As long as he was breathing, as long as there was a single Reidar in this galaxy that needed putting down, he wouldn’t back down, and he wouldn’t give up. No matter the cost.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As Forster swaggered into the Imojenna’s galley and common room, Zander glanced up from where he was helping Ella chop vegetables.
“It’s done.” Forster held out his hands as he made the announcement. “We now have permission to bring the Swift Brion into the Barbary Belt and reside here for as long as we need. But we have to adhere to pirate’s law and we may or may not be called on by Corsair Blackstone to perform the occasional favor.”
Rian brushed by Forster and headed toward the coldstore, his mood seeming a little more subdued.
“I think Blackstone only granted the boon because he thinks we’re going to get ourselves killed trying to take the Swift Brion, and then it won’t be his problem anyway,” Forster continued, walking over to sit at one of the stools in front of the bench. He reached over to help himself to a carrot stick as Rian turned from the coldstore holding a couple of beers.
“And when we do manage to take the Swift Brion, Blackstone ends up with an IPC flagship in his backyard to call on whenever he needs it. There’s no downside for him.” Rian knocked the top of the beers and handed them around.
“Whatever you did for him, Rizza, Blackstone actually seems to respect you, which is rare, since he mostly thinks everyone in this galaxy is there for the sole purpose of him killing or extorting.” Forster saluted Rian with the beer and took a quick swallow.
Rian took a slower, more considerate mouthful of beer, his gaze straying to Ella, who hadn’t reacted when the two men had come in, instead continuing with her dinner preparations.
“Anything happen around here I need to know about?” Rian asked as he seemed to forcibly remove his attention from the Arynian priestess.
Interesting.
Rian had never been a huge romantic, even before he’d up and disappeared for all that time. And since he’d been back, as far as Zander knew, his old buddy hadn’t shown the slightest interest in anything except destroying the Reidar. If the petite woman standing next to him had somehow managed to pull Rian out of that tailspin, even for a moment, that was no small thing.
“Nothing to report, no.” Zander reached over for one of the beers. “Kira, Tannin, and Zahli are still reviewing those Reidar research files, Jensen and Lianna are on the Ebony Winter helping Chase with those guns, and I think the rest of the guys said something about hitting up Tripoli’s infamous hustler district.”
Rian shook his head. “So they’ll come back with no money, drunk off their asses.”
Forster shrugged a shoulder. “Let them get it out of their system now. They’ll be better for it once we fly off to this suicide mission. In fact, I think I might join them. See you on the flip side.” He took his beer and held it above his head. “To getting shite faced and hitting the mattress with some random chick I won’t remember tomorrow. Tripoli, here I come.”
Rian cracked a smile as his cousin left the galley, then moved to sit on the stool Forster had vacated and clasped his hands on top of the bench.
“So, I noticed you didn’t mention Mae.”
Zander clenched his hand tighter around his beer, the now familiar pain throbbing through his chest when he recalled exactly how far the woman had screwed him—literally and figuratively. The reminder seemed to be on a repeating loop every other five minutes.
Whenever he’d seen her in the last few days, he’d wanted to say something to her…he just didn’t know what. He wanted her to deny what she’d done, or give him a reason that would negate the black hole of misery inside him from the loss of Jaren and all the others who’d died in the wake of their scramble to reach Rian. But when he looked at her, all the fury and pain only got worse. Nothing she could say would make any of that feel better.
Maybe he’d overreacted, but who could blame him, since the foundation of their entire relationship had been based on a lie? Perhaps she hadn’t felt as deeply for him after all, because Mae didn’t seem the least bit interested in repairing their fledgling relationship. Ironically enough, she was now outwardly treating him platonically, with professional detachment—the type of relationship they would have had on the Swift Brion as captain admiral and assistant if not for the shuttle crash that had started them on this path.
He couldn’t decide whom he loathed more—her for doing this to him or himself for the fact that even though he wanted to hate her for the betrayal, the sad truth was, part of him missed the comfort and easy familiarity they’d found in each other since boarding the Ebony Winter. But they’d never get that back, and it had all been a lie anyway.
Even if he could get past everything she’d done, what kind of life would they have? Living way outside respectable civilization on the Barbary Belt, wanted by the IPC, UAFA, and a bunch of sociopathic aliens? Yeah, that was one hell of a fairy tale right there.
But he couldn’t discard the fact that she’d burned herself with UAFA to save his life. The best thing—the only thing—he could do for her was use some of his contacts to help her disappear with a clean identity before he yanked the cord on his own life with the IPC.
He took a swig of beer to wash the tight fury from the back of his throat. “I’m not avoiding her, if that’s what you think. I asked her if she wanted a coffee when she came up for breakfast this morning.”
Rian sent him a faintly exasperated look but didn’t reply.
Zander pushed away from the bench to pace toward the table.
“I’m not talking about it, Rian. It’s done. She made her choices, and those choices cost people their lives.” He paused to send Rian a cutting smile. “Besides, getting any kind of relationship advice from you seems kind of ridiculous.”
Rian knocked back a mouthful of beer. “I’m not trying to give you advice. Hell, I’d be the first person to tell you I don’t do feelings or relationships. I’m just sick of seeing you mope everywhere.”
“I don’t mope. Tell me of one time you actually saw me moping.” He’d been working overtime to hide his feelings and go on like everyone would expect of Captain Admiral Graydon.
“Okay, fine, I can see you’re moping on the inside. Which is worse.”
“Pot. Kettle.”
“I don’t mope.” Rian frowned at him. “I dream up suicidal ways of killing aliens.”
“Whatever you say, Rizza.”
Rian’s glare intensified. “Don’t call me that, or next time you’re sleeping, you’ll wake up in my airlock, rapidly losing oxygen.”
“I love you, too, buddy.” Zander grinned at him in return.
Rian sent him a one-finger salute before snatching up his beer. “Comm me when dinner is ready, galley bitch.”
Zander swallowed a laugh as Rian stalked out of the room. Rian’s sense of humor wasn’t anywhere near as light as it’d once been, but Zander could sense it lurking beneath the surface, as if the old Rian was waiting underneath the cold, callous defensive mask he’d been fending the universe off with these past years.
“You’re good for him,” Ella said from where she was stirring a pot on the cooktop.
“How do you mean?”
“Rian’s created this little bubble he controls. That was fine for a while—we all need to feel safe in order to heal. But now he needs people who push him to see more of himself.”
Zander walked closer to the counter, his curiosity well and truly piqued. “Is that what you’re doing? I’ve known Rian for a long time, and pushing him never ends well for anyone.”
“I’m here because this is where the universe sent me.” She leaned over the pot and brought the spoon up to test whatever she was cooking. “As for the other, Rian is his own responsibility. I was simply making an observation.”
“Uh-huh,” he replied. Rian had mentioned something about the priestess having a confounding way with words, and now he could see what his buddy meant.
>
“You should talk to Mae, though.” She speared him with a direct look. “You’d be surprised how simply telling the truth of your heart and mind can clear the air between people.”
Easy for her to say. Her trust hadn’t been shredded by the one person she’d opened up to, become vulnerable to, trusted with more than just her life.
“It’s too late. The damage is done. I don’t think I can ever look at her the same way again. I can’t see her without watching Jaren die all over again.” He clenched his jaw, locking down any other words from escaping. He’d already spilled more than he’d wanted.
Ella’s unruffled demeanor didn’t change. “People will always be mercurial. We can only do our best to live true to our own heart, no matter what we may receive from others in return. And it might be a cliché, but you’d be surprised what wounds time can heal.”
“No wonder you’re giving Rian fits,” he murmured as she turned her attention back to chopping vegetables.
“Would you mind heading down to perishable storage? I need more potatoes.”
So that was the end of the perplexing conversation? Fine with him. Thinking about Mae and him for the thousandth time today had given him a headache anyway.
“Sure thing.” He took a moment to finish the beer he’d been nursing, then left the galley and headed down to the cargo bay. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped, exasperation and suspicion shooting through him. He glanced back up the stairs. Had Ella really needed potatoes? Because he got the feeling his errand had been all about her meddling with more than just words.
He turned to leave again, but his boots ringing on the metal grate flooring of the cargo bay had given him away. Mae glanced up, surprise flitting across her features before her expression settled into the usual detached mask she’d worn around him since the fallout. That indifference annoyed the crap out of him, as though now that it was over, everything they’d shared had been of little consequence.
“Did you need something, Graydon?” She set the commpad aside and clasped her hands.
And that was the other thing that pissed him off—she’d reverted to calling him by his last name and hadn’t slipped up once.
“Would you stop that?” He tried not to glare at her.
“Stop what?” Wariness edged into her expression.
“Stop calling me Graydon. Stop acting like a damned soldier. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not on the Swift Brion. And when we do return, we’re either going to get killed or steal an IPC flagship. Either way, I won’t be retaining my rank for much longer.”
Her expression closed up. “Then how would you like me to refer to you, sir?”
He laughed at that, but the sound held little humor. “So you’re pandering to me now, huh? You know how stupid this is, right?”
She pushed to her feet, anger creeping into her gaze. “Exactly which part of this are you talking about? The fact that we’re calmly talking about stealing an entire flagship from the IPC, or the fact that you and I got involved in the first place?”
Though there was nothing left of their relationship except a smoking crater, a new slash of pain laid open his wounds. “So you regret what happened between us? Is that what I’m reading between the lines here? I’m kind of confused, though. I was the one who found out a few days ago that you’d not only been keeping secrets from me, but also lied to my face the day we met and every day after. Shouldn’t I be the defensive one here?”
“We both knew it was a mistake.” She crossed her arms, posture becoming tight and defensive.
He stepped closer to her. “No, you knew it was a mistake. That was one of many truths you decided not to let me in on.”
She glanced away from him. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want to keep anything from you, but it wasn’t my secret to tell. Rian trusted me, and I didn’t want to destroy that.”
Some small part of him—the moronic, miniscule part that still cared about her despite everything—tried to tell him that maybe he should cut her some understanding. Rian might be one of his closest friends, but even the thought of crossing the man made a cold sweat creep along his spine. However, too much had happened, and there were too many broken pieces to make sense of what used to be.
“It doesn’t really matter now.” He fought to keep the pain out of his voice, not wanting her to know exactly how deeply she’d scarred him. He closed himself off, walled up that part of himself until he could look at her without wanting the ram a fist into the nearest bulkhead. “I mean, between facing my psychotic twin and stealing an IPC flagship, no doubt there’s only one way this ends for me.”
At last, a flicker of emotion flared in her gray eyes, and a hint of dark satisfaction that she might be hurting as well dragged through his pain.
“Don’t say that. You can’t go into this fight thinking you’re not going to come out the other side.” Her voice held a ragged edge, as though the words were hard for her to get out.
“Why not? It’s the reality I’m facing, and it’s not your concern any longer. You made damn sure of that.”
Before she could reply, he stomped back up the stairs, no destination in mind, just needing to be alone with his inner shadows. The chances of them all getting killed were astronomical in this insane mission to take the Swift Brion. Considering anything beyond getting back on his ship and taking out his Reidar twin—especially a reconciliation with Mae—was foolish.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mae accepted the gun Rian handed her before he moved on to pass one of the Reidar stun weapons to Lucie, standing next to her. They’d just received word from the small bridge of the Ebony Winter that they were on final approach to the Swift Brion. They were about to take a gamble and tell the IPC flagship that Forster planned to surrender because one of his crew members needed urgent medical attention.
“So are we all clear on what we need to do?” Rian asked, passing a weapon to Zahli.
By the time he’d finished, all of the crew members of the Imojenna and Ebony Winter had been armed with Chase’s new stockpile of guns.
“I still don’t see why we had to use my ship,” Forster muttered as he holstered and hid an alarming number of weapons on his body.
Rian rested both palms on the guns at his hips. “Because the Ebony Winter is higher up the IPC’s wanted list than the Imojenna. It’s a bait fake-Zander can’t pass up without drawing suspicion.”
“Couldn’t you have just taken the Imojenna and said you were dropping by to visit?”
Mae rolled her eyes as she exchanged exasperated glances with Lucie and Zahli. They’d already had this conversation, but Forster still hadn’t given up his bitching.
“Because the Reidar know I’m after them and fake-Zander might get suspicious.” Rian shoved his cousin in the shoulder. “Now shut the hell up and go send the communication.”
Muttering, Forster left the Ebony Winter’s communal room, headed for the bridge.
Rian turned to face them all, clasping his hands in front of him. For a second, Mae had a disorientating flash of déjà vu, remembering Rian standing in much the same way years earlier when they’d both been fighting in the Assimilation Wars. He’d been ranked slightly higher than her, and although they hadn’t served in the same unit, she’d watched him address his men before they’d deployed out of some random waystation they’d both been passing through.
“Most of you have been armed with a Reidar stunner.” Rian nodded at Chase. “We haven’t had time to extensively test the weapon, but it works. However, there is one small drawback. The power pack will only sustain ten shots before it’s drained.”
“Eventually, I may be able to come up with a replacement power cartridge you could reload,” Chase interjected. “Or I might be able to make the power pack last longer, but for now we’re all stuck with this limitation.”
“So make every shot count, got it?”
There was a low murmur of agreement through the gathered crews of the two ships.
Mae’s he
art skipped a beat as she did the calculations. With the rounds they had available, they wouldn’t be able to clear half the Swift Brion crew. Even if they all used every single shot effectively, that only took care of one hundred people. Which left around two hundred who could be Reidar.
Mostly everyone was looking a mixture of resigned and anxious. Rian and Forster had given their joint crews the choice of not participating in this insane mission, yet not a single person had opted to stay back on Tripoli.
A cold sweat had started forming at the base of her spine, made worse by Rian’s announcement about the Reidar stunner’s limited capacity. The odds just kept stacking against them.
“How do I look?”
Mae turned around at the sound of Zander’s voice, her breath catching in her chest. He walked farther into the room and accepted a Reidar stunner from Rian, then tucked it in an underarm holster.
“Like a damned stiff-spined brass monkey,” Rian replied, handing a second pistol to Zander—this one a nucleon gun, followed by a metium knife.
In full IPC uniform, Zander looked nothing short of formidable. After the past two weeks hiding out as civilians, it was a shock to her system seeing him all clean shaven and tidy in his captain admiral standard.
Her heart thumped a few painful, slow beats, as though the blood in her veins had thickened. Ever since the truth had come out, she hadn’t been able to chase away the deep chill that had settled into her very bones or force Zander from her mind, no matter how she tried to tell herself that it was better this way.
Odds were, some or all of them weren’t going to make it through this mission alive.
But it didn’t matter now that she’d let him turn away, had enforced the distance just as vehemently from her side—her emotions, her very heart were so deeply invested in him that this moment before they launched into battle had brought the very worry and agony she’d been trying to circumvent.
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