Dealers' Choice - Susan Hayes Page 0,40
list off all the reasons that wasn’t going to happen, but his brain failed to come up with anything. He scowled and tried again. Nope. Still nothing. Huh. “That is actually an excellent suggestion.”
The big half-Torski grinned. “Glad I could help, but I can’t really take credit for the idea. The counselor we had working with the cyborgs encouraged face-to-face talking about anything and everything.”
“If you have a counselor, why do you need to talk to Xori about finding another one?”
Denz held up a big, four fingered hand and lifted a finger. “First one couldn’t handle the levels of violence inherit in the colony culture. Vardarians love to fight almost as much as you cyborgs. They came to Haven looking to turn everyone into pacifists who talked and hugged their way through conflict.”
Ward’s mind boggled at the concept. “Hug through a conflict? How does that even work?”
“I have no fraxxing clue, and neither did anyone else.” Denz raised another finger. “Next one was a better fit, but wasn’t so good at following instructions.”
He cocked his head. “That was an issue?”
“When those instructions include key phrases like, ‘don’t pet the livestock,’ yeah, it was an issue. You ever seen a Vardarian gharshtu? They’re something between a giant, scaly bird, and your worst nightmare.”
“He got hurt?”
Denz shook his head. “He got eaten.”
“Well, that’s a problem.”
“And a lot of paperwork. Thankfully we govern by council, so we could distribute the extra work, but now we need to find someone new.”
“And this is why I never want to be in charge of anything again. Too much responsibility.”
Denz grunted. “Smart man.”
The conversation did more to ground him than the time he’d spent working out. Ward left the gym to go looking for Xori, feeling better than he had since discovering she was gone. Denz was right, he needed to talk to her and find out why she’d left. If it was something he’d said or done, then he’d find a way to fix it. If her problem was with him, there was an easy solution. He’d step away so she and Vic could try on their own. Vic wouldn’t like it, but it was what had to happen eventually, anyway.
He wouldn’t drag Vic down into the darkness with him. He owed him more than that.
He didn’t even notice he was whistling a low, unhappy tune until he was halfway to her office. Like his brother’s love of origami, he’d stepped out of his tank knowing a collection of tunes and how to whistle them already programmed in. None of the other members of their batch had anything similar. Someone, somewhere, had added it to their subroutines, and they’d never know why.
He stopped whistling and pulled out his comms. He didn’t expect her to answer, but it couldn’t hurt to try. No response. He ended the call without leaving a message. She might not want to talk to them, but that wouldn’t stop him from tracking her down and getting some answers.
He went to her office first. Her quarters were on the wrong side of an IAF security post he had almost no chance of talking his way past. Her office door didn’t open when he approached, and when he hit the door panel to announce his presence, he got a holographic display of her hours of operation. According to the read out, she was supposed to be working right now. The flat, inhuman voice of her AI receptionist informed him that the doctor was currently out of the office, but if he would like to leave his name and contact information, someone would be in touch later.
He turned away before the recording finished speaking, the first nibbles of worry sinking needle-sharp teeth into his gut. She wasn’t answering her comms, and she was late for work, which wasn’t like her. His instincts were buzzing, and he wouldn’t ignore them. Something was off, and despite his worry, a tiny, utterly selfish, part of him started to hope again, despite what it might mean. And yet, he couldn’t help himself. Anything was better than believing she’d walked away from them on purpose. I am a broken, self-centered bastard, and I do not deserve her.
He broke into a jog as he headed for the security checkpoint. If they wouldn’t let him in, maybe they could tell him if she’d made it home last night.
He didn’t slow until he came into sight of the soldiers standing guard. He might be worried, but he wasn’t stupid. Charging at someone who