later.
“The Exchange probably won’t be as forgiving though, eh?” Vrath said. “I hear they don’t tolerate lost shipments. You and your family are going to have a hard row there.”
Vrath’s words made Zeerid’s breath hitch. Hearing them changed everything. His knuckles turned white on the stick as options played out in his mind. Adrenaline filled him to his eyes. He stared straight out the cockpit window.
“They don’t know I have a family.”
“Not yet,” Vrath said. “But they will. They always do—”
Too late Vrath seemed to realize he’d stepped on a mine. He tried to chuckle it away but Zeerid heard the fear behind the laughter.
“Or maybe they won’t. I’m just talking here.”
“You talk too much,” Zeerid said while he hardened his expression, hardened his mind. The alchemy of necessity distilled his list of options down to one.
He put himself on autopilot and stood.
“On your feet, Vrath.”
When the man did not stand right off, Zeerid pulled him roughly to his feet. Vrath groaned with pain.
“Easy there, marine. Pain meds now, yeah?”
He sounded doubtful.
“Walk,” Zeerid said.
“To where?”
Zeerid stuck the GH-22 in his back. “Move.”
Reluctantly, Vrath let Zeerid push him through the corridors of the ship. The man moved slowly, as if he knew Zeerid’s intent, and Zeerid had to push him along. A few turns, a few corridors, and Zeerid saw an air lock door. He steered Vrath to it, stopped before it.
“Turn around.”
Vrath did. His face was blotchy, but whether from the beating or from fear Zeerid could not tell.
“This is about your daughter, yeah? Well, I already told my people, Korr. They already know.”
Zeerid heard the high pitch of a lie in Vrath’s tone. “A lie. You already told me you didn’t. You said, ‘Not yet.’ ”
He moved Vrath out of the way with the blaster and activated the internal doors on the air lock. They unsealed and slid open with a hiss. A red light set into the ceiling lit up and began to spin.
Zeerid showed him the blaster. “You want this?” He nodded at the air lock. “Or that?”
Vrath looked at the weapon, the air lock, swallowed hard.
“It doesn’t have to go this way, Korr. I won’t tell anyone about you or your family. You can even keep the ship.”
“I can’t take that chance.”
Vrath tried to smile, but it looked like a death grimace. “Come on, Korr. If I say I won’t talk, I won’t talk. I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”
Zeerid thought of the promise he’d made to Nat, that he’d take no unnecessary chances. “Yeah. Me, too.”
Desperation crept into Vrath’s voice. He shifted on his feet. “You’ll have to bear this, Korr. This will make you a murderer. Kill a man with his own weapon. You want that weight?”
Zeerid knew what he was doing. Or at least he thought so. “I can carry it. And I don’t need a lecture about murder from a skulker.”
Fear made Vrath’s eyes water. “That was war, Korr. Think about it. Think hard.”
“I have. Pick, or I pick for you. Just another number, right?”
Vrath stared into Zeerid’s face. Maybe he saw the blankness, the resolve. “To hell with you, Korr. To hell with you.”
Zeerid pushed him into the air lock.
“I could have killed her, Korr. Both of them. Back at the park on Vulta. You know I could have. But I didn’t.”
“No,” Zeerid said. “You didn’t.”
He activated the seal and the door started to close.
“I wish I had killed them now! I wish I had!”
Zeerid stopped the door, a sudden flash of anger rekindling his strength. He reached into the air lock and grabbed Vrath by the shirt, shook him. “If you had harmed her, this would be coming to you with a sharp blade and a slow touch. You hear me, skulker? Do you?”
He kicked Vrath in the stomach, doubling the man over with the blow. While Vrath gasped for breath, Zeerid reactivated the door and it sealed shut. Vrath stared at him through the tiny transparisteel window, all wild eyes, snarls, and teeth.
Zeerid hit the button to evacuate the air lock. The warning alarm wailed.
He gave one more glance at Vrath, saw the fear there, then he turned and walked back toward the cockpit.
Murderer.
That’s what he was.
The siren stopped and he felt a soft rumble as the external air lock door opened.
A pit opened in his stomach.
Emotion, nameless and raw, caused his eyes to water. He wiped them clear.
He was a murderer, and he felt heavy already.
But he would carry it—for Nat, for Arra. He expected