"We?" His smile grows broader.
"Of course 'we,'" I say. "I'm in this just as much as you. You're not going anywhere without me. It's not just about my friends on the Star anymore. I have new friends, too." Even saying that much makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. Like I'm giving someone a weapon to use against me.
Straik zooms in on my choice of words. "Is that what we are, then? Friends?"
"Not the same kind of friends as me and Dopekh, before you get your panties in a bunch." My face feels hot. "You know it's different between you and me."
His thumb strokes my knuckles again. "I know. I just like hearing it."
His admission makes me brave enough to ease a bit more. "We're something more than friends. I've never gone down on a friend like that, and if we were just friends, I wouldn't be thinking about doing it again."
Straik's eyes grow hot. "You think about that?"
"All the time." When I'm not unconscious, of course. "You?"
"All the time." His voice is hoarse, and the hand twined with mine suddenly grips tighter. "All the keffing time."
61
STRAIK
The puny amount of credits we get for the hunk of space slag that Jamef calls a ship irks me. It's almost not worth the bother of towing it to be scrapped. I think about it, and the ships that will come after it, now that the bounty's been flagged as “incomplete.” Instead of invigorating me, it just makes me tired. There are a dozen things that need to be done, but all I want to do is check in on Ruth again.
Jamef refuses to talk. He only states that it is a bounty and that he doesn't hurt females. No matter how we prod or use ways to get him to confess, he offers nothing. My usual tricks of withholding food or turning down the temperature don't work considering he's got some cybernetics. For all I know, his entire midriff is nothing but synthetic organs and he'll stay alive without eating for months on end.
I could kill him. I probably should. But I'm tired. Instead, I think we'll just dump him at the nearest station and let the authorities handle it. They'll keep him tied up in paperwork and regulations for so long that he'll wish for death.
I drum my fingers on my desk. Jerzec wants to know the next location we intend to go to so he can work out the navigation. I just haven't decided yet. We can't go back to the Buoyant Star. Not while the bounty's on my head and on the ship. We can't go to Homeworld for sure. My mother's assassins would swarm. Risda III is out. It's too soon to return to Prefalon and I have no desire to make Bist rich, anyhow. We need somewhere new, because just drifting in space while waiting for our next attack is not the wisest plan. We need to hunker down somewhere defensible. Someplace where if the ship takes a hit to the hull, we won't all be in danger of instant death.
Normally I wouldn't pay attention to those sorts of things. Space battles are a way of life. But Ruth is still recovering, and her fragility is eating away at my mind. I need to make her as safe and comfortable as possible.
I leave my office behind, pacing down the hall. I need to think, and a brisk walk always helps me think. I clasp my hands behind my back and start down one hall, then the next. Normally the swirl of my robes hitting my legs and the thump of my boots on the floor is comforting to me, but I can't concentrate on such things today. Instead I think about Ruth. It's been two days since she woke up and she's still weak and easily fatigued. She picks at her food, and she sleeps a lot.
It's making me crazy.
I turn the corner down one of the halls and see Dopekh coming toward me with an air filter in his hands. He notices me, pauses, and I can tell from the expression on his face that he wants to flee. Do I look that moody, then?
I decide to torture him a bit, then. "Dopekh," I say, greeting him.
"My lord." He takes a few hesitant steps forward. "I'm just changing a few filters. I can come back to this hall if you don't wish to be disturbed." The expression on his face says that he's hoping for such a thing.
"I'm not going to bite you," I tell him grumpily. "I'm simply trying to clear my mind." I pause, studying him. "Are you enjoying maintenance?"
He pauses, as if confused by the question. "Sir?"
"You stepped down recently as security chief to take over maintenance. Is it not what you wanted?"
He flushes, his face turning a deeper shade of red. "It's not that. I just…Ruth needed help and I thought that would be the best way…it didn't feel right to remain security chief while helping a stowaway."