by Natalie Grey
Not that he’d be able to catch him, but it would be a complication they didn’t need. No, best to wait until he was cornered and the evidence was verified.
She looked over to where Freeze, her most competent programmer, was swearing softly to himself as he typed. She’d set him the task of making them invisible to the Warlord’s defense satellites, and she wasn’t sure he’d slept in the three days since then. She got up to go peer at the screen.
“Any luck?”
“One step forward, two steps back,” the man muttered. He gave an exhausted look up at her. “I wasted far too much time trying to find the way they’d done it before, because Defense claimed they’d taken the satellites down for our missions. Then I find all these communications with Soras saying his team’s done it, which means they did it from within their own fucking system, which I should have guessed in the first place—”
“Less ‘mea culpa,’ more programming.” She headed over to the sideboard where she kept her stash of black tea—none of the synthetic shit in little bags, the real stuff. She paid an exorbitant amount of her income for it, but it was worth it to her.
“…Yes, ma’am.” He went back to typing before shooting her a look. “How are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” Alina looked up from where she was measuring some of the tea into a pot. “You want some of this?”
“If you’re sharing.” He looked impressed.
“You’ve been camped out in my room for three days. I think that makes you a proper guest.” She smiled as the water heated in a separate pot. “And what’s this about how I’m doing?”
“I dunno, our boss is a sociopath? That’s a big one.” He gave her a grin, but sobered a moment later. “And I know you and Zeke were close.”
Her face closed off and Alina turned back to making the tea.
“I’m … sorry if I overstepped, ma’am.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop calling me ‘ma’am.’”
“Yes, ma—sorry.”
She gave him a look and considered whether to answer the question honestly. This was the sort of thing she would not usually share with her team. On the other hand, she couldn’t expect that she was the only one having trouble with Zeke’s betrayal.
“How are you doing with it?” she asked him. When he said nothing, she looked down at the curl of steam and swallowed. She was no good at putting these things into words. “I’m angry as hell. And I miss him.” Which didn’t make a lick of sense, given that she was the one who’d killed him, but there they were.
“You were close,” Freeze said again.
“No, I was close with who I thought he was.”
“Do you really think it was all a lie?” Freeze shot her a quick look, as if assessing whether it was safe to keep going down this conversational path. “I mean, sure, he was hiding something big from you—but it’s not like you two didn’t run successful missions otherwise. He was a good soldier. He had to be, to get through selection. He saved our asses sometimes.”
“So he could gain our trust, so he could screw us over.”
“You remember the op we ran last year—the human trafficking ring off Tarsis? When Hume got hurt?”
She nodded.
“He beat himself up about that for a solid week,” Freeze told her. “He cared about the team. Maybe not enough. And he still betrayed us, and you did what you had to do and no one would say otherwise. But he was still your XO and your friend—well, my friend, anyway—and it makes sense to miss him.”
Alina sat down on the bed and pressed her hands in between her knees. “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I killed your friend. It was just too ridiculous to say.
“You did what you had to do. But, thanks.” He gave a little aha a moment later. “I think I’m close. Should be done by the time I’m through with that tea.”
“Good.” Alina shook her head to clear it and poured the hot water over the tea leaves.
Zeke, whoever and whatever he had been, was gone, and they had far more important things to worry about than figuring out how they felt about that.
A day and a half until they arrived. Samara took a brief break from pacing, sure that she was making herself seem crazy….
And then remembered that in less than two days, they’d have the weapons and support to take out the Warlord. She started pacing again.
“You have to calm down,” Stefan said, from the side of the room.
“I can’t calm down.”
“Have pity on the poor, concussed resistance soldier. Watching you go back and forth is making me dizzy.”
“I’m sorry.” Samara went to get him a drink of water and went to kneel by his cot as he drank. “Let me see the cuts.” Stefan had been held only briefly in the guard barracks after a resistance operation went wrong, but they’d roughed him up plenty in only a few hours. She wondered how long it would be until he recovered.
He was certainly still prickly. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to turn away from her. “Arlon checked them yesterday.”
“I know, and if you’ll recall, changing bandages daily is considered good practice. If you want to get better, you’ll let us help you.”
He sat silent and stiff, resentment radiating from him. “I hate being tended to,” he said finally.
“I know. We all do.” Samara laid one of the bandages back in place. “But I trust you to cope with it just fine.”
Stefan made a disgusted noise, and then leaned forward.
“Stop moving.”
“You have a message.” He pointed.
“I’ll get to it in a second.” Although her mind was now totally consumed with what was in that message.
“I see Aryn’s name,” Stefan said blandly.
Samara’s head jerked up. “Are you just saying that so I’ll stop fussing over you?”
“You’ll never know if you don’t check.” His smile was at once beatific and wicked.
“You’d better hope you’re telling the truth, because if you aren’t….” Samara pointed at him meaningfully. She’d learned from a few of her friends that it was easier to let other people fill in threats, rather than coming up with something.
He hadn’t been lying, though. Her pulse began to pound as she read.
Weapons arriving on ship Niccolo at 1100 Tuesday. May not be able to meet there, but will follow to Io District. Contact on the ship is Aryn Beranek.
“Samara?” Stefan’s voice broke through her reverie.
“She’s coming here,” Samara whispered. “Aryn.” Panic seized her. “I have to get her to leave.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Stefan gave her a look. “You didn’t let her know who Ellian was, you didn’t want to involve her in this—you keep treating her like she’s not even a person, like she’s a pet.”
“That’s not—”
“You’re treating her like Ellian treats her,” Stefan said flatly.
There was a ringing silence.
“Aryn was one of us,” he told her finally. “If she’s here to help, then that’s her choice, and it’s not your call to say otherwise.”
“What if she gets hurt?” Samara whispered. Her throat ached.
His face didn’t waver. “That’s a chance she’s taking. And she knows it.”
Nyx circled, eyes narrowed on the figure across the mat from her.
Over the years, Nyx had come to learn the way every team member sparred. Tersi was deceptively slow, absorbing a few hits as he set up a devastating round of strikes that it was nearly impossible to see coming. Jester, maddeningly, never seemed to have a style or strategy at all, and so she sparred with him regularly just to keep herself on her toes. Talon was sneaky to a fault, and with bone-crunching force—he taught people to stay out of the way of hits.
Sphinx might have been trained solely by Talon, if you looked at how she fought. It was, Jim said laconically, like trying to punch a puddle. By the time you hit, she was out of the way—but only by the merest fraction of an inch. With her tall fr
ame, she could strike from outside many people’s range, and she made exquisite use of that, never quite absorbing a blow, coming just close enough to land a strike and then melting away again.
It drove Nyx crazy.
Which was why she’d been taking a page out of the other woman’s playbook lately. She waited as Sphinx darted close, and moved just far enough away that the strike didn’t quite hit. Sliding sideways and pivoting, she anticipated the direction Sphinx would go to get away … and went the other way, missing the other woman’s parting shot.
“Damn you,” Sphinx muttered. She wiped at her face with her tee-shirt as she circled.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” Nyx said with a grin. “By the way, I want you sparring with the newbie.”
“Why?” Sphinx closed, fast, and nearly managed to flip Nyx onto her back before sliding away just a touch slowly.
“Because you’re patient.” Nyx managed to land a solid strike, and gave herself a mental pat on the back. “And you’re good at making other people impatient—and he’s very impatient.”
“Who isn’t, at that age?” Sphinx asked philosophically. “He’ll grow out of it.”
“And I’m sure all our enemies will make allowances for him in the meantime,” Nyx said, with a meaningful look.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sphinx looked vague as she started circling the other way.
She was clearly planning something, but Nyx had no idea what it was. She waited and watched, tracking Sphinx around the edge of the circle, baiting her by moving slightly slower, letting the other woman close.
And then, as Sphinx’s muscles tensed for a move, Nyx asked sweetly, “So, how’s Tersi?”
There was only a moment of startlement, but it was enough. Nyx closed in a rush, sweeping Sphinx’s leg out from under her. She hauled Sphinx up and over her as both of them went down, depriving her of a solid surface to push off from, and then rolled to pin the other woman, wrenching her arm up until Sphinx, with a muttered curse, tapped out.
She pushed herself up with a mock glare. “That was fighting dirty.”
“Well, you know what they say.” Nyx went to take a drink from her water bottle. “Never fight fair.”
“Someday you’re going to meet someone and I’m never going to let you live it down,” Sphinx muttered. She took a drink as well and stretched one arm over her chest, rolling her head too loosen the muscles.
“I’ll take that chance.” Nyx began to stretch as well.
“So, how is the newbie?” Sphinx folded herself down, hands on the floor. “It can’t be easy for him, going straight from Crius to Seneca to New Arizona. And now….”
Nyx made a little hiss, and the two women both fell silent.
Footsteps were coming down the corridor outside and they both hid behind stacks of mats until whoever it was continued down the hall and away.
The Dragons were not officially present on the Niccolo, and so they’d spent the past few days hiding out in spare rooms and making a game of grabbing provisions from the kitchen without being seen. So far, they’d managed it.
Nyx crept out and peered out the window set into the door. “I think we’re good.”
“Good. I’ll be glad to be off this ship, though.” Sphinx emerged, re-braiding her hair.
“So will we all.” Nyx beckoned her out of the gym and they slipped down the hall, walking almost silently. “And the kid’s doing well, to answer your question, but I worry, too.”
“He’ll make it,” Sphinx said reassuringly, but when Nyx looked over, she saw worry on the other woman’s face.
It was the same worry that twisted in Nyx’s chest every time she saw Loki. The kid was a good soldier. Normally, Nyx would say this was the best place for him.
It was also possible—beyond possible—that Loki had come on board just in time to die during the assault on Ymir.
5
Cade wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Some hellhole of a place with fiery mines next to the spaceport, probably. Whatever the case, Ymir was surprisingly beautiful: rolling hills covered in greenery, the launch pad new and immaculate—well, Ymir was hardly a hub of transportation—and the beauty of the main city not far away. Even the rain simply lent a certain softness to everything. Perhaps the Warlord had seen to it that anyone coming in had to pass through this pretty wilderness before seeing the mines. It was a good trick, already making Cade doubt what he knew about the planet.
He knew enough to be on his guard, however. Cade stood in the steady drizzle, his arms crossed, and watched the crates being unloaded from the ship. How had he not noticed them in the first place? Their shape fairly screamed contraband. He could only wonder what the men in the control tower thought, though they’d made no move to stop anyone.
He had to hand it to Aryn. No matter how infuriating her actions, they were bold enough that she had the element of surprise on her side. Cade was sure Ellian knew something, but even he might not guess what was right in front of his face. Hell, Cade had seen Aryn pawn her necklaces, he’d seen the weapons specs, and he still hadn’t put two and two together.
It was not good for his pride, but—at the same time—oddly charming.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Talon came to stand at his side on the ramp.
“I still can’t believe you,” Cade told him bluntly, and Talon did not have to ask what he meant.
“You would have done the same in my place.” He was not the least bit chastened.
“You couldn’t get the weapons some other way?”
“Given that the Warlord is in the intelligence networks and Ellian Pallas is owed favors by most of New Arizona? No.”
“So you conned us both into helping you.”
“Essentially, yes.” Talon’s voice was light, but he fidgeted with a ring, a touch of red glinting against iron. He sighed, finally. “Williams, can you blame me? I needed you. And I needed her.”
“Uh-huh. I see Nyx is here.” Cade’s eyes had picked out three of the Dragons so far—there was no hiding that self-assured gait, even with dock workers’ clothes—and he was sure there were more of them. Perhaps one or two in the crates with the weapons, if he knew Talon. The man wasn’t going to move contraband without a guard.
“She was close to putting it together on her own. She knew something was up.” Talon’s eyes also tracked the woman, her dark hair drawn back in a braid that circled her head.
Cade watched her as well. He couldn’t remember for the life of him what her actual name was. He was glad to see her—he’d always liked her, no matter how quiet she was, and he had no desire at all to go up against her.
“So you’ve got Nyx, and I saw Tersi and Sphinx earlier—no hiding her hair. Who’s that one?” Cade leaned back against the doorframe, nodding his head in the direction of a young man lurking by the crates. “He needs a bit more work on pretending to be unremarkable.”
“He’ll catch on. We call him Loki.”
“What is he, twelve? No wonder you need my help.”
Talon snorted quietly.
“Looks it, doesn’t he? He’s good, though. Reminds me a lot of you at that age. Although, I think he might have lied on his paperwork. Best guess, he’s seventeen.”
“And good enough for the Dragons?” Dragons tended to run older than other special forces. Age and cunning trumped youth and speed every time, or so they said.
“He applied after I found out.” Talon looked over. “And I needed another one who would be loyal to me—not Soras. So I hired him, even though he’s very nearly as pigheadedly stubborn as you are. Likes to go charging in headfirst. He’ll be a distraction, if nothing else.”
“Jesus, you’re cold.”
“You have to be, in this business. I can’t do this on my own.”
“So you set me up.” He knew the conversation was circling. He still couldn’t believe it. He wondered what he hoped Talon was going to say.
“I put you in a position to learn the truth,” Talon corrected. “Although I admit I didn’
t expect you’d become quite so … devoted … to your job.”
Cade said nothing. He could feel Talon’s watchful gaze on his face. The man had seen everything; of course he knew. He probably could have seen it before Cade did. But that didn’t mean Cade had any intention of confirming the man’s suspicions.
“You look tired,” Talon said, after a moment.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
The past two nights had been a torment. Cade lay awake at the foot of Aryn’s bed, the hard floor pressing against his head. Cots weren’t made for men his height, and in any case, the discomfort of the floor suited him. He needed a distraction from the thought of Aryn, only a few feet away. He spent the night hoping she would sit up and say his name—give any indication that the kiss troubled her as much as it troubled him.
It had been a bad idea. She’d made her choice over and over, and he couldn’t seem to accept it. Who cared if they wanted each other? She was married. She had her reasons, presumably. He wondered bitterly if he was only fascinated by her and not in love at all. If she was no more than a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. But he knew, even as he wondered, that it was more than that. It had been something he could deny until he’d actually felt her against him.
“About Aryn,” Talon said quietly. His eyes flickered over to where Aryn stood, deep in conversation with a woman in mining overalls. The woman had given Cade a very unpleasant look when she arrived, but it was clear she was no threat to Aryn.
“What about her?” Cade looked over.
“You remember when I told you that Ellian’s a vengeful bastard?”
“I remember,” Cade said flatly. “You don’t need to remind me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“It won’t come to anything.”
“That’s optimistic. Face it, Williams, if you didn’t want her, you wouldn’t be looking at her like that—and if you had any sense at all, you would have walked away by now.”
“She … doesn’t feel the same. So it will never come to anything.”