by Zen DiPietro
An image of Dragonfire’s security chief appeared in his mind, and he examined it from all sides. It made perfect sense. He had remarkably good looks, an impeccable code of ethics, and a great sense of humor. Plus a uniform, which always held a certain attraction of its own, whether worn by a man or a woman.
“Arin Triss. It has to be,” he declared. “But a security chief and a trader? Talk about unlikely pairings.”
To his surprise, redness flooded her tanned face. Whoops. Apparently, she was more than just attracted to him.
It wasn’t like Cabot to commit a faux pas, and he immediately felt contrite. “But,” he said quickly, “opposites often attract, don’t they? And you two are alike in the ways that would matter.”
She ran a hand over her red cheek. “No, we’re definitely not. What would we even talk about? It’s just a crush.”
He was certain it was much more than that, but he nodded agreeably. “We all have them from time to time. Even me.”
That caught her attention. “Really? Who do you have a crush on?”
“No one at the moment. But when Captain Nevitt first arrived on the station, I couldn’t stop looking at her.”
The color in her face faded. “The captain? Seriously? Up until recently, she was made of stone.”
“Yes, it was a short-lived attraction. But you can’t deny, she’s magnificent. She has this way of making you feel like she’s deigning to talk to a mere bug. You know?”
She laughed. “And you find that attractive?”
“Of course.” But he was smiling, making his answer ambiguous. “And you know what else?”
“What?”
“Don’t tell anyone, but I think she and Ross Whelkin might be dating. Just a little. Very quietly.”
“Really? Huh.” Arlen tilted her head, probably imagining the two together.
Ross was part of Fallon’s Blackout circle, having been an instructor of her team at the academy. The official story on Dragonfire, though, was that he was simply an intelligence officer.
But thinking of the formerly hard-as-nails workaholic Captain Nevitt dating Ross distracted Arlen sufficiently from her own romantic life, which seemed to be of the unrequited variety.
“We live in strange times,” she finally said.
“That we do.”
“So you’ll think about the Nagali thing?”
“I will. If you’ll think about asking Arin out when we return to Dragonfire.” If she could poke at sensitive spots in the name of friendship, then so could he.
She gave her head a quick shake. “There’s no reason for him to be interested in me.”
That was entirely untrue. “Arin has gone out with just about every single woman who has come through Dragonfire. Why would you be the exception?”
“No, that’s what I mean.” Her mouth pulled downward. “He’s one of the most popular people on the station. He’s single and gorgeous, and I’m just…well, I’m fine, but not the sort of person that could hold his interest.”
Cabot found no logic in her argument. “No one has held his interest thus far. And he’s never so much as gone out with you. So isn’t it reasonable to think that you might be different enough to be the one to hold his attention?”
Her brow furrowed and her look of confused surprise made him chuckle.
“See?” he said. “I’m making perfect sense. So if you’ll think about asking him out, I’ll entertain the idea that Nagali isn’t an evil harpy.”
She laughed. “I never said ‘evil harpy.’”
“No. But I might have thought it a time or two, in the months immediately after our breakup.”
“But not since?”
“Well…not very often since.” He shrugged.
She laughed again. “All right. Deal. We can both do some thinking.”
“Should we sign a contract?” he teased.
“I think a verbal agreement will do.”
He left her quarters smiling.
Rule of Sales Number 9: Don’t do business with friends or family.
Rule of Sales Number 10: Sometimes, you just have to ignore the rules.
***
On the way to relieve Omar of piloting duties, Nagali stepped from the mess hall, blocking Cabot’s path.
His first instinct was to make a mildly sarcastic comment, but he curbed it. Instead, he looked at her through the lens Arlen had suggested. Had this woman fought to reign in her own instincts to be with him?
He tried to dismiss the idea as the idealism of a young woman who meant well. But he couldn’t.
Nagali watched him, not saying a word as he squinted at her, trying to see her the way he had back on Dauntless. As a betrayer.
He shook his head and pushed past her.
Her hand on his shoulder made him pause.
“I’m not all bad,” she told him. “I never was. I’m just not all good either. Or perfect.” Her dark eyes pled for understanding, then she went back into her quarters.
Cabot looked toward the ship’s tiny bridge, feeling conflicted.
It had been easier to simply hate her.
***
EVER SINCE ARLEN had raised the question, it had nagged him. He had to know.
Cabot rang the chime on Nagali’s door, and it opened immediately. He didn’t wait to sit, but dove right in.
“When we were together, did you force yourself to be the person you thought I wanted you to be?”
She’d painted her lips a deeper red than their natural shade, and the crimson color contracted. “No. I didn’t. Well. Not exactly.” Her eyes roamed the room as if she were casing it for a break-in.
After a long pause, she went on. “I would say I was ninety percent the real me.”
“And the other ten percent?”
“I was making different decisions than I would have. Trying to be more…I don’t know…reliable. Less…”
“Less Nagali Freeborn.” Because she wasn’t herself if she didn’t fly by the seat of her pants, leaping from one fire to the next. What must that have been like for her?
“I’m sorry you felt you had to do that,” he said.
She made a flicking gesture with her fingers. “It was nothing.”
“It was.”
She rolled a shoulder. “Okay, it was. But so what? I don’t regret that choice. The times I spent with you were some of the best in my life. So far, anyway.”
“But now I feel like I was…crushing your spirit or something.”
Her bright lips pursed in amusement. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
Okay, that was a dumb idea. Nonetheless. “How can you not regret all that time, being stifled?”
“I regret nothing of my life, except for one thing. The way that deal went with the medical supplies. Leaving you behind. You know I take risks. I gamble, and often I win big. On the occasions I lose, then I lose. The highs come with the lows. But I never meant to gamble with you. I really didn’t.”
“Then why didn’t you ever track me down and tell me that?”
“Would you have listened?” she countered.
“No. But you could have made me listen, if you’d wanted to.”
“I didn’t track you down because you were right to leave. You were better off without me. I was bound to take another gamble sooner or later, and you could have gotten caught up in it. I didn’t want that to happen.”
She was right. And wrong, too. “You should have told me,” he said quietly.
She raised her hands in a gesture that was half plea and half helplessness. “I couldn’t, at that time. None of us are the same people we were a decade ago. Look at you. You’re practically a diplomat.”
“I’m not—” he said hotly, but she waved a hand.
“I mean no offense. I’m sure your business still has a sharp enough edge to draw blood. I just mean that the person you’ve become is not the same as the person you were.”
He couldn’t deny it. His life on Dragonfire had little in common with the life
he’d led before.
“You’re better,” she pronounced. “And I’m better. We are better. Smarter. We know what matters to us.”
“What matters to you?” he asked.
She smiled a familiar, sly smile. “The chase. The risk. And either the reward or the loss. Always that. But also, my brother. And you. Maybe even that hostile young protégé of yours.” She laughed, a deep sound of delight. “She’s something else. Not like us.”
“I thought you’d hate her,” he admitted.
“You don’t know everything about me. I still have some secrets.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that.”
“Watch it.” Her warning had no heat, though. “Arlen is the loyal sort. And she cares about you. So of course I like her. Don’t tell her that, though. It would piss her off.”
A new silence fell between them as they smiled at each other. It was a feeling of comfort.
It was strange.
“What do you plan to do after all this? I always pictured you married to one of those tycoons that owns his own little planetoid.”
She waved her hand, dismissing the idea. “It was fun for a few months, but it got boring quick.”
Was she serious, or just teasing him?
It didn’t matter.
***
Just as Cabot reached the cockpit of the Outlaw, a sudden jolt threw him into the bulkhead. His shoulder took most of the force, and he managed to stay on his feet. Three more steps took him to Omar, cursing and hunched over the ship’s navigation controls.
“Pirates,” Omar barked without Cabot having to ask. “Maybe just some rippers who’ve gotten too bold. They’re trying to disable us. I’m trying to keep them from it.”
Omar did fine getting a ship from one place to the next, but he was no pilot, in the true sense of the word. Neither was Cabot.
Fortunately, Arlen barged in at a run. “Move!” she ordered.
Omar, looking like he couldn’t decide between being peeved or amused, did as she said. He crowded next to Cabot, looking bewildered. It would have been funny in other circumstances.
“She’s good,” Cabot said to Omar, watching Arlen’s hands fly over the controls, taking them into a steep bank and then a hard acceleration. The sudden force only lasted for a few moments, then let up just as abruptly. Cabot felt his guts try to force their way out of his middle, first on his left side, then careening across the front and his right. Then his back slammed into the bulkhead, much harder than his original jolt.
Omar dropped into the seat beside her, shrugging on the harness meant for hard maneuvers. Cabot followed suit, sliding his back toward the door until he reached an emergency panel. He pulled it open and strapped himself into a harness, then activated the leg restraints.
He’d just secured himself when the ship inverted, a little too fast for the inertial dampeners to compensate. His stomach turned over and his equilibrium spun in a crazy whorl.
What was happening? He wanted to shout out a question, but didn’t want to distract Arlen from piloting or Omar from the weapons systems.
“They’re in range,” Omar said. “Should I hit them?”
“No,” Arlen bit out. “Wait.”
A few more minutes of Cabot’s innards trying to escape his body, and Arlen barked, “Prepare to vent plasma from the propulsion chamber.”
Another session of spinning had Cabot wondering if internal organs could experience liquefaction.
“Now,” Arlen ordered.
Cabot assumed Omar must have done as ordered, because the spinning stopped and after a sensation of fast acceleration, the pressure eased.
Arlen and Omar continued to stare at the voicecom display, making him think they weren’t quite in the clear.
After several tense moments, the tension went out of them and they sagged in their seats.
“Can I ask now what happened?” Cabot didn’t care for being in the dark all this time.
“They wanted to take our ship. Fortunately, that meant they didn’t want to damage us too much. I outmaneuvered them, then vented the plasma right in front of their sensors, causing enough distortion for us to get out of weapons range. Turns out, we’re faster than them, so they won’t catch up to us.”
“Why not disable them with weapons?” he asked. “This ship has lots.”
“Weapons like this are above my pay grade,” Arlen said. “I have no experience with them. So I wanted to reserve all our energy for maneuvers, since I’m confident about those.”
“Yeah you are.” Omar gave her a gentle punch on the shoulder. “That was some fantastic flying.”
She shrugged off the praise. “I do a lot of long-range runs. I have to be able to avoid trouble. The best way is always to just get away from wherever the trouble is.”
She leaned forward to speak into the voicecom. “Nagali? Are you okay?”
After a long moment, Nagali’s voice came through. “I’m fine. I think my arm’s broken, though.”
The three of them exchanged a look.
“Which one of us is most capable of handling a medical situation?” Cabot asked.
Silence.
“All right. Omar, let’s go. Arlen, keep steering us away from people who want to shoot at us.”
He removed himself from the harness and closed the panel that housed it.
“They didn’t shoot at us,” Arlen said, sounding like she was looking on the bright side. “Just a shaker charge to get info and cause mayhem.”
“Steer us away from those, too.”
“You bet.” She seemed entirely too matter-of-fact. Did this kind of thing happen to her a lot?
He’d have to address that with her later. For now, he needed to look after Nagali. He grabbed an emergency medkit from the wall and headed for her quarters with Omar on his heels.
Her door wasn’t locked, and when they entered, she sat gingerly on the edge of her bunk. Her wrist rested on the opposite knee, letting part of her forearm lay across her legs.
She’d understated the seriousness of the matter. Cabot saw two visible breaks, causing her arm not to form a right angle at the elbow, but hang in a dreadful “c” shape.
Cabot heard Omar come to an abrupt stop behind him.
“That’s nasty.” Omar’s face paled and he put a hand to his stomach.
“Get out,” Nagali told him, “before you throw up in my quarters.”
Omar nodded and wheeled around, making a hasty exit. “Sure thing.”
She smiled at Cabot. “He’s always had a weak stomach for such things. Funny, since I’ve seen him break an arm or two over the years. Not his,” she clarified. “Other people’s.”
“Right.” Cabot kneeled on the floor next to her, taking a medical scanner from the kit and slowly guiding it through the air just above her skin. The device showed a great many readings, few of which Cabot could interpret.
“Well,” he finally said, “it’s broken.”
Despite her situation, she laughed. It must have jarred her arm, because she winced. “You know, I had a feeling it was.”
“I’ve never used a bone knitter. Have you?”
“A few times. For Omar. I’ll guide you through it. But first you have to set the bone.”
He really, really did not want to. But it had to be done. She’d be in misery if they didn’t get the bones at least partially knitted.
“Okay. Fortunately, I do know what to do with this.” He took an injector from the kit.
Nagali grimaced. “I hate those.”
“I know. But I’m not about to touch that arm until your nerves are blocked.”
“It won’t be a simple nerve block. It will make me tired. And fuzzy.” Her back straightened. “But do it.”
He touched the injector to her upper arm, then the inside of her lower arm. Then he waited.
He gave her two full minutes before asking, “How are you feeling now?”
“Fuzzy at the edges. Loose.” She let out a gusty sigh. “I hate it.”
“Sounds like we’re ready, then.” He wanted to lie her down before setting her arm, but that would just hurt her more. So he gripped her wrist and bicep, then pulled the bones into place.
Even with the injection, she flinched and her other hand went to her face.
Supporting her arm with one hand, Cabot ran the scanner over it again. “I think that did it.”
He put the scanner down and picked up the knitter. It was small and smooth. He guided it over her arm, back and forth, just like the first-aid classes taught. When the red light on the back of the knitter, lit, he stopped.
She was nowhere close to healed. She probably had soft tissue damage, but there was nothing he could do about that. She’d need to stay still until they could get to a medical facility. He sure wished a hospi-ship would wander across their path, but there’d be little chance of that.
He returned everything to the medkit and closed it. “That’s all I can do.”
She nodded once, her face full of fatigue. “Help me lie down?”
“Of course.” He sat on the bed, then cradled the back of her head and her lower back as he shifted her to a reclining position.
She held her bad arm while he adjusted the pillow under her head.
“Better?” He was leaning over her, his hands at either side of her face.
“Yes. Thank you.” Her voice was even deeper than usual, mix of rough and smooth that no one but Nagali could make possible.
Before he started getting nostalgic, he straightened.
“I think I’ll sleep.” She closed her eyes.
“That would be best,” he agreed. “We’ll check on you every hour or so, in case you need something. Try not to get up on your own.”
“Okay.” Her eyes opened. “Cabot?”
He turned back on his way out of her quarters. “Yes?”
“Thank you. For helping, and for hearing me out before. It’s okay if you still hate me.”
Her voice became increasingly soft as she spoke.
“I don’t hate you,” he said as her eyelids closed again.
As her door closed behind him, he heard a soft exhalation that sounded oddly like a smug “Hah.” But it could have just been a sigh.