by Rachel Bach
Rupert released my hand at last. “I’d like that,” he said softly. “More than anything.”
“Good,” I replied. “Here’s my offer. If you really want to help me, then we have to start acting like a team. No more secrets, no more lying, no more of that ‘keeping things from me for my own good’ bullshit. Clean slate from here out. And if you betray me again, I will shoot you in the head for real this time.”
It’s a sign of how messed up our history was that Rupert smiled at that last bit. “That sounds more than fair, but does this no secrets promise cut both ways?”
I spread my arms. “What do you want to know?”
Rupert swiveled his chair all the way around so he was facing me. “Let’s start with the virus.”
I was afraid that was where this was headed, but I’d been the one who’d suggested this, and if Rupert was going to be throwing all in with me, he deserved to know what he was risking. So, with a deep breath, I told him. All of it. I told him about Maat and the phantoms and killing the daughter on Reaper’s ship and how the virus came up when I got angry. He looked pretty shocked and worried when I mentioned Maat, but he didn’t try to stop me. I don’t know if he could have. I hadn’t meant to say so much, but once the story started, it came out like a flood. I even told him the weird stuff with the lelgis, which I hadn’t meant to tell anyone, but the words just tumbled out, and I had no choice but to let them go until I was empty.
By the time I finished, I was braced for the worst, but Rupert’s face was thoughtful. “Maat contacting you directly does explain how you knew so much about her,” he said, looking up at me in concern. “She’s crazy, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” I said bitterly. “Why do you think I feel so sorry for her?”
“I should have guessed the virus was triggered by anger,” Rupert continued. “Plasmex is always tied to emotion at first, before training decouples it. It makes sense that the virus would be, too.” He thought about it a moment, and then he shrugged. “We’ll just have to be careful to keep you calm.”
“Hold up,” I said. “How can you be so accepting about this? Aren’t you afraid I’ll get pissed and kill you?”
Rupert actually had the nerve to laugh at that. “That’s a risk with or without the virus. But you’re worth it.”
I stared at him, disbelieving, but Rupert had already turned back to the flight console. He squinted at the autonav’s projected screen, then sighed and dropped his head, rubbing his eyes.
“What?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.
“Just tired,” Rupert replied, his voice slightly off. Before I could put a finger on how, though, it was gone, replaced by Rupert’s usual business tone as he pointed at the bridge window. “There’s our jump.”
I turned to look, but we were still deep in the Atlas Nebula, which meant the sky was packed. There were so many lights and rocks and bits of space debris flying around, it took me several moments to realize the huge, irregular black shape in front of us wasn’t another asteroid like I’d assumed. It was a ship.
“Damn that thing is big,” I said. “And ugly.”
“Ships that never have to enter the atmosphere can be ungainly,” Rupert admitted.
“Ungainly” didn’t begin to cover it. The continent freighter was nothing on a tribe ship, but it was still the largest human vessel I’d ever seen. It looked absurd, too, like a giant, crumpled up ball of foil with a string dangling below it. The space elevator, I guessed. I shook my head and looked over at Rupert to ask what we did now, but he was rubbing his eyes again, grinding them with the heels of his hands.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Rupert said. “But once we get into the jump, I’m going to have to sleep.”
He said this with the same gravity you’d use to announce you were dying of radiation poisoning, and I gave him a suspicious look. “Is sleep a big deal for symbionts or something?”
“It can be,” Rupert said. “I’ll explain once we get in hyperspace.”
Considering how cryptic that sounded, I would have preferred he explained now. Rupert was already hailing the freighter, though, so I sat back to wait. After all, we were working together now. I could extend him the benefit of the doubt for a few minutes. It was a simple decision, a tiny bit of trust, but it settled in my mind like a long-pulled joint finally popping back into place, and for the first time since Rupert had turned away from me in the rain so long ago, I started to wonder if maybe things could be okay between us again.
That was a dangerous hope to cultivate, though, so I pushed it out of my head, staring out at the endless stars instead and wondering what happened when a symbiont went to sleep.
CHAPTER 3
Despite being the only ship in the sector, it took an absurdly long time for the continent freighter to answer our hail and even longer to clear the jump. The worker who picked up the com didn’t even know how to turn on the jump computer, and Rupert had to sweet-talk him into waking up his superior before we could even start negotiations. Since we were in Anthony’s ship using his codes, the freighter’s Terran crew was predisposed to dislike us, but as soon as Rupert had someone of authority on, he had the man eating out of his hand in minutes.
It was a surreal conversation to listen to, both because I hadn’t actually realized just how much Rupert could turn the charm on and off until I watched him turn it to the max and because he’d shed his normal accent, switching over to something I could only call “well-educated Paradoxian noble trying to sound Terran,” which was an accent I didn’t even know existed until he pulled it out. The combination worked like gangbusters, though. By the time the jump gate was up and ready to accept Rupert’s coordinates, we had the whole crew on the com chatting like Rupert was an old friend, and not a one of them seemed concerned that a Paradoxian officer was using their freighter’s gate to jump to a pirate haven.
It was a disgracefully unprofessional display, and if they’d been a Paradoxian outfit, I would have reported the lot of them. However, since we were benefiting, I tried my best to look the other way. But when they started shouting corporate security passcodes back and forth to each other while the com was still on, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer.
“That’s it,” I muttered angrily in King’s Tongue. “I’m filing a complaint with Republic Starfleet. No wonder the Terran Republic is crawling with pirates. These corporate slackers are a disgrace! You’d never see behavior like this in the king’s space.”
“Good thing we’re not in the king’s space, then,” Rupert replied in the same language, giving me a wink as he started up the hyperdrive coil.
I rolled my eyes, irrationally irritated. It was his accent, I decided. When he spoke King’s Tongue like that, it made me feel like I was flying with a noble, which was always an obnoxious experience. Not that I’d had much experience flying with nobles, thank the king, but hearing Rupert talk like one reminded me of a question I’d been meaning to ask him.
“If you spoke the king’s language so well all this time, why didn’t you use it with me before?” I said, wrinkling my nose at him. “It would have made talking so much easier.” Especially while drunk. Universal verbs were murder when you were sloshed.
“I was under orders not to,” Rupert said, lips curling into a sly smile. “And if we hadn’t been speaking Universal, I wouldn’t have gotten to enjoy your charming accent.”
My accent was a lot of things, but charming definitely wasn’t one of them. Before I could call bullshit, though, the jump flash washed over us, and the whole ship bucked sideways. I scrambled with a yelp, clinging to the chair. Quick as it came, the bump was over, and the stillness of hyperspace descended on the ship as the universe vanished, replaced by a flat, purple wall.
“Nice entrance,” I said, righting myself.
“Sorry,” Rupert replied. “I was an Eye, not a hyperspace pilot.”
The words were clearly meant as a joke, but his voice sounded oddly strained. When I looked up t
o see why, he was leaning back in his chair with his eyes shut, breathing in soft, shallow pants. He’d looked tired before, but now he looked exhausted, and the sight made something in me clench.
I ignored the feeling and stood up, my face all business as I grabbed his arm. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Rupert’s lips quirked, but he let me help him up without comment. He wobbled a bit when he reached his feet, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it while I watched with growing trepidation.
“When was the last time you slept, anyway?” I asked, covertly sliding an arm around his waist to steady him before he pitched over.
He frowned, thinking. “Seven days.”
I froze. “Seven days?”
“Symbionts don’t need as much sleep as normal people,” he explained as we walked toward the rear of the ship.
That certainly explained a few things about the operation of the Glorious Fool. “So you haven’t slept since before you came to get me at the embassy?”
“I haven’t slept since before we restored your memories,” Rupert said, pulling away from me when we reached the door to what had been Anthony’s bunk. “There was too much to do.”
He said this so casually I wanted to strangle him. “So you just pushed yourself to the point of exhaustion?” I snapped. “Why didn’t you sleep at the house?”
“I didn’t want to leave you alone and unconscious in a strange place,” he said. “And sleep is … not a pleasant experience for a symbiont. I didn’t want to wake you up.”
This was the second time he’d mentioned that, more than enough for me to get the hint. “Okay,” I said slowly. “So what should I expect?”
“Hopefully nothing,” Rupert said, opening the door to reveal a small officer’s room with a single, narrow bunk. “But just to be safe, I’m going to lock myself in.” He tapped the officer’s key lock just inside the door as he spoke, sliding it up to the highest security level. “We’ve got six hours in jump. The exit alarm will wake me if I don’t wake up on my own before that, but no matter what, don’t try to open this door. Whatever you hear, whatever I do, just leave it locked.”
I gave him a sideways look. “What will you be doing? Clawing at the walls?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning on the door frame. “The nightmares can be intense, but I’m usually a quiet sleeper. I don’t think anything will happen, but I’m not going to take any chances. Just promise me you won’t open the door.”
I started to point out that the officer’s door locked from the inside, but he looked so earnest and exhausted, all I ended up doing was nodding.
Rupert reached out to close the door, and for a crazy moment, my hand came up to stop him. I caught it just in time, folding it behind my back instead. “Sweet dreams,” I said.
He smiled at me. “Good night, Devi.” And then the door closed. A second later, I heard the heavy lock click into place, leaving me alone.
I stood in the hallway for a while after, ears straining, but I didn’t hear a thing except for the low hum of the engine. He’d probably fallen right asleep, I thought, which made me feel strangely tender. Poor man had been driving himself so hard. He deserved some rest. I probably should have slept as well, but after my eighteen-hour power nap I wasn’t tired in the least, so I wandered up to the bridge instead.
I flopped into the captain’s cushy chair and pulled up the ship’s information interface with the vague idea of catching up on the eight months I’d lost, but the military cruiser was all business. Everything interesting was hidden behind security walls, and there was nothing in the way of entertainment in the ship’s memory unless I wanted to watch Home Guard training videos. There were a few basic news feeds available in the public memory—royal announcements, galactic events, that sort of thing—but I couldn’t concentrate enough to read them. My mind kept slipping back to Rupert.
He’d just looked so worried, I thought, tapping absently through the ship’s interface. Worried and exhausted. It had been easy to ignore while I’d made up my mind to hate him forever, but now that we’d wiped the slate clean, I could hardly miss how he’d pushed himself to the limit for my sake. Not that I’d asked him to, of course, but even so, I was touched. Not many people would do something like that for me, the actual me, not Devi Morris, Virus Container. But Rupert had, and now I was more confused than ever.
I’d sworn I’d never be that girl, the one who claimed she was done with a guy only to come crawling back a few days later. But apparently all it took was a little groveling, some overtime, and a pot of homemade soup and I was ready to forgive and forget. Even now, I was more disappointed than I wanted to admit that Anthony had interrupted us in the kitchen. I was especially grumpy that I hadn’t kissed Rupert good night before he’d locked himself in, which was just embarrassing. We’d agreed to a clean slate, not a step back in time. What the hell was wrong with me?
I leaned back in the captain’s chair, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes with a frustrated groan. It was just lust, I reasoned. Brushes with death always left me vulnerable and needy, and death and I had been best friends lately. Add in my well-documented weakness for Rupert and our physical proximity and it was no wonder I was having these idiotic impulses. But lust didn’t explain the way his smile made my stomach flip-flop, or the way my whole body lit up every time he said he loved me, or how happy I’d felt when I’d learned he worried about me, or how much I worried about him, or—
To hell with this. I shot out of the chair and marched down the hall to the tiny mess at the rear of the ship. Kicking open the dry goods cabinet, I crouched down and dug through the crates of ration bars until I found the chocolate ones. I ripped off the plastic wrap and shoved the whole thing into my mouth, chewing angrily as I paced the small space and forced myself to face facts like a professional.
Smart or not, embarrassing or not, the truth was that I still had feelings for Rupert. In my defense, though, what was not to love? He was handsome, thoughtful, a fantastic fighter who respected my abilities, a good cook, and a great kisser. He was also a sly operative, something I deeply respected because I was anything but, and he was so, so loving. Love was what had made his betrayal sting so badly to begin with, but once he’d explained his reasons, even that was something I could understand. It didn’t hurt that he’d gone above and beyond trying to make up for it, either. I mean, Rupert had chosen me over the entire universe. Even if I didn’t trust him, how could I not be touched?
So there it was, then. I loved him. I wasn’t sure about the rest, but that much I could no longer deny. I loved Rupert, had always loved him really, and it didn’t matter for squat, because I was going to die.
I chewed sullenly, forcing myself to swallow the ration that suddenly tasted more like coal dust than chocolate. I was going to die. That wasn’t just pessimism, either. Any way you cut it, my life was a done deal. If the lelgis didn’t get me, the virus would. Even if Rupert’s mystery doctor knew exactly what to do, even if we popped out of hyperspace to find Caldswell waiting to keep all his promises and proclaim me the hero who saved the daughters and ended the war with the phantoms, the likelihood of me getting out of this alive was practically null. And even if I did, it wasn’t like the Eyes would let me escape, not with what I knew.
I stopped pacing, sinking to the floor with my head in my hands. It was that or cry, which I was definitely not going to do. I couldn’t even explain why I was suddenly so upset. To die gloriously for a greater cause was a blessing, an honor. Even if I failed to find a use for the virus and couldn’t save the daughters from their slavery, at least I’d kept it out of Reaper’s hands. That alone was enough to earn me a spot in the Warrior’s Heaven five times over, so why wasn’t I happy? Why did I feel this stupid sense of loss?
This was exactly why I should have stuck by my resolve, I thought with a growl. This was the real reason I should have just told my lust to shove it and kept the hell away from Rupert. Because at the time in my life when I needed t
o be strongest, he made me weak. He made me want to live, to reach for a future that I couldn’t have, shouldn’t want, and wouldn’t get, and the more I thought about how stupid and unfair that was, the angrier I got.
That wouldn’t do at all. We were only twenty minutes into the jump. If I spent the rest of it stewing like this, my virus would kill us both before we got to Kessel. What I needed was a distraction, something to keep me too busy to rage about the hopeless tragedy my life seemed to be turning into. A pirate attack would have been perfect, but there was no hope of that in hyperspace. So, with nothing else on offer, I decided it was time to do what I usually did when I was feeling trapped, upset, and anxious. I decided it was time for a drink.
Alcohol was forbidden on royal fleet ships, but Anthony had never paid much mind to rules he didn’t like. Sure enough, a little hunting turned up a bottle of whiskey tucked away in the tiny freezer behind the medical ice packs. It was a good Paradoxian label, too, not as smooth as the Terran blends, but it tasted like home.
Four swallows later, I decided this was the best decision I’d made all day. True, I was still going to die and lose the only man I’d ever loved before I’d even gotten him, but at least I didn’t have to be sober for it. Part of me knew that didn’t make any sense at all, but the rest of me was buzzed and ready to tell all the problems I couldn’t do shit about to go to hell with my compliments.
I put the whiskey back in the freezer and sauntered up to the bridge to check out those training videos. The Home Guard always got the newest, coolest stuff, and between my time on the Fool and the eight months I’d lost, I was criminally out of date on my armor knowledge, which meant I might actually learn something. I was just about to flop into the captain’s chair and pull up the video list to see if there was anything promising when I discovered I had an audience.