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Garrett didn’t reply and just looked to the far side of the tarmac where the Klah’Eel soldiers milled about the cluster of Klah’Eel fighter ships. He would have to talk to someone about them—Priest Lazar or Zyk and Ha’ral, who led the Carta Cartel, maybe. A group of unfamiliar and battle-ready klah’eel would make people nervous, and no one needed some group of traumatized civilians making everything worse.
Rubbing his temples and feeling like Leon, Garrett walked back into the ship and started running through his basic maintenance list. He just needed to reassure himself that the ship would take off without exploding. To Joan’s credit, it looked like she’d already gotten a good tech on it. Only one hatch at the top of the main passenger room looked suspicious.
Garrett jumped to grab the bars that framed either side of it, held himself up with one arm, and used the other to push the heavy hatch door open. Easy enough to open, which was good since it was an escape route, but did it close? Garrett pulled himself out of the hole, into the salty air, and onto the ship’s top to check the sealing.
“Garrett?”
Garrett’s ears perked up as he finished confirming the integrity of the hatch’s seal and hinges.
“Garrett?”
With a grin he couldn’t help, Garrett swung off the ship’s top, slid down its side, and landed in a crouch on the tarmac below. “Maxwell!”
Maxwell made a surprised sound and stumbled a few steps back at Garrett’s sudden appearance, but when Garrett stood, he didn’t miss the appreciative way Maxwell swept his eyes up his body. Had he always done that? Had Garrett somehow been missing it? There’d been times when he’d thought he caught Maxwell’s eyes lingering, but Maxwell had always played it off so smoothly that Garrett had been sure it was only wishful thinking on his part.
But he hadn’t mistaken Maxwell’s look this time, and he definitely hadn’t mistaken the longing in Maxwell’s eyes last night. Maxwell wanted him, or at least wanted something that Garrett could give him. Garrett knew that with utter certainty. He just didn’t know what was holding Maxwell back.
Maxwell recovered quickly, and he gave Garrett a chiding look. “You’re going to hurt your knees landing like that on a surface like this.”
“I’m young.” Garrett grinned and shrugged. “Did you get the breakfast I sent over? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to come myself.”
“I did, thank you.” Maxwell nodded politely and distantly like he always did and adjusted the bag strap over his shoulder.
Garrett cocked his head. “What’s that?”
Maxwell glanced at his pack as though to be sure that’s what Garrett was asking about and then gave him a quizzical frown. “A few extra supplies and some toiletries in case we get delayed down there.”
“I have plenty of supplies.” Garrett frowned back at him, and then the rest of Maxwell’s sentence caught up to him. “We?”
“Didn’t you get Joan’s message?” Maxwell walked past him and up the gangway of the ship. “I’m coming with you.”
Garrett’s face broke into a smile, and he jogged to catch up with Maxwell already striding into the ship. “You are? Since when?”
“Since this morning.” Maxwell stowed his bag under the copilot’s seat. “I really should have thought of it earlier. There could be people that need medical attention down there, and a doctor should be part of the rescue crew.”
“But who’s watching the clinic?” Garrett leaned in the cockpit doorway and watched Maxwell straighten up from stowing his pack. He was so small. He was so competent that he often seemed larger than he really was. The tight space of the cockpit accentuated their size difference.
“I asked Sazahk to watch it while I’m away.” Maxwell eyed Garrett in the doorway and hung back by the control panel instead of approaching him.
“Sazahk’s not a doctor.” Garrett frowned. He had met the Carta Cartel’s qeshian scientist on his trip to Carta just before the Barzen had slammed into Tava, ended the war, and changed everything. Sazahk was clearly brilliant—if odd as fuck in the way highly specialized people tended to be—but he was much more a researcher and a tinkerer than a healer.
“No, but he knows biology better than anyone, and I called in a few people who are used to helping out, so between them all, they should manage.” Maxwell crossed his arms and gave Garrett an inquisitive look. “Also, Oliver and Mal’ik showed up just as I was leaving.”
Garrett tried and failed to stifle the sheepish look tugging down his face. “Did they?”
“They did.” Maxwell tapped his index finger on his bicep. “Do you know anything about that?”
Garrett straightened up from his casual lean. “I asked Leon to send someone to stay with you while I was gone.”
“Why?” Maxwell’s voice hardened, and he took a quick step forward and into Garrett’s space, making Garrett jerk back. “Do you think I can’t be without you? Do you think I need your supervision?”
“What? No.” Garrett retreated a few steps, his blood pressure spiking. “I was just worried after”—Garrett winced at the flinty look in Maxwell’s eye—“after last night.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.” Maxwell’s jaw clenched, and Garrett saw a tick in his cheek that he’d never seen before.
“No.” Garrett shook his head quickly, and guilt soured his stomach. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry. I overstepped.”
Maxwell glared harder at him for a second, and then the glare dropped away, and Maxwell’s whole body slumped. “No. No, you’re fine. I’m sorry. I just…” Maxwell shook his head and brushed past Garrett to get into the main room of the ship. “I overreacted.”
