The Lost Ship of the Tucker Rebellion - Marie Sexton Page 0,54

pointed a finger at Laramie, then at Denver. “Nobody. Period.” She pushed away from the table. “I’ll be in the cockpit. Do me a favor and keep Ginn the hell out of my way.”

Laramie said, as she left.

“What did you expect? You didn’t even think to ask us how we felt about it.”

Denver winced. Maybe Laramie was right. Maybe he was being unfair. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to will himself to calm down. “Okay. She’s here. I guess I’ll just have to deal with it. It’s not like we can go back now anyway.”

Denver doubted that. He had a feeling Ginn’s fear was nothing but a good act, but arguing would only make things worse. For better or worse, they were all stuck together on the ship, all the way to the Kuiper Belt. “Yes, I’ll be civil. But only if you promise to do the same with Spence.”

Laramie scowled.

“No shit.”

“Duly noted.”

Aw. So they’d finally come to the heart of the issue. “And why does it matter what happens in my bed?”

To his surprise, all the fight seemed to go out of Laramie at once. He slumped a bit, ducking his head to stare at the floor. He withdrew mentally at the same time. He always seemed to take up more mental space in Denver’s head than usual when they argued, and the sudden vacuum left Denver reeling and off-balance. “I’ll stay out of his way as long as he stays out of mine.” He glanced quickly toward the cockpit. “And I’ll make sure Ginn doesn’t cross Marit.”

Denver chewed his cheek, wondering about the sudden shift in Laramie’s attitude, but at least the argument seemed to be over. “Deal.”

Laramie left, and Denver retrieved both cups from the floor and poured himself a touch more whiskey. He had to agree with Marit on one point—he could sure get used to having better food and alcohol on hand.

A second later, Spence poked his head through the door, his cheeks bright red, Treesa’s portable console tucked under his arm. He’d probably tried to retreat from the cockpit once Marit had shown up, but the only way out was through the kitchen, where Denver and Laramie had been fighting, leaving him trapped in the narrow hallway.

“Where’s Treesa?” Denver asked as Spence stepped hesitantly through the door.

“Marit’s explaining gravitational waves. She almost makes it sound like we’re on an ocean.” Spence shrugged. “Treesa seems interested, at least.”

“Is she doing better?”

“Not really.” He rubbed his forehead, and his shoulders fell a bit. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“You are.” Denver gestured toward the bottle of whiskey. “Did you change your mind about that drink?”

“No, thanks. I don’t really drink.”

“I’ll take your share, then.” The room wasn’t exactly tense, but Denver definitely felt awkward. “So…” he finally ventured. “How much of that did you hear?”

Spence laughed. “All of it.” His levity quickly fell away, and his brow wrinkled. “Well, all of what you said, at any rate. But I couldn’t seem to hear most of Laramie’s side.”

There was a question there. Denver ducked his head, unsure how to answer.

“You know,” Spence said, moving closer, “there have always been rumors that Mars was doing genetic experiments thirty or forty years ago.”

“Oh?” Denver did his best to sound disinterested.

“Come on, Denver. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the Pierro-Zabotel experiments. They were fooling around with Li’Vin DNA, trying to create these sets of super twins?”

Denver stared into the bottom of his cup, which was empty once again. Probably a bad idea to refill it a third time. “Pierro-who? No. I don’t know. I’m sure it’s bullshit, like everything else out of Mars.”

“Maybe.” Spence came closer, moving into Denver’s personal space, forcing Denver to meet his eyes. “But I know you grew up in an orphanage, and—”

“What? Who told you that? Did I tell you that?” Maybe it’d been part of the forgotten conversation at the club.

Spence gave him a half shrug and a sheepish grin. “I looked you up, once I knew we’d be living together.” He put his hand on Denver’s wrist, and Denver found his attention focused on Spence’s slender fingers. He had a sudden, strong memory of having those fingers tangled