Entropy

by Jess Anastasi

  His words made her have second thoughts. But only for half a moment. Because the idea of it—of revenge, of facing down her nightmares, of proving to herself Galton was just a man who could bleed and die, not some invincible, immortal monster who’d haunt her forever—had stuck in her mind like a burr and wouldn’t come away. This was her chance to put it all behind her. And damned if she was going to let fear, Qaelan Forster, her father, or even bloody Rian Sherron stand in her way.

  “We’re going to the Black Docks first, right, to confirm the intel?”

  Qae gave a tight nod, his lips pressed together and jaw clenched.

  “Well, this conversation is pointless if the intel turns out to be unfounded. So how about we stow it until we know for sure?”

  “I’ll agree to that. But I’m not changing my mind. If we’re going to Lander, you’re not coming.”

  She didn’t reply, didn’t even nod, not giving the slightest hint of a concession that he might be able to use against her later. “While we’re on the Black Docks, we should see if we can get a line on any jobs we might be able to pull to get those creds for my father. The people who frequent that place are just the kind of people who deserve to get robbed.”

  Qae shook his head at her. “Yeah, if you like risking your pretty neck against a bunch of dick-faced sociopaths.”

  “Like I said, our kind of customer.” She sent him a grin. Anyone who called the Black Docks as a regular point of berth deserved whatever was coming to them.

  “You really are your father’s daughter,” he muttered as he headed for the door.

  “Where are you off to?” she asked just before he stepped out.

  “Got captaining type stuff to do. If you’re bored, let me know. The decks could always use a scrubbing.” He cast her a wink and left before she could reply.

  When the door shut behind him, the last of her bravado drained away and she flopped on the bed as her legs gave out. She could do this. She had to do this. She just had to figure out how.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rian was debating whether to toss his comm into the nearest bulkhead in a completely unhelpful fit of aggravation when a sound from the galley gained his attention. Ella was stepping around the bench, crossing toward the bridge. She carried two mugs—one her Jasmynah tea, he knew when the scent of it assaulted him as she got closer. The other turned out to be a coffee with a generous splash of brandy. He spun the captain’s chair toward her as she offered him the drink then perched herself on the edge of the nearby console, both hands wrapping around her own mug as if savoring the warmth.

  “What’s the occasion?” he asked, indicating with the coffee in a kind of salute.

  She shrugged, expression calm and clear, not giving hint to her thoughts as usual. It was one of the things that drove him to distraction when it came to her. He was an expert at reading people, but Ella was almost always a mystery. He couldn’t work her out, no matter how much he tried. She kept him constantly off-balance and guessing what she might say or do next, leaving him spending an unhealthy amount of time thinking about her, even though he didn’t want to.

  “Thought you might need it.” She offered a nonchalant shrug that was anything but, giving him a clue.

  “You weren’t reading me, were you?” He sent her a stern look, even if it’d do crap-all to intimidate her.

  She frowned at him, gaze darkening a touch. “I’ve told you before, I wouldn’t ever do that without your permission. But if you project your bad mood like filling the ship with storm clouds, then I can’t avoid knowing, can I?”

  “Since I don’t have a clue how projecting a mood works, I’ll have to take your word on it.” He took a sip of the coffee and had to bite back a small groan. It was the perfect blend of coffee and brandy, exactly what he needed, tasting so good going down, he wondered if she’d added some other special ingredient to make it almost orgasm-worthy.

  “I’m assuming your comm call to Rene Blackstone didn’t go very well,” she commented after a few silent moments.

  “How did you—”

  She arched an eyebrow as if asking do you really want to know, leaving him shaking his head, because he really didn’t.

  “I’d hoped Blackstone would see reason. Having Camille aboard is a complication we don’t need, but I didn’t get anywhere with him. We’re stuck with her until she’s decided she’s good and ready to be on her way.” He took another sip of coffee. Maybe he should push the issue with Qae and Cami, but damn it, he had other things he needed to put his energy toward. Like re-stealing his ship and killing an inordinate number of aliens.

  “Perhaps it will work out in our favor, and we’ll be able to acquire the credits Blackstone requires faster. That way, you’ll have his business taken care of and be able to concentrate on getting the Imojenna back.”

  “Maybe,” he replied distractedly as he suddenly realized Ella and he had never sat and talked like this before. He wasn’t one for talking things out all touchy-feely, but the brandy-coffee and her calm presence was bringing his anger down to its usual simmer.

  He didn’t get to consider what that might mean, however, as the console chimed, alerting him that they’d left the Barbary Belt. He needed to be on high alert from now on, in case Baden Niels had some of his bastard minions waiting to jump them. He drained the last of his coffee and stood. Ella didn’t move, leaving him standing in front of her. She glanced up at him, a small smile slipping over her lips.

  “Want some company?” From the hint of exasperation in her tone, he guessed she already knew his answer was going to be no.

  “Everyone else has gone to bed. You should get some rest, too. Who knows what we’ll be up against this time.” He reached out, not even aware of what he was doing until he traced a finger along her jaw, skin silken beneath his fingertip. A small sigh escaped her as though she’d enjoyed the light touch. Tension and warmth unfurled through his limbs, but he stepped back, putting distance between them. He would never understand how a simple caress could light him up like it was affecting his very atoms.

  Ella nodded and pushed to her feet, reaching out to take his empty mug, her fingers brushing his in a way that could have only been deliberate. But he could understand her not being able to help herself, since he’d just succumbed to the same temptation moments ago. The urge to touch her for the physical connection was like an ache in the very depths of his being, one that was getting harder to resist, no matter what his mind decided. Where it would lead them, he couldn’t guess and didn’t want to know.

  …

  They arrived at the Black Docks in the middle of a sleep cycle, Rian awake by himself on the bridge, bullying his way into an empty berth. It was how things were done there—no station authority guiding ships in and out, assigning berths and coordinating launches. Collisions happened frequently, and more than occasionally, ships would simply open fire on one another with illegally mounted weapons to secure a port.

  Lucky he didn’t have to take such extreme measures, though he got the feeling the fact Qae’s Ebony Winter was so recognizable with the ghostly image of the woman in white painted on the side, people simply got out of his way, because Qae had earned somewhat of a reputation over the years. Not to mention there were probably rumors that Rian himself had been running with Qae in the past year. Trading in reputation was sometimes worth more than a cargo hold of creds.

  He smoothly docked the ship, securing the airlock and then double-checking the security systems against any breaches. Tannin, however, already had the Ebony Winter locked down tighter than an IPC com-sec intelligence drone. No one would be hacking their systems or breaking into the ship, which happened to more than a few unsuspecting visitors to the Docks.

  Once everything was taken care of, he checked the time to see he had less than two hours until the sleep-cycle finished and the crew began waking up. Should be enough time for him to duck out and come back without anyone being the wiser.

  Usually he didn’t so deliberately cut his cre
w out of his dealings, but in this case, they’d all be safer if they didn’t get involved. To get intel on Alvar Galton, he was going to have to go hit up some of his old contacts from the days he’d worked out of Huata—a place on the Rim run by the dangerous crime lord Uzair.

  The crew knew he’d spent time there—hell, Ella knew everything of him after getting a peek into his psyche. But they didn’t know exactly what he’d done. And he’d done a lot. The things he’d done for Uzair when he’d first escaped the Reidar and been filled with uncontrollable rage, darkness, and the insatiable need for violence had been far worse than anything he’d done for the Reidar. Because he’d never had a choice when it came to the aliens. When he’d been working for Uzair, however, that had been his own decision.

  When he met with these contacts, he was going to have to make them believe he was still the same. That he hadn’t changed in the last few years. That he was still unhinged enough to snap the neck of anyone who even looked at him the wrong way. And for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely, he didn’t want any of his crew to see this particular shadow of his past.

  Varean, at least, would have insisted on coming with him. The guy was going to be pissed when he woke up and realized Rian had gone without him. But this was as much for their sake as his own. Though it galled him to admit it, he cared about every one of them, and couldn’t do what needed to be done if any of them tagged after him.

  Hell, he didn’t know when he’d started caring so much. And it frecking pissed him off, because it gave him a vulnerability he previously hadn’t needed to worry about. Yet they made him stronger. Gave him something worth fighting for besides blood, revenge, and fury. Ensured he had stakes in this universe driving him to do whatever he had to in order to make sure the Reidar never hurt a single one of them.

  He double-checked his usual guns and then stopped by the compartment in the cargo bay where the spare weapons were kept and helped himself to a few extras. After that, he accessed the hatchway, slipping out before it’d even fully opened and then closing it again. He triple-checked the outer access screen to make sure no one could get in while he was gone. Not that he was too worried. Anyone who was moronic enough to breach the Ebony Winter, they were in for an unpleasant surprise in the form of Varean, Ella, Qae, hell even damned Cami Blackstone and the rest of his crew. And if the idea left him with a warm pulse of pride glowing in the middle of his chest, then he told himself it was just that he knew his people were good at taking care of their own.

  The Black Docks were pretty much what he remembered. Though the station as a whole was pretty big, the way it’d been cobbled together meant none of the walkways or sections were large or open. Narrow passageways, shops, and traders jammed in between random blocks of tiny apartments, cabins, and bunk rooms. People who lived out of hovercarts, selling their wares and trading in all kinds of things, blocked what little space there was in the thoroughfare, while the throng of people went about their business. It was chaos, but it worked. There was an unspoken pecking order here, and anyone who didn’t follow it was dealt with swiftly.

  A few people eyed him every now and then as he navigated the crowds, no doubt trying to work out if he was a possible mark. Unbelievably, he was probably better dressed than 80 percent of the people here, even though he was wearing a pair of fraying cargo pants and a simple, long-sleeved shirt. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, keeping his body relaxed and hands resting lightly on his weapons belt, making sure it seemed like he’d walked these passageways a million times before.

  It took a little longer than he’d anticipated to reach his destination—the Ebony Winter had docked in a berth a bit farther away than he’d thought it had ended up.

  He approached the door of an establishment that specialized in clones—both for clients who wanted to clone themselves, but also for obtaining illegal clones of other people. Any basic DNA sample and hey presto—a copy of an ex-girlfriend or the guy who manages the local bank to make it easier to steal from the vault. Unfortunately, the clones came blank—no memories or personality of the original body, which sometimes made using them tricky.

  A security guard stepped forward to block his way as he got to the doorway.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Rian settled a cold look on him. “Hell no. But you tell Matvei that Rian Sherron has come to collect.”

  “Mr. Sokolov sees no one without an appointment.” The guard bristled, drawing himself up, clearly ready for a fight. This was probably a daily occurrence for him.

  “Hard way it is.” He grabbed the guy by the neck and lifted him up just far enough to slam him down to the deck, flat on his back. “Comm.”

  The guard glared at him and tried to break free, but Rian tightened his fingers into the man’s windpipe.

  “Comm,” he repeated in a harder voice.

  The security guard motioned to the pocket inside his jacket, so Rian reached in and yanked it out, letting the guard go, leaving him coughing violently.

  He turned his attention to the comm for Matvei’s direct line, not bothering to look up as he pulled his nucleon gun and landed the barrel against the forehead of the guard who’d started to rush him because he’d thought he was distracted.

  “Don’t make me splatter your brains all over Mat’s front doorstep. It’ll put him in a bad mood.”

  The guard muttered a thwarted curse, but finally relented as Rian patched the comm through.

  “Broden, this better be important, I have a meeting with—”

  “Matvei Sokolov, you’re past due.”

  There was a long beat of silence on the other end of the comm and Rian entertained himself by imagining the look of shock on Mat’s face.

  “Rian?” His voice came out slightly hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “Come right up. I’ll have the Violaine waiting.”

  “Coffee, first, if you’ve got the real stuff.”

  Mat murmured an agreement and cut the comm. Rian put away his gun and tossed the comm to the security guard, who caught it against his chest with a peeved expression.

  “Next time, do yourself a favor and don’t bother trying to think for yourself.”

  He brushed by the guard and headed in, but instead of going to the offices and labs for the clone clients, he accessed the hidden panel that opened onto a set of stairs leading up to a fortified second level.

  As he walked into Mat’s living quarters, he found the guy in the kitchen pouring the coffee he’d requested. Mat reached into an overhead cupboard and pulled out a bottle of brandy, topping up the two mugs.

  “Didn’t think I’d ever be seeing you again.” Mat brought the drinks over, clearly nervous and unsettled.

  Rian took a cup from him, then shifted to sit in the stool next to the bench. “Didn’t think I’d ever be returning. But you know what they say. Best laid plans and everything.”

  Mat was actually one of the half-decent people eking out a living on the Black Docks. Now that he thought about it, he wondered why the guy didn’t find somewhere a little more reputable and a little safer to run his business. Somewhere like Tripoli probably would have been far better—well, less likely to see him dead, anyway.

  “So what did bring you back?” Mat took a sip of his coffee and then seemed to gather himself. “I can’t imagine it was just to settle up on our debt.”

  “I need some information confirmed. But since I haven’t been here in years, I needed to check the lay of the land before going to see Rajak Haan.”

  All information on the Black Docks had once flowed through the man, and he didn’t expect anything to be different, but had wanted to be sure before he went into the belly of the beast—so to speak. There was a small possibility Rajak would try to kill him on sight. Not that he was worried the guy or his goons would succeed. But if he had someone like Mat to smooth the way, then Rian would be more likely to get his answers rather than accidentally on purpose killing the guy.

  Mat gave a nod. “Not that much has chan
ged since you were here last. And that’s all you want me to do to repay my debt. Take you to meet Rajak.”

  Clearly, Mat was probably thinking this request didn’t match in value to what Rian had done for him to earn the debt in the first place.

  “You know when it comes to me, things are never that straightforward.”

  Mat sent him an exasperated frown. “And it usually starts and ends with bloodshed. Can we just make sure it’s none of mine that gets spilled today?”

  “Stay on the right end of my gun, and we’ll get along fine.” It was as much a warning for Mat not to betray him as anything. He didn’t really believe the guy would, otherwise he wouldn’t have come here. But sometimes it was worth saying nonetheless.

  They fell into a conversation about things that’d been happening on the Docks in the past few years while they finished their coffees. When they were done, Mat grabbed up a light jacket and led him back downstairs.

  “Broden, call Sonia and get her to take my appointments for the next few hours,” Mat told the guard as they passed him on the way out.

  “Yes, sir, Mr Sokolov,” the guard agreed with a nod, but Rian didn’t fail to notice the annoyed look Broden sent him. Times really had changed. Last time he’d been here, that would have pissed him off enough that he would have put a round of ammo into him.

  “You’re sure there’s no other way to confirm whatever information you’re chasing?” Mat asked him as they navigated the crowds. Rajak ran the entire lowest level of the Black Docks as his private domain.

  “Probably, but not as quickly and easily.”

  “Easy?” Mat shot him a disbelieving look. “I wouldn’t have used that word in association with Rajak Haan.”