by R. M. Olson
Some people just couldn’t hold their alcohol.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the boyevik making his way over to their table, a determined look on his face.
“Well,” she said, standing and catching herself on the back of the chair, “we’ll have to try this again next time. Sure we’ll see you soon enough. I’ll look for you. Not every day you get gambling partners like the group of you.”
She’d tucked her scarf with its mafia colours carefully into her bag. No point letting Grigory’s boyaviki know she’d been impersonating them.
“We’ll see you around, then?” slurred one of the bureaucrats.
“‘Course you will,” she said, with a loud, drunken cheerfulness. “When you all come out to see us on the pleasure planet.”
The man who’d won was still between her and the boyevik, which was a damn good thing, honestly, because if the sheer hatred he was glaring in her direction could have killed her, she’d probably already be dead.
“Hope you’re ready for this,” she muttered into the com. And then she stepped out from the table, weaving drunkenly, and grabbed the boyevik, as if trying to keep her balance. He stumbled, pulled off-balance, and she slid her hand along the holster at his side and neatly extracted his heat gun before he had time to realize what she was doing.
“What, sorry you couldn’t get in on the game?” she whispered to him. Then, before he could gather his wits to shout, she brought the butt of his gun down hard on the base of his skull.
He slumped to the ground without so much as a groan, and she stepped back, letting him land hard. “This damn drunk was trying to damn well rob me,” she slurred at the top of her voice.
Two of the servers, and several of the patrons, turned at her shout, and she was mildly gratified to see her group of government officials turn too, in drunken indignation.
“Hey, you leave her alone,” the woman shouted.
The boyevik Lev had distracted by doing … something to her com, whatever the hell it was, glanced up, then swore and leapt to her feet, drawing her gun.
If she didn’t recognize Jez from Grigory’s ship, she’d recognize her after this.
The man Lev was talking to jerked his head up as well, and grabbed for his own weapon.
Jez shot them a cocky grin.
“There’s a back exit,” Lev hissed into her earpiece. “Comes out two streets over. Get behind the bar and into the kitchen, I’ll meet you there.”
“First, duck.”
To his credit, he didn’t ask questions, just hit the floor. She aimed, and fired what, for someone who was supposed to be about three quarters of the way to flat out drunk, was a pretty damn good shot, at the boyevik who’d been coming up behind Lev. The woman shouted in pain, grabbing her scorched shoulder, and Jez hit her com. “Alright genius. Now run.”
He rolled to his feet and ran for the bar, dodging the two bouncers who’d come to see what the commotion was all about. Jez fired off another shot, narrowly missing another of Grigory’s people—how many of the bastards were in here, anyways?— and then leapt a tipped-over chair, bumped hard into a table, sending tokens and drinks across the floor into the path of her pursuers, and started after him.
Someone grabbed her by the arm, and the force of her momentum whirled her around. It was one of the boyeviki she didn’t recognize, an expression of grim triumph on his face.
“You Jez Solokov? Because I’ve heard—”
She glanced around, snatched a bottle from the nearest table, and broke it over his head. He staggered, blood running down his face, and Jez shoved him backwards, vaulted a table, crashed down in between two men locked in an amorous embrace, who had clearly been under the mistaken impression their darkened corner would allow them a few stolen moments of privacy, then slid around the bar and pelted down the hallway crowded with servers towards where Lev had said there was an exit.
“Jez,” he said into her earpiece, his voice surprisingly calm. “When you come around the corner, duck.”
“Got it,” she panted.
There. That must be the corner he was talking about. She skidded on the floor wet with spilled alcohol and slippery with shattered glass, caught herself against the wall, and dived through a swinging door, keeping her head low. There were footsteps pounding behind her, but Lev grabbed her arm and yanked her around behind the door frame. He held his free finger to his lips, and she swallowed down her question.
Three boyeviki appeared in the opening, and as they stepped through, a crackling blue line shot like lightning across the entrance, right at neck-level. The man in front screamed and dropped, and the two behind him fell to the ground convulsing.
She shot a glance at Lev, who had a slightly smug look on his face.
“I switched two of the wires on the lighting system,” he said. “It will keep sparking every time someone comes through there until they figure it out. It’s not enough power to kill anyone, but it will probably put them to sleep for a few minutes. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She glanced around quickly, and he gestured with his head. The back door was large and heavy, but a couple blasts from Ysbel’s modded heat-gun was enough to melt even a very large and heavy lock, and moments later they were back out in the dark Prasvishoni streets, snow drifting down around them like dirty ash, their breaths puffing out white steam in the flickering orange glow of the grimy street lamps.
She was laughing almost too hard to breathe, and Lev was laughing too, and for a moment they clung to each other, panting and laughing and trying to catch their breath enough to run. Then there was the hiss of a heat-gun blast through icy air, and she grabbed his jacket, and, still laughing helplessly, they pelted down the street as fast as their feet would take them.
Lev had the map of the city memorized, because of course he did, and he led them through narrow alleyways and down back streets until they reached the hangar. By the time they slipped inside, they’d stopped laughing mostly because they didn’t have the breath for it any longer.
“Get inside, genius,” she panted, as the loading ramp began to lower. She vaulted inside the moment there was a space wide enough to admit her and reached down. Lev grabbed her hand and she hauled him in as a cluster of Grigory’s boyevik skidded through the door of the hangar, already firing. Lev hit the controls to close it as she threw herself into the pilot’s seat, and the Ungovernable shot through the partially-opened doors, sending boyeviki sprawling, and then they were out into the city.
“They’ll be coming after us with ships, I’m almost certain of it,” said Lev grimly. He’d been thrown backwards by their precipitous escape, but he’d managed to catch hold of the seat back, and now pulled himself into the copilot’s seat and strapped down.
“Figure it wouldn’t be much fun if they didn’t,” she said with a grin, running her fingers along the controls. “You ready for some flying?”
His expression turned, if possible, grimmer. “Just tell me you didn’t actually drink as much as it looked like you drank.”
She turned long enough to wink at him. “Come on, genius, you think that would slow me down?”
“Slow you down? No,” he muttered. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
She flipped the ship on its side and dived into a wide strip between the buildings, the light haze of snow turning the front window into a hypnotizing blur of streaking white. Ion-cannon shots blasted off the walls behind them, and she turned down the narrow dock streets to the nearest force-field entrance as chunks of prefab sprayed out like slightly-thicker snow behind them. They shot through the gate past the astonished guards, and she pointed their nose for the sky.
“They’re going to be after us still,” said Lev grimly. “Grigory’s not going to give up that easily.”
She leaned back in her seat, basking in the luxurious feeling of flying, and shallow space, and ship’s controls beneath her hands. “Well,” she drawled, “figure they might try. But they’re going to have a hell of a time of it
. Seeing as we have hyperdrive and they don’t.”
By the time she’d pulled out of hyperspeed and spun them around behind a floating bank of space junk, just in case their pursuers followed them through the nearest wormhole, Lev looked like he might lose his streak of not throwing up.
She grinned at him. “Hey genius. Figure we did alright back there.”
He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, to her shock, he began to chuckle.
She stared at him, but as his chuckle became an actual laugh, she joined in without meaning to, and for a few moments they were laughing as hard as they had been outside the back door of the club. At last Lev subsided, wiping his eyes and shaking his head.
“Jez,” he said, “did you actually let those government officials win at tokens?”
She grinned at him. “Yep. Sure did.” She paused a moment. “Of course, while they were putting in their bids, I managed to tap their credit chips and rob them completely blind. But they did win the game. Anyways, if they remember anything at all after they wake up tomorrow, they’ll think it was Grigory’s goons. You know, the one who was trying to rob me while I was helpless and drunk?”
He was shaking his head, still chuckling. “I’ve certainly seen you drunk, Jez, but I’ve never in my life seen you helpless.” He paused a moment. “So you weren’t actually drunk.”
She rolled her eyes at him, still grinning. “‘Course not, genius.” She let a moment of regret filter through her happiness, remembering the half-empty glass she’d left at the table. “Although it’s a damn shame to waste that kind of alcohol. I’ll get some for you one of these days, then I figure you’ll understand the kind of sacrifices I make for this team.”
He shook his head ruefully. “I smelled the alcohol in that bottle from across the room. I’m actually not certain how you could pour something that strong without it vaporizing on contact with the air. I think I’ll leave that particular drink to you.”
She shrugged, still grinning, and brought the ship out in a wide arc towards the coordinates of their pleasure house. “Your loss.”
He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him, and for a moment something choked in her throat.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, when she could speak again.
He raised an eyebrow, then gave her a soft, rueful smile in return. “I’m sorry I was such a complete bastard that you thought this was something to say thank you for,” he said. “But. Um. Thanks for giving me another chance anyways.”
And as they burned through the atmosphere, she honestly couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d felt this happy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TAE PINCHED THE bridge of his nose, fighting off a headache.
If Lev had calculated right—and Lev almost always calculated right—Tae should be hearing from one of Grigory’s people any day now. And he had a sinking feeling he knew who was going to be contacting him.
He’d hardly been able to sleep for the last two nights, worrying about it.
At last he opened his eyes and glared down at his holoscreen.
“Masha,” he said through his teeth, without looking up. “I’ve set this up the way you asked me to. Anyone who looks at it will think it’s an account at the Svodrani National Bank. You have everything you damn well need. But I have things to do if we want this finished before Grigory gets here.” He slapped his hand down on his com, and the holoscreen disappeared. “I’ll send the information through to your com later, when my program’s finished running,” he muttered, shoving his chair back and standing. “Anything else?”
“No, Tae,” said Masha quietly. “That’s all. Thank you.”
He didn’t bother to respond, just left the room and closed the door firmly behind him.
Once he was outside, he leaned against the wall of the broad hallway, breathing in deeply.
She’d never told them everything. He’d always known she was hiding things.
But—well, but he’d always believed, deep down, that she wouldn’t actually go as far as outright betrayal. She might walk up to the edge, yes, but he’d been certain she’d never actually step over. And when she had …
The look on her face months ago, when they’d been cellmates in that forsaken prison. When he’d realized he’d miscalculated, and he couldn’t get everyone out, and she’d told him it wasn’t his fault. That everything didn’t have to depend just on him, and that he should actually get some sleep, for once. That had been the first time he’d believed she actually looked at him as a person, not just something to use and throw away.
And he’d been wrong.
He straightened, shaking his head. It didn’t actually matter right now. What mattered was, he could stand to be around her for long enough to give her the tech she needed. And he could stand to work with her for long enough to keep his friends alive. That was the important part.
And until the call from Grigory’s people came in, he may as well help get things ready.
When he reached the main lobby, Galina stood in one corner, with four or five of their motley group of ex-convicts gathered around her. When she saw Tae, she looked up and gave him a quick smile.
“Tae. I need to talk to you. Give me a minute to finish up here.”
He nodded, and took a seat on one of the luxurious chairs that lined the sides of the lobby.
Around him were the bustle of people readying for their roles—crates were being dragged across the floors, a man in a skin-tight uniform was practicing some sort of dance moves over and over against one wall, and a woman dressed like a weapons dealer was bent over, fixing a knife into a holster on her boot.
He didn’t realize he was looking for someone until Ivan stepped into view, dressed in a server’s uniform, his mild face with a slight smile on it, his figure as contained and elegant as always. Tae found his eyes following his friend as he walked across the floor, every movement somehow both unassuming and graceful. He paused to talk to someone, and the woman laughed, and even though Ivan kept his face solemn, Tae saw the smile-wrinkles form around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.
It wasn’t until Ivan had left out the opposite door that he realized Galina had come over and was standing beside him.
“Tae,” she said, and there was a small smile on her face. “We need to discuss your role. Hopefully you can stay in the background, but we need you assigned to something, just in case. I’ve talked to Masha and Lev—you’ll need to be as free as possible to run the tech, but there may be times when you’ll have to step in.”
Tae nodded absently.
“I was thinking of making you a customer.”
He jerked his head around and stared at her.
“Galina, listen,” he said, when he’d regained his voice. “I’m not sure what you know about me. But I’m a damn street kid, alright? Put me as a cleaner, if you want, or one of the staff. I can’t—”
Her face was serious. “Listen, Tae. I understand, believe me. And Ivan originally suggested you to work as a server with him.”
Tae tried to ignore the way his face heated.
“But a server wouldn’t be able to move around as freely as you’d need to. If someone ordered you out, you’d have to go. This is the best solution we could think of.”
Tae closed his eyes. “I—I can’t—”
Galina sighed and shook her head.
“Tae.” Tanya had come up to join them, and was giving him an appraising look. “You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You don’t have to touch the entertainment or anything. Just look at them like you want to, that’s all we need you to do.”
“I—” His face was hot, and he could feel his hands shaking. “I can’t—I—”He blew out a long breath. “My friends were street kids,” he said at last, in a low voice. “You think I don’t know that it could be any one of them here, if we weren’t lucky? I can’t do this.”
Tanya studied him for a moment, then at last she nodded and turned to Galina. “
He’s right, I think. Tae is possibly the only one in the entire crew who’s actually a moral person all the way through.”
“I’m—sorry,” Tae muttered.
Tanya gave him a long look. “That’s not a bad thing, Tae. But,” she turned back to Galina. “It does mean that we have to come up with a new plan.”
Galina was frowning. “We could try him as a server, I suppose,” she said at last, dubiously. “It’s not ideal, and it may leave us in a bad spot, but possibly—”
Tae sighed and tipped his head back against his chair. “Listen,” he said through his teeth. “What if—” he blew out a breath. “When we were in the university, Jez started some rumours about me. That I’d been a model citizen, and—and I’d had—”
“A boyfriend on every planet, I remember,” said Tanya. She wasn’t smiling, but the corners of her mouth twitched slightly. She turned to Galina. “That might work, you know. He’s seen so much he’s bored by all of this?”
Galina raised her eyebrows, staring at Tae. “I—suppose that would—Jez said—why did Jez—”
“Because she thought it would—look, it doesn’t matter, alright?” he ground out.
She shook her head again slowly, considering. “It—could work, honestly.” She turned back to Tae. “We could spread your backstory around, and then all you’d really have to do is lounge around and look bored. That could work.”
Tae sighed heavily.
At this point, it hardly seemed worth trying to fight it.
Tanya gave him a sympathetic look, but she was still obviously trying to fight back a smile. “I’m not sure if this makes you feel better, Tae, but I’m part of the entertainment.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “How many of the customers are you going to kill?”
She laughed. “None, I hope.”
He sighed again, and glared at the two women. “Fine. I’ll do this. But neither of you had better tell Jez—”
“Tell me what?” Jez sauntered over. “Hey tech-head. What are you going to be?” She turned to Galina. “You know what Tae would be good as? Some player boy. I mean, he already has that reputation pretty much everywhere he goes.”