you,” Tom said, looking at the captain. “She don’t make any kind of sense when she talks, but she got Hou to believe we were mercenaries looking for a payback and she got me out of that prison. What she says is crazier than fuck, but I’m telling you that what she does makes sense. If she says we need to go shopping, I say we shop.” When Tom finished, the whole crew looked at him as if he’d just lost his mind and a little part of Tom was thinking the same. Da’shay wasn’t tracking reality all that well and leaving the ship meant that he would lose the protection these walls gave him. No one in the Kratos gave a rat’s ass about the slave mark, but that wasn’t true out there where people would see him as little more than property.
“Tom.” Ramsay was using the same voice on Tom he sometimes used on victims they’d come across in their investigations.
Tom crossed his arms and glared at the captain. “I don’t appreciate your tone,” Tom warned him.
“I don’t appreciate you acting like you trust Da’shay. It’s unsettling.”
“If the choices are sitting around and scratching our asses or hoping that she has some plan that she just can’t explain, I’m willing to take a chance on her plan.”
That didn’t seem to reassure Ramsay none. He pressed his lips together and stood there for a time. “If that’s true, then we all go. Eli, you have point.”
“No!” Da’shay let go of Becca and Tom to turn on the captain. “No. Tastes wrong. All going tastes of fear. Becca can…” She stopped and got a real constipated look on her face.
“Two girls going out shopping ain’t going to make anyone think twice,” Tom said for her. “And with a slave mark, they aren’t even going to notice me.” There was a certain tactical advantage to that.
She turned and pointed at him while still looking at the captain. “Da’shay,” Ramsay said slowly, “I understand that you’re trying to show us something without raising suspicion, but if there are enemies out there, you can’t put Becca in a dangerous situation without backup.”
“Hey!” Becca said loudly. “I can shoot as well as the next person, just as long as the next person ain’t Tom.”
“And I’m going to be there to shoot anyone she don’t,” Tom added. When Ramsay’s gaze flicked down to Tom’s chest where the mark stood out against his skin, he had to clench his fists and order himself to not punch the captain.
“Tom, let’s talk on this,” Ramsay said as he backed up toward the hatch that led up to the pilot’s deck.
“We’ll wait,” Becca said as she looked at the hatch where Ramsay had vanished. Tom sighed. Right now he didn’t really want to deal with Ramsay, but he figured he was going to have to. But if Ramsay suggested that a slave mark made him any less of a soldier, Tom was going to shoot the captain in the foot.
Chapter Twenty
By the time he got up to the bridge, the captain was sitting on the edge of the navigation table with his arms crossed.
“I’d be more comfortable talking if that collar was off,” he said before Tom could even get in the door.
“Collar ain’t any more or less obvious than the mark,” Tom pointed out, but he was suddenly hyper-aware of the chain leash clattering on the floor behind him. “But if you think either one makes my shooting any less accurate, you’re wrong.”
“It’s not your aim I’m worried about.”
Tom crossed his arms and waited for Ramsay to have his say.
“Shit. Tom, I’ve known you for six years. If you decide you hate someone, you hate them. If you decide you like them, then you like them until they cross some line that only exists only in your head. But you never, and I do mean never, get over hating someone. You’re a damn good crewman, but you’re about as unforgiving a bastard as I’ve ever met.” Ramsay shifted and braced his hands on the edge of the navigation table. “This isn’t feeling right, and don’t go getting upset for me saying this, but four days is enough for the people to develop coercive identification with a captor. Now I’m not even saying she meant for it to get this bad, but—”
“You think I like her because she didn’t sell me or take a whip to my backside,” Tom said. He had trouble getting too upset with Ramsay because he’d had that same thought about himself more than once.
“Four days is more than enough to start losing your emotional balance.”
“Three,” Tom corrected him. Ramsay frowned. “Three days is when I started thinking maybe she wasn’t all bad, even if she did help those sons of bitches catch me. But then, you were the one who said I should trust her and I figured either you were right and she was trying to help or you were wrong and she was going to sell me to someone who needed a slave to haul boxes from point A to point B all day. Well, she didn’t sell me. She got me back here and there just wasn’t one tactical reason for doing that except that she’s telling the truth and she’s on our side.”
“So, you’ve decided to follow her even if she can’t explain anything?” When Ramsay looked to him for an answer, Tom refused to say anything. He stared at Ramsay until the captain sighed and closed his eyes. “You do see why I’m not okay with letting you walk out there with her, yes?”
Tom scratched his stomach and leaned against the side of the hatch. “I can see why you might doubt whether I’d follow your orders, whether I was competent to stand crew,” he admitted. “But no, I don’t see why that means you won’t let me walk out with Da’shay.”
Throwing his hands up in the air, Ramsay made a disgusted sound. “You’re admitting that your head’s up your ass, you’re wearing a mark that strips you of every human right and you’re still asking why I don’t let you out the door? I know you like to tell people that you’re dumb, but God almighty, you’re not that stupid, Tom. You aren’t anywhere near stupid when it comes to doing right by the ship.”
“Then let me do right by the ship. We’re all at risk anyway because we’re stuck on this planet. You want I should list the number of ways a stranded ship can turn into a coffin for the crew inside?” Tom demanded. “If she’s telling the truth about there being more going on here than we know, maybe she’s trying to give us some clue we can use to pry ourselves free of this.”
“And if she decides to sell you to someone who needs a slave to haul boxes?”
Tom took a deep breath and thought about that one. The very fact that his guts ached at the idea of Da’shay betraying him meant that he was in over his head, but that wasn’t the only consideration. “If she does, then you’ll know to change the access codes. Only, if she turns on me, Captain, you get Becca and yourself out of this ship. One blast from a RT cannon is going to turn the Kratos into a radiation oven.”
“That would blast most of the surrounding mile too,” Ramsay pointed out.
“Yep, but I’m telling you that this feels like a trap. The Kratos ain’t safe if this all goes south and I ain’t looking to put any of our necks in the noose.”
“Not even your own?” Ramsay asked. The question caught Tom so off guard that he didn’t answer it right away.
“My neck is already there,” he said with a shrug. “But that don’t mean the rest of you have to get hanged with the same rope. And maybe, if Da’shay is right, we can find a way to get us all out of here. Now I hate to say this, seeing as how we’ve been together for six years, but this mark means I don’t actually have to listen to anything you say as long as we’re
on a slave world. If you let Becca come or not, that’s your choice, but I’m going out there with Da’shay to try to get some information.”
“God damn it… It’s you I’m worried about, Tom.”
Tom looked at Ramsay, not even sure what to say. The man had been a good captain for six years. Hell, Tom trusted his word enough that when Captain Ramsay told him the only way out was a quick death facing the wrong end of the Kratos’ thrusters, he’d believed him. He’d followed Ramsay into slave territory and he’d followed him when Ramsay had told him to trust Da’shay. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t follow him now. Ramsay’s eyes darted down to Tom’s chest again, as if they were drawn to the mark.
Yeah, that was why he couldn’t follow the captain. It didn’t matter what Ramsay said, there was some part of him that saw Tom as a victim…just like there was some part of him that would always see Becca as a woman first and as his engineer second. “My aim’s just as good. I put a bullet right in Hou’s shoulder joint and I plan to shoot anyone else who threatens me, sir,” Tom said before he turned to head back down to the galley.
“Tom!” Ramsay called, but he kept on walking.
“We’re going,” Tom said as he strode through the room.
“Tom! Hold on!” Ramsay’s footsteps rattled against the decking, making a weird sort of harmony with the rattle of the chain leash. Tom caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Eli moved to intercept him. Tom and Ramsay knew each other well enough to make some allowances for each other’s faults, but Eli had no cause to be getting in the middle. Tom knew Command wouldn’t agree since Eli was technically Tom’s superior, but Tom never had cared much for Command and their rules. He detoured and caught Eli’s arm just as the man was reaching for him.
Eli’s eyes went wide with shock as Tom used Eli’s momentum to swing him around and shove him, stomach first, into the wall.
“Tom!” Ramsay barked out the name.
Tom held Eli captive for a second. “Da’shay and I are going shopping. Are you coming with, Becca?” Tom asked as calmly as he could. It wasn’t easy when he was really starting to get good and truly mad. Becca looked over at Ramsay. With a sigh, the captain sank into one of the galley chairs.
“Go. But do not let anyone get the drop on you. If you three end up dead, I’m chasing all of you to the next life and kicking your asses. Tom, that goes double for you.”
Tom nodded at Ramsay and let go of Eli’s arm, backing away and watching to see if Eli was going to counterattack. Instead Eli moved slow, turning and rubbing his shoulder.
“Just don’t follow. We’ll keep in touch and let you know if we run into trouble,” Tom said. Da’shay was already standing at the hatch and Tom followed after her. Behind him, Becca’s softer footsteps echoed his own.
“Maybe we can never do that again,” Becca said softly. “I’m not really good with conflict and that was more conflict than I wanted.”
“More and more, diamonds turning and spinning,” Da’shay said as she hit the outer hull and ran fingers over the controls to open it. The hot air of Nodar swept into the Kratos as Da’shay jumped out without lowering the ramp.
“Is she stranger than usual?” Becca asked.
Tom shrugged. “About the same. She seems pretty obsessed with diamonds.” Tom sat down in the open hatch and then dropped to the ground. Da’shay was already looking around, but Tom gave his leash a jerk to get it out of the ship and did a quick survey of the area anyway. Da’shay might not recognize trouble if she saw it. So far, it looked as if everyone was minding their own business and tending their own ships. Tom turned and held his hands up for Becca.
“Diamonds? Really? She doesn’t seem like the kind to care about gemstones.” Becca was sitting in the open hatch. She reached down to brace herself on his shoulders and let him help her to the ground. She felt as soft and round and warm as Tom imagined, her weight solid in his arms, but he didn’t have any hope of getting anywhere with her now. He let go and touched the locking mechanism to make the hatch door slide shut.
“I don’t think she actually means diamonds, but maybe this isn’t the time to really be discussing this,” Tom said. The docks were busy. Three men bent over an engine part lying on the ground, and Becca went up on her toes trying to see what they were doing. A whole group sat on a low wall and smoked as they watched the crowd and a woman was disassembling external vents, a gun on her hip. None of them looked like an immediate threat, but Tom wasn’t comfortable taking a risk.
“Girls picking through all the bits and bobs and lost parts,” Da’shay said happily. She walked over to where the long chain leash dragged in the dust that had gathered on the dock’s floor and Tom’s stomach clenched up. It was weird. The law on Nodar gave her all the power, so whether she had the leash or not didn’t make a whit of difference, but he still couldn’t help the visceral and raw fear as she gathered up the chain.
“Da’shay! That ain’t nice,” Becca gasped.
“Doesn’t matter,” Tom lied. “We’ve got places to go. So, where do you girls go to pick through bits and bobs and lost parts?” Tom rested his hand on the butt of his gun, the familiar shape helping him to force his feelings aside.
“Um, usually that means we’re going to go picking through the junkyards looking for parts.”
“Well, let’s find the nearest junkyard,” Tom suggested. Da’shay looked at him, her dark eyes hiding whatever she was feeling. After a second, she reached out and touched his chest, her fingers brushing over his mark.
“Let them see you’re mine. Not theirs. They can’t take,” Da’shay whispered.
“Seems like she really likes you,” Becca commented.
“Hopefully that means she don’t have plans for selling me any time soon.” Tom took off down the docks toward the main exit. He didn’t get far before the leash pulled tight, forcing him to stop. Tom turned around and waited, but Da’shay was only looking at him, her alien gaze searching for something. “Maybe we can talk on this later, princess. You wanted to shop, remember?”
“Tom, she wouldn’t ever sell you.” Becca moved to his side and looked up at him with innocent blue eyes that didn’t know anything at all about betrayal. Tom hoped she never did. The fact was, though, that people betrayed each other all the time. Husbands turned on wives, wives on husbands, slave owners sold favorite slaves, mothers chose their husbands over their children—life had taught Tom that life wasn’t about fairness. The most he knew was that Da’shay didn’t want to sell him. He’d have to settle for that and trust that if the day came that she betrayed him, she had some real good cause to make it worth it.
Hell, in the end, even Ramsay had betrayed him, chaining him to a wall instead of giving him a clean bullet to the head when he thought Tom had turned traitor. Friendship went just so far and Ramsay wasn’t going to leave any evidence that might make himself look guilty. No, six years and the best Ramsay did for him was pick a method that would be over quick and still leave Ramsay in the clear in case of any possible investigation.
Da’shay walked to him, and her fingers found the slave mark again, tracing the curves of the tattoo. “Won’t lose your or your light,” she whispered to him in a tone that made it sound like a promise, but Tom had learned that promises didn’t always work out the way people intended.
Tom rolled his eyes. “We going shopping or not?”
She didn’t respond at first and Tom stood there as she traced his mark right over the flimsy shirt she’d dressed him in. Soon her hand trailed down over his stomach and then she stepped back. “Going shopping.”
“Good.” Tom turned back toward the exit and started walking. Any junkyards in the area would have an advert up near the main sign. With a dock this size, there should be one or two around. Every planet had dock rats, orphans who snatched up about every part that wasn’t actively bolted to a ship and junked it for money.
Three junkyards had signs up and Tom waited for Da’shay to choose one, but as far as he could tell, she’
d picked at random. “Good as any,” Tom said, taking note of the instructions and heading toward the yard.
“Oh look at the pretty colors,” Becca said as they left the dock complex with its steel walls and the traders’ tents filled the desert in front of them. Goats wandered through, and as someone raised on a farm, Tom started being real careful about where he stepped.
“Sparkling, but dull with hunger,” Da’shay answered.
“Well, I don’t think they’re dull at all. Look at that tent.”
Tom ignored them both as he headed out into the tent city. The good thing about the collar was that traders weren’t nearly as likely to annoy him now, focusing more on the two women. As far as Tom could see, Becca was likely to buy the whole tent city if he didn’t keep them moving. The pressure at his neck meant that he was pulling Da’shay faster than she wanted to go, but as a genta, she could stop him easy enough if she was truly unhappy. Unless that happened, he didn’t intend to give the girls time to shop for trinkets, not when they had unknown enemies who could be targeting them. The best strategy was to move too quickly for anyone to get a good line of fire on them, at least until they’d reached the junkyard.
The farm smell got stronger as they moved through, so someone had put a manure pile somewhere near the junkyard. That was bad news for their lungs, but it probably improved their chances of finding something good. No one was going to go leisurely picking through with that smell in their nose.
Stopping, Tom waited for the girls to catch up so he didn’t knock down a booth with the leash by cutting the corner too sharp. There was an older man pitting cherries and dropping them into a bowl, and Tom had the feeling he’d call the law in if Tom knocked over as much as one apple.
