Page 21 of Cloverleaf Station

“This is the reality,” Kieron insisted, abruptly done with negotiating. Fuck, he was so sick of Elenus pushing and pushing and pushing all the time and never taking a moment to step back and realize that in fact, maybe things would have gone a little better if they’d taken it slow.

You know things are bad when you’re being the voice of reason.

“You can either suck it up and watch from the station, or we can send probes in from here, probably lose half of them on the way, and not go out until I’m assured that your ribs aren’t going to poke through your chest wall or impale one of your organs,” Kieron continued. “But I’m not going to risk your life just to get to your ship a few minutes or hours or even days earlier. And if Catalina is as impressive as you say, and she loves you as much as you claim, then she wouldn’t want you to do that either.”

Elenus sat back, a pensive expression on his face. “Why do you really care?”

“Why do I care about what?”

“About my health. It’s not the safety issue; you could just knock me out again. If it’s about the liability you’d face, there is none. My condition is well-documented, and you won’t incur any sort of penalty if I were to die here.”

“I don’t want to have to knock you out again. And you realize that you just cleared the way for me to kill you if I want to,” Kieron pointed out. “That’s not very smart.”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Elenus replied. “You’re not even tempted to, which puts you in pretty rarified company when it comes to people who have to be in close quarters with me for any period of time. I have to say, it’s … surprising.” He tilted his head. “Weren’t you raised to be a killer? What’s keeping you from doing it, especially now that there’s no fear of retaliation?”

Kieron wasn’t sure if he felt angry, sick, or hurt. Maybe a mix of all three. He dropped his own piece of pizza, pushed the serving plate toward Elenus, and got to his feet. “I’m done. Put whatever you don’t want in the recycler. Let me know when you’re done with repairs.”

“Kieron, c’mon—”

He didn’t even pause on his way to the door. “Also, fuck you.”

“Kieron.”

But he didn’t stay to hear it. He didn’t want to listen to the first person who knew the truth about his origin in so long—since Zakari—ask him why he wasn’t a heartless murderer. Because of course, what else could come from a place as awful as Hadrian’s Colony? What else could grow there, on the surface of that dark planet, barely illuminated by the distant, cold dwarf star that had kept them in a perpetual autumn? What was there to do for anyone from that awful place except fight against all comers in the race to be the best? The coldest, the cruelest, the most ruthless. Someone like his grandfather.

Someone like his mother.

“Kieron!”

No. He wasn’t ready for more yet. He had to paper over his weaknesses first. He entered his quarters, shut the door behind him, enabled all the locks, and turned on the soundproofing.

Maybe a few hours of meditation would help.

Or a few days’ worth.

Chapter nine

It wasn’t sulking. Kieron wasn’t the type of person who sulked. He was brisk, he was professional, he was prepared to do his job. He absolutely wasn’t sulking when he didn’t bother to open his door when Elenus knocked, or when he ignored the slice of pizza on a plate left outside of it, or when he did his pre-flight check in total silence while Elenus hovered nearby, watching him with eyes as dark and consuming as a black hole. It wasn’t sulking, it was self-defense.

Who knew he’d be so sensitive about being called out on his heritage? Zakari and his family had never mentioned it, because they were kind and understanding and not beautiful, rich, self-entitled assholes.

It was the sense of hurt he got from the question that bothered Kieron the most. Why should he be hurt? He didn’t care what anyone thought of him, so why should he care when it came to Elenus?

He wasn’t sure why he cared, but he did. That, more than anything, hurt. It was so much better when Kieron was alone, and nobody could make him feel anything. It was so easy to be cool, calm, and controlled when he was alone. Maintaining that sort of control over himself had been one of his biggest sources of satisfaction since he’d first gotten off the colony. Losing that control now was … disconcerting.

“All right.” He set his helmet in the Lizzie’s other driver’s seat. He was in his greenie suit mostly because he knew it annoyed the hell out of Elenus. “I should be back in two hours. You’ll be able to monitor communications from the main console as long as an especially big asteroid doesn’t block the way.”

“Great. Fantastic. Shiny.” Elenus didn’t move, though.

So much for trying the indirect route. “You can go now.” Kieron enunciated each word slowly and clearly.

“I don’t know if I should let you go, Sparky.”

Kieron felt like tearing his hair out. It was amazing how fast Elenus Desfontaines could evaporate his veneer of control. “You need to make up your fucking mind because I’m tired of trying to figure out what you want, only to be slapped down when you change for the seventieth time.”

Elenus stared at him in disconcerting quietude for another minute, then nodded and left. Just like that, without a parting shot or a final insult or any of the things that Kieron had honestly expected. He was immediately on edge because what, but he was more ready to take advantage of the escape route being offered.

He shut the doors, got the engine purring, and a few minutes later was heading back into the asteroid field, with Lizzie responding beautifully to his most minute adjustments. Elenus might be an asshole, but at least the man knew what he was doing when it came to repairs. Maybe he had a few redeeming qualities.