“But he thinks the house is safe?” Tray asked. “There’s so much space. We won’t have to see each other.”
“The only way you are going to get me and Hero to stay in that house is if you leave it,” she said, twisting the napkin in her hand, looking for a dry spot.
“Why?”
“I don’t trust you without your brother around. Without your mistress,” she spat the words. “The people who brought down Ketlin are leaving on Oriana. You’re nothing.”
“I’m his father,” Tray said.
“You’re whoever I tell you to be,” she said. “That’s what’s wrong with you, Tray. You’re nobody. Maybe you’re somebody else around them, but when you’re around me, you’re a subservient, sniveling nothing. I don’t want you around.”
Tray’s mouth hung open. “This isn’t the right thing to do, Mikayla. It’s not.”
“I told you what I thought was right for him and you disagreed,” she said. “This is the compromise. I’ll stay in that house and you’ll stay with your brother.”
“But I can still see him,” Tray said. “And you’ll let me talk to him every day.”
“I doubt I could stop him. I certainly don’t want to hear about the mating rituals of beetles,” she said, leaning her face against the window again. “What’s the Vring code for that house?”
Tray called up the numbers on his Virp and showed her. Turning her back to him, she put her Feather in her ear and called. “Hero, this is your mother. Pick up the Vring.”
He ached to hear his son’s voice, but all he heard was Mikayla, speaking comfortingly to Hero, telling him to stay put and she’d be home soon. Tray hobbled to the tiny train car bathroom and locked the door. He didn’t understand how a fun family trip to the bug museum could end like this.
Morrigan’s body felt rigid as she stepped out of Jamese’s quarters at the fortress, holding the trinkets Jamese had requested—a horse statue that her daughter liked and a miniature icon of some Aquian goddess. The hospital board had let Morrigan treat Tray, but they weren’t letting her treat Jamese because Jamese was an ordinary citizen. The first phase of surgeries went well. Jamese had feelings in all her extremities, and could move her hands and feet with relative ease. Recovery would take months. Ayize was already interviewing new security for the house, and it killed her that after all she’d done—after she’d killed another human being—she wasn’t safe.
It scared her to think how close she’d come to dying. Now Lois Ketlin was dead in her place, and the Enn didn’t even think it necessary to question the circumstances. Roland Ketlin’s rant was true. The Enn didn’t care about the poor.
Sniffling, she set the trinkets on her medicine cabinet and thought about the empty shelves inside. It had been three and half weeks since she’d taken her cocktail. She’d survived three and a half weeks, and she could finally think clearly. The fog of drug-induced complacency called to her, but she’d set her medicine cabinet out in the open for a reason. She’d wanted Dem to see her—she wanted him to stop her.
“It’s quiet around here,” Dem commented, coming out of his den.
Morrigan jumped, knocking Jamese’s horse trinket onto the floor.
“I don’t know if I miss the noise or if I just hate change,” Demissie said.
“If you want to fill this place with noise, go reconcile with that fiancé of yours and start having babies,” Morrigan said gruffly. She didn’t mean to be callous, but she’d grown tired of these four walls.
“Nah. Too much responsibility,” Dem said, flopping on the couch and crossing his arms behind his head. “I think I like the quiet.”
“It’s about to get quieter,” Morrigan whispered, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
Dem poked his head curiously over the couch.
“Oriana’s shipping out this evening. I’m going with them,” Morrigan said resolutely.
“No,” Dem said, jumping up. “No, no, no. You can’t.”
“They can’t evaluate what Rocan needs without a doctor.” She couldn’t look at him.
“And there are plenty out there,” he said, taking her hands, trying to meet her eye. “Plenty crazy enough to risk their lives on a water hauler turned air ship. It’s not safe!”
“Nothing is,” she said, tasting her tears when she licked her lips. “Our parents died—”
“Is this about them?” Dem interrupted. “Are you leaving because… it hurts me to be here, too. We can tear down this house and build two in its place. One for you and one for me. Morrigan, please. You have a life here. You have people who care about you. You have patients here that have been with you for years.”
“I lost my license, remember?” she snapped. “I can’t practice medicine here anymore. They won’t even let me see Jamese’s chart.”
“You can’t fix that by leaving,” Dem said. They looked at each other, breathing hard, fighting grief. Her mind was made up. Morrigan needed this if she was going to survive, and Dem would have to find a way to accept it.
“Do you want to come?” Morrigan offered.
“What would I do on that ship aside from break it?” Dem chuckled, a tear rolling down his cheek, despite his brave words.
“Don’t let the Enn take Kit back to her stepdad,” Morrigan said, the weight of leaving hitting her a little harder.
“You’ll check in on me, right? You won’t forget me here?” Dem teased.
“Thought you liked the quiet,” Morrigan smirked. “I hear the new neighbor has a noisy kid.”
Dem rolled his eyes and sighed, his best melodramatic, big brother sigh. “One last game of gin?” he offered.
“It won’t be our last,” she promised.
44
Danny’s heart raced and he sat on the ramp of Oriana’s cargo bay, taking a moment to catch his breath. Sikorsky had teleported onto the ship an hour ago, claiming he needed to use his hybrid ability to avoid the media catching wind of his plans. He and Coro were fighting over the division of the passenger lounge, which afforded neither one of them privacy. Danny had a passing hope that they’d kill each other before takeoff.
The crew was on board—Saskia, Morrigan, and Hawk. It was surreal, preparing for takeoff without hearing his brother chat up the port crews and nitpick over food supplies. Hawk was in the bay with Wanda Genova, marveling over her gifts for Rocan.
“Coro has us leaving in an hour,” Danny reported to Alex, regret souring his eagerness to go. Jennifer had finally opened her eyes. “I can’t get up there and back and do everything else I need to. Amanda’s on her way back to you. She should have been there by now.”
“Better do a sweep for stow-aways then,” Alex chuckled. “You don’t know what Sikorsky will do if he finds her.”
“I’m more worried about what he’s doing to Tray,” Danny confessed. “I stood in the back yard, watching him through the window. He’s so happy here. I couldn’t even say good-bye.”
“Danny, if you’re not ready to fly, then don’t,” Alex said.
“That’s the problem,” Danny said. “I am ready to leave. I’m just not ready to leave him behind.”
“Then call him up and tell him,” Alex said flatly. “I feel like a broken record telling you these things. I’m going to let Jennifer tell you.”
His voice cracked when he mentioned her name, and there was no sound as Alex shifted his Feather to Jennifer. Ketlin may not have killed her, but their drugs had messed her up. Danny didn’t know what to say, so he recited a Ziven catechism, then sang a song for her. It was what she’d done for him when he was catatonic with grief. Danny kept humming even after he signed off with Alex.
“Based on the engine we pulled from your glider, you should be able to drop these into your power plant,” he heard Genova explain to Hawk. It’ll only take two of them to do the work of ten of your engines, but I’ve put some moderator options in.”
The two had crates all over the bay, and Danny started stowing to keep his hands busy. When he opened the cargo hold,
he scanned for Amanda, then tapped his Feather.
“Saskia, can you check for stowaways. Amanda never made it to Pierce. Make sure Coro doesn’t have her holed up somewhere”
“Yes, sir,” Saskia replied.
Danny turned to sit on the crate, watching Genova lecture Hawk while Hawk played with a piston part, beaming from ear-to-ear.
“When you get to Terrana, just… don’t trust anyone,” Genova said, tucking Hawk’s red hair behind his ears, giving him a sisterly lecture. “You’re very trusting.”
“That’s how I find people like you,” Hawk chirped, dancing playfully around the crates, peeking into each one.
“And you’re very sweet,” Genova smiled.
“Thank you for looking out for him,” Danny said, catching Hawk and pulling him upright before he could unleash the tiny machine parts stowed in the crates. “For being there when I was too occupied to realize he needed me.”
“Don’t let it happen again, or I’ll come after you,” Genova teased, wagging her finger at Danny. She gave Hawk a hug, then climbed into her company truck.
“Bye, Wanda,” Hawk waved.
She hopped out of the truck again, bringing out a garment bag. “I can’t believe I nearly drove off with this,” she laughed. “I fixed this for you.”
“What is it?” Hawk asked, studying the bag. Excess fabrics still confused him, and he didn’t think to look inside.
“That jacket you were obsessing over that doesn’t fit you. I took it to a tailor,” Genova said.
“My father’s jacket?” Hawk gasped, dropping the bag, his cheeks getting red. “You recycled my father’s jacket into that!”
“Hawk, calm down. You’re upsetting the machines,” Danny said. Hawk thought the bag was his precious jacket.
“But she ruined—”
“I refreshed it,” Genova said, unzipping the bag and showing him the jacket inside. The colors of the bird were brighter than before, and the date of his father’s first flight was raised by embroidery. “So you can wear it.”
“What?” Hawk asked, looking from her to Danny, confused by the partial reveal.
“Put it on,” Genova said, holding up the jacket for him. The sleeves had been replaced by a new, powder blue fabric to match the stencil and the inside was lined with a warm thermal layer. There were no more loose threads. “I listen to you, Douglas. You told me you had a hard time keeping hold of it because you couldn’t wear it and in your culture, that’s hoarding. Well. Now you can wear it.”
Hawk slid his arms in, and he shuddered when he felt the weight of the jacket on his shoulders. Hawk’s lips moved, but he couldn’t muster a thank you through the shock.
“It looks good on you,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and climbing into her truck again. Another truck rolled in and Danny took a deep breath, bracing himself for the work ahead. He’d forgotten how tiring cargo hauling could be.
Tray slid out of the truck, looking equally weary.
“Tray look!” Hawk squealed. “Look at my jacket! Look!”
“Nice,” Tray said, looking at Hawk without seeing.
“Hawk, get this load stowed, and I mean tied down,” Danny ordered. “There is no gravity in space and we need to fly now.”
“Okay, Captain!” Hawk chirped, dancing under the wing of his glider, then tripping over one of his crates. He laughed at himself, then sang something in Rocanese while he moved the crates into the holds.
Tray just stayed numbly by the door of the truck.
“Is that food?” Danny asked.
Tray nodded, then looked down at his hands. “I know you can’t live without my cooking. So… here I am.”
Danny stared at his brother, slack-jawed. “What about Hero?”
“We made a promise to Hawk,” Tray said bravely. “And I’m hoping that a few lucrative worldwide trade options will give the Matthews name a positive reputation, and the Vimbai branding will be erased.”
“I can do that without you. Stay with your son,” Danny said.
“I wish I could,” Tray said, lowering his eyes, his fingers twitching.
“What do you mean? Did Sikorsky threaten you?” Danny asked, pulling his brother into the ship, instinctively checking for signs of danger. But all the danger was already sitting in their passenger hold.
“Mikayla,” Tray said quietly. “We don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on how to raise a hybrid.”
“Are you kidding?” Danny asked. “You two are great together. I saw you kissing her this morning. Ever since she came, you’ve been glowing. Glowing, Tray. I have never seen you so happy.”
The corners of his lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “Mikayla doesn’t make me happy.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with Morrigan,” Danny said, his brows knitting.
“Yes. You think we could get in one last thrust before takeoff,” Tray snapped. Danny stammered at the crass confession, but then Tray smacked his arm. “No, Danny! Are you really so blind?”
“Demissie?”
Tray made a face. “Question asked and answered.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not abandoning your kid because you had a fight with your ex,” Danny decided.
“I’m not,” Tray rasped. “Danny, I’m dying. Don’t make this harder on me. We’re coming back. I’ll see him again. I will.”
“I’m trying to understand,” Danny said, pulling Tray into a hug. He knew how his brother felt about crying in front of another person, and Danny had drawn tears in full view of the spaceport. Tray’s grip tightened, and his breath hitched with every breath, but he didn’t break the hug.
“Found your stow-away, sir,” Saskia reported, dragging Amanda through the mid-deck hatch.
“I wasn’t stowing away. I’m part of the crew,” Amanda groused, tromping down the stairs. “My head was counted when we were deciding how much food to order. I have my own bunk!”
Tray pulled away from Danny, wiping his eyes, staring fervently at the floor.
“Tray, what are you doing here?” Saskia asked.
“What does it look like? I’m joining the crew,” Tray said, reaching into the truck for his duffle bag and walking crutches, then tapping a command on his Virp to send the vehicle back to its dock. Saskia took the bag and linked Tray’s arm, whispering in his ear as she walked him up the stairs to crew quarters. By the time they reached mid-deck, Tray was blushing madly and Saskia smiling.
“Tray and Saskia?” Danny murmured. “Wow, I am blind.”
“Don’t stare. It’s rude,” Amanda said, swatting Danny’s arm.
Danny laughed and sat on the stairs. Amanda sat behind him, her legs straddling his body, her hands massaging the knots on his neck. Saskia may have made Tray happy, but she was a consolation prize, not a reason for leaving Quin.
“Did Kit stow away with you?” Danny checked. “Our food budget only allots for one stow-away. I can’t afford two.”
“I did not stow away,” Amanda pouted. “I told you I was coming and you didn’t listen.”
“You need to tell Alex you’re not lost and in need of rescue,” Danny said. “Talk to Morrigan and make sure she has all your meds.”
“She’s known I was coming since yesterday. You’re the one with your head in the sand,” Amanda said, hugging him around the neck. “That’s your Corey face.”
“Yeah, well,” Danny said, tearing up at the mention of her name. “It’s time to fly. She was my pilot.”
“I know,” Amanda said, pressing her cheek to his. His stubble felt rough against her skin.
“She would run simulations before takeoff,” Danny said. “For hours. Billable hours.”
“I’m not trying to replace her,” Amanda assured. “I would never give your slippers away to a stranger.”
Danny laughed and patted Amanda’s arm. “I know you want to fly, but I can’t trust you at the yoke right now. We have no idea what the gravity change will do to your meds. I’m sorry. Once we’re up and we know you�
�re stable…”
“Danny. Head. Sand,” she said, hopping in front of him, taking both his hands. She guided him to the ramp and gazed out on the bay. “Alex told me he’d send us a pilot. I’m hoping it’s that super-cute one there.”
Danny glanced to the hanger bays where Amanda pointed. “Chase,” he murmured, his heart skipping a beat. “No. He’s not a pilot.”
“Chase!” Amanda hollered, waving her arms at him.
Chase trotted over to them, dragging an extra-large toolbox, looking like he desperately needed a broken ship to fix. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Hi. Hi,” Danny stammered, breathless. “What? Why?”
“Alex said you needed a pilot,” Chase said, staying stiffly at the top of the ramp.
“Did Alex tell you we’re flying to Terrana?” Danny asked.
“He mentioned it,” Chase said, turning his toolbox. The castor wheels barely made a sound against the deck plates.
“Chase, I don’t want you to feel obligated—”
“Do you need a pilot or not?” Chase interrupted, a hint of anger and pain behind the question.
“Yes, we do,” Amanda said, taking the handle on the toolbox and hooking his elbow. “Let me get you a bunk. Or you can sleep in my bunk.”
“Amanda!” Danny admonished.
“There’s plenty of bed space. Half the time you sleep in the engine room anyway,” Amanda teased. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I…” Danny looked at Chase, and Chase tilted his head, looking at Danny’s body, rather than his face. Their eyes met and they both cracked a smile. “I don’t.”
Amanda cocked her head, a light dawning as she watched the exchange.
“I’m starting to think personal space is the way to go,” Amanda decided, shaking her head. “Man, when Sky comes back, things are going to get really complicated.
“You think we’ll find her again?” Danny asked.
Amanda shot him a quizzical look. “Don’t you?”
“There’s always hope,” Danny said, closing the bay doors before the ship could accrue any more stragglers. “Hope for tomorrow. Oriana.”
The Gray Market: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 5) Page 36