She’s liable to shoot her date with a disruptor just to see what happens.”
“I’m not talking about Zila, Ty.”
“Well, you can’t bring Aurora, there’s a bounty on her head!”
My sister rolls her eyes. “I’m not talking about Aurora, either.”
I blink, putting the math together in my mind.
“Oh no, you didn’t?”
Scarlett chews her lip and nods.
“I did.”
•••••
“No way,” Cat declares.
“Look, it’s simple,” Scar insists. “Just sit and smile, let me do the talking.”
“No. Bloody. Way.”
“Come onnnn, roomie,” Scar wheedles. “This is just like old times. You and me? Two space queens on the prowl? It’ll be fun!”
“It won’t be fun, it’ll be fu—”
“Stop being such a pessimist!”
“I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.”
“Well, good because they’re rrrreal cute.”
“I see what you did there.”
“Cute.”
“No.”
“Cuu-uuuute,” Scar sings, wiggling her fingers.
“Maker’s breath, I hate you so much right now, Jones …”
We’re gathered back at Dariel’s damp stone den, sitting around his tiny lounge room while the life-support system rattles and hums overhead. The light in here is a little too dim for a human, provided mostly by the vines that cascade down from the ceiling.
Aurora is curled up on the couch, knees beneath her chin, flicking through the history of the World Ship on the uniglass I gave her. Kal is sitting nearby, studiously ignoring the girl beside him and studying the imported stalactites instead. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on between those two, but it’s something I have to keep a watch on.
Zila is playing on her uniglass as usual, Scar leaning in the bedroom doorway. Dariel himself is out doing the wheeler-dealer thing, so he’s left Fin in charge of not letting the place burn down while he’s gone. Looking at the heat in Cat’s cheeks, I’m not sure he’s gonna pull it off.
“Look, this is a two-girl mission, Cat,” Scar says. “It’s not like I can bring Zila or Aurora with me. We just need to hook these guys long enough for me to swipe an ID card. Then we can access the Sempiternity security network.”
Finian nods. “Been looking at some schematics Dariel dug up, and poking around their system. They’re running the entire station on a reworked Occulus 19 grid with mimetic encryption. If we can get a leech into one of the main nodes, I reckon I could hack the camera network. We’d be able to see everything on the station. Including inside Bianchi’s luxury liner. Which means we can see where he’s keeping the …” Finian blinks, glancing at the display of Auri’s sculpture on one of the smaller monitors. “What’re we calling this thing, anyway?”
“The Whatchamacallit?” Scar offers.
“The Doodad?” I suggest.
“The Trigger,” Zila says quietly, not looking up from her glass.
“Well, you can all stick your trigger where your trigger isn’t s’posed to get stuck,” Cat says, scowling around the room. “I didn’t train for this crap.”
“It’ll be sixty minutes, tops,” Scar insists. “Just relax. Let your hair down.”
Cat aims a pointed glance up to her fauxhawk.
“My hair doesn’t go down.”
Scar looks to me, and I push myself off the wall, approach my Ace with considerable caution. “Cat, I know this isn’t your ideal mission. But we need intel.”
Finian nods. “Best way to get eyes inside Bianchi’s liner is the cam system.”
“Ah, we’re trusting the knucklehead who irradiated the academy propulsion labs now,” Cat scowls. “Fan-bloody-tastic.”
“Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“Well then, you go on the double date, Finian,” Cat growls.
Fin puts his hands to his cheeks in mock horror. “But … whatever would I wear?”
Cat lunges across the room at our Gearhead and I grab her shoulders, force her back. For a second we’re touching, chest to chest, and I’m reminded of the last time we were this close. The last time I ever had a drink.
Graduation day back on Cohen IV.
“Ease off, Legionnaire Brannock,” I warn her.
She glares at Finian, but she stops trying to push past me. Straightens her clothes and then straightens her fauxhawk. She’s wearing short sleeves and I can see the Ace logo on her right arm among the other tats. Remember sitting with her in the parlor as we got inked, the liquor we used to dull the sting at the bar afterward. Looking at each other across that table as the empty glasses stacked up and knowing the mistake it’d lead to.
Because that’s what I told her afterward.
That’s what it was.
A mistake.
Cat turns her glare on Aurora, and I can see the accusations there as plain as starlight: This is your fault. Without you, Tyler would