by E J Frost
work on the knives. Before I even finish
clearing the other messages, he’s plexed me
back to confirm he’ll take the run. Business
done, I collect the best of the knives I have
stashed on the ship, as well as all of my
credits, forward calls to my house computer,
and close down the ship.
The girls are still sleeping when I poke
my head into the passenger lounge. I move
silently through to the ‘fresher, relieve
myself, do a quick P-T-and-A in the
fresher’s tiny sink to get rid of the worst of
the sand, and change into some of the spare
clothes I have tucked into the bottom of a
locker. Old, worn fatigues, tank and street
peds. They’re neither sexy nor anything I’d
want to wear in a fight, but they fit, and more
importantly, the orangutan’s ass has never
been in them. They’ve also got pockets,
which Ape’s clothes lack, so I can stash
everything out of sight. I toss the monkey
clothes into the zap can and close the lid on
the blue flash. Hope he didn’t want them
back.
Ablutions done, I stroll back into the
passenger lounge. I don’t make any effort at
silence this time, and my footsteps wake both
girls. Kez sits up, rubs her eyes, and climbs
out of her flight cradle, grinning hugely at
me. She’s remembering our last
conversation. Or at least, my last words to
her. When I hold my hand out to her, she
comes and tucks herself against my side,
wrapping her arms around my waist, rubbing
her cheek against my shoulder. Yeah, those
three little words made my kitten happy. I’m
not going to over-use them – not my style –
but I’ll definitely be saying them to her again.
Erin wakes more slowly and much less
happily, sitting up and frowning
thunderously.
“Do I want to know where we are?” She
speaks carefully. The long tears around her
mouth from our struggle up the bowship’s
wall are shiny with salve, probably applied
by my smart kitten, who must know that
newskin doesn’t work on mucus membranes.
Or erectile tissue, as I memorably
discovered on K-G. There’s also a bruise on
Erin’s jaw that’s only partially faded under a
derm. Bet it hurts to talk.
I’ll just have to keep her chatting, then.
“Want to use the ‘fresher?” I ask Kez, to
delay answering the Überbitch and further
annoy her. Kez nods and ducks into the
‘fresher, still grinning brighter than a beacon.
I lean against the ‘fresher door, listen to the
sound of running water, and watch Erin until
she starts to twitch, before I answer her.
“We’re in Nock. At the port.”
“On my ship,” she says.
“If you want it to be,” I say, just to see
shock widen those icefire eyes.
“What do I have to do,” she asks
caustically. “Kill you?”
“You could try. Or—” I take the master
control out of my pocket and make a show of
tossing it and catching it, tossing it and
catching it, until her jaw knots under the
bruise. “I could give it to you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Told you before.”
Erin scowls ferociously at me, her
expression so like Kez’s when my kitten gets
her dander up. Only there’s no playfulness
behind Erin’s scowl. She’s all business. Bad
business. And I want that bad business as far
away from my kitten as possible. “What, you
want me to guess?”
“Sure. Three guesses. You guess right,
you get my ship. Guess wrong, then I guess
you’re walkin’ back to Zhonnys.”
She curls her lip in disgust, winces, and
shakes her head. “Fuck you. I’m not playing
guessing games with you.”
I toss the master control and catch it with
my left hand. Just to show off. “Enjoy your
walk.”
She climbs painfully out of the cradle,
using her left hand, holding her right arm
clamped against her side. Probably a broken
ulna. Looks like Kimpler put up serious
resistance.
The watery noises behind me trail off and
I shift away from the door before Kez opens
it. Her eyes flick from me to Erin and her
smile fades. “You need a medcen.”
“I have a private doctor,” Erin hisses.
Then pain that has nothing to do with her
injuries creases her face.
She had a private doctor. But I’d guess
that’s a privilege reserved for assassins-in-
favor, and Erin doesn’t look like one of those
at the moment. She wouldn’t have been
crawling into my ship, hurt and alone, if
Tyng had forgiven her.
“I’ll call you a taxi,” Kez says, snapping
together her viewie.
Erin tips her head, purses her mouth like
she’s tasted something sour, and winces. “I
don’t have any credits with me.”
“I’ll pay for it,” Kez says. “And
whatever treatment you need.”
Erin sniffs. “I just need to access a credit
printer. I’ll pay you back for the taxi.”
Kez lifts her eyes from her viewie and
looks hard at her sister. “Okay. The house
code is WA85592.”
Erin frowns and her gaze turns inward for
a moment. “That’s . . .”
“Granna’s house code,” Kez finishes for
her.
There’s a long, taut silence. I reach out
and pull Kez against my side. Maybe she
bought her grandmother’s house for
sentimental reasons. Or maybe so her sister
could find her. But Erin didn’t know, which
means she never looked.
“Fine,” Erin snaps. “I know where to
send it then.”
Kez shakes her head. “God, don’t bother.
Come on, Snow.” She tugs on me and I
follow her as she moves toward the door to
the central corridor. “Your taxi will be here
in three minutes.”
“Just a sec,” I say. I hold out the master
control. Giving the Marie to Erin seems like
a better and better idea all the time. I wanted
her to promise to leave the system as part of
the guessing game, but maybe just giving her
the opportunity to escape is enough.
“No!” Kez reaches out and snatches the
master control out of my hand. Stuffs it so
forcefully into my pocket that I have to hitch
my pants up.
“Kitten,” I reproach her gently. It is my
ship.
“No, I don’t care. She doesn’t get your
ship.” She nearly drags me out of the
passenger lounge. I’m chuckling by the time
we reach the central corridor, and lift her off
her feet as the door snicks shut behind me.
“You’re such a forceful little p
uss.” I
swing her up into my arms and buss her all
around her cheeks and chin until she’s
laughing in spite of her fury and pushing at
my chest. I carry her the few meters to the
ship’s ramp, and when it cycles open,
outside and to my trike.
We wait on the trike until Erin’s taxi
arrives, and leaves with her in it. Without a
word of apology, or farewell. Überbitch. I
tap the master control, watch as my ship
closes itself up, spreads its solar sails to the
mid-day sun. Kez is a warm weight against
my back. As I fire up the trike and turn
towards the port exit, she slips her hand
down the front of my pants again. I don’t stop
her, but this time I call her on it.
“Pretty sure that’s a civil offense, kitten.
Public indecency.”
She peers over my shoulder without
moving her hand. “Nothing’s exposed,” she
observes.
“Uh-huh. Wanna tell me why you keep
stickin’ your hand down my pants?”
“It’s warm.” She shrugs against my back.
“I don’t get to do this when we’re in bed.”
“Fuckin’ you in this position would be
tough.”
She muffles a laugh in my shoulder. “But
you’re so flexible.” She rubs her fingertips
through my pubic hair and I’m glad the little
monster is in its usual position down my left
trouser leg.
“I’m not complainin’, kitten. Just
curious.”
“When you’re looking at me, I feel
connected to you. This way I still feel
connected to you, even though I can’t see
your face.”
“O-kay.” I steer the trike into the exit
queue without removing any point of
connection. Let the new guard make of it
what he wants.
Gig’s just pulling up in front of the
Warren when we arrive. He must have kept
the skimmer redlined to make it back nearly
as fast as the Marie, although I didn’t push
my ship and flew the thermals wherever I
could to conserve fuel. There’s a crowd
around him. The beautiful girl, Ape, Chiara
and a herd of rabbits. As soon as Kez swings
off the trike, the rabbits switch their attention
to her, and cluster around her feet. She picks
up Ronnie and tucks him under her arm.
Helas, Bunker and several others go up on
their hind legs to put their soft front paws on
her thighs. She shoo-es them back into the
house.
I lock down the trike and am just about to
follow Kez when Nev comes towards me,
arms outstretched. I glance around to check
where Kez is. Find her standing at the top of
the stairs, looking at me. I meet her eyes,
watch closely for her reaction. Maybe we’re
past jealousy, her and me, but if we’re not, I
want to know before I make the mistake of
letting Nev touch me.
Kez shrugs.
Nev goes up on her tiptoes to hug me.
Presses those soft, full lips against my cheek.
She smells like ripe fruit. I don’t have to lick
her skin to know how she’ll taste. Don’t have
to touch her to know how soft she’ll be under
my hands. Her belly brushes against mine
and I force myself to remember carrying her
down the stairs of the Eddle Hab, stained
with Junior Pimp’s spunk, glazed out of her
mind with Hex, to keep the little monster
under control.
I pat her once, and step back.
She takes my hand and looks up at me.
Huge brown eyes in the perfect oval of her
face. “I just wanted to say thank you. You
and Kez saved my life. I haven’t been myself
for the last few days. I hope you won’t hold
it against me.”
I won’t hold it against her, but there’s not
much that will change my opinion of her,
either. And either she doesn’t understand her
own charm, or the perpetual come-on is just
second-nature. Whichever, I don’t like it.
“Yeah, okay.”
She smiles and leads me toward the
house, still holding on to my hand. I don’t
know how to extricate myself without
insulting her.
Kez gives me the perfect excuse when
she offers me Ronnie as we reach the top of
the stairs. Slanting a smile at my astute kitten,
I take the floppy bunny, flip him over onto
his back the way I saw her do, cuddling him
like the world’s biggest baby in my left arm,
and rub his white, furry tummy. He goes
limp, and starts tooth-purring so hard he
rattles my shoulder in its socket. It’s
disconcerting, the rabbit’s reaction to being
petted. To be so completely trusted by an
animal I could kill with a single movement.
But it’s also very gratifying. Like every other
facet of being with Kez.
Nev leans across me to coo. “Isn’t he the
sweetest?”
“Yeah,” I say. I give the bunny-tummy a
firmer rub. Maybe if I press his stomach
right, he’ll fart. Do rabbits fart? Most
animals do. I figure a rabbit fart will back
the beautiful girl up a couple of paces.
Kez moves to my other side, carrying a
double-armful of rabbit. Bunker by the
coloration as well as one I don’t recognize,
its dark red pelt ablaze in the sunshine.
Bunker may be a handsome specimen, but the
flame-colored rabbit is a show-stopper.
“You got the prettiest,” I say to Kez.
“This is Ember,” she says, nodding at the
red rabbit. I notice she’s careful not to jostle
or jiggle the bunnies the way you would a
human infant. Guess they don’t like that sorta
motion. “She’s still a juvenile.” I wouldn’t
have guessed that. Hard to tell when the
rabbits are the size of medium-sized dogs. “I
just got her last month to breed with Bobble
when they’re both old enough. She’s settling
in really well. A week ago she wouldn’t let
me pick her up like this.”
“Thought they weren’t test tube bunnies.”
“They’re not,” Kez says, a little
indignantly. “I just like trying new colors.
Besides, a flame sable would sell for three
times what Chalk’s current litter will go
for.”
“And we’d have the only ones in all of
the Vespers,” Gig chimes in from behind us.
Ape and Chiara trail him, hand in hand.
I already knew that Kez and Gig were the
brains of their particular outfit. I hadn’t
realized it extended all the way to the
economics of bunny breeding. But my kitten
is a practical woman, with a lot of mouths to
feed, and if she can turn a credit off
something, she will.
The rabbit herd, moving in a multi-
colored, hopping carpet, precedes us into the
&
nbsp; house. “They don’t try to escape?” I ask Kez.
She snorts. “They know where they’re
fed.”
Inside, the rabbit herd disperses. The
human herd stays together to the kitchen
where, from the foodstuffs spread over the
counters, I’d say they were in the middle of
making a meal. No wonder they’re all
around. The human herd knows where it’s
fed, too.
Kez sweeps it all with her blue gaze and
turns to Ape. “Can you fry up a couple of
stickles, too? That should feed all of us.” She
glances at me. “Are you okay with fish for
lunch?”
“Sure. I’ll be in the ‘fresher.” I’ve had
enough of sand in my ass.
“I’ll join you.” Kez takes my hand and
we leave her herd finishing their
preparations.
Kez decides we don’t have time for
anything but a shower, and since the
bathroom has two doors, neither of which
lock, we shower separately. The ache in my
nuts is getting to be a real distraction, but
wanking off in the shower with Kez less than
two meters away will probably upset her. At
least I get rid of the sand. Once I’m wrapped
in a towel, I join Kez at the bathroom’s big
triple sink. She watches me run a whisker
over my jaw. I put my free arm around her as
she begins to clean her teeth.
“When you’re done,” she says, around a
mouthful of foam. “Would you do my hair?”
“All the way down?” I ask. Kez will be
beautiful to me no matter what she does, but I
kind of like her bangs. I’ll be sorry if she
shaves those off.
“Get rid of these.” She pulls at the stub of
one of her dreads. “And even it out?”
“Sure.” I retrieve my clothes and fish out
one of my knives. Kez probably has clippers
or something, but I’m better with a blade. I
trim the stubs, help Kez brush them out, and
even out the resulting ragged mop to crew-
cut length, leaving her bangs long. She runs
her fingers through her hair, scrunching the
stubble, making the wisps stand on end.
“Nice, kitten.” I’m not teasing her. As
much as I liked the dreads, short hair suits
her. It gives her face a gamine quality. Makes
those big blue eyes even bigger. And I love
the vulnerability of her bare neck.
“Mmm.” She picks up a spiky-looking
brush, attached to a cartridge bristling with
multi-colored buttons. She clicks a black
button, then runs the brush through her
stubble, avoiding her bangs. The stubble