“You only have a few gray hairs. They’re barely noticeable. And the scars go perfectly with your attitude. All those disaffected grunts wouldn’t sound right coming from some young model who’d never endured anything rougher than a cross word from a cameraman.”
Judging by the sour look he sent her way, he did not think much of her description. Nonetheless, he dressed in trousers and a tasteful black shirt that accented his musculature nicely. She was the one who felt ratty in a bathrobe, but she would simply tell her mother it was late and that she had been headed for bed. Not entirely untrue, because she intended to return to it after dinner.
When the call went through, her mother answered instantly.
“Ankari,” she blurted, as if she could pounce on her through the link.
“Hi, Mom. I’m sorry I couldn’t call before,” Ankari rushed to say, before a lecture had time to blossom, “but the station was quarantined, and there was a whole mess of trouble going on. I couldn’t get away.”
“I saw.”
“Er, you did?” Had the news already gone out to the rest of the system? She supposed it had been hours since she left the station, so it must have. What version, she wondered, prepared to wince.
“The story was on at seven and again at nine. The whole system saw you climbing up those trees with your men and rescuing the station owners, honey.” Her mother clutched a hand to her chest. “I had no idea you were that—I mean, I knew you were capable, but dealing with those bombs. And your mercenary. He was so... fierce.”
Feeling dazed but willing to go with this new enthusiasm from her mother, Ankari looked up at Viktor, who was, as usual, standing next to the table instead of sitting. He wasn’t in range for her mother to see yet.
“Yes, he’s fierce,” Ankari said, meeting his eyes, “but loyal and good to his men and, uhm, me.”
Viktor was wearing his wary I’m-dealing-with-an-unknown-situation-so-I’ll-give-nothing-away look.
“The news said he’s from Grenavine, that he lost all his family,” her mother went on. “Tell him... Tell him, we understand. Your father—” She lifted her shoulders. “You know.”
“Yes. He’s right here if you want to meet him.”
Viktor did not walk over—he actually looked a little worried—so Ankari leaned to the side and grasped his hand. She tugged him closer, then pushed the comm unit back so he would fit into the vid pickup.
Her mother fell silent. Ankari had to remember that, whatever her image of Viktor was, he did intimidate most people. Fierce, indeed.
“Mrs. Markovich,” Viktor said, nodding once.
He looked stiff. Because fifty-five-year-old women intimidated him? That hardly seemed likely, but maybe he worried he wouldn’t make a good impression? Could that matter to him at forty? It wasn’t as if he was a teenage boy going to meet his girlfriend’s parents. But maybe he didn’t want to disappoint Ankari’s mother for her sake. That touched her, even if it was possible she was thinking far too much here.
“Viktor, isn’t it?” her mother asked, her smile on the wan side. At least it was there.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well.” Her mother looked at Ankari, a hint of humor in her eyes. “He’s politely fierce, at least.”
Ankari swatted Viktor on the stomach, hoping to draw some humor—or personality—from him. “Stop being fierce.”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I thought I had.”
Perhaps personality would have to wait for an in-person meeting. Besides, if her mother had so far only seen him as the news portrayed him, mowing down enemies like so much grass, then seeing him smiling and cheerful might be alarming. Not that cheerful was ever a word Ankari would attribute to him, but he did occasionally smile. Not always fiercely.
“Think of it this way, Mom. You wouldn’t want me out here in the dangerous part of space without a suitable protector, would you?” As soon as Ankari made the argument, she worried it had been a mistake to remind her mother that she was in a dangerous part of the system. That had been the reason for the earlier objections, after all. “But he’s quick to send me away if the ship is heading into trouble,” she rushed to add. “Our business has its own shuttle. Nobody would mistake it for a combat unit and target us, not anymore. I painted it pink. And renamed it Ladybug.”
Viktor opened his mouth, as if he meant to make his usual objection to the name, but he closed it again, doubtlessly seeing that she was trying to assuage her mother’s fears. However ineptly.
“A pink shuttle named Ladybug?” her mother asked. “Are you sure that will deter people from wanting to destroy it?”
Viktor’s eyes glinted.
“Er. Was that a joke, Mom?”
Her mother had a sense of humor, of course, but it rarely came out when she was worried. Maybe this meant she had relaxed an iota?
“I’m not entirely certain.”
“I’m sure nobody would want to target a flying medical clinic, Mom. As I was saying, Viktor sends our shuttle away if the ship is going into trouble, so you really don’t need to worry.” Remembering that her mom had seen the Midway 5 news and that it had included her climbing that two-hundred-foot-tall oak tree, she added, “He wasn’t responsible for anything that happened on that station. I found that trouble by myself.”
Her mother snorted. “Oh, that I believe.”
The glint in Viktor’s eyes turned into a full-fledged gleam. “I like her,” he murmured.
Well, she had wanted personality.
“As you can see, Mom, I’m doing well. There’s no need for you to worry. Not any more than usual. How’s everyone back home? Has Dad found work?”
The door chime rang, and Viktor walked over to answer it, leaving Ankari to finish the catching up without an observer. Her stomach rumbled again, prompting her to keep the conversation as short as she could without being accused of being a standoffish daughter. When she signed off, she was glad she had succeeded in introducing Viktor and toyed again with the idea of finding a way to take him home someday, especially if her mother took the family house-hunting and home became a pleasanter place to visit.
“Oh, you’re having dinner?” came a man’s drawl from the doorway. Sergeant Tick poked his head inside, oblivious to the fact that Viktor had not stepped aside in invitation. “Good,” Tick added. “I was afraid I’d catch you two, ah, celebrating your victory on Midway 5.”
“What do you want, Sergeant?”
“Well, I got the short straw, you see. Actually it was a cherry stem that had been painted black. I think the others rigged the draw. Back home, there would have been a possum race, and I would have had much better odds, on account of me having a way with critters and races like that being tough to rig, but I reckon that’s enough by way of introduction.” Tick cleared his throat and looked his captain up and down, perhaps noticing that Viktor hadn’t stepped aside. Tick looked—and sounded—nervous. He always trotted a few backwoods references out of his stable, but those sentences had been denser with them than usual. “May I come in, Cap’n? The men are a mite fidgety, and as I was saying, I got elected to visit you and represent them. On account of us being so close.”
Viktor’s brows rose, but he finally stepped aside. He would want to hear about any mention of a problem among the men, even if he, too, was thinking of dinner and a return to bedroom activities.
“It’s about the leave nobody got,” Tick said. “Nobody except you, Borage, and Azarov.”
“Leave?” Viktor asked. “I was either in jail or fighting ninety percent of the time I was on the station.” His gaze flicked to Ankari.
She kept her expression bland. She wouldn’t reveal what he had been doing the other ten percent of the time.
“Yup, we know about that, Cap’n. Saw the news. Appreciated the way you handled those mafia men. Everyone did, I reckon. You saw the clips they showed with some of the other captains in dock, saying good things about you? Even that squirmy mercenary, Sherkov, said you were every b
it the fighter you used to be, pink shuttle notwithstanding.”
“Sherkov said that?” Viktor asked.
Ankari was just as surprised, but maybe after that encounter in the smoky docking bay, Sherkov had decided Viktor was not someone he wanted to hold a grudge against him. Or maybe the Fleet had retracted the money it had been offering to anyone who caused him to be tossed in jail, and the mercenary had decided it was no longer worth being on Viktor’s bad side. Either way, after the ribbing Viktor had been taking when they first docked on Midway 5, and also after the tragedies of the Nimbus battle, Ankari was pleased that some of the system’s starlight was finally shining on him. He deserved to be recognized as a good man. A hero, even.
“Yup, said anyone would be stupid to tangle with you. And we like that, Cap’n. Like having a ferocious leader, that is, but let me get back to this leave that we’re all aching for. Will there be another opportunity for a break before we get back to work? It wouldn’t need to be anything so fancy as Midway 5. The men don’t need casinos or shops or trees. Just a place where they can get their co—” Tick glanced at Ankari. “Uhm, get their shoulders rubbed.”
“Their shoulders?” she asked mildly. “Is that what’s going on in those bordello rooms?”
“Of course, Ms. Markovich. A man survives a brutal battle, he can use a good shoulder rub.”
“Tick, I hear you,” Viktor said, “but the repair costs were high after Nimbus. We may need to take another job or two before we can—”
A bleep came from the comm-patch on Viktor’s shoulder. He held up a finger to Tick, then crossed the cabin to answer it.
“Ms. Markovich,” Tick whispered, “will you talk to him on our behalf? Try to convince him that men need...”
“Shoulder rubs?”
“Exactly. And a little time to drink and be stupid. To not have to do P.T. every morning.”
“I’m not sure if he’ll take advice about his ship and crew from me, but I know he understands a man’s need for shoulder rubs.”
“That’s good to know. There was a time there when we all wondered.” Tick cleared his throat. “Say, there’s something else I was wondering about.” He glanced at Viktor, but he’d gone to his desk and was peering at a display as he spoke quietly with someone. “You know Laur—I mean Dr. Keys well. While you were in the shuttle or on the station, did she ever say if she had any interest in any of the crew?”
“You mean in a shoulder-rubbing way?” Ankari had heard a few of the men speculate as to whether Lauren might ever consider leaving her lab for fun times, especially now that Jamie was happily taken by someone whom nobody on the ship wanted to cross, but this was the first time that Tick had expressed an interest, at least to her. It might have more to do with being cooped up on the ship without leave for so long than anything else; she didn’t think Tick had ever spoken more than a few words to Lauren, and that had been down on that awful jungle planet with the raptors trying to eat them. Lauren had probably blocked out the whole thing.
“Ah, possibly so,” Tick said. “If that’s something she would ever be amenable to. She never comes to the gym to eye anyone with appreciation, and I hear she’s rebuffed everyone’s advances, so it’s hard to know her preferences. Some of the men wonder if she prefers... shoulder rubbing with other ladies. Which of course caused some speculation as to what you all do in that shuttle when you fly off, if there’s nudity involved and such. Not that I take any part in those conversations. It’s not any of my business, even if she is, er, you are. Erm.” Tick pushed his hand through his hair, then dug his gum tin out of his pocket, removed a piece, and popped it in his mouth. “I didn’t mean to ramble on there. I was just curious. I don’t suppose she’s ever brought up my name?”
“Sorry, I don’t think so.” Ankari chose not to mention that Lauren might not even know which one of the crew Tick was.
“You’ll have to sign up for her trial,” Viktor said, returning to the door, his eyes narrowed in speculation, or perhaps irritation. He must have heard some of Tick’s rambling about shuttle nudity.
“Her what?” Tick asked.
“To be a specimen in her first round of human trials. I understand she may be looking for more men.”
“That’s true,” Ankari said. “I think she even knows the names of the men who signed up.”
“Huh.” Tick chomped thoughtfully on his gum.
“Tell the men they’ll get their leave.” Viktor held up his tablet, though he had folded it, and the display had disappeared. “That was an alert from the company bank. Midway 5 just transferred a reward to us for rescuing their CEO and other officers. Apparently, some of the mafia men we killed had bounties on their heads, as well, so that will be a bonus. A small one. Those weren’t the bigwigs. It sounds like that whole fiasco was a result of someone’s little brother trying to prove himself.”
“Meaning you—we—might have killed someone who has an angry and powerful big brother?” Ankari asked.
Viktor shrugged indifferently. Ankari wished she could feel that blasé about collecting enemies.
“Good to hear, sir,” Tick said, in a distracted tone.
Ankari was not sure if he had been paying attention to anything other than the promise of leave. Or maybe his brain was stuck on the idea of volunteering to be Lauren’s test subject. Ankari did not know whether to hope that turned out well for him or not.
“I’ll tell everyone.” Tick waved and walked out, the door sliding shut.
“Dinner time?” Ankari asked, stepping toward the table.
Viktor intercepted her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I don’t know. Thanks to my tactless sergeant, I’m now imagining you naked in your shuttle.”
“Oh?” Ankari asked, leaning into him. He lowered his lips to her throat, nuzzling her and tasting her. “Those fuzzy seat covers do feel nice on bare skin,” she said, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. “You should come down and try them sometime.”
“On second thought,” Viktor grumbled, “maybe I’ll imagine you in Alpha Shuttle.”
“With all that cold gray metal? And all those bristling weapons?”
“Now you’re getting me excited.”
THE END
Afterword
Thank you for following along with the Mandrake Company series. If you would like to see more adventures with the mercenaries, please stop by my site to let me know what you’re interested in, and if you have time, I hope you will leave a review for Mercenary Courage. It’s a big help!
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Mercenary Courage (Mandrake Company) Page 28