Drifters' Alliance, Book 2 (19 page)

“How’s Tam? My engineer.”

“He’s going to live.”

We turn a corner and pass three people who salute before we’re alone again. “What’s that mean? Did you have to put any AI in him?”

“No. We don’t AI patients like him.”

The way he says that makes me nervous. “Patients like him? You mean with stab wounds?”

“Among other things.”

I slow down partially because I’m tired of running behind him but also because I sense we’re almost to our destination, and I want more information before we’re with a big group of people and he closes up on me again.

“Wait. Please.” I huff and puff extra loud so he’ll feel sorry for me.

He hesitates and turns. “What’s wrong?”

I point at my feet. “Baby skin.”
Huff, puff, huff, puff.
“Not so good on metalloid flooring.”

He stops and lets out a sigh of annoyance. “You’ll get over it. Come on. People are waiting.”

My blood goes even colder. “People? What people?”

He turns and leaves me there, and I have to run to keep up. I’m so focused on not losing sight of him as he turns corners, I nearly crash into him when he finally stops.

“Damn,” I say, dancing to the side, “thanks for the warning.”

He brushes his hand down the front of his uniform and slicks his hair back with closed fingers. Looking down at me briefly, his expression enigmatic, he says, “Try not to hate me too much.” And with that he opens up the portal and steps inside, expecting me to follow.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I VOMITED EARLIER TODAY WHEN Baebong threw me over his shoulder and ran with me. The feeling I experienced then is nothing like the one I’m dealing with now. It’s like someone took a sledgehammer and slugged me in the gut with it.
Do not throw up! Do not throw up!

“Hello, Cass. Remember me?”

Remember him? I
loathe
him with every fiber of my being. I would eat his heart for breakfast if someone served it up, just to be sure he couldn’t be brought back to life. I couldn’t forget his ugly, scarred face if I tried every day for the rest of my life.

I spare only a glance for Macon. He looks like he wishes he were invisible, the way he’s collapsed in on himself, sitting in the seat next to our former OSG combat arms instructor.

“Hello, Drake,” I say, relieved that my voice sounds cool and unaffected. He feeds on fear. “How’ve you been? I see the years haven’t been too kind.”

He smiles, the evil in him making his eyes glisten. It’s the only thing on him that doesn’t look already dead; his complexion is the strangest purple-gray color.

“I could say the same for you.” He looks me up and down and then laughs. “When Terrick told me you were coming on board, I told him he had to invite you to dinner.” He stands. “It’s been
too
long.” He gestures at the seat on the other side of Macon, the one just to the left of the one Overshine is moving toward. “Please. Sit.”

I do as he asks, even though I have a feeling I’m going to regret it.

We look ridiculous, the four of us sitting at a table together like we’re about to share a meal and a conversation about the atmospheric conditions of some nearby planet. These guys have uniforms on that are so clean and stiff they’d probably stand on their own without the human bodies inside. I look ridiculous in my dirty flight suit and bare feet, and I think I’m starting to smell my own stink wafting up from my cleavage.
Awesome
.

I glance over at Macon, but his eyes are on the table in front of him.
Smart guy. Just lay low and maybe you’ll get out of here alive.

Drake takes the napkin off the table next to his plate and puts it in his lap. “So,
Captain
Cass, tell us what you’ve been up to.” He looks and sounds like he’s barely holding in laughter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Overshine settling in. He takes a long swig of his drink … fermented fruit wine from the looks of it. I could be wrong, but I think he’s uncomfortable too. I find hope in that.

“Nothing much. Just tooling around the galaxy. Same as you.”

He laughs. Someone kicks me under the table; I’m pretty sure it’s Macon, but he makes no outward sign of having warned me. He probably thinks I should stare at the table and mumble monosyllables when I’m spoken to, but I know better than he does how to handle myself with these idiots.

They think they can intimidate me? Scare me into acting like a cow? Wrong. Wrong answer, wrong question. I have every right to my ship and my crew, and they have no reason to keep me here. Running away from my father is not a crime. Leaving the OSG, well, that’s a gray area since I was born into privilege, but I’ll fight any attempts to bring me back. They must know that.

“Tooling around. That’s a good one.” Drake takes a long drink from his glass and then smacks his lips. “Actually, you want to know what we’ve been doing?”

“That’s enough, Drake,” Overshine says, a warning in his voice.

Drake’s good humor disappears in a second. “Watch yourself, Captain. This isn’t your table tonight.”

I look left and right, taking in the details of the room. On a shelf near the bar in the corner is a framed photograph of Overshine and my father, the only personal item viewable or even present here. I swallow with difficulty.
This is Overshine’s private dining room, and Drake is here to do what? Oversee something? Do an inspection?
I need more information to know whether I’m ankle-, knee-, or waist-deep in shit right now.

“So,” I say, taking my glass and holding it in front of me like I’m going to take a sip, “how’d I get so lucky to be having dinner with three guys like you?” I smile at the fact that I haven’t actually complimented anyone, but probably all three of them think I did.

I get another kick under the table.

Okay, two of them.

Drake smiles. “Well, I’m glad you asked, Cass. Because it is a special occasion.” He turns and holds his drink out at Macon. “Where’d you find this guy, anyway?”

I look at Macon as he finally lifts his head. His expression is mostly blank, but deep in his eyes there’s fear. Cold, bare, fear.

I laugh and point at him. “Who … Rollo?” I snort. “He found me. Fucker stowed away on my ship. Totally worthless.” I’m praying they sense zero affection in my voice when I speak of my old friend. I take a big swig of the drink and do my best to gulp it down and not wince at the high level of alcohol in it. A small burp escapes me before I have the presence of mind to hold it back.

“Rollo? Is that what he’s calling himself these days?” Drake shakes his head, speaking into his glass as he readies himself to take another drink from it. “That’s rich.” He drains the juice and holds up his glass for another. Overshine rises to get the pitcher that’s on a sideboard nearby.

I reach out with my bare foot, praying I hit Macon with it and not Drake. I touch something hard and Macon moves just the slightest bit. I tap him a few times on the shin with my toes, trying to tell him in toe-Morse code that I’ve got his back. I’m not going to sell him out.

Overshine comes back and fills Drake’s glass as Drake stares at me. His eyes are so dark, they look black. I swear I can see a wormhole inside them.

Desperation is starting to take over my thought process. I have to get us out of here. I think they’ve blown Macon’s cover, and they’re definitely playing some kind of game with me. They told Baebong to get lost probably because they plan to either get rid of me entirely or bring me to my father. Neither plan is acceptable.
Think! Think, think, think, Cass! How can you get out of this?!

A beep interrupts my thoughts and Overshine stands. “Cass, why don’t you help me with the plates?”

I follow him over to the spot on the wall where the robowaiter door opens. I wish I could take the opportunity to punch him in the face while we’re there, but Drake is too close, and I know what Overshine would do in response. I’d probably wake up next week, and who knows where my ship would be by then.

“You need to go,” Overshine says in a soft voice.

“No shit. Really?” I grab two plates of food and turn around with them. I’m not going to get caught talking to him with Drake just a couple meters away. I know that guy too well. He’s waiting for something like that, for a screwup of some sort, although I doubt he expects it from Overshine. I’ll be the one to get the blame for initiating the conversation if we’re caught.

I put the first plate of food in front of my former instructor.

His hand comes up and rests on my hip as he looks up. “Looks delicious.”

Bile runs up my esophagus and burns my tonsils as his fingers squeeze into my flesh.
So much for that throat healing.

I give him a tight smile. “I’m not the cook.” I jerk myself out of his grip and put the next plate down in front of Macon. He remains the way he is, staring down at the table. It’s disturbing to think that this might be his last meal, even though it looks like real meat and vegetables. There’s even a potato there with butter melting on top of it. I’d forgotten how well the Haves eat.

Overshine is back at his seat before I am, and there’s a plate for me at my spot. I sit down and stare at it. My mouth waters at the scents coming up in the steam. The only problem is, my hands won’t move. I can’t bring myself to lift my fork and take a bite. It feels like doing that will put things in motion that I don’t want to see come to completion.

“Dig in, troops, we have a long night ahead of us.” Drake grabs his utensils and does exactly that, acting like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“The only thing I have planned for my night is sleep,” I say, sitting back in my seat.

Drake chews his meat and winks at me. “That’s what you think.”

My ears start to heat up as my mind races.
What in the hell is he talking about? Does he think he’s going to decide what I do after dinner? That can’t possibly be good. If he even tries to whip his dick out, I’ll cut it off, even if I have to use my teeth.
I shudder at the idea, and I could swear Drake notices and smiles in response.

The table goes silent, save for the sounds of cutlery being used by Drake and Overshine. I keep staring at Macon, but he won’t lift his head. It’s like he’s already accepted death, and all that’s left is the draining of his blood.

“Been keeping up your training?” Drake asks me. His knife and fork are poised over his plate as he waits for my answer.

I shrug. “More or less.”

Drake cuts into his potato. “Overshine tells me you have a setup in your cargo bay.”

I glance at the traitor, who technically isn’t a traitor but who feels like one. “Did he? That’s nice. Glad you guys are keeping such close tabs on me.”

Drake huffs out a snort as he stuffs another forkful of food into his maw.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you guys missed me.”

Drake nods, tilting his head a little as his jaw stretches out one way and the next. When his mouth is empty he says, “You might say that.”

“Several people missed you after you left,” Overshine says. He sounds angry.

Drake points his fork at Overshine, his elbow on the table. “That guy right there … he missed you the most.” Drake has a big laugh over that one before he goes back to carving up his food.

This makes no sense to me at all. When I glance sideways at Overshine, I can see that he’s not embarrassed about Drake’s statement; he’s pissed.

Drake notices my confusion. “Oh. Wait. Say it isn’t so … he didn’t tell you?” He carefully places his cutlery on the plate and sits back in his chair, taking his napkin from his lap to wipe his mouth. When he’s done, he drops it on the table. “Oh, this is rich. Better than dessert! Tell her, man. Tell her.” Drake reaches over and slaps Overshine on the arm. It’s not a friendly tap.

Overshine stares straight ahead. “I’d rather not.”

Drake loses all sense of humor. “It wasn’t a request,
Captain
.”

Overshine’s jaw bounces a couple times, but then his head swivels left. He’s staring at me without seeing me, his attention focused on my hairline.

“The night you left, I was in charge of guarding the barracks, which made me responsible for all the residents of those barracks. When you … exited the facility, it was my responsibility to retrieve you.”

“And this guy …,” Drake says, breaking in and poking Overshine hard on the arm, “…went to great lengths to do that, didn’t you?
Didn’t
you? Tell her.” He shoves Overshine hard enough to make him sway in my direction. “Tell her, man, don’t be shy.”

This is the first time Macon looks up. There’s a mix of worry and curiosity in his expression. I know exactly how he feels, too; I’m partially terrified about what I’m about to hear, but nothing and no one could stop me from listening. I’ve always wondered what happened after I’d left, yet in none of my imaginings did I ever think it involved Overshine in any way.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

OVERSHINE IS TALKING LIKE A first-generation compubot, every syllable the same and delivered with a straight monotone.

“You were supposed to report to the barracks by twenty-two hundred hours like everyone else. You weren’t injured enough to need MI, so you should have been there.” His eyes dart over toward Macon for a second before coming back to my hairline.

I break out in cold sweats as he continues.

“You didn’t show. We did a full sweep of the facility. When it became clear you’d left the ship, we did an inventory of the PCs on board. None were missing.”

I start to talk, but my voice has stopped working; my mouth opens and a croak comes out. Macon kicks me, but Overshine doesn’t seem to notice any of it; he just keeps on talking.

“We determined that you had help escaping.”

“Leaving,” Drake says, an edge to his voice. “There is no escaping when you’re not being held prisoner, correct?”

Overshine nods once. “Of course. We determined that you had help leaving the ship.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t.”

“Found that out eventually, didn’t we?” Drake chuckles, hitting Overshine with his napkin. “Tell her the rest. The waiting is killing me.” He looks over at me, his smile positively evil. “I never get tired of hearing this story. Really. It’s so suspenseful.”