who had come in. Showing that he could not sneak up on her. A spider demonstrating her total control over her web. He wondered if she had tagged him, put some kind of local radio tracker on his clothes at some point. Or if the ship had internal sensors that could distinguish individuals.
Or perhaps it was just her superb operative training.
“Now what?” he said, because he couldn’t help himself.
She looked at him then.
“Now we’re going to offload these people, and then I’m going to turn my ship off and get some sleep. What else did you have in mind?”
What had he meant? So much more than that. More than just the next few hours, the next few days. More than just the aliens and the coming war. He had meant the future, beyond all that.
He had meant what would happen between them.
The realization was startling. He had come to depend on her in the last day, not just to fly the ship, but to make decisions. Like at the wreck, checking for radiation. Or misdirecting Rassinger. Even while he had thought of her as the enemy, he had relied on her strength and ability. Taken it for granted.
“You’re not going to get involved with … Rassinger’s mission.” He didn’t know himself if it was a statement or a question.
“No,” she said, looking away again. “I’m going to collect my pay and get out of here.”
“These people will need help. Off-world help. That means lots of transport. There’ll be work for you here.” Why was he trying to change her mind? Selfishness. He wasn’t prepared to let her disappear from his life.
“We’ve done enough. Every time we come here, Jorgun will ask for Jelly. And every time, I’ll have to tell him all over again. No amount of transport fee is worth that.”
Her voice was bitter, but Kyle almost laughed at her. He had seen through her. So much effort wasted, so many futile precautions. Prudence had bound herself to nothing planetside. Her concerns were only for her ship.
But the crew was part of the ship, and the crew was human. And they did not have the iron discipline of their captain. They had become contaminated by the ground, and now they laid their burdens on her secondhand.
Kyle knew exactly how she felt. All of the relationships in his life were secondhand, too.
He gave her what freedom he could. “I’ll sign a blank voucher. You can fill in the amount. But if you ask for too much, they might ask questions. I don’t think you want that.” The blank voucher would earn him plenty of questions, too, difficult ones; but Prudence had earned it, regardless of what it might cost him. She was what he had sworn to protect from the League: the good and the innocent. Even if she was the only person he could name who fit both criteria.
He put his hand on the back of Jorgun’s chair to steady himself. He had momentarily forgotten that she was a mercenary sent to destroy him in some Byzantine and nefarious plot. He was too tired for this, emotionally and physically drained from the last few days. The last few years, even.
Again she looked at him, with those dark eyes asking questions all by themselves. “That’s generous of you. And by extension, Altair. Will your government be as generous to Kassa?”
He shrugged, honestly. “I don’t know, Prudence. I’m a cop. I don’t even work for the planetary government, just a city.”
“And the League.” Whispered. He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.
“And the League,” he agreed, because he had to.
Silence between them. Stretching painful, and complete.
“Who was Jelly?” he asked. Not just to hear her voice again, but because he wanted to know.
“A local girl. She suffered from Tay-Sachs disease. The condition is treatable, but the medicine is delicate. It has to be prepared fresh on a daily basis. It needs complex machinery. It requires electricity.”
Outside, the refugee camp below them was lit only by fire.
He wanted to say he was sorry, but the words sounded trite and
Or perhaps it was just her superb operative training.
“Now what?” he said, because he couldn’t help himself.
She looked at him then.
“Now we’re going to offload these people, and then I’m going to turn my ship off and get some sleep. What else did you have in mind?”
What had he meant? So much more than that. More than just the next few hours, the next few days. More than just the aliens and the coming war. He had meant the future, beyond all that.
He had meant what would happen between them.
The realization was startling. He had come to depend on her in the last day, not just to fly the ship, but to make decisions. Like at the wreck, checking for radiation. Or misdirecting Rassinger. Even while he had thought of her as the enemy, he had relied on her strength and ability. Taken it for granted.
“You’re not going to get involved with … Rassinger’s mission.” He didn’t know himself if it was a statement or a question.
“No,” she said, looking away again. “I’m going to collect my pay and get out of here.”
“These people will need help. Off-world help. That means lots of transport. There’ll be work for you here.” Why was he trying to change her mind? Selfishness. He wasn’t prepared to let her disappear from his life.
“We’ve done enough. Every time we come here, Jorgun will ask for Jelly. And every time, I’ll have to tell him all over again. No amount of transport fee is worth that.”
Her voice was bitter, but Kyle almost laughed at her. He had seen through her. So much effort wasted, so many futile precautions. Prudence had bound herself to nothing planetside. Her concerns were only for her ship.
But the crew was part of the ship, and the crew was human. And they did not have the iron discipline of their captain. They had become contaminated by the ground, and now they laid their burdens on her secondhand.
Kyle knew exactly how she felt. All of the relationships in his life were secondhand, too.
He gave her what freedom he could. “I’ll sign a blank voucher. You can fill in the amount. But if you ask for too much, they might ask questions. I don’t think you want that.” The blank voucher would earn him plenty of questions, too, difficult ones; but Prudence had earned it, regardless of what it might cost him. She was what he had sworn to protect from the League: the good and the innocent. Even if she was the only person he could name who fit both criteria.
He put his hand on the back of Jorgun’s chair to steady himself. He had momentarily forgotten that she was a mercenary sent to destroy him in some Byzantine and nefarious plot. He was too tired for this, emotionally and physically drained from the last few days. The last few years, even.
Again she looked at him, with those dark eyes asking questions all by themselves. “That’s generous of you. And by extension, Altair. Will your government be as generous to Kassa?”
He shrugged, honestly. “I don’t know, Prudence. I’m a cop. I don’t even work for the planetary government, just a city.”
“And the League.” Whispered. He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.
“And the League,” he agreed, because he had to.
Silence between them. Stretching painful, and complete.
“Who was Jelly?” he asked. Not just to hear her voice again, but because he wanted to know.
“A local girl. She suffered from Tay-Sachs disease. The condition is treatable, but the medicine is delicate. It has to be prepared fresh on a daily basis. It needs complex machinery. It requires electricity.”
Outside, the refugee camp below them was lit only by fire.
He wanted to say he was sorry, but the words sounded trite and
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