The Empress Capsule (Audacity Saga Book 1), page 33
Simmons winced, his shoulders scrunching self-consciously. “Technically the title is Patron. But it’s really not my style. I think they call me that to torture me. Simmons is fine. Just complete the missions, and I really don’t give a shit.”
“You know, for a shadowy organization of rich scientists, you’re not very shadowy.”
At that, Simmons grinned. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment. I may be the exception, though. Not sure the Founders themselves would give you the same impression. Oh, that reminds me.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Kael through the screen. “Your last name—attached to it?”
Kael frowned. “Why?”
“I can’t have Therokis hunting down rogues on my ship.”
“Your ship? I thought it was her ship.”
“He bought it,” Ellen said simply, still staring into space.
“And recruited our dear commander, I might add.” But then Simmons grinned. “But then I gave it to her. So yes, it is her ship.”
“What does that have to do with my last name?”
“I need to finish up the programming on your new chip. Assuming you want it, of course.”
“My… new… what?”
“Dremer and I have put together a new chip with Foundation firmware that should let you keep your Theroki abilities without any… unwanted side effects, if you catch my drift. Emotional regulation and hormonal stimulation levels will return to relatively normal levels. Should be a little faster too. Hardware is upgraded. Interface connections will identify you as an average citizen of somewhere neutral, I haven’t decided where yet. I’ll be editing your files in the Theroki databases to record an honorable discharge but also establishing a new identity, with your permission, of course. And of course, deleting those old charges.”
“Editing Theroki databases? Those are fairly hard to—”
“You infiltrate labs, I infiltrate databases. Or networks, more specifically. Leave it to me, Sidassian, I know what I’m doing.”
“He’s the one who made the universal translator,” Ellen put in.
“Ah” was all Kael could think to say.
“We all have our areas of expertise.” Simmons cracked his knuckles and then licked his lips, staring off to the side of the screen as if eager to get to work. “So what do you think?”
“I, uh, I’m not attached to my last name at all, sir,” he said eventually. “Or anything about my past. Edit away.”
“Great, I love a clean slate. I’ll shoot you a message about your new past life too.” Simmons clapped his hands together and rubbed them with excitement. “This should be fun. Welcome to the team.”
The vid screen flipped off and left Ellen alone, staring terrified into space, Kael still just inside the door of her cabin.
She should… say something, at least. Or rush over to him and throw him against the wall. But something rooted her in place, her eyes transfixed on a meaningless piece of wall.
“Will that be all, Commander?” he said, his voice flat and a touch cold.
Far from it, she wanted to say. But she could barely force her eyes to focus, then turn and meet his. His expression was unreadable. His eyes seemed to gauge hers just as she sought to measure him, and neither of them could understand the other. They were too busy glowering to figure the other out. What was there for him to see? She felt… numb. Dazed. Surprised.
It had all kind of worked out. Except this last little piece. The piece that she needed to do, the chasm that only she could cross.
Did she have it in her to make a grand gesture? To somehow apologize?
“We have a lot of details to work out,” she said softly.
“Oh?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Nova is going to be pissed when you outrank her.”
He smiled. “You’ve picked a rank, then?”
“I delegated the task to Lieutenant Verakov, who’d like you to lead the other drop team.”
He frowned, not understanding.
“Her recommendation is her rank. Lieutenant.”
His mouth fell open, but she didn’t miss him straightening just a bit. “Don’t you think that’s a little high, Commander? I’m not officer material.”
She shrugged. “Not my decision. If you disagree, you’ll have to take it up with Zhia.” Damn, it felt good to say that. She was glad she could lob that one into someone else’s court. “But you know, between you and me, I think she just wants someone who’ll let her slack more, and none of these ladies wants a promotion. I haven’t recruited the most ambitious bunch. So you’re stuck with the responsibility, I guess.”
He said nothing, still looking stunned, and a silence settled between them, more awkward this time. She searched for the words but found nothing. Nothing seemed enough to make up for her indecision. There were no simple sounds she could utter to simply make it up to him. She needed time to think; he deserved more than just a hasty “I’m sorry” and passionate tumbling into the sheets.
She looked down at her boots, admitting defeat. “That will be all, Kael.”
His face showed nothing, but she could have sworn she felt something sink in him. He nodded crisply and turned on his heel without hesitation.
“For now,” she whispered.
He strode out, not reacting to the words if he heard them. The hatch slipped open and shut again around him, and he was gone.
He lay awake that night in the darkness. Footsteps would wander past his cabin, but they’d pass right on by. Voices would amble past, headed to dinner. He ate a ration bar and read network articles about the Foundation, anything he could find. Half of it was almost certainly untrue. More voices ambled past again—Fern and Nova this time, judging from the laughter. The night cycle began its peaceful slumber. There was no sign of Ellen.
For a ship that wanted him aboard, he felt peculiarly alone.
The chip that Simmons and Dremer had designed sounded life changing, but perhaps he should have them keep some of those old emotion-altering bits. Could he live with Ellen and not have her? Would it be torture? Exquisite torture, maybe.
He shook his head. He’d get used to it. He’d find someone else, and eventually that tension would fade. Maybe Josana wasn’t too young after all, or maybe in six months she’d seem less so. Mo had an attractive face, sexy and sharp when staring down the barrel of her rifle, and Jenny was of course gorgeous in her cigars-and-shotguns sort of way, both sweet and ballsy.
He sighed. He could have just as easily listed that his Theroki mentors had had great musculature, or that Vala had had blond hair. They were facts, nothing more. Not a bit of it moved him.
Ellen’s words drifted back into his mind. The most audacious thing you can do is giving a shit. How right she was. If only she gave half as many shits about him as she did about her mission. But then, that was what he loved about her, her bravery, her devotion, her sense of what was right. Her calm resoluteness to actually do something about it.
The chime of an email from Doug—he had decided he would have to get used to calling Patron Simmons that, one way or another—saved him from his thoughts. He already knew he was going to sign. There were next to no other ways that he could escape his Theroki contract, and the few that might have existed wouldn’t be half as clean and would haunt him the rest of his days. There was literally no other way that would ever be this good to take control of his life, finally, for the first time.
And no other way would keep him on a ship near Ellen, in case she someday changed her mind.
He snorted as he tapped to open the message. He’d never learn.
Surprisingly, the deal was great. He’d never been paid so much, even on his best commissions. In fact, it was exactly double his previous base pay. He frowned at that, wondering if it was by design. Combat bonuses came on top of that, which looked like they’d be basically continuous with the way the ship had operated so far. So three times as much, and lots of equipment and room and board included. The contract was up for renewal every six months, with clauses for injury, health, family issues. Beyond fair.
He could find nothing that said he had to drink blood or sell his soul to Simmons’s grandmother or something, so he signed away and shipped the file back to Doug, feeling a lot more wanted, if still alone. At least the kid techno genius billionaire seemed earnest about having him here. He shouldn’t call him a kid, as they were probably about the same age, but Doug was just so green. And so cheerful.
He drifted off to sleep and woke to a pounding on his hatch, then a chime.
“Hey. Theroki. Wake up. C’mon, Xi, let me in.”
Ellen’s voice set his heart pounding.
“Kael has given specific instructions as to his cabin security, Commander Ryu.”
“I’m the commanding officer of this ship, Xi. His commanding officer now.”
“Would you like to issue your override codes, Commander?”
“No,” she grumbled. She pounded on the metal again. “Wake up, Theroki, damn it.”
“If you would not like to issue your override codes, Commander, perhaps you should let Kael sleep.” Was the AI getting a protective streak now? Surely she knew he was now awake, but she wasn’t tattling. At least not yet. She’d also clearly registered that he could have answered but hadn’t. “His sleep cycle only began a few hours ago. For optimum crew performance, I recommend you postpone a mission if it is not time-sensitive. It is very early in the morning, Commander.” She almost sounded affronted on his behalf.
Kael snorted. Way to tell her I was up all night thinking about her, he thought to himself. Hopefully Ellen wouldn’t put two and two together.
“Theroki—you partying without me?” She pounded again.
He sighed. Like she wanted to party with him. If she did, all she had to do was show up. But she would be his superior now. He should probably answer the door.
He sat up in his bunk and rubbed his face. He glanced around for his shirt. It was nowhere to be found. Well, she was the one waking him up in his cabin. There was no dress code in Doug’s amusing organizational training packet. She’d just have to deal with skin and ink. Or more likely, she could order him to put on a shirt if she didn’t like staring at his chest.
Which she almost certainly didn’t.
“It’s okay, Xi, I’m awake now. Open sesame.”
The hatch slid open just as Ellen was raising a fist to pound again. Unperturbed, she stepped one foot inside the hatch, as if she was concerned Xi would shut her out again, but she stopped, straddling the doorway. She wore her red light armor, an external helmet propped on the hip that faced the hallway.
“Up late regretting your life choices?” she said. Her face was oddly bright, her eyes twinkling, a rare smile revealing a glimpse of straight, white teeth.
“Some of them,” he said, smiling back, to his chagrin. “You’re finally gonna have to break that habit of calling me Theroki now, you know.”
“I suppose. Patron Simmons tells me you signed his paperwork, so you’re mine for at least six months. That right?” She pursed her lips. He shook his head at how much he liked the sound of that.
Mine. Hers. He wished. “Yes, ma’am. Something I can kill or maim for you this early in the morning?”
“Not exactly.” She actually grinned now, and he leaned back, a little concerned. Was that excitement, or was she baring her teeth at him? “We’re going shopping.”
“What? When?”
“Now. Well, take fifteen to get some clothes on, and meet me at the hatch.”
He spread his hands innocently. “I didn’t get the memo that shirts were required for missions. There’s nothing in this HR packet.”
“Doug would love it if you told him that. It’d give him proof someone actually read it.”
“But then I’d know for sure if I’d have to put a shirt on.” He grinned at her mock-defiantly and hoped she knew he was joking.
She narrowed her eyes, but it seemed playful. He hoped. “You might want a jacket as well. It’s a bit chilly on Entrill V.”
She stepped out, palmed the hatch shut, and was gone.
“What do you think that’s all about, Xi?” he mused. Talking to the air made him feel a little less alone. He kicked around the clothes on the floor. There had to be a shirt in here somewhere, right? “Is it chilly on Entrill V?”
“Extremely. The external temperature is six degrees Celsius. As to ‘what that’s all about,’ I could tell you. I am privy to the commander’s research history and files, as well as flight plans. But I believe the commander would be angry with me.”
“Oh? We certainly wouldn’t want that.”
“Do you think she will forgive me for not letting her open the door? I hypothesized you might not want to see her, as you did not say anything.”
He paused for a moment in putting on a sock, caught somewhere between touched and freaked out. “You’re concerned about forgiveness now, Xi?” And you’re accurately projecting awkward situations between… what were they? Former lovers? Not exactly.
“I continue to expand my relational models.”
“What?” The words were muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head, but the AI caught them just fine.
“My relational models are concepts constructed to diagram the patterns and structures of inter-human relationships and interactions. Isa and I are working on them together. Forgiveness has been a subject as of late. I do not do that many things needing of forgiveness, but I seem to run into them a lot with the commander.”
“You’re not the only one. I’d bet the commander has probably already forgotten. I wouldn’t worry.” He dug his foot into his first boot.
“Worry is one model I intend not to employ unless absolutely necessary.”
“Good idea. It’s not healthy anyway.”
He headed to the hatch in the hold. Sounds in the ship were hushed, still wrapped in the cocoon of sleep. Even his boots seemed loud against the grating. He was glad she hadn’t suggested he wear armor. He didn’t want to feel like a Theroki today. Just boots and jeans and being an ordinary person for once, if a scarred one. He did have his helmet and his multi slung on his back, though.
She was leaning against the cargo hold wall, turned away from him, her lovely form particularly striking in the way the armor hugged her, the red bright against the dull, dark charcoal of the hull. He let himself appreciate it for just a moment longer, given she wasn’t facing him. Chances to admire her openly were few and far between. Her hips started to swivel—hips that had enchanted him since the first day he’d walked onboard that ship, looking to hitch a ride—and he tore his eyes up, hoping she didn’t suspect him of his… admiration.
“Ready?” she said, smiling even now.
“I, uh, don’t own a jacket, it seems.”
“We can fix that.” She gestured toward the nearby hoverbike he hadn’t noticed with all his staring at her hips. “But good, you have a nonarmor helmet. Bike and breather rated? This is supposed to be a fairly clean planet, but you never know.”
“It’s both. Only stylish way to avoid getting your genes edited without armor, if you ask me. Breathers are for wimps and Capital types.”
She snorted and lowered the helmet over her head. He followed suit. She opened a comm channel as she swung her leg over the bike and settled in. “Get on. Time’s a-wasting.”
She was almost… chatty. He finished engaging the locks and rubber seals around his neck before answering over the new channel. “My, you’re chipper. Does that only happen early in the morning, or are we buying something fun? Laser rail gun for the ship?”
“That would be fun, but no. You’ll see. Let’s go.”
He didn’t quite believe this was actually happening until he was straddled behind her on the hoverbike. He held on, arms circled around her waist and far closer than he’d been to her since that ill-fated mission. He couldn’t help but savor it; it likely wouldn’t last long.
But as she dropped the hatch and gunned it, something occurred to him. “Don’t we have a couple hoverbikes?” It felt good to say “we” and actually deserve it this time. “I can drive too, if you want.”
“Uncomfortable back there, Sidassian?” Her voice was hard to read, distant.
“Not at all,” he said, maybe a little too casually.
“I’ve got some additional shopping trips for others.”
“Ah,” he said, irrationally disappointed.
“Also, then where we’re going wouldn’t be a surprise.”
He raised an eyebrow no one could see. “A surprise?”
“Yes. Because then I’d have to tell you the address.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we.” He eyed the low, grassy hills of sand as they raced past them, and if it was cold outside, it was doubly cold on a hoverbike. But he could tolerate it for some length of time. And maybe their first stop could get him a jacket.
Or a parka.
“How often have you ever been surprised, Kael?” she said casually. “I mean, in a good way and not in an I’m-gonna-die sort of way.”
“So this is a good surprise?”
“Answer your commanding officer,” she said, more amusement than edge in her voice.
“Not very often.” He thought about mentioning the baby. That had been a good surprise, at least to him. It shouldn’t have been. That had been irrational too. But at the time it had seemed like a purpose, a light in a life that was a rough sea of gunshots, bribes, and yellow powder. It would have been hard, sure, but it would have been something to live for.
He said nothing. He didn’t think he could manage it, still, even though he gathered that maybe she already knew. Doug certainly must know. Man seemed to know everything.
She seemed to sense the darkening of his mood. “Trust me, it’s a good surprise.”
They rode in silence for a while, the low hills rolling past almost hypnotically uniform in their rise and fall, rise and fall, grass waving in a cold wind.
“So… does ‘mostly military’ mean you can listen to music while you ride?” he said.
Her body straightened slightly, giving away some surprise, but tones of a languid acoustic guitar started up. He smiled. It was the same kind chords that had been drifting around Audacity’s hull when he’d first met her.
