CHAPTER 44
l lean toward him, or
fall.
Jael wraps his arms
around me, patting in an awkward way that’s meant to be comforting.
I can tell he doesn’t know much about the job for which he’s
volunteered. If I wasn’t gulping back sobs, I’d laugh at his
expression. He leads me toward the sofa while I cry and cry,
holding nothing back.
There are so many
things tangled up inside me that I don’t even know why I’m weeping.
March is part of it, of course, but it’s more than that: an
accumulation of woe that I can’t deny anymore. Tears stream freely.
My nose starts to run.
“Aren’t you a sight?”
he whispers. “It’s all right. I won’t tell anyone what a wet rag
you turn into after a couple of drinks. In the vids, they have you
up on tables flashing your tits once you down a few rounds, so this
is a bit of a shock, innit?”
I mumble into his
shirt, “Fuck the vids. They’re all posted by assholes.”
And then I remember
how many members of the gutter press died on Lachion. That probably
qualifies as speaking ill of the dead, but I don’t care. I feel his
hands on my back, thumping gently. You’d think I was an infant he
intended to burp.
I hiccup.
The next thing I
know, I’m blinking gummy eyes, and I feel stiff all over. Jael is
still curled around me, one hand on my shoulder, but he’s out, too.
I can’t tell how long we’ve been asleep, but it doesn’t matter. We
have two days to rest.
On this ship,
nobody’s trying to kill me, eat me, or otherwise disperse my
molecules. That’s a welcome change. I’m still tired, so I stagger
toward the huge bed and flop down. Then I sink back into the
delicious, gauzy darkness.
Much later, I surface
again, feeling more coherent this time. I adjust my robe, which has
gapped in all the wrong places. Rolling out of bed, I assess the
situation.
Poor Jael toppled
sidewise on my sofa. He’s going to be sore, and it serves him right
for being such a stubborn bastard. I do
feel better, but I would’ve cried whether he stayed with me or not.
It irks me that he shoved his way into my business, but I’m not
furious over it. So I wake him by kicking him in the ankle instead
of somewhere worse.
He squints up at me
and groans. “Maybe you’d keep men around longer if you didn’t do
that.”
The joke falls flat,
but I pretend it didn’t catch me in a raw place. “Yeah, well, I’m
not trying to keep you. You have your own room, go to it.”
Maybe I should thank
him, but mostly I’m embarrassed over the way I melted down. I
refuse to hash over my emotional state or give him dewy-eyed looks
bursting with boundless gratitude. If he craves that sort of thing,
he should hit up a girl named Fawn, who dances at the Hidden Rue on
Gehenna.
As he gets up, the
door slides open. I turn to see Dina standing there with a wide
smile because she’s on her own two feet. But the pleasure in her
expression dies like light leaving a dead bulb. Her gaze shifts
between the rumpled bed, my dishevelment and Jael’s sleepy good
humor.
“I can’t believe I
was actually starting to like you,” she bites out. “In your mind,
he’s as good as dead. So why not replace
him?” She turns so the door closes behind her, leaving her words to
accuse me in her stead.
Shit.
Even if it stings,
part of me understands why she made that mental leap. I didn’t
grieve years for Kai before falling for March. So maybe Dina thinks
that’s the way I operate. One man exits; another man enters, and I
just love the one I’m with.
But it’s not like
that. I hope when she cools down I’ll be able to explain, although
in the strictest sense, it’s none of her business who sleeps in my
room. I’m conscious of Jael standing beside me, looking shocked.
But before I deal with him, I code the door so it’s only accessible
to me for the duration of the flight.
He arcs a brow at me.
“I guess breakfast’s out of the question?”
“Out.”
“Right, I’m going.”
And he does.
I dress in black
because it suits my mood. At least short hair means I don’t have to
style it. Looks the same no matter what I do. I pocket 245, who
still hasn’t forgiven me for cutting her off back in the hangar.
Maybe this will cheer her up.
Determined to get
some value out of this downtime, I head for Vel’s room. He said he
had research to do, but I’m supposed to be tapping him as my
resource on Ithtorian culture and customs. To date, I haven’t been
taking my role seriously, and no matter what the Syndicate wants, I
can’t become another Karl Fitzwilliam. Not even to save my mother’s
life.
Unlike me, Vel was
smart enough to secure his room right away. I tap the panel and
say, “It’s Jax. Can I come in?”
His disembodied voice
responds, “A moment please.”
“Thanks.”
And then the door
allows me access. I slip inside. As I expected, Vel has molted, but
he isn’t growing any new skin as of yet. I’m not sure whether
that’s time related, or if he just doesn’t want to wear it.
Funny how different
people can take the same suite and turn it into something else.
Mine has rumpled bedcovers and dirty dishes while Vel has
transformed his room into a command center. Scattered devices,
wires, and mechanisms make it look as though he’s been here for
weeks, not hours.
“What can I do for
you, Sirantha?”
“I was hoping we
could talk about your homeworld. I probably should’ve asked long
before now.” I leave it there, choosing not to use the excuses that
hover at the tip of my tongue. “But if I came at a bad time . . .
?”
“No, I can resume my
research later.”
“You’re really doing
research?”
That surprises me. I
thought he said that to explain his need for solitude. People tend
to forgive a lot more eccentricity if they believe the person is of
a scholarly bent.
“Yes, actually. I
will let you know if I find anything.”
Does that mean it
relates to me somehow? For once, I don’t let myself become
sidetracked. I just nod.
“May I?”
“Please, have a
seat.”
I’m more conscious of
his vocalizer now because I can see his mandible moving and hear
the brief delay before the signals are translated into human
speech. I wonder what it’s like for him, functioning as a mimic in
our world but never truly part of it. Maybe that’s where I should
begin.
Only the small dining
unit isn’t covered with various sensors and monitors, so I sit down
there. While I’m at it, I order up some breakfast, or whatever meal
this is supposed to be. I’ve completely lost track of time.
I set 245 on the
table, power her up, and input my codes. “Okay if I
record?”
“Go ahead.”
By some miracle, she
doesn’t chide me for our interrupted session last time, just greets
me and gets to work. I wonder if that should worry me. I nibble at
a sweetbread while trying to decide how to phrase my opening
question.
Finally, I decide on,
“Is it hard for you?”
“What?”
Duh. He can’t read my mind.
“You have to feel
really alone sometimes, separated from . . . other Ithtorians.” I
barely manage not to say “people like you,” which would sound
prejudicial, even if I don’t feel that way
about him. “How do you cope with that?”
Vel sits down across
from me, regarding me with glittering, faceted eyes. If I’m
learning to gauge his natural expressions at all, I’d say he looks
hesitant. “Let me ask a question of you,
first.”
“Shoot.” I cram the
last of my breakfast into my mouth and immediately wish I had
something to wash it down.
“Do you find it
difficult to look at me as I am?” Vel indicates his current form
with one claw.
Between the claws,
mandible, peculiar side-set eyes, chitin shell, and segmented body,
there’s no doubt he qualifies as unusual, if not monstrous like the
Morgut. While I chew, I consider the question. But if I want
honesty from him, I have to give it back. So the answer comes
easy.
“At first, yeah. But
getting to know you took away the strangeness. And now you’re just
you.”
“I see.” He clicks
his claws, a habit I’ve come to identify as pensive. “To your
question . . . we are, by nature, a solitary people,” he says at
last. “We do not form emotional bonds as your species understands
them. Our society functions on social obligation, underpinned by
self-interest. Temporary alliances may be formed, but not personal
attachments. When such an alliance ceases to be profitable or
mutually beneficial, the arrangement is terminated.”
“When you say
alliance, do you mean business or—” But he just said they don’t do
personal relationships. I have a hard time wrapping my head around
that. “Give me an example. Please.”
“This could take a
while,” he cautions me.
I smile faintly. “I
don’t have anywhere else to be.”
“Then let’s
begin.”
