She half-groaned.
“How about this? You try it once. If you like it, great. If you don't, I'll hang with you for a few days in your workroom.”
“Fine. I'll try it.”
“Good.”
The starfighter released my legs, and I leapt out of the cockpit. Again, my PAD lit up with a message: Clevon Demarco to the bridge. I tapped the message off my screen and exhaled.
“Anything happen aboard the cargo ship?” I asked, knowing Sawyer would hear me, no matter what.
“No. They've been cooperative.”
“What're we doing with the criminals in our brig?”
“We've separated them. I don't have much information, so Endellion will question them before we attempt anything else.”
“Attempt anything else?” I asked with a laugh. “We're not going to fly them straight to Ucova? Or back to Vectin-14 for some swift punishment?”
“Endellion wants more starfighters. She needs to know more about the people in our brig if she's going to recruit them.”
The information filled my thoughts and slowed my pace. Endellion would recruit old rebellion sympathizers as starfighters? I was surprised. A little angry, actually. She didn't draw lines? They'd tried to kill her. Several times. And what about Yuan and Advik?
I headed to the bridge, shaking off my doubt. I used to be a criminal, and I'd left that behind me, though the last few missions had felt more like my time on Capital Station. Maybe Endellion liked taking people and turning them around. Seemed a lot of people in her crew had a terrible circumstance in their past that she'd helped them out of.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CIRCUMSTANCES
Jermaine Chun reminded me of Capital Station. He had the look and smell of a guy who'd clawed his way out of the sewer. His long, oily hair hung forward, coating his face in a glossy layer of human grease. My standards for company had gone up since my time on the station. Maybe I would have associated with men like Jermaine before, but now he disgusted me.
Separated from the other starfighters we had in custody, Jermaine waited behind the bars of our brig, his ankles locked in place, allowing him to sit but not move around. He leered at Endellion, looking her up and down without a hint of shame. A part of me wanted to punch him in the dick. I wondered how well he would see, then.
“Can I help you?” Jermaine asked and cocked half a smile, his hands resting between his legs.
“Do you know who I am?” Endellion asked.
“You're a damn fine lady-captain.”
“I'm Commodore Voight of the enforcer starship, Star Marque.”
“So?”
I'd practically said the same thing when I met Endellion. The guy reminded me too much of my past self.
“I'm well aware of your history,” Endellion said. “There's a warrant for your arrest and a bounty for turning you in.”
Jermaine huffed but said nothing.
“Are you prepared to answer before a justicar?”
“Fuck you, bitch. If you came to taunt me, you got another think comin'. I've been to all sorts of rehab facilities. They don't scare me.”
“Ucova has gravity far more intense than anything generated by a starship. Surely you've heard the rumors.”
“You're taking me to Ucova?” Jermaine frowned and crossed his arms, his demeanor becoming tenser and tenser as he spoke. “That's not the closest place to here.”
“I can choose the facility at which to check in criminals in my custody. Even if they don't keep you for the entire sentence, it'll be months before you leave.”
Jermaine licked his lips and stared at the floor.
Before he could offer another thoughtful comment, Endellion continued, “Are you aware that commodores can pardon crimes? Perhaps you'd like to leave this place with your freedom, rather than shackled to another man and led away to a cell.”
The statement got Jermaine sitting straight up in his seat. “Oh, yeah? Pardon my crimes? Whaddya want?”
Endellion had given me a similar speech back when we met. She'd pardoned my crimes and allowed me to join her enforcer crew. Now I waited by her side, silent. Would Jermaine one day work alongside me? I loathed the idea.
“We have three of your friends in custody,” Endellion said. “And they've refused to talk. We know you were all involved in multiple crimes, but they deny any involvement. If at least one person testifies, it'll make it easier for my reports.”
Jermaine mulled over the statements with twisted contemplation. Then it dawned on him. He smiled. “So, if I talk, you'll let me go, is that it? Collect three bounties for the price of one? How do I know you'll follow through?”
“If no one talks, I might not get any bounties. If one person talks, I'll get three. Either you or one of the others will eventually say something. Ucova will take us a few weeks to reach, after all. Do you want one of them to out you? Or would you rather be the one sitting pretty?”
The coldness in her voice and the way she played on his opportunistic personality, were the very definition of manipulation. Jermaine had jumped ship at every turn—at least, according to Sawyer's research. From one job to the next, the man chased money without a real plan. And now when he smiled, I knew he was ready to do it again.
“All right,” Jermaine says. “I'll talk. Those other three are rebellion couriers. Neck-deep in corporate fuckery. You know. Selling stolen ideas, information. I've got an ass-load of specific incidents. I'll name the contacts.”
“And when the four of you stayed on the Pegasus Star, was it because you didn't want to participate anymore, or were you acting as a safety net? A last resort, should something go wrong?”
“Yeah. That. Those other three were waitin' to do their part the entire time. They would've flown out, if we had enough fighters.”
What a terrible leading question. And Jermaine had played right into it.
Endellion returned Jermaine's smile with one of her own. “Good. I'll have someone here to take the rest of your statements, and then we'll send you off with the Pegasus Star to the nearest space station.”
“Fine by me.”
Without another word, Endellion turned on her heel. I followed her out, giving Jermaine one last glance. The man sat smug in his holding cell, adjusting the crotch of his pants, a sly smirk clear on his face.
Once we exited into the corridor, I gave Endellion a quick glance. “I thought we were recruiting him.”
“Not him. Never people like him. He's not sufficiently talented, nor can I trust him. The moment an opportunity presented itself, he would betray me.”
“I could see that. But then why talk to him? There's no reason. The bounty on the other three is tiny. We'd waste more on fuel getting to Ucova then we'd make for turning them in. I thought you said being captain was about managing finances.”
“This dilemma is by design,” Endellion said. “The outcome is all that matters. If I have starfighters, everything we've done here will be worth it.”
I still didn't understand how turning three people in and letting some asshole walk free would net us starfighters, but I said nothing and allowed Endellion to weave her reality. It felt like the situation with Dr. Rhodes all over again.
We walked to the next room in the brig and entered to find a woman in a similar position as Jermaine. Melba Bennett. Sawyer gave me all her information before I joined Endellion in the brig. Technically I had the information for all our prisoners, but Melba stood out. She was the oldest, the most educated, and the one who'd spoken to Lysander when his enforcers apprehended her on the Pegasus Star.
Unlike Jermaine, she had short hair, held back with a couple of pins. She remained calm with her posture straight and looked up the moment we got close.
“I'm Commodore Voight of the enforcer starship, Star Marque,” Endellion said.
Melba nodded. “I've heard of you. You're the human running for the position of planet governor.”
“That's right.”
“What happened to the
others?” Melba asked. “Did they surrender?”
“No,” Endellion replied. “They opened fire, and we responded in kind. They were destroyed.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
Melba grew still and silent. Her gaze fell to the floor grating, her shoulders stiff.
“We're taking you all to Ucova,” Endellion said, the only sound in the dreary room. “Once there, you'll be charged with terrorism and corporate espionage.”
“We didn't do it,” Melba said. “We backed out.”
“Not according to your associate. According to him, you waited on the Pegasus Star as backup. Actions like that are tantamount to piloting the starfighters yourself.”
“It's not true. Who said that? Ask anyone else. They'll tell you the truth.”
The panic in her voice got under my skin. No one wanted to end up in Ucova, especially not for a crime they didn't commit. But I'd seen what was happening long before Endellion even explained. Melba didn't have any options. The people who could corroborate her story had died when I gunned them down in their starfighters, and now it was her word versus Jermaine's, and it didn't look good for her side of the story. Melba already had a record, and she had no proof to substantiate her claim of innocence.
“Sawyer,” Endellion said. “Play back Jermaine's statements.”
The comms in the room flared to life. “Those other three are rebellion couriers,” Jermaine's recording said, just as irritating over the speakers. “Neck-deep in corporate fuckery. You know. Selling stolen ideas, information. They would've flown out, if we had enough fighters.”
The spliced together statement gave me pause. All of Endellion's questions had been edited away. Now it was just a testimony—a damning testimony that would send Melba and her cohorts straight to the mines of Ucova.
She knew it, too, because the color drained from her tan complexion.
“I've seen your records,” Endellion said. “When were you going to learn that fanatics and outlaws will always throw away the bottom rungs to save themselves? There's no stability when you deal with individuals powered by delusion.”
Melba didn't reply.
“You value stability, it's obvious from your long years at Garton Metals. Why would you choose such an unpredictable career?”
“We didn't have a choice,” Melba said. “We lost our jobs, and nobody cares about pilots out on the edge of the quadrant. We… we took jobs with questionable people, and then it's a loop. You have to keep doing it, or they report you. Soon you're so deep you don't even realize you're circling the drain.”
“Sounds like you've learned your lesson.”
Melba glared, her fingers tightly gripping the edge of the harsh, steel seat. “What do you want? You've obviously got something to say. Out with it.”
“I'm a commodore. I can pardon crimes within my jurisdiction and recruit whomever I want to serve as a member of my enforcers.”
I had heard that line. Same one she'd said to me, but this time, the whole problem was fabricated from the ground up.
Endellion had gotten Jermaine to confess to crimes that weren't real. He was desperate—she knew that, everyone knew that—and he was a liar. Then with the other starfighters dead, there was no one to deny Jermaine's stories. Endellion could have let them all go. She could have let the starfighters in the electric fields surrender. She could have called Jermaine on his bullshit and realized the other three had nothing to do with the situation.
But that wouldn't have suited her needs.
“Why would you pardon us?” Melba asked. “What do you want?”
“I need more starfighters. Perhaps you could serve me on the Star Marque and regain your lost sense of stability. Trust me, I won't allow any old contacts to threaten you with exposure. There'll be nothing to expose.”
Melba took in a ragged breath and exhaled.
“Think about it,” Endellion said as she turned for the door. “I'll be back in a few hours to hear your thoughts.”
Again, we walked out of the holding cell. Endellion offered me a smile. I crossed my arms as we entered the corridor, my mind anywhere but on my actions. I knew in my gut that Melba would say yes to the offer. I had. I didn't regret it, but if Melba knew the circumstances for her recruitment, would she still be willing? I doubted it. I wouldn't have been.
“You look troubled,” Endellion said.
“Hm.”
She ran a hand up my neck and grabbed the base of my chin, turning me to face her. I stared into her eyes, conflicted by her intensity.
And then she kissed me, her soft lips a promise of relaxation. When Endellion broke away, she smirked. “This went perfectly. You've no reason to be tense.”
“It doesn't sit right.”
“Don't get soft on me, Clevon. You know as well as I do that working on the Star Marque is better than anything they would've achieved on their own. Obviously, they needed help.”
“Aren't you just going to give the crew a bunch of land once this is all over? Less than nine months now. Do we really need starfighters that badly?”
“They can serve you,” she said, “once you inherit the Star Marque. I never promised them anything. It's not unreasonable to say they joined too late for my retirement bonus, and I may need pilots when we reach Capital Station. Any excuse to get Felseven to meet with me, after all.”
“Hm.”
Endellion grazed her knuckles along the edge of my jaw. “You've seen the way others play the game. If I didn't do this, these starfighters would turn back to the rebellion or worse. This is what I need to win.”
“You mean against the superhumans,” I said, not a question, but a statement.
“Yes. And I told you, I wouldn't let anything stop me.”
“I remember.”
“You should feel the same passion,” Endellion said, heated. “That's what it takes to succeed, Clevon. You can't be satisfied with being good enough or just doing your best. You have to focus on the results and the results alone. That's all that matters. That's all anyone cares about. It's all they'll remember you for. As it should be. And in the end, I'll get three new starfighters today. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I get it. You won.”
She was right, I figured. I kept feeling weak compared to her—inferior, almost—and now I knew why. Endellion wanted to win, and I just wanted goals. She didn't second-guess victory. It was the ultimate prize. Her ambition demanded a steep payment, but she was more than willing to meet the cost.
I should have been, too.
I leaned forward and kissed her again, uncertain but willing to accept her wisdom on the matter. Endellion had done more with her life than I had with mine. Perhaps she was right. I should emulate her behavior. I shouldn't have felt guilty about our course of action.
She smiled against my lips. “I'm glad you understand,” she muttered, her hot breath mixing with mine. “I knew you would.”
* * *
I hit the computer terminal outside of Lysander's door.
It was the night cycle for the deck. Endellion had fallen asleep an hour ago. I couldn't rest. A part of me dwelled on the three starfighters, wondering what would change if they knew what had transpired. Why was I so obsessed? It wasn't like me. I didn't feel… right.
Endellion had made a good point. Who cared how they got there? We would treat them right, so the path they'd stumbled across didn't matter, even if Endellion had fucked with them beforehand to make it possible. If they were happy with the results and would become upset knowing the truth, was the truth even required?
Fuck. I overthought everything. Just like with Mara.
I flinched the second Lysander's door slid open. I'd thought I would have to buzz him a few times before he woke.
“Come in,” Lysander shouted from inside his quarters.
I walked in and glanced around. His room—like all the officers' quarters—was larger than a capsule, but still cramped. I stopped in my tracks, caught by the
sight.
Dr. Clay stood on one side of Lysander's bed, administering a shot to Lysander's bare arm. I would have made a comment—some quip to get on Lysander's nerves—but I held back when I noticed the dark purple-and-yellow bruises across his skin. They were circular, like spots, marking his body along the grooves of his muscles.
“Noah,” Lysander said, staring at the floor, never bothering to glance up. “What have I told you about visiting me like this? I'll be fine.”
Dr. Clay lifted an eyebrow, but he didn't bother to correct Lysander.
“I'm changing the medications you need to take,” Dr. Clay said. “One shot in the morning, one at night. And when we make it back to a planet or station with a proper medical facility, I'll request something more potent.” Once he was finished with the injection, Dr. Clay collapsed the syringe and placed it inside a biohazard bottle.
“What's going on?” I asked.
Lysander whipped his attention to me and glared. “Demarco? What're you doing here? Get out of my damn quarters. I'm visiting with the doctor.”
“You invited me in, remember? And it sounds like Dr. Clay just finished.”
Dr. Clay stepped away from the bed. “Quite right. I need to get some sleep.” He walked past me and exited the room, no pleasantries about him.
Lysander stood and pulled up his enviro-suit, quickly tucking his arms into the sleeves. He never looked at me. He glared at the floor, staring a goddamn hole through it.
“How long do you have to live?” I quipped.
“Five years,” he intoned. “Maybe a little more, if I find the right treatment.”
I caught my breath. I had been joking—I didn't think he had a timeframe, and it took me a moment to recover. “I didn't know,” I said. “I shouldn't have asked.”
“Forget it,” Lysander said with a sigh. “I've known for some time now.”
“Still. Sorry about that.”
“What do you want, Demarco?”
“I came here to talk.”
“About what? I should be sleeping.”
We didn't have much room, so I leaned back against the door and rested my head against the metal surface. “I have a question. What if you were playing dice and—”
Star Marque Rising Page 35
