Drifters' Alliance, Book 3 (15 page)

Her eyes go wide and she backs up into the edge of the door. “Eep!”

I stop just centimeters from her, pointing at my head. “What did you do to my face?!”

She looks over at Baebong, a desperate look in her eyes. “Help.”

Strong arms come around my shoulders from behind and pull me gently back. “Just give her a little breathing room, Killer.”

I shrug him off me and stomp backward on his toes just for good measure. Unfortunately, his boots have steeloid in the tips, so he doesn’t feel a thing.

The girl sidles along the wall until she reaches the counter. A syringe pistol is lying there, fully loaded.

I tip my head down, following her movement with the cold calculation of
 
a predator toward its prey. “Touch me with that needle-gun, and I’ll send you into next week with one punch.” I turn more fully to face her and spread my legs a little. I’m ready for the sneak attack now. If she wants to take me down, she’s going to have to work for it.

“It’s just to help you relax.”

“I don’t need to relax! I need my regular face back!”

She frowns. “You have your regular face. We didn’t touch it. I promise. Look.” She scrambles around on a shelf behind her and then comes toward me with a mirror held out at arm’s length. The image of my face reflected in the glass shakes as her hand trembles.

I yank it away from her and hold it closer. Staring back at me is the same mug I’ve been looking at for years. I search my skin carefully, looking for signs that they messed with me, something that might have caused Baebong to look at me and say I’m pretty. Everything is there, though … the freckles, the small mole under my right eye, the small nicks on my cheeks, forehead, and nose made by blades over the years when I wasn’t as proficient at fighting as I am now. I turn to glare at Baebong. “What the hell were you talking about saying I look pretty?”

He points at my hair. “I wasn’t talking about your face, idiot.”

I move the mirror up and see my hair for the first time since before the party. “Oh.” Someone has replaced the parts that were pulled out or at least done a good job of covering the spots where they are. It’s also newly washed and styled. I have braids woven in an intricate pattern, surrounding a pile of my hair set near the top of my head. The only thing missing to complete my look is a gown like the ones Alana’s crew was wearing. If I added one of those to my current situation, I’d be all set to start my tour of duty as one of those whores out there.

I touch it gingerly. “What in the hell …?”
Dammit, my ears are showing.
Unfortunately, no amount of re-arranging this ‘do is going to fix my ear problem. The braids are too tight; they feel like they’re glued to my head.

“Alana helped us. She felt badly that you were injured on her behalf.” The girl looks at the floor and then the wall, afraid to make eye contact with me for some reason.

I leave my hair alone and hand her back the mirror, ashamed that I went after her. For some stupid reason, this hair is making me feel like I should act like I have a little more class, which is ironic since it’s the calling card of a whore. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come at you like that.”

“It’s okay.” She puts the mirror back. “We often have violent reactions from patients after they’ve undergone treatment. It’s a lot to take in.”

I hold up my arms. “You removed my scars.”

“My mother is responsible for that. She refused to believe anyone telling her that you preferred they remain.” She looks over at Baebong.

I sigh and turn to my friend. “Sorry, Bae. I should have known you wouldn’t have let them do this to me without a fight.”

“What? No. Don’t look at me. I told them to take that shit off. It was horrible. I never understood why you wanted to keep those things around.”

I close my eyes and inhale and exhale a few times to keep control of my temper. “Did it ever occur to you that it should be
my
decision?” I open my eyes to see if he gets where I’m coming from.

He shrugs. “Sometimes people don’t know what’s best for them, and it’s up to a good friend to get them straight. So, you know … you’re welcome. You can sign an IOU credit for me later.”

“The only one signing anything is going to be you, signing your own death warrant.” I turn my attention to the girl. “What’s your name?”

She bows while she answers. “I am Olina. Eldest daughter to Kaiholo and Kimo of the DS Huna.”

I point to my lieutenant. “Did you know he’s single, Olina? And one hundred percent, grade-A slant-eye. You guys should spend some time together. Get to know one another. Feel free to join my crew for a short time, if you like. We could use a med tech onboard.”

“Heh-heh … uh … I think she’s having a stroke,” Baebong says from behind me. “Better juice her up with that stuff you’ve got there.” He points at her needle-gun.

“Yeah. I’m having a stroke, all right. A stroke of genius.” I glance back at him and grin my ass off.
Payback is a bitch, my friend. A total bitch.

“I have been seeking a change of pace,” Olina says, sounding hopeful. She tries not to look at Baebong, but it isn’t working. She checks him out and her face turns bright pink.

“I have to go,” Baebong says, moving quickly toward the door. “People are waiting for me. Urgent stuff. Urgent business. Waiting. For me.”

“Don’t go yet, I need your help.” I hold out an arm in his direction. I’m not sure I really do need his help, but I’d hate to lose out on this opportunity to torture him a little.

“Gotta go! Can’t wait!” He disappears before I can even take a step in his direction.

Olina looks longingly out the door. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Ah, don’t worry about him. He’s been alone so long he’s forgotten how much fun girls can be. Come on. Help me get back to my crew.”

She comes over and puts her shoulder under my arm. “Are you sure you want to go? You could use another few hours of recovery under observation.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Well, not very long. But you missed the party.”

“Damn. And I was hoping for more of that punch, too.”

She laughs. “You had plenty in your system, believe me.”

“Only two cups.”

“Two cups? That’s about five milliliters of concentrated kavada.” She giggles. “Were you by any chance experiencing any grandiose ideas about how you could ascend to higher levels of personal consciousness?”

I frown as I try to think back. “No. Not unless you consider me attacking Beltz a form of ascendency.”

She snorts. “Alana does. She’s very grateful to you.”

“And having a grateful whore as a friend means …” I hope Alana doesn’t plan to offer me a free tour of her chamber.

“It means you have a lot of power behind you. Believe me, she has half the galaxy in the palm of her hand. Nobody messes with Alana.” She guides me toward the door.

“You sound like a fan. Maybe you’d be happier on her ship.”

“No, thank you. I respect her, but that doesn’t mean I want to practice the ancient ways.”

“Ancient ways.” I giggle.

“There you are,” says a voice up ahead of us. I freeze when I recognize the timbre.

“Alana,” I say nervously. “We were just talking about you.”

She smiles at me and winks. “I hope it was all good things.” She holds something out in front of her. “A gift. For you.”

I eye the dark material draped over her arms with suspicion. “What’s that?”

“A new flightsuit. To repair the one that was ripped when you came to my rescue.”

I chew my lip as I try to figure out what she’s up to. “If it has a skirt with a slit up the leg, I’m not wearing it.”

She tips her head back and trills out a laugh. When she finally recovers she smiles at me. “Don’t worry, fighter girl, I’m not recruiting for my crew today.” She gestures back at the room I just left. “Let’s get you dressed before you start roaming the halls in that, shall we?”

I look down and notice for the first time that I’m wearing some kind of hospital flight suit that looks terrible on me. “Wow. What the hell.” I pinch some material in the front and pull it out. It stays there when I let go, making it look like I have a third boob in the middle of my chest.

I sigh. I’m going to be forced to accept her gift, like it or not.
I’ll change out of it once I get back on the Anarchy.
“Fine. Thanks, Alana. I appreciate the thought.”

Olina guides me back into the room and shuts the door behind us. Alana joins us, even though I would have been more comfortable having her wait in the corridor.

“Where’s my old flightsuit?” I ask, trying to sound more casual than I feel. I need to get the chip from my old compubot out of the hidden compartment before I officially retire what’s been my uniform for almost three years.

“It’s there,” Olina says, pointing to a bin on the counter. “We’ve packaged it for you. Your lieutenant wanted us to incinerate it, but we’ve had enough experience with injured warriors to know that some of them have a very strong attachment to their suits.”

I nod, happy for the suspicions of my brethren.

I’ve never been one for modesty, but with Alana there, I have a very strong urge to turn my back as I untie my hospital garb. But I don’t. I do avoid looking her in the eye, though. I’m standing naked but for underthings when she makes her first comment.

“You have a beautiful physique. Hard, but attractive nonetheless. I know many clients who’d love to see you without clothing on.”

“Is that so?” I work hurriedly to find the openings I need in the new flightsuit. Sliding it off the bed, I dangle it in front of me and pose on one foot so I can step into it.

“If you ever change your mind about captaining, you be sure to reach out to me.”

I have to smile at that while I slide a leg into the material. “Alana, I really appreciate that offer, but the day I do that will go down in history as my most desperate.”

She says nothing, so I look up. Too late I realize that I’ve offended her. “Not that there’s anything wrong with what you do for a living. I just …” My face gets hot and I shrug. “What do I know about anything? I’m a virgin.”

“So I’ve heard. And that’s why you should call me before you do anything to change that.”

I freeze, in the process of pulling the suit over my hips. “Why’s that?”

“Because. The price of a warrior’s virginity? It’s higher than you might think.”

“Why?” I shove my arms into the sleeves as I stare at her. I’m not sure whether she’s being truthful or mocking me.

Olina answers before Alana can. “It’s the ultimate defeat. I could see why a man would want to experience it.”

Alana nods. “A girl as powerful as you, Cass, would not go down easy. There are men who would pay for the privilege of being the one to bring you to your knees.”

I zip up the front of the suit and nod. “That’s what I was banking on when I won my ship.”

“Your ship?” Alana laughs. “A drop in the bucket to what I could get for you.”

That has me raising my brows. “Really? Huh.” I never thought my shield was that valuable.
Damn. Good thing I didn’t lose it at the table.
I kind of feel a little sick over it, actually … especially considering the various men who’d been sitting across from me. “That’s just … crazy.”

“That’s our galaxy, like it or not.”

I’m no longer comfortable talking about how some idiot would give me more credits than I could ever imagine having just for the privilege of taking my woman’s shield. It’s a sad commentary on our race, and it’s never going to happen anyway, so there’s no point in going down that road.

I walk over and grab my old, shrink-wrapped flightsuit from the bin, and jam it under my arm. Facing the door leading out of the medical bay, I gesture. “After you.”

Alana comes toward me instead of going out the door. “Just let me make some adjustments, first.”

I swallow with difficulty as she comes toward me, and the package under my arms slips to the floor.

Chapter Twenty-Three

ALANA STOPS JUST IN FRONT of me, looking down into my eyes. She’s cool enough to ignore the fact that I just lost muscle control and dropped my old flightsuit to the ground at my feet. “Do you like it?” she asks.

The new suit is not at all what I expected. It’s blacker than black. I feel like I’m almost disappearing into thin air when I look down at myself. I focus on the suit and not her, since her closeness is starting to make me sweat.

“I do.” I’m kind of surprised how much I like it, actually. I’ve never worn anything this light or this functionally beautiful, even as a member of the OSG. “Really. I love it. It’s amazing.” I look up and smile. Now that I know she’s not here to kiss me, I’m more comfortable sharing my thanks.

“Reflective technology in the fibers,” Alana explains, pulling at the bottom of the jacket to make it straighter. “You’re not invisible, but you’re not as obvious either.”

I move left and right, watching as the material shifts its pattern to accommodate the things around me.

“Righteous,” I say under my breath.
How can I angle for two of these babies?
I don’t ask because I’m guessing it involves sex with Alana.

“Put it right in the regular cleaning cycle,” she says, obviously impressed with herself. “You can’t destroy it.”

I take my knife and sheath from the bin and wrap them around my waist and leg. It’s almost as if the weapon is lying against my bare skin, the material between the two is so thin and barely there.

“The suit will keep you at the perfect temperature, no matter where you are. Unless you’re in the Dark of course.” She laughs. “It won’t replace a darksuit.”

“Wouldn’t that be awesome.” I check out the practicality of the sleeves, moving my arms across and then behind me to see how stretchy this material is. “It’s not binding at all.” I’m surprised; even my old suit sometimes got bunchy in the back.

“Nope. And it’ll keep that strength and form for years. I’ve had one for two years now, and it still fits me like a glove.”

“Nice.” I look down at the legs, for the first time noticing a thin zipper of some sort from ankle to hip on the inside and outside seams. “I said no slits.” I glare at her.