by A. B. Keuser
He sorted through the burnt scraps of her hasty extraction and waited for her to tell him something he didn’t already know.
“Half of those are jury-rigged to bypass their TAPs because those are failing from disuse. Celesta had regular tests. They switched enviros over to these babies twice every quarter, just to make sure the wires never corroded. The battle axe of a station supervisor you replaced was remarkably thorough.”
“I know, I’ve seen his notes.” He held out his hand. “Let me see your micro-torch.”
She handed it over without a question, and he cut at the bolts she’d removed, shearing things off, and gouging the inner housing at non-critical points.
“I doubt Bezzon will look too closely, but if he does, he’ll never accept that you were this sloppy.”
Grimacing at the ugly mess he’d left behind, she took the torch back.
“So you’re going to sell it to some other station in desperate need.”
“No,” she said with a smile. “After all, that would be a crime, and no station supervisor worth his ballast would buy stolen goods. If I was going to do anything, I’d sell it to someone who could sell it to a broker who would then pass it along via legitimate channels.”
“And watch the price jack up each time.”
Her smile tightened before she said, “I can’t control what happens to it after it leaves my hands.”
“Hypothetically.” Cable reminded her.
She smiled, and dipped her head in a half nod. “Of course. When the subbie gets here, I’ll be sure to couch all my suppositions in hypotheticals or hyperbole.”
Bezzon wouldn’t question why Kenzie was with him. She was, after all, the head civilian tech on the station, and one of the few people in the systems who knew what went where in any system without a manual or circuit map.
Kicking a loose bolt, Kenzie sighed and sagged back against the bulkhead. She was just as impatient as her brother had been.
“I’ll make you a deal. You tell me what you’re running away from down here, and I’ll tell you who asked me to take incriminating photos of you.” She flashed him a bright smile. “I said no, of course. And not just because I know how camera shy you are.”
He considered making a counter offer--because he highly doubted her hypothetical buyer existed--but it wasn’t a trade he could make.
What he was running from was classified.
The disappearance of Curran was bad enough. As soon as that news had come down, he’d felt like he was drowning. Finding a moment to breathe in station ops was like finding a pebble in the vastness of the galaxy.
He’d hunted Kenzie down as a distraction. One she’d readily given him time and again during his temporary assignment.
Between system failures, lagging decom timetables, asinine bureaucracy getting in his way, and the small problem of the crassicau population on the station, he was ready to vent someone out an airlock… maybe he’d accept the honor himself.
Aaron had offered a dozen times, maybe he could convince Kenzie to punch the button.
Kenzie knocked his arm with her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
He bit back the impulse to say “everything.” He knew her too well to give her that opening. “It’s classified.”
“Ah, if you tell me, you’ll have to vent me.”
He looked down and away. She was too perceptive to show her exactly how that line of thought squeezed at his heart as though it was trapped in a clawed vise.
“They could do what they like, Kenz, but you’re the one person who’s safe from me.” He’d already done horrific things to protect her.
He wouldn’t choose differently if presented with the exact situation again.
Even though he had to lie about it from now until he died, or until the guilt weakened him into confessing. The latter was, sadly, more likely.
He looked at the time on his comm band and rolled his eyes. Bezzon’s team should have been on site by now.
If he’d been on a ship in the Zone, he’d have taken that as potential for foul play… here, and with that particular sub-lieutenant, chances were slim.
Though, he and Kenzie both would be happy if that particular subbie had fallen down an open lift shaft. Now that thought made him smile, and she shot him a suspicious look.
“Morbid thoughts.”
She nodded. They’d known each other long enough for her to not bother commenting.
“So what are you running away from today?”
He couldn’t tell her that, and not because anyone would try to kill her for it.
No one who knew him would argue that Cable was the smartest man in the sector. After all, he’d let himself wind up on Celesta Station when he could have been doing more important work elsewhere.
But he was smart enough to know he shouldn’t have done that.
It didn’t change the fact he did, or that he probably would have done it again, given the opportunity.
His office up in Station Ops was more of a jail cell than the one he probably deserved, but no one on the admiral’s council had even suggested carting him off to a prison planet after the incident on XT-756-4.
They’d demoted him, of course. Couldn’t have a captain--no matter how many useless medals they’d pinned to his chest--get away with seemingly ignoring an officer’s treason. As far as they were concerned, his best friend’s death, and year on garbage duty was more than enough punishment.
They hadn’t even bothered to put the word “accessory” in his file.
But more information on the aftermath of his “problem” had come through a moment before the proverbial twelve hells broke loose.
The man who’d pushed his way into Cable’s office demanding special dispensation for his five crassicau workers was the last straw.
Fleet regulations wouldn’t allow them on the station now that the transfer was complete. Regardless of the fact Cable would gladly have kept the men who were considered anathema over the one blustering about their removal, orders were orders. A reminder of policy and threat of hefty fines on top of premature eviction had got the man moving. But the stench of his attitude had remained, and Cable couldn’t stand his office any longer.
He’d all but run into the man when he exited the lift from station ops. He and his workers--the latter heavily leathered, their malleable shackles crusted with the serum-like secretions the torture produced--stood in his way.
He was the only one with his back to Cable, and the crassicau had eyed him with the detached loathing he’d come to expect--knew he and every other human who’d let their race be subjugated deserved.
One opened his mouth in a threatening smile, and the thick patches of his skin had broken apart on his cheeks, cracking like arid clay.
A glance over his shoulder and the merchant had hustled them away.
The crassicau were genetically human, but that didn’t matter to the people in the Boundary Zone that still bought and sold them as slaves.
It was one of the many concessions the fleet had made to placate the people they’d claimed governance over. It was one of the few Cable wanted to disown them for.
The harried residents, the clattering tear down, and the stress of the data work he’d left in his office grated on him until all he wanted to do was go down to the Atrium, toss his comm band into the pond, and wait for someone to come accuse him of dereliction of duty.
So when his second in command gave him the heads up that their tech thief had tripped a sensor, he’d been more than happy to race the security team down and let Kenzie provide a distraction.
“Who’s this one for?” He asked, jerking a thumb toward the closed maintenance hatch.
“I don’t reveal my buyers to anyone. You know that.” She cracked her knuckles and moved just far enough away she could look at him without tilting her head up. “Because the people who want to know are either like you, and want to arrest them, or are looking to poach my clients. And I can’t allow that, now can I?”
She’
d unzipped her jumpsuit at some point, and the vibrant pink of her undershirt glowed in the slow dimming of the strip light. She wore her brother’s ID chip on a leather cord around her neck.
He’d known what Aaron would think about her thefts before he’d asked her. Aaron had likely taught her everything he knew. And he had no doubt that Kenzie’s buyer list had started off in Aaron’s hand.
If he could remove her demand, she’d no longer have to supply, and he wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen when she wound up with the barrel of a modified PA145 hand cannon pressed against her perfect little nose.
He knew how much they were paying her to supervise the legitimate removal of parts…. Her normal salary was comfortable.
And he’d keep telling himself that when he finally found a way to cut off her secondary source of income.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
Kenzie had crossed her arms and was looking down at him like she’d like to flick his nose.
“Which one is that?” He asked, turning away so she couldn’t see his face--and the scowl she was about to scold him for.
“Playing mama bear.”
That was not the accusation he’d expected, and he laughed.
It was a sound that he’d missed. One that he knew he’d miss a while longer.
But before he could break the bad news, the sound of hard boot steps further down the corridor finally reached them, and he stood, dusting off his hands.
“Play nice. Remember, he thinks you’re flirting when you’re sarcastic.”
“I can’t be held responsible for his idiocy.”
“And I can’t let you punch him while on duty… so, don’t make me arrest you.”
She glared at him, and for a moment, he thought she’d argue.
He was going to miss this.
Three
Her life would have been so much easier if he’d been horrid. But he was devastatingly handsome--all his scars lazed away. The fleet couldn’t have their third most popular poster boy getting his face mucked up.
Mack had promised herself two things: she’d never date a military grunt… and she’d never sleep with her brother’s friends.
Cable had the ability to shatter those convictions to stardust.
As Bezzon’s voice echoed to her, she took another step away from her tormentor.
He glared at Bezzon like the man was a sour pill about to be forced down their throats.
“Ever think about trying to make my life easier?” he asked as the subbie hurried toward them.
“Not even once.”
If Cable wanted to respond, he didn’t have the chance.
Bezzon had jogged the distance between them as soon as he came into view.
“Commander Carr,” Bezzon said, saluting Cable and letting his gaze slide toward her.
It didn’t linger, thank Goddess.
His hair sprouted from his head as though trying to escape his over-inflated ego. His awful cologne hit her a moment later, as if it had raced to catch up.
Rancid flowers. A familiar punch to the face.
Blowing a breath out through her nose, she forced herself to not gag.
“It appears we just missed the thieves,” Cable said, “I had Flack meet us here to assess any damage.”
Cable turned to her with a flat-lipped expression she’d seen before, one that said “play ball” or some other, equally outdated order for cooperation.
Then he said, “Seal off this sector again.”
Bezzon motioned for the woman standing behind him to do as instructed and returned to full attention.
“Will this affect station operations?” Cable’s brows rose as she paused briefly, watching the concern build behind his honey hazel eyes.
Looking at the open panel, because it was better than Cable’s sudden censure, or Bezzon’s none-too-subtle leering, she shook her head. “No, we’re still good.”
She knew she wouldn’t get out of it that easily, but it was always more fun to make Cable work for it.
When he cleared his throat, she closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. Clenched her jaw to keep from smirking.
When she looked up again, she said, “It’s possible you might need a replacement TAP for elsewhere in the station prior to full decommission, but there are a dozen more to choose from. It doesn’t affect any of the systems that are presently operational. The only circuits still functioning in this sector are those for the lifts, and a few emergency systems.”
It was a foolish choice, but she knew Cable hadn’t been the one to make it.
“Crimes of opportunity,” Bezzon said, speaking to Cable as though she was just a pretty computer, spewing the requested data. “I’ll have my crew on the lookout for any of the missing parts on our list popping up in the back channels.”
“They won’t offload them on station. It’s too easy to get caught here. If you want to find them, look at cargo haulers. They’ll ship them off station. Best price, minimal risk.”
She wasn’t going to do that, but it was a decent idea. And it would keep Bezzon from searching quarters and finding things like the tidy little stash strapped into her air vent.
Bezzon turned to her with the pitying smile of a man talking to a child. “Most criminals are complete idiots.”
“Most criminals would say the same about you. Station security, I mean.” She forced a sweet smile as Bezzon tensed.
An impressive feat for someone who already had a rocket shoved up his ass.
“That only proves my point,” he said, mouth set in a grim frown.
Cable looked past the lieutenant to the three guards and folded his arms over his chest. Mack didn’t like them milling about aimlessly either.
“Get to the cargo freighters and see if you can’t seize those parts before they make it off station.”
Bezzon nodded to the three a moment before they turned--as though the crew needed his permission to follow Cable’s orders.
“Flack and I will finish up here and I’ll have Lieutenant Stacy assign security patrols until we can drop enviros.” Cable turned his focus on her and then, the open panel. “If our thieves can’t breathe, they can’t steal.”
Bezzon saluted and gave her a lingering glance. His lips parted, but whatever he’d meant to say, died there when he looked once more at Cable. With a curt nod, he scurried off in the direction of the lifts.
When the creep was out of earshot, she leaned toward Cable and said, “It won't work, you know. I’ll get a rebreather and finish up once the patrols are gone… I’m a very patient woman.”
She bit back a sly comment about the last six months. That would get her into real trouble.
“You could do that.” He glanced at the mess of components littering the floor at her feet. “But you won’t.”
“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”
“You’re done. And you're off my station tomorrow.” Holding up a hand, he said, “I’m not arguing about this.”
His jaw twitched when he looked down at her. “If you aren’t on a transport within the next twenty-six hours, or if I catch you stealing something else, between now and then, I will toss you in a cell until you’re the last person off this orbiting hunk of metal.”
Mack could push Cable so far--she’d learned that much in the twenty years she’d known him--but when he started talking to her like she was his subordinate, she was doomed. It was the tone he’d used when he’d caught her sneaking out of her brother’s apartment on Solidad Nine to go clubbing--if the bouncers didn’t care she’d only been sixteen, why should he?
It was the same tone he’d used when she’d tried to void Aaron’s draft application.
There was no possibility of changing his mind.
“Book my transport, and I’m gone.”
“I’m not doing this because I want to get rid of you, Kenzie.”
“You sure?” She shot him a look and knocked the panel cover back in place. “You’ll stop getting those headaches.�
�
“I said you’re giving me an ulcer.” He corrected her with a feigned sigh.
It might have sounded regretful, if regret wasn’t incompatible with Cable’s genetic makeup.
He’d be happier with people who did what he said the first time he said it.
Not that she’d mind having him order her around….
Eyeing him quickly, she forced her thoughts off that little detour.
She pushed out the Flack family trademark pout--he’d get what he wanted after all. “Medical dangers of my hobbies aside, why are you really kicking me out?”
“We both knew you’d have to leave sometime.”
When she glared at him, he added, “An admiral your brother pissed off is coming in this week. She holds grudges, and I don’t want her to come after you for something Aaron did.”
“I’d be flattered you care, but we both know I can take--”
The deck lurched beneath her feet, throwing her sideways.
Cable caught her around the waist before she hit the bulkhead.
Even when the tremor stopped, he didn’t let go. Braced against the wall as the station wide comm system blared its impact warning, she held perfectly still.
The bolts she’d left on the floor rolled with the tilting corridor.
The faint sound of a mechanical voice reached her ears when the siren momentarily died. A status report in his ear.
The gravity plating cut out for half a heartbeat, shifting everything around them. Emergency protocols engaged.
Another shudder, and a panel burst open down the corridor. A Cascade of sparks filled her vision as the hardware inside fried. An incendiary death.
“None of the internal airlock doors are closed.”
When he looked at her as though he hadn’t heard her, finally letting go, she slowly and clearly said, “This section isn’t secure.”
Hell, that was the understatement of the millennia. The entire station had flagged nonconforming in the last SOSHA inspection. That had been before the fleet began gutting it.
They’d given up on satisfying the Stellar Occupational Safety and Health Admin.
Fleet was the only organization that could flip them the proverbial bird.