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“What?” Confusion took over for concern in Patrick’s expression. Confusion and then pity. “Garrett, I was told Maxwell was dead.”
“He’s not.” Garrett shook his head and clenched his fists to keep his hands from trembling. “He’s in the qesh we took prisoner.”
Patrick’s eyebrows rose into his salt-and-pepper hair as shocked understanding dawned on his face. “The Resistance has another torvar.”
Garrett swallowed. “Apparently.”
Patrick blew out a breath and crossed his arms. “And you had no idea.” After a moment, his eyes went wide again, and his spine pulled up straight. “Shit, and Buck did.”
“Yes.” Garrett stumbled a step forward and grabbed Patrick’s arm before he could think. “Please, Patrick, I need your help.”
Patrick shook his head in bewilderment rather than denial. “With what, Twal? Go get him back.”
Garrett opened his mouth and found the words difficult to scrape out. “I… I can’t do it alone.”
Indignation flashed through Patrick’s eyes. He opened his mouth with his teeth bared, but just as Garrett braced himself for the stinging retort, Patrick reined it in. He took a deep breath and then bared his teeth again in a look that was all frustration and no malice. “Goddammit, Twal. Just name it. What do you need?”
“Sir!” The nearest klah’eel—a woman with long, braided hair—stepped forward. “We can’t—”
Patrick cut her off with a raised hand. “I’m your captain, and we can do whatever I say we can. Now speak, Twal.”
Garrett rushed to get the words out now, hyper-aware of the discontent among the klah’eel and the seconds ticking by. “Buck knows the pirates.”
“Not shocking.” Patrick motioned for him to continue.
“The qesh Maxwell is in broke into the security system at Thule.” Garrett saw Patrick’s eyes darken at the name of the mine and pushed on. “He’s the only one that can open the stockpile door in any amount of time. Buck kidnapped him, and he’s taking him down to Thule to the pirates.”
“Okay, so go chase them.” Patrick gritted his teeth, and Garrett felt the muscles tense under his hand still on Patrick’s arm. “I can’t go to Thule and stare at that uranium with my men and then walk away from it. My superiors will fucking court-martial me.”
Garrett tightened his fingers around Patrick’s forearm when he felt him pulling away. “I can’t go alone—”
“Why not?” Patrick yanked free. “Surely the Resistance can handle a few two-bit pirates.”
Given their fast-dwindling manpower, Garrett wasn’t so sure, but that didn’t matter anyway. “It’s not just pirates down there, it’s also”—Garrett didn’t know if this would mean anything to Patrick, and he licked his lips—“it’s also a group of Insects.”
It definitely meant something to Patrick. His face paled just like Leon’s had. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth as his blue eyes flashed through a series of thoughts too fast for Garrett to read. “Shit.”
“They’re the buyers of the uranium.” Garrett finally dropped his hand off Patrick’s arm. He’d told him everything. Now he just had to hope. “The pirates are stealing it for them.”
Patrick dragged his hand up his face to massage his temples.
The klah’eel woman scowled and stepped forward. “Sir, what do we care—”
“Quiet.” Patrick snapped a hand out at her again. “There are a lot of things we care about here.”
Garrett forced himself to stay still as he watched Patrick fight himself, all the possibilities running through his head.
Patrick could say no. He could tell Garrett he was on his own, and Garrett could fly down to Tava and hope for the best and probably lose Maxwell, his own life, and Southern Tava’s best hope at salvation. And Patrick would be able to return to Klah as ordered.
Patrick could say yes, save Garrett, save Maxwell, and then turn on them and take the uranium stockpile. Southern Tava remained mired in misery. The Klah’Eel economy got a boost, and Patrick returned to Klah with his head held high.
And finally—the outcome Garrett was trusting Patrick to choose despite years of expecting the worst from everyone—Patrick could say yes, save Garrett, save Maxwell, save Southern Tava, and return to Klah empty-handed to face the wrath of his superiors.
Finally, Patrick dropped his hand from his face, and Garrett knew he had made his decision.
* * *
“Things could be very good for us after this, you know.” Kurt rubbed the sole of his foot back and forth over Maxwell’s thigh as though petting him as he spoke in an easy, conversational tone. “Play our cards right, and I’ll have enough to buy you a little house on a hill like you always wanted.”
