High Flyer - Michelle Diener Page 0,40

face.

Maybe she wasn't showing enough.

She kept her face blank. Inappropriate behavior would give her away. Had given her away, somehow, to Linnel.

To cover herself, Hana closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

With a sudden creak of unoiled metal, the two serrated jaws fell open, and a wave of pain had Hana turning away to vomit.

She bit back a cry.

Iver would come running if she made too much noise, she was sure of it.

“Stoic little thing, isn't she?” The man who seemed to be the leader of the group shuffled closer. Hana remembered he'd told the driver his name was Craven.

She was bent at the waist, her body turned away from him, and she felt the hot spike of anger lodged in her chest cool to something more dangerous than simple temper at his words.

“Where's your friend?” The driver asked her.

She straightened, digging in a pocket for a tissue, and carefully wiped her mouth. “Gone.”

Her foot throbbed, but the pain had receded. Her upgrade going back to work.

She hadn't had many injuries since her accident, but she'd bounced back suspiciously quickly when she had been hurt. She'd also noticed small childhood scars on her legs and arms were fading and a few of the smallest ones were gone completely.

She shrugged off her pack and found a small rock to sit down on.

“Hey!” The whiner exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“I'm hardly going anywhere.” Hana suffused as much disdain in her voice as she could. “I don't want an infection.”

She lifted out the medkit Iver had put in the pack for her, and then carefully eased her boot off.

When she peeled off her sock, the driver sucked in a breath.

It did look bad. But it would look much better soon, so she wanted them to see it at its worst, for them to underestimate her mobility and her pain level.

She'd take any advantage she could.

She used a steri-wipe and then ran a small wand over the deep gouges in her skin. She pulled out a clean sock and carefully worked it on.

When she'd finished gingerly putting her boot back on, she lifted her head to find them all staring at her.

“What?”

“Very stoic.” Craven nodded. “Military?”

Hana stared at him blankly. A yes would make her most definitely this man's enemy. The smugglers had been part of the rebel corps. There would be no quarter given if she admitted to fighting for the VSC.

The silence extended.

“Stoic and silent.”

“We going to kill her, or what?” the whiner asked.

The driver rounded on him. “Kill her? Are you being serious?”

“Now, now.” Craven glanced at the whiner, and gave a tiny shake of his head. “Tillis here was just messing around.”

The driver gave a disbelieving laugh. “Like that's better?”

“You'll have to excuse us,” Lia said. “We've gone a little feral out here. No social niceties, you understand.”

Brynja turned her head and stared at her, and the smile Lia gave her was more of a grimace.

“Where's Barre?” Tillis asked.

“He went after the other one,” Brynja waved up the hillside.

The driver turned to look, and then shifted, as if he was eager to leave. “What were you doing in my lander?”

Hana shook her head and leaned back against the boulder behind her. She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. She didn't have the energy to make up a story, and nothing she said would be believed anyway.

“I can't wait around here. They're expecting me at camp. If you get the other one, all good. You can let me know you have him when I come back this way. I'll take this one with me now.” The driver stood between Hana and the others, as if worried they wouldn't let him take her.

Hana didn't smile, but she wanted to.

Tillis had frightened the driver. The talk of murder had shocked him and he was truly outraged by the trap.

This one wasn't as cold-blooded as Vannie and Simon, or even Banyon.

It was hard to find good sociopaths these days.

“Just to get it straight, you want us to find the other one?” Craven asked.

“I'm not saying go out of your way. But if you do find him, I know they'll want to question him at the camp, so you can leave a message and we'll reach out to you.” The driver spoke carefully.

“And if we don't find him? Are we still invited?” Craven leaned back a little, arms crossed over his chest.

The driver had been walking a fine line since he realized he wasn't going to get away without some give and take, and he