… if not innocent reasons, then not illegal ones. That our leech is now safely inside the security network and we have eyes all over the station.
Such a touch is an intimacy among Syldrathi.
It should be treated with reverence, not used as a cheap trick.
But it did work.
“Look, sorry again,” Tyler finally says. “I had to think fast. We good?”
“… Did they teach you that technique in tactics class at the academy?” I ask.
My Alpha grins and shakes his head. “The best tacticians know how to improvise. That means working with whatever comes to hand.”
“Or mouth?”
Tyler laughs. “I guess so. Good thing I brushed my teeth this morning.”
We ride in silence for a while, watching the numbers on the display rise.
“I didn’t know Syldrathi blushed with their ears,” Tyler muses.
“I am not blushing.”
“I mean, it kinda looks like you’re blushing.”
“I am not blushing.”
“Ooookay.” Tyler nods. “I sometimes have that effect on people is all.”
“Is your request not to punch you still in effect, sir?”
My Alpha only grins in reply. And though I am still somewhat shocked, I cannot help but feel a grudging respect also. He thinks swiftly, this Tyler Jones. He does not rattle, and he does not hesitate. With everything on the line, he still sees clearly, and he does what it takes to win. He is a born leader.
The lift halts and the doors open, and as I step out into the hallway, I hear him chuckling to himself behind me.
“What is funny?” I ask.
“I was just thinking,” he grins. “Scarlett did tell us to just kiss and get it over with …”
18
Cat
“So I have good news,” Finian declares. “Then excellent news. Then absolutely terrible news.”
Ty sinks down on the couch beside me, Scarlett on his other side. He and Kal have just got back from their job in the security hub, their power armor dumped in the love hotel with our unconscious double dates. Our illustrious leader leans down to rub a scuff off his boot, his mop of shaggy blond hair hanging in his eyes. I watch the muscles play in his arm from the corner of my eye. Pretending not to notice. Pretending not to care.
“Good news first,” Tyler says.
Finian swivels his chair to face us. His uniglass is plugged into the forearm of his exosuit, a holographic screen projected from a lens at his wrist. The light’s bright against the gloom of Dariel’s den, the image crisp. I wonder how much processing power is in that rig of his. Wonder at the kind of mind that could even make a suit like that. Finian’s an annoying little shithead for sure, but at least he doesn’t have shit for brains.
“Good news is the leech is working perfectly,” he declares. “I’m in their network, moving slow so as not to attract attention. But I have access to the infamous Casseldon Bianchi’s luxury liner, and all the security cams therein.”
He pauses, looking around the room.
“Don’t everyone applaud at once.”
“What’s the excellent news?” Scarlett asks.
Finian taps a pad on his exosuit’s other arm. His small holographic screen flickers into larger, brighter life onto the white stone of the wall. His swipes the air, and the holograph flips through half a dozen screens until he finds the one he wants.
“Excellent news is I think I found our Trigger.”
From her seat in the corner, Aurora comes to her feet. Her mismatched eyes are wide, fixed on Fin’s projection. There, floating on a beam of blue light, is the sculpture she painted all over the storage room—a figure with three-fingered hands, wrought in strange metal. Doesn’t look much bigger than my own hand. The diamond in its chest and the pearl in its right eye are actually real gemstones. It’s hovering inside a transparent case of what might be glass, slowly spinning.
“Is that it?” Tyler asks.
Aurora stares. Her whisper’s almost too soft to hear.
“Yes.”
She drags her eyes away from the screen, over to Tyler.
“I don’t know how I know. But I know. That’s why we’re here. …”
“Okay.” Tyler nods, staring at the sculpture. “Give us the bad news, Finian.”
“I never said I had bad news,” our Gearhead replies, tapping on his keyboard. “I said I had absolutely terrible news.”
“Maker’s breath,” I sigh. “Just spit it out, will you?”
Finian blows me a kiss and moves his fingers, pulling our image to a wider shot. I can see a large circular room, decked in fancy furnishings. Huge glass windows look out into what seems to be some kind of jungle. Dozens of