Drifters' Alliance, Book 2 (9 page)

“Okay, Rollo, I’m ready to hear your confession.” I mute my transmission to speak to the compubot. “Adelle?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Monitor blood pressure and biorhythms of the individual in the float chamber. After he answers each of my secondary questions, tell me whether his levels are up or down after the first three control questions.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I’m really sorry,” Rollo says. He sounds like he’s about to cry.

“Rollo, shut up. I need to ask you some questions.”

“Okay.” He drops his head.

I wait ten seconds so that Adelle can get her readings on him before we start. It should only take her five, but I want to be sure not to screw this up. I’ve done it in training loads of times, but never with this much at stake.

“Rollo, is it true that you stowed away on my ship?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“Rollo, is it true that you like to eat fritters?”

He looks up, confused. “Uh, yes, it’s true.”

“And it is true that you were told to work in the biogrid today with Lucinda?”

“Yes, that’s true too.”

I smile and nod. Now we have our control questions out of the way and a baseline for his biorhythms.

“What’s going on over there?” Captain Bob’s voice booms out over the flight deck.

I wave at Baebong, telling him to handle it.

He leans toward his array. “Just relax, old man. We’ll let you know when the floater’s ready.” Baebong cuts off his transmission and sits back in his chair, his hand resting idly on his array. His attention is split between monitoring the PC for any funny moves and watching me.

Time to party.
“Rollo, how do you know Captain Bob?”

Rollo sighs heavily. “Captain Bob and I met at the Centurion 4 station about two weeks ago.”

I mute my connection. “Adelle, is he telling the truth?”

“Biorhythms indicate yes.”

“Good. From now on, at the conclusion of his answers, flash me green for truth, red for lies.”

“Would you like it as a hologram or on the main clearpanel, Captain?”

“Clearpanel.”
Might as well let everyone see the results of my interrogation.

I get Rollo back on my line. “Rollo, why are you aligned with Captain Bob?”

“We have mutual interests.” A green light pops up on the clearpanel, indicating he’s still being truthful. I smile at how well this is going.

“Do your mutual interests include doing something that will harm me?”

“No.”

I wait for a green or red light, but get nothing. Muting my comm link with Rollo, I stare up at the ceiling. “Adelle? Truth or lie?”

“Indeterminable.”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it is impossible for me to determine by reading his biorhythms whether he is being truthful or deceitful.”

“What’s happening with his rhythms?”

“Do you want my theory, Captain?”

I sigh and shake my head. I really, really hate compubots sometimes.

“Yes, Adelle, I’d love to hear your theory.”

“I believe he is controlling his reactions purposefully. That is why it first seems that he is lying but then very quickly appears as if he’s telling the truth.”

Ho-ly shit.
A chill runs through me. I know this technique; I learned how to do it very well, in fact. I take a deep breath before continuing.

“Thank you, Adelle. Do me a favor, when you see that again, flash me a blue light.”

“Yes, Captain. I will flash you a blue light when I note that he appears to be answering in a deceptive or manipulative manner.”

I find myself smiling, not hating my compubot nearly as much as I did two seconds ago. “Excellent.”

I get Rollo back on the line. “Rollo, have you been trained in anti-interrogation tactics?”

“Who me?” He points to his chest. “No, Rollo has never been trained in anti… what’d you call it?”

A blue light flashes.

Something is off about his answer.

“He used his name again,” Jeffers mutters, his mind obviously on the same track as mine about our stowaway’s quirk.

Bingo.
“Rollo, stop speaking in the third person.”

He looks left and right before answering. “Okay…”

A niggling has started deep in my gut and I’m starting to feel sick over it. Something very messed up is going on here, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. I’m missing something.

“What’s going on?” Baebong asks. “What’re you thinking?”

Jeffers is staring at the clearpanel, but I know he’s waiting for my answer too.

“He’s been trained. He’s playing me.”

“He’s playing
us
, you mean,” Baebong says, going back to staring at our prisoner.

“Yeah. Us.” I feel so much better after hearing my friend declare us a team like that, but I try to stay cool on the outside so Rollo won’t detect how much of a mess this is turning me into.

“Rollo, do you know me?”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

A green light flashes.

Jeffers finally turns around to face me. “Why would you ask him that question?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. There’s just something weird going on here…”

“What’s happening in there?” Captain Bob says. “You going to float him or what?”

My eyebrows go up at that. “I guess there’s no love lost between these guys.”

“He’s a pawn,” Jeffers says quietly, watching Rollo pace back and forth in front of the comm box.

I nod. This makes sense to me. Why else would Rollo say he knows Bob but Bob tell me to go ahead and float him? “You’re right. He is.”
But why is Rollo coming after me? Is he just a run-of-the-mill chancer or is something else at the root of his agenda?

It’s when Rollo looks up at the camera from an angle, his eyes squinting ever so slightly, that a flash of recognition comes to me. I lean in closer to the clearpanel, as if that’s going to make it any easier to see through what I’m starting to suspect has been put in place to hide the real man behind a mask.

“What’s up?” Baebong says. “I know that face you make.”

“Oh, yeah?” I get up from my chair, my eyes glued to the image of Rollo on the panel. “What’s that?”

“It’s your I’m-about-to-go-full-bitch-mode look.”

When Rollo reaches up and tugs his left ear, I know. I just
know
I’ve seen him somewhere before. Only before, he had a different face and a different voice.
Goddammit! How is this possible?!

I spin around and leap down the stairs of the flight deck, tripping my way to the door I’m in such a hurry.

“Where’re you going?!” Baebong yells at my back as I race through the door and disappear down the corridor.

“Watch Captain Bob!” I yell, not waiting for a response and not offering any explanation. This is between me and the man pretending to be named Rollo.

Chapter Thirteen

FOOTSTEPS CATCH UP BEHIND ME. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Jeffers on my six.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to float him? Why are you in such a hurry?”

I can’t answer him. My mind is too full of images and sounds, memories from a past I can’t seem to leave behind. What’s happening here can’t be happening, and yet it is. My history is back again to haunt me.
Will it never end?

I reach the airlock and slam my hand onto the keypad to open the door. Rollo is standing there in shock at seeing me, his eyeballs bulging from their sockets and his mouth hanging open.

“When were you going to tell me?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest to keep myself from punching him in the face. I’m breathing like I’ve run fifty laps around the ship’s interior.

“Tell you what?” He backs up a step.

“You know what. When were you going to tell me?” I still can’t believe this is happening.
He’s here. He’s really here. Un-fucking-believeable.
Now half of me wants to punch him and half of me wants to hug him.

He shakes his head, aiming for an expression of pity, I think. “Sorry, but you’ve lost Rollo. Rollo is confused. Or maybe
you’re
confused about something.”

I uncross my arms.
Screw being civil
. My hand rests at my thigh, my fingers grazing over the handle of my knife. My fingers tremble with the shock of what I see before me. It’s all becoming clearer … the curve of his chin, the angle of his cheekbones. I didn’t see it before because of the MI, but I see it now.

Rollo’s eyes drop down and he takes in my movements. As he registers my agitation and aggressive stance, his legs spread apart just the slightest bit.

I grin at his tell. “You are such a crafty bastard.” I shake my head at him, more of my fear being replaced by warmer feelings evoked from our mutual past.
Damn, I’ve missed you, asshole
. “Talk about balls … sneaking onto my ship? Selling me out to Captain Bob? Who else knows where I am, huh? Did you signal the OSG too?”

His face goes blank. “Rollo really doesn’t know what you’re talking about.” He swallows with effort, a dead giveaway that he’s lying. He might be sneaky, but he’s no super spy. If I’d paid closer attention, I probably would have seen him giving himself away a hundred times by now.
I’m seriously losing my touch. How did I not see this before?

I can feel Jeffers at my back, and his presence is comforting, even though I know I can take Rollo down if he even thinks about making a move I don’t like. I’ve done it once before, so I know I can do it again. Not that I want to. Hell, I didn’t want to the first time I did it, but I was given no choice then. That doesn’t stop me from wishing I’d made different decisions, though. We all live and learn, but my lessons were particularly harsh. They still haunt me, and I know they’ll never let me go. This situation is evidence of that.

“That whole talking-in-the-third-person thing had me fooled,” I say, yanking myself back to the present. Putting that distance between himself and this made-up person Rollo in his head made it possible for him to lie very convincingly. “I thought you were just some kind of droid head, but now I see it for the genius it was. Well done,
Macon
. Well done.”

At the sound of that name, his skin takes on a very pale shade of pink. When I slide the knife out of its sheath, the color drops away from his complexion entirely, and he goes white. “Who’s Macon?”

I point the knife at his face. “You’re Macon.” I wave the blade around slowly, first pointing at his ears and then his nose, finally his neck. “You’ve had a lot of MI, that’s for sure. I didn’t recognize you at all. Not until you messed with your ear, anyway.”

His hand starts to drift up to his ear, but when he catches himself doing it, he stops and scowls. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Folding his arms across his chest, he looks over my shoulder at Jeffers. “I think your captain is having an episode or something. Maybe that disk thing is making her sick again.”

Jeffers steps up next to me and stops. “You know him from your time with the OSG.”

I nod as I smile. “That, I do.”

“And his name is Macon, I take it.”

“Yes, it is.” I point at his throat. “See that little, tiny, white line there on his neck?”

Jeffers leans in as Macon/Rollo bends backward, trying to put distance between them.

“Yes, I think I do. It’s very faint.”

“Pretty decent MI, but not perfect. That’s the scar I made during my Level Ten test.”

Macon can’t hide the anger that flits across his face or the embarrassment that soon follows. Sweat breaks out across his brow, but I’m not sure if it’s from nervousness or from him wanting to strangle me. It doesn’t stop my heart aching for him, either way.

Jeffers stands up straight and the tempo of his speech picks up. “You told us about that. Gus asked you if you won, but you never answered.”

I don’t say anything for a while. I just watch as several emotions fight a battle inside my old friend and are mirrored over his face: Anger. Sadness. Fear. Desperation. Defeat.

“I lost that day,” I finally say. “I lost big time.”

Macon scowls, his expression finally settling on angry. “She won. Believe me, she won.” Macon’s shoulders sag and his head drops. “She might as well have killed me.”

I put the knife back where it belongs and take three big steps forward. Throwing my arms around my old friend, the one I nearly killed, the one person I’ve ever regretted hurting, I grip him to me like I’m drowning in the Sea of Caspien and he’s my only hope of survival. “I’ve missed you, Macon.”

He stands as stiff as a board. “Not sure I can say the same about you, Cass.”

Chapter Fourteen

HE MIGHT NOT WANT ME here, hugging the crap out of him, but I’m not going to let that dissuade me. I’ve been dreaming of being able to do this for three long years, and I’m not going to walk away from the opportunity. He can try to kill me later.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to say this to you, Macon. I’m sorry. I’m really,
really
sorry for what I did to you.”

He goes even stiffer, if that’s possible.

My heart feels like it’s cracking in two. “I know you hate me. I know what I did was wrong, and I know I should have chosen our friendship over that test. I’ll never stop being sorry for making the wrong decision.”

His body hitches, but it could be from the effort it’s taking to not strangle me rather than sadness. Regardless, I keep going, knowing that he deserves my confession as much as I need to give it.

“I know it’s not an acceptable excuse, but we were under a lot of pressure to perform. To win. And you know what the punishment was to refuse the test.”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling himself out of my embrace. “Demotion. Banishment. Death. Trust me, I know.”

His suffering is etched into his face, deep lines in tight rows around his eyes and mouth reminding me of a man twice his age and not the twenty-two-year-old I know him to be. I have no idea what he went through after our challenge, but it couldn’t have been good. Obviously, he survived and went through some pretty extensive MI, but was it after they banished him to an uninhabited planet or before? And how did he get where he is today, still alive? It speaks to his resilience and cunning, because the OSG doesn’t generally let recruits who wash out of the program wander around the galaxy. The whole thing brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart ache for him and for me.