“What is inventory looking like if we take on people?”
In the corner of my eye, Beau chews on their lip. Gryphon’s short notice demands mean we didn’t get a chance to restock before launch; we were already cutting it fine.
“We can sustain one person, with minimal disruption to the last leg of our journey to Red Horizon. However, any more than that and we’ll need to stop off for supplies. Once we pass Novus Junction, there are no other stopovers.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. Exactly what I thought she’d say.
“What are you thinking, Cap?”
“Either way, it looks like from this point on we’re going to have to make a detour to Novus.”
Beau nods, contemplating. “I’ll send comms to Red Horizon and inform Dominik.”
“Reserve accommodation on the eastern side of Novus, as well. I don’t care what hotel as long as it’s close to a docking arm.”
They frown, the pale blonde of drawn eyebrows gleaming in the light. “We’re staying? With Dominik’s accounts, it usually takes less than a day to refuel and—”
“No.”
Beau waits for me to expand, but when I don’t, they nod curtly and head to their station. Kit watches me, waiting for further instruction, but I’m suddenly exhausted—a throbbing headache blooming into life behind my eyes.
“Head for the signal.”
Once the crew has been informed, a course has been charted, and comms have been sent, I head to the airlock. Despite all the excitement of the day, I still have repairs to make. With a perfunctory response from Gryphon’s secretary ringing in my head, I round the corner and nearly walk right into Marlowe. She’s leaning against the bulkhead; hands shoved into her pockets with a question in her eyes.
She should be so much more worried about the delay, and it irks me. The longer it takes us to arrive at Red Horizon, the more time she has with Vee before she has to confront Gryphon. I know this. Logically, I know why she would care more about time than her health. But I can’t stand to see her in pain. I guess it’s just a choice between physical or psychological, and she’s made her preference clear.
“Ready?” I ask.
It’s not what Marlowe was waiting to hear, but she doesn’t push. “Sure.”
We suit up quietly, and it’s a parallel of this morning.
If only I’d known how the day was going to proceed, I could have tried to prepare myself. I feel jagged, like a schism has opened itself inside me and I can’t meld the pieces of myself, nomatter how hard I try. Being pulled back into the shadow of the person I used to be, even if only for a short time, has shaken me. It’s like trying to slip back into a saturated wetsuit; slick with saltwater, constricting.
TheRaat-Sarparears in my mind, taunting; the ship that held up my reflection and showed me a stranger. These wounds I let seep through, trying to remind myself I am a better person for my actions now, even if doing what’s necessary feels like falling backwards. The woman who thought smuggling was a victimless endeavour no longer exists. She wasn’t just disavowed of that notion, she was obliterated, but moving on is so hard to do.
It’s always so cold when I remember that day. The baying as it reaches a panicked crescendo, followed by the kind of silence that always means death. A scrap of fabric, thin and filthy. All those eyes, staring back at me.
“Tanisira.”
Marlowe stands at the hatch, ready to go. She doesn’t try to open dialogue, and for that, I’m grateful. I make a terrible conversationalist in this mood. My chest is tight, and I’m glad for the oxygen being pumped directly into my suit.
The shame isn’t new. I left everything behind, but it follows me anyway. I ran from my mistakes, and they’ve been dogging my heels ever since.
We start prepping the rest of the dents in the hull. I want to get it done in record time but it’s not something that can be rushed, and we can only go as fast as the damage will let us. An hour in, I’ve had enough of Marlowe shooting glances my way. It seems that when the silence isn’t one of her choosing, she grows restless quickly. I’m ready for her when she breaks.
“Did you tell Dominik? About the delay?”
I clear my throat. “We did.”
She waits, but after a beat gestures for me to elaborate. “And?” She laughs bitterly when I hesitate. “Opal replied, didn’t she?”
“Directly and blandly.”
Her exact words were:It would be best if you didn’t delay further.
“You think I didn’t know that?”
