AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Patrick waved his hand dismissively, frustration in every line of his body. “Your other option is a ship that couldn’t even be called a lander, out in the sticks with no backup—”
“They want you to leave.” Sazahk’s voice lilted up like it always did when he’d delighted himself with his own discovery. “They want you to step down, so they don’t have to deal with the paperwork or the political fallout. You’re popular with powerful people among the Qesh and the Tavans, but the Klah’Eel hate you. You embarrass—”
“Yes, thank you, Sazahk,” Patrick bit out through his clenched jaw. Red flooded up his throat, and Fal’ran wrinkled his nose at the pungent scent of shame. “They want me gone. I give them that, you all get onto the Menace.”
“Under who?” Bar’in waved his hands in front of himself before Patrick replied. “It doesn’t matter. That’s stupid. We’ve been training together for months. We’re not breaking ourselves up now to get on a fancy ship.”
“Especially with a different leader.” Tar shifted to stand behind Bar’in. “We stay with you.”
Fal’ran smirked. “I told you.” The devastated look Patrick shot him wiped the smirk from his face. That wasn’t right. Why—
“Were you not listening?” Patrick balled his fists. “Your options are glory and safety on the Menace defending a great Qeshian city or disdain and danger defending some border town on the edge of a wasteland, all alone.”
Sazahk raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think the border town residents deserve defending?”
“I didn’t say that,” Patrick flushed again. “Of course, they do. But this is just a way to clear me off the board. You don’t have to go down with me. You have an actual opportunity here. Think of your futures.”
“Do you know what my future was before I snuck onboard the recruiting ship back on the Projects?” Bar’in's voice sharpened to a keen, raw edge. “My madam, the woman who plucked me off the street and made me who I am, had just accepted the credits to sell me to a client who prefers his men dead.”
Fuck.
Fal’ran stared at Bar’in and at the little hole in his ear he’d stopped seeing at some point.
“Tar lost his scent because his boss hit him too hard.” Bar’in jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the big man at his back, then tossed his head at Fal’ran. “And I think we all know Fal’ran’s dad beat him more than he fed him.”
Fal’ran winced. He’d known Bar’in and Tar had seen his past on him as soon as they met him. It wasn’t an uncommon one.
Bar’in turned his yellow eyes on Sazahk next. “And I don’t know what powerful person took the shit out of you, but since you’ve got scar tissue where most qesh have an implant, I’m guessing someone did.”
Sazahk’s hand flew to the back of his neck under the fall of his pale hair, and Fal’ran’s eyes shot wide. Shit, he’d never realized. That Sazahk was careful, cautious, and with a chip on his shoulder the size of his planet, yes, that someone had taken his implant, no. The qesh was painfully careful about his hair in the labs, or Fal’ran would have noticed. Bar’in must have been sneaking looks in their quarters.
“Bar’in,” Patrick said gently. “What point are you making?”
“We’re staying with you. We’ve all been burned enough.” Bar’in waved his hand flippantly, as though he hadn’t just dragged all their greatest pains out into the light.
Patrick’s hands kneaded the edge of the counter. “I can make sure you get put under a good officer. I have enough connections for that, at least.”
“Were you not listening?” Bar’in threw Patrick’s words back at him. “We don’t want someone else.”
“I don’t think any of us are particularly interested in being the pawns of the politicians playing petty games with you, anyway.” Sazahk shrugged, unfazed by Patrick’s vibrating tension and Bar’in’s bared teeth. Tar growled low and nodded in agreement, but horror flashed over Patrick’s face again.
“It…” Patrick’s chest caved in. “It’s going to be dangerous.”
Fal’ran leaned his hip against a lab table. “Isn’t that what you’ve been training us for?”
“As the scientist of the team, I’m pleased with this development.” Sazahk fiddled with the translator over his ear. “Not much research I can do on a gunship in a firefight.”
“Is there much research you can do on a shit ship in a firefight?” Bar’in returned to his table of ammo, Tar trailing after him.
“There is, if we get to see how the uncatalogued species handles the Dead Zone. That could be fascinating. If they really have similar social structures and ecological impacts as insects, then they might not interact with the area in the same ways that those of us native to this sector do.”
Fal’ran tuned out Sazahk’s excited prattle in favor of watching Patrick’s bowed head. He moved to stand across the table from him and inhaled quietly. Patrick lifted his head and looked at him with those striking blue eyes. Fear and regret swirled up into Fal’ran’s nose.
“Patrick—”
“Bar’in,” Patrick’s captain's voice filled the lab and overpowered the start of Fal’ran’s murmured question. Bar’in straightened to attention. “Finish preparing those clips. Tar, Fal’ran, get more of the Turner ammo. We’re going to bring as much as we can carry. I want it all packed on the ship by end of day. We don’t know when we’ll be called out.”
They nodded briskly.
