Chapter 42
“Got it!”
Wraith’s voice was muffled under the Styx’s control console.
From Kael’s vantage point in the pilot’s seat, all he could see were her legs sticking out… and her ass. Which he was definitely not looking at. Again.
He flicked his eyes back to the sky as she pushed back out and climbed to her feet, a small electronic component in her hand.
“No more pesky SID or Fleet trackers.” Her smirk was smug enough to register on the sensors.
“You ready to tell me where we’re going?” he asked.
“Why don’t we get a little further away from the people who want to kill us first.”
He nodded and activated the hyper jump, chuckling as she lost her balance, recovered, and slid into the navigator’s chair.
“Not funny,” she told him.
“That really depends on your perspective. From mine it was hilarious.”
Wraith raised her middle finger.
Around them, space seemed frozen.
“Hyperspace seems so strange, after the Fold,” he commented.
“I’ve always thought it was the edge of it.”
He turned to look at her.
“You remember my ocean metaphor for the Inbetween?”
Kael nodded.
“If we extend that a little further, hyperspace is the waves breaking on the sand.”
“You’re not going to get that far on them, but you can skim the surface?”
“Precisely.”
The ship shuddered once, and they dropped back into normal space.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Near the Folly. Seemed as good a place as any.”
Wraith grinned, “In which case, let’s go and get a drink.”
The Folly hadn’t changed, Wraith noted. No surprise.
Still the same stinking merc den-slash-death trap it had been three months ago. And right now? Perfection.
The bar they’d found was crowded, grimy, and full of spree killers in waiting. Helios had raised a brow when they walked in, but she’d just winked at him.
“My kinda place.”
They’d found a small table at the back. It had been occupied when they’d arrived, but after a short discussion with the Major, the two mercs agreed to move on.
Wraith wiped a blood splatter off the table with her sleeve.
“You know, Helios, I think you might be a little on edge.”
He sipped his beer, grimaced. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Just saying you didn’t have to break his arm. At least not in three places.”
Helios shrugged, “He was rude. It was… punctuation. Emphasis, maybe.”
Punctuation. Right.
“You know that little display means we’re not getting out of here without a brawl?” And if she was excited at the prospect, she didn’t need to admit it.
He opened his eyes wide, “You know, I hadn’t considered that.”
And that did it. She laughed.
And doing so released the knot of anxiety that had been making itself at home in her gut.
Helios toasted her and took another sip.
“This is worse than the stuff they serve on the Eventide.”
She sipped. Considered. Raised her glass to him.
“You’re not wrong.”
He held his beer up to the light. “You think it will taste better near the bottom of the glass?”
She lifted her own up, looked at the particles floating in it. Drinking might not fix anything, but it would provide a nice reprieve.
“Only one way to find out.”
“On a scale of one to thirteen, how drunk are you?” Kael asked.
Wraith paused, considered, “About a nine.”
“That high? I’m a six. Ish.”
“I had exactly two sips of alcohol in five years, He—Hel—Major. And you are a ten.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Wasn’t talking about your drunk-ness rating.”
They walked through the back alleys in easy silence.
“You think the ship will still be there when we get back?” Wraith wondered.
“If it’s not, we’ll just steal another one.”
She laughed at that and wrapped an arm around his waist. Companionably. “I like you, Major. Wasn’t ‘sposed to.”
His arm snaked around her shoulder.
“Likewise, Captain.”
They rounded the corner to the dock where they’d left the Styx, grinning at each other.
A shadow stepped out of the darkness and a voice cut through the night like a blade.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Kael’s implants flooded him with Firebreak—a synthetic enzyme that streamed through his veins like acid and tore through the alcohol, turning him stone-cold sober between breaths. He triggered his night vision to find the threat.
Next to him, Wraith blinked, looked around and squealed, “Rina!”
Kael froze. He didn’t know she was capable of squealing.
She lurched out of his grip and towards the tattooed titan currently glaring at them. Spook met his gaze, what the fuck written in every line of her muscled-bound stance.
She looked back just in time to catch Wraith, who had launched herself into Spook’s arms.
He looked at Spook, lifted his hand in resignation and pointed at the Styx, “Coffee?”
“How did you get her this drunk?”
In the Styx’s cramped mess, Rina barked questions at Kael. Wraith gave her a sideways glare from her spot on the bench. “I’m right here, and I’m barely drunk.”
“Ashley Erin Raine, the only time I’ve ever seen you drunker was that time on Tethys, with Geist and the Marines.”
Wraith considered it. A memorable night—right up until the memories cut off.
“Really? Also, don’t full name me, Karina Vsevolodovna Chekova.”
“How can you manage… that, but you can’t say Helios?”
Wraith turned to Kael—he looked so pretty—and smiled.
“Family.”