CHAPTER 24
Talking with Dina eats up the
hours.
“Fuck it,” she says,
downing the last biscuit. “We all die. If Doc can’t sort you out,
then go do whatever the hell you like. Don’t waste the time you
have left.”
“Always thought I’d
go out jumping, you know? I think I was meant to, earlier. March
called me back.” That spills out before I can stop it.
She dips her chin,
studies her booted feet for a moment. “He loves you, Mary knows
why. I don’t know what you mean to do about it. Not my business,
really—”
“But you’re presuming
to advise me about het-sex relationships, even though you don’t
know the first thing about them?” I lick my finger and collect some
of the crumbs from the cookie plate.
“It’s the same
principle, you stupid twat. You don’t deserve my advice.”
“Probably not, but
you can’t resist. That way, when I ignore it, you can call me an
ignorant bitch later, after I’ve fucked things up beyond all
recognition.”
“At least you’re
honest,” she says with a grin. “And reasonably self-aware.”
“It’s a gift. Go on
then.”
“Be gentle with him.”
Dina sits forward, arms crossed on her knees. “I’ve known him a
long time, and I don’t want to see him hurt again.”
That makes two of us. The silence builds, charged
with things I don’t feel able to articulate. Finally, I answer,
“Noted.”
It’s not nearly
enough.
My first clue that
we’ve arrived comes from the bump that signals planetfall. They’ve
built a hangar inside the Gunnar-Dahlgren compound, so the merger
must be going well. I can’t wait to see Doc, even Lex and Keri for
that matter.
It’s not quite a
homecoming. I won’t feel like that until I return to the glastique
garret that didn’t have a shower. Inexplicable, the places our
hearts tie us to. I miss Adele. She was like the mother I always
wanted, not the one I’ve got.
“We should get the
hell off this ship,” Dina says then.
With a stretch, she
pushes to her feet, leaving the dirty dishes for me to worry about.
I grin a little over that. I’d worry if she ever turned up
too nice. I might find her laying out my
funeral clothes the moment my back was turned.
“Yep. The other guys
must be wondering at this layover since we’re already behind
schedule.”
She pauses at the
door. “Let them wonder.”
I have no quarrel
with that notion. They don’t need to know about my illness or
March’s sense of obligation to the clan. Right now I can understand
Dina’s attraction to other women. I’m rather fed up with
Y-chromosome bastards myself. I roll off the bed, and my reflected
movement prompts me to look in the glass beside my bunk. What I see
startles me.
“Need to change
first. I look like an inmate . . . or a san worker.”
“Clothes won’t help.”
She’s back to mocking me, which I appreciate, because it means she
thinks I’m strong enough to take it. I think I’d go back to bed if
she became solicitous. “You need a new head . . . or at least a new
face. Maybe Doc’s friend on Gehenna can hook you up.”
“Ordo?”
“Yeah, that’s the
one. Still, do your best, won’t you? Spackle on some paint, maybe
use the wardrober to manufacture a wig. They’re all queued up to
see the ambassador from New Terra.”
“They are not.” I
rummage through my bag, sighing over my meager possessions.
Impossible to believe—I used to be something of a clotheshorse.
Back in the day, I loved dolling up in short skirts and long boots,
tiny tops that showed more of me than they hid. Now I’m
hard-pressed to find something that doesn’t make me look as though
I repair Skimmers for a living.
“Tarn panicked. He
was afraid the Ithtorians would take offense to our meandering
progress, so he’s ‘leaked’ the fact that New Terra’s ambassador is
wending her way toward them on a goodwill tour.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
We could go on like
this all day, I expect, so I choose not to be juvenile. I know; it
stings a bit. “Do I have an itinerary?”
“You’d have to
inquire of Chancellor Tarn.”
“I’d rather make it
up as I go along.” I shake my head over the absurdity of the
situation. Tarn should have replaced me weeks ago, but he won’t.
Because of Vel, I am indispensable. “Get out, or you’re going to
see me naked.”
“I’m going!” she
protests, heading out. Her final words drift back to me as the door
slides shut. “You’re such a stroppy bitch.”
Since March just
accused me of having lost my spirit, I certainly like the sound of
that. Not surprisingly, it takes me a little while to make myself
presentable, given the raw material. Finally, I unearth a simple
black vest and a pair of skinny black and gray thin-striped
slacks.
I hesitate because
the shirt reveals my scars, and then I decide I want it that way.
They mean something. That’s why I kept them.
In the end I take
Dina’s suggestion with regard to cosmetics. I paint some color into
my complexion and cover up the circles beneath my eyes. I refuse to
wear false hair, though. Maybe I’ll start a trend for women who
fancy wearing theirs a centimeter long but always lacked the nerve
before now. When I emerge from quarters, I find Jael waiting for
me.
“I’m to be your
protection,” he says without preamble. “Isn’t that a
laugh?”
“From what?”
“Assassination
attempts like the one you didn’t report on New Terra. You tried to
pass that off as a crash.”
It takes me a moment
to parse what he means. The Skimmer explosion,
right. I just wanted off world, didn’t want to wait around for
another inquiry. “Did they find the cause? It wasn’t a mechanical
fault?”
“Yes, and no.
Scavengers found the parts, but they were confiscated when they
tried to fence them. The authorities found the remnants of a
primitive incendiary device, assembled from common household
items.”
“So someone
definitely tried to murder me.” I feel oddly numb about
that.
“As a direct result
of several lengthy communiqués that bordered on interrogation by
the Chancellor, I’m now responsible for preventing them from
succeeding. I’ll warn you, Jax. Tarn is paying me well, and I
intend to take my job seriously.”
“You’ve been keeping
him off my back?”
I admit it; I’ve been
shirking my responsibilities. As a nav-star for Farwan, I had just
one. Take my pilot and make my scheduled jumps. That’s all. My life
used to include a fair amount of holiday time, and nobody trying to
disperse my molecules.
Different world, different life.
Jael smiles for the
first time, charming when he stops radiating belligerence to
compensate for his pretty face. “Done my best.”
“If I had any creds,
I’d pay you for that myself. Unfortunately, I’m broke as a joke
just now.”
His smile becomes a
grin. “You don’t need creds. The Conglomerate is picking up your
tab, aren’t they? You should charge a bunch of stuff before you
lose this gig.”
“You talk like that’s
inevitable.” What am I saying? I laugh reluctantly because I see
his point. I have a solid record for diplomacy in regard to class-P
planets. I know how to impress superstitious natives.
The Ithtorians? Not
so much. I hope Vel can save my ass yet again.
Jael spreads his
hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying, buy some new
clothes, maybe some sparklies.”
Tarn’s reaction to my
draping myself in diamonds at his expense would be priceless.
Despite myself, I rather like this merc’s sense of humor. In some
ways he reminds me of Kai: cheerful, cocky, and irreverent.
“Anyway.” I try to
refocus the conversation. “I enjoyed some peace while we waited on
Emry, though. I appreciate that.”
“All part of the
job,” Jael tells me easily. “You look better, less like you’re
about to turn toes up.”
“You’re a smooth
talker, aren’t you?” I don’t mean for the words to come out
flirtatious. Mary knows, I have enough problems in that regard, and
it’s not like he’s interested. He’s just saying I look less like
the walking dead, which is a long haul from a true
compliment.
March clears his
throat. From his taut expression, he thinks he’s interrupted
something. Mary, I’d like to smack him in the head, but at this
point, he’d probably take it as foreplay.
“Let’s get this over
with,” he mutters.
He brushes past the
two of us without another word, and Jael cocks a brow at me.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“You don’t get to
know about my personal life,” I snap at him. “Just go clear the way
or whatever bodyguards do.”
“Darling,” he drawls.
“Soon I’ll know everything about you, including how many times you
breathe per minute, and if your heartbeat sounds a smidgen
off.”
“Will you know when I
. . .” I lean in to whisper the rest.
“That depends. Am I
in your room at the time?”
“No!” Nothing I say
fazes him, so I stalk past to the main hatch.
Great, I need another
man poking about in my business.
Like I need to settle
down and study rutabagas.
