Drifters' Alliance, Book 3 (21 page)

He and I both stand together and walk to the door of the flightdeck. He waves his hand over the keypad to open it. “You ready for this?”

I nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” It probably shouldn’t, but the whole idea of running recon as part of a team against a guy like Tremblay has me totally hyped and ready to take on the world. I wish I knew whether that was a good sign or a bad one.

“After you,” Jeffers says, gesturing out into the corridor.

Before I walk out, I look up at the flightdeck. “Adelle?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Get the blood contract ready on the system and the keypads ready to accept signatures.” I already entered the parameters discussed with the crew, so now all we need is a little fingerprick from everyone. Mine is already there.

“It is ready for input, Captain.”

I nod and walk out the door in front of Jeffers.

Chapter Thirty-Two

THE SHIP IS LOCKED DOWN with my engineers, the green goddess, and her sneaky papa left behind. Blood contracts are finally in place for everyone but the old man who I’m still not supposed to know is living in my biogrid and Macon, who still can’t bring himself to tell me everything he knows about my situation. I’m giving him until the end of this mission to figure out where we stand. If he can’t come clean and sign the contract, he can’t be a part of this crew when we leave, it’s as simple as that. I can’t carry someone around I can’t trust. I wish that didn’t make me so sad to know it’s Macon at the heart of the matter.

I’ve given the twins permission to fulfill about half the items on their parts list, but they have to take delivery instead of going to get them in person. I need to be able to make a fast getaway in the event things get messy, and having them roaming the corridors of the station looking for love in all the wrong places is the surest way to slow me down that I can think of.

I’m starting to understand why Langlade locked them inside the engine room when he docked at stations. The only thing that mollified Gus after he was ordered to stay onboard was my statement that he was in charge of ship security. His chest puffed out and he nodded, accepting his new responsibility, while his brother rolled his eyes and disappeared into the stack of computer shelves behind them. I’m hoping Gus will stay proud for as long as it takes for me to get back to the ship.

The Grande Old Saloon is as shitty as it was the last time I was here. Not that I was expecting anything different, since I’ve only been gone for a couple weeks. The same crowd of no-good, lying cheats, the same stench, and the same bartender greet our entry. The skinny, lanky man looks up from delivering a drink to another patron and stares at me, his eyes narrowing and then popping open wider.
Surprised to see me, or surprised to see me alive?
It’s hard to imagine the givit dealer was in on a plan with Tremblay to steal a DS and then overthrow its new captain without the bartender knowing. Don’t those guys have ears everywhere? I eye him with suspicion.

I really wish I had that station’s sim card linked up to my personal comm unit on my wrist so I could look into this guy’s history, but getting caught with that thing on me would be way too risky. It’s bad enough that it’s on our ship. It doesn’t change the fact, though, that knowing who this guy really is and who he hangs out with would be really handy. Unfortunately, I was too busy practicing my docking maneuvers to dig into the personnel files of this place. I’m wondering now if I’m going to regret it.

Macon and Baebong are in my twelve o’clock position and Jeffers is at my six. They look like bodyguards, and with this amazing black flightsuit on that Alana gave me, I look like I might actually need them. It’s too pretty for fighting in, making it camouflage in more ways than one. I once again send up a silent thank you to my benefactor. It’s nice having friends with influence
and
taste. Being a member of the Alliance makes me feel like I have a whole community of really cool people standing behind me, watching my back. I never felt that way in the OSG; it was way too competitive in the training Levels.

I rest my hand on my knife as I survey the room. “Any of you see our target?” I barely move my lips and use volume only my friends can detect. We have our comm units dialed into each other on the same frequency so we can all listen in on each other’s conversations as long as our thumbs are turned in to our palms. I’m not doing that now, though, since they’re so close.

Macon is rubbing his hands together. “Not yet, but I see a game I’d like to get in on.”

I follow his gaze and find a girl playing boccaball at a nearby table. Her ball-rolling technique has her leaning way over, and her blouse is unzipped enough to allow most of her assets to spill out for everyone to admire during her play. I know a con when I see one, though. Her friend is busy emptying bystanders’ pockets as they slobber over the view.

“Dude, you’re drooling,” I say, reaching up to poke him in the back. “Control yourself.”

He lifts a hand and drags the back of it over his mouth, saying nothing, still staring.

I shake my head. “So much for helping with the mission.” When the guilt-trip doesn’t work, I smile real evil-like and try another method of breaking through his boobie-trance. “Oh, look! Shit! It’s that Captain Bob guy. How did he survive that floating, I wonder?”

Macon’s head jerks first to the left and the right. He steps backward and bumps into me. “Where? Captain Bob? Where?!”

I grab the back of his neck and stand on tiptoe to be able to whisper into his ear. “Get your shit together, Macon. We’re not here to get your dick wet.”

He turns around and scowls at me. “You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?”

I see Baebong’s back stiffen out of the corner of my eye and quickly put it together.
Frigging tattletale.
Letting Macon go, I turn slightly to face Baebong. “Boyfriend? What boyfriend?”

“Don’t play games,” Macon says, sounding all cocky asshole. “We know you’ve got the hots for Beltz.”

Jeffers leans in. “There might be a better time and place for this conversation.”

“Yeah!” I whisper hiss at the two droid-heads in front of me, shoving Macon away from me. “So, shut up and pay attention. We need to find Tremblay or the girls.” I feel like I’m in Level 2 training again with a bunch of idiot boys who spend more time looking at the girls than paying attention to the instructor. Lucky for us, our behavior is completely normal in a place like this. Not shoving my friends around would have looked suspicious.

“I thought we were supposed to sit at the bar and wait,” Macon says, turning more fully to face me.

I gesture at the bartender. “Fine. Go, then. Sit. Get something to drink.” I glare at him. “Something
non
-fermented.”

“What? Are you kidding?” Macon turns around and wanders off. “Lame mission. I knew it.”

Baebong follows him, thinking I can’t hear what he’s saying as he leans toward Macon. “We’d better get to blow some shit up, that’s all I’m saying.”

Jeffers and I remain just inside the door as Macon orders two drinks. Once the bartender sets them down in front of him, he and Baebong grab them up, touch the sides of their mugs, and exchange a meaningful nod. I know exactly what that means, too; they’re going to light off Baebong’s weapons whether I like it or not. They’ll rig some kind of ‘accident’ or pretend to see a bogeyman who’s not there, and then
BLAMMO!
Space dust.

I roll my eyes.
Whatever.
A happy crew is an effective crew. If it takes blowing up my hair drying rig and other personal beauty items to get them there, I’m fine with it. It’s not like I need the stuff anyway; I’m not going anywhere fancy anytime soon. Hell, it’s my first station arrival as captain of a DS, and I’m standing in the middle of The Grande Old Shithole Saloon. I’m the best dressed person in here, and that’s saying a lot because my whore-inspired hairdo is three days past its expiration date.

“There’s a spot on the other side of the bar for us,” Jeffers says, stepping up to my right side, a little ahead of me. “Care to have a drink?” He holds out his elbow.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I say, walking forward and threading my arm into his. We walk together to the chairs, and several people watch us go with way too much interest.

“People are staring,” I say, pulling my arm back, trying to detach myself from him. I’m not used to doing things as part of a team. For too long it’s been me against the universe.

He holds my hand in place, smiling as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Good. It’ll throw them off the real reason for our visit. They’ll think we’re here on a date.”

I relax and go back to holding onto him. I can’t think of the right thing to say to that. Saying he’s too old for me is probably the wrong way to go. And besides, he’s right. The last time I was here I won a ship in a givit game. I’m not so naive to think that people have forgotten that bet
or
me. It’s best if they think I’m just passing through with nothing but love on my mind. I look up at my new boyfriend and smile. “Lucky me.”

He smiles back and pats my hand. “That’s the spirit.”

When we reach the bar, he releases my arm, pulls out a stool for me, and bows. “Please.”

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I giggle at how ridiculous I sound and the fact that my face is burning and probably pink. I can’t remember anyone ever pulling out a chair for me.
Except Overshine. The last time I saw him, he pulled out my chair and then later tried to get my friend to kill me.
I force myself not to think about him or that second death match with Macon. Now’s not the time to worry about the OSG sneaking up on me and seeking revenge for that slaphammering Lucinda gave them. I’ll worry about those evil bastards when the time comes.

As soon as Jeffers sits, my blood starts pumping extra fast in my veins. Over Jeffers’s now lowered shoulder, I can see a beautiful woman approaching, and she’s smiling at me.
Things are about to get really real.
It suddenly hits me that I’m part of a recon mission that could end up in a man being killed and floated out a back exhaust tunnel.
Why do I feel so sick over it? He deserves it. He tried to get someone to take me out.

“What’s the matter?” Jeffers asks me.

“Beltine. On her way over.” I take a few breaths in and out to calm myself.
Remember your training. You’ve got this under control, Cass. Tremblay meant to float you and steal your DS. No regrets allowed.

Jeffers pats my hand. “Don’t look so serious. We’re here on a date, remember?”

It’s so ridiculous, it makes me smile. “Okay. Right. How could I forget?”

Beltine takes the chair next to Jeffers and holds up her hand to get the bartender’s attention. Under her breath she says, “Alana has Tremblay in a private apartment. Section 4, Level 5, Quadrant 5. Number 1-1-8. Hurry.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

I MAKE A MOVE TO get up, but Jeffers puts his hand on my arm. “But darling, don’t you want to stay and have a drink?”

My mind short-circuits for a few seconds before I realize what he’s trying to do. I join in as naturally as I can under the circumstances. “No, dear, I
don’t
want to stay and have a drink. You just insulted me.”

He winks before continuing. “Don’t be silly. I just said that I didn’t want to have dinner with your mother. Is that really so bad? You know how she can be. So demanding. So
nosy
.”

I push him on the chest. “Don’t say that about my mother!” I probably shouldn’t have pushed so hard, but he was just a little convincing with his play-acting, and I kind of forgot I don’t have a mother anymore.

Jeffers leans way back with the force of my shove and then pauses in mid-reaction and raises his eyebrows. It takes me a second or two to get the cue that it’s time for me to make my move. I need practice with the angry girlfriend act, I guess.

“Are you leaving?” his raises his eyebrows even higher.

“Yes! I’m leaving.” I stand up and storm out of the bar without looking back, hoping the two dipshits I left toasting their ray blasting plans are paying attention and will follow me out. I walk to the door, exit the saloon, and take a left down the hallway, shortening my strides to give them time to catch up.

A few seconds later a door slams behind me and Macon yells, “Wrong way!”

I turn around and look down the corridor at him and Baebong standing just outside the saloon’s door. “What are you talking about? It’s
this
way!” The nearest directional array is in the place where I’m headed; I remember it from the few weeks I spent here, before I won the ship. It’s at the hub where a large central area hosts pedestrian tunnels that go off in several directions, like a hub and spokes on an Old-Earth wagon wheel. We need to log in there to find out where Tremblay’s unit is.

He waves his arm really hard. “Wrong! This way’s better! Come on! Hurry up!” His hand goes up to his mouth, and his voice comes out loud and clear right in my ear where the receiver lies inside. “I memorized the layout of the station. Come on, this way is shorter.”

Memorized the entire station? That can’t be right.
I jog to catch up, but he takes off before I reach him. I whisper as I fast-walk. “What do you mean you memorized the layout of this place? Which part of it?”

Baebong falls into step beside me as we break into a jog behind Macon. I conserve my energy and measure each breath carefully, since I’m not sure how far we’ll go before we stop again.

We’ve taken several turns and gone up three tall sets of metal stairs without an answer from Macon, but he does seem to look like he knows what he’s doing, the way he never hesitates, taking directions that seem purposeful. We’re in a dark area that’s obviously not frequently traveled. It’s narrower than a regular path and needs a good filter session to get rid of the accumulated dust.

“What is this place?” I ask as we slip through yet another portal. So far all of these entrances have opened with a wave of Macon’s palm. Obviously, they’re not leading into secure areas, but there’s a complete lack of signage that’s not the usual for a station as far as I know, so I have no idea where he’s really taking us. We could be heading for the float chambers for all I know. Just the idea fills me with dread.
Would he sell me out like that?
It scares me when I realize that I don’t really know the answer to my question.