“I don’t feel so good,” I said.
“Just keep it together a little bit longer, kiddo.”
“Still want to kick my ass?” Pritchard teased, and I thought about giving him the mental finger, but fatigue was dragging at my limbs.
“Just tell me the dog’s okay.”
“He’s fine, Cutter.”
“And did he get the location?”
“What location, girl?”
Like Delight even had to ask.
“Don’t make me come up there…”
“Like you ever had a choice,” which looked to be fairly true, as the Marine guided us into an airlock and cycled the hatch closed after us.
He set me up against a wall, and then held up one of the grenades.
“Tell me you weren’t going to use this.”
I looked at him, so he pushed it.
“Tell me that you weren’t really going to pull the pin and dump these in the ship’s exhaust vents if he hadn’t complied.”
I just kept looking at him—and I didn’t say a word.
I mean, I really wanted to tell him that he was one hundred percent correct, and that I’d never have tossed a grenade into the vulnerable, unshielded engine exhaust of a ship locked in a docking bay. I really did…but I couldn’t be sure. I hadn’t thought the plan that far through. I’d just believed the pilot would choose to live, and do exactly as I’d asked him.
“Well, shag me sideways and three ways to morning,” he said, stowing the grenade back in the bag. “Delight, I take it back. She’s not like you. She bloody well is you.”
“Hey!”
I’m pretty sure we both disagreed with him on that point, but the airlock cycled, and gravity returned to my world, pushing me down onto the floor with a pretty heavy bump. The Marine stooped down and hauled me to my feet, before helping me out of the EVA suit.
“Come on, Cutter. There are a few people who want a word with you.”
There were?
I vaguely recalled what I’d just finished doing—at Delight’s request, no less, okay, more or less—and figured the man was right. There probably were a bunch of people who wanted a word with me…or, at the very least, a piece or three out of my hide.
“Well, fuck me,” I said, trying not to lean on the power-armored tank that had lent me his arm.
“Sure as shit hope that’s not an offer, girl, because I’m taken,” he said, “and Delight doesn’t share.”
That was waaay more information than I needed. Seriously!
22—Interlude
It took me most of the long walk to the conference room aboard the Wanderer to realize that I was in no condition to take anybody on—and I didn’t relinquish my hold on the big fella’s arm until he’d tucked me into a seat right beside Delight.
“Nice job, sweetheart,” she said, by way of greeting. “You nearly got us banned from this station, as well.”
I looked at her, too tired to do anything more than blink. It had been her idea to fill me full of nan-powered stims…again—which she had to have known was a really bad idea given the effect they’d had on me the last time.
“Did we get him?” I asked, because I wanted to know, and that seemed to be the safest way of avoiding a fight.
“Yeah, we got him. He didn’t even make the yacht.”
He hadn’t? And she’d left me juggling grenades near an exhaust system! She could have told me sooner.
Delight scowled at me.
“I was a little busy liaising with the station—and they weren’t very happy with us, at the time.”
“We still aren’t happy with you,” said the man sitting across the table from us, and I realized that the shapes I’d registered coming in were real.
“What did you think they were?” Delight asked, in the privacy of the implant. “Imaginary?”
I rolled my eyes, and made myself pay attention. I was in no condition for another fight, but…
“Stand down, Cutter. This is a meeting to discuss fines and reparation, and why we shouldn’t let them put you in a very small cell for a very long time.”
It was?
Normally, I would have left, at this point, but I was just a bit tired. The Marine beside me, set his helmet on the table beside him, the sound drawing my attention. He was cute, too, under all that armor—and vaguely, unsettlingly familiar.
A soft ‘uh oh’ echoed inside my head, and Pritchard was there, reaching out to remove a couple of files. Unfortunately for him, Cascade was there, too, and he wasn’t letting Pritchard near them.
“Ungrateful mutt,” Pritchard grumbled, trying to dance around him. “Who gives you treats?”
Treat? but Cascade looked at me.
“Just as soon as I can, boy,” I promised, and flicked open the nearest data cluster Pritch had been trying to remove.
“Grab her!” Delight’s cry echoed through my head, just as my reality twisted.
“Should have removed them a while ago,” floated after, followed by, “Haven’t had time.”
And none of that was the hardest thing to wrap my mind around. I recognized the cute Marine in spite of his power armor. He was Sasha’s boyfriend. Sasha. Who was also Delight. For a few seconds of overlays fought with memory, and then rolled into a tangled ball as the memories merged and sorted themselves into a timeline that I hadn’t properly recalled.
Well, now I did.
Not sure why Pritchard thought I needed to be grabbed. It’s not like he was really… My stomach lurched, and I grabbed hold of the nausea and pushed it down. Reputations could be created, too; they didn’t have to be real. My mind swirled, and I dove into the file, pulling it apart and collating it back together in a form my brain could understand and accept.
I might never look at Pritchard the same way, again—not after seeing him pull his Derevo persona around himself like a second skin—but I’d deal. Delight on the other hand… Well, when I thought about it, there wasn’t a lot separating her from Sasha. It’s not like she had to change much.
“Hey!” but she was smiling, and I slowly surfaced to discover I’d been sitting at the
