Dragonfly (11 page)

“Es-tah beeyen. No pro-bleemo, ya ratty Espan moo-chacho. But it’ll cost ya extra, and it’ll be a day or two. I gotta pick up some crew while I’m here.”

Dragonfly twisted his little finger in his ear with a grimace. “Can I have it without the rotten accent? Would that be cheaper?”

“To the core, my friend.” Bastie mimed stabbing himself in the heart. “I’ll have you know I learned your annoyingly pronoun-challenged language from the best.”

“A toothless lady of the night in a street brothel on Sevilla Nueva is not the best.”

Bastie winked. “Al contray-rio, kid. You should get out more. So, are you excellent fellows on for a capital evening of frivolity and excess? Somewhere in the galaxy it’s Friday night, after all.”

“Tempting.” I smiled, thinking hard.

Bastie was the only person I’d met who had any idea what Dragonfly was planning, and though he acted like a blustering idiot, a beady glint in his eyes said he wasn’t so dumb as to let anything slip while he was sober. But I eyed his imposing bulk and florid nose and thought twice about a drinking contest. He had to weigh two hundred kilos. It was hard to fake drinking that many rounds of beer, and my chances of wheedling anything out of him before I lost consciousness weren’t good. Maybe I could rifle his ship later, once Dragonfly slept, see what I could find.

A thought sparked danger along my nerves. If only one person knew Dragonfly’s plans, then where had Axis found their intel?
Surveillance reports
, Director Renko had said, but I’d bet an agent could watch Dragonfly for a month and not learn anything more than I’d already gleaned, which was a big fat nothing.

Maybe Bastie was the leak. Maybe his jolly plump exterior hid a traitorous streak, or at least a mercenary one. Maybe I could buy information from him, or bribe him with a saucy flash of cleavage.

Or maybe Renko had lied. That had happened before. Perhaps I should pick Nikita’s brains about it before I did anything foolish. Not that I trusted him to tell me the truth for its own sake—“truth” is a fluid, self-serving concept for him. But emotive sub-ether cuts both ways. If he glibly told me Renko was on the level, I’d know it was bullshit.

Dragonfly shrugged. “You two go right ahead. I have to deal with replenishment.”

“Good luck,” Bastie teased. “This has gotta be the worst R&R station in the quadrant. Half the techs don’t know a slipspace bearing from an arc rocket transducer. Last time I was here, they put radfuel in the coolant tanks and I had to flush the whole thing out with polymers before it went critical. Cost me a mint.”

“Well, you don’t get—”

“—what you don’t pay for. I know. That’s why I charge you a fortune. Nothing but the best.” Bastie turned to me, green eyes twinkling. “Well, pretty lady, shall we get started? Poster Boy here can pay. I trust you’ve got his credit?”

But I couldn’t let Dragonfly out of my sight. I didn’t put it past him to leave me here, and if he had any other visits to make I didn’t want to miss them.

I sighed, faking regret. “Think I’ll give it a miss. But thanks. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re still here?”

A sly glint in his grin, almost imperceptible. “We’ll have to wait and see about that, won’t we?” He turned back to Dragonfly. “Kid, consider it done. Since you didn’t ask how much, I’ll assume you’re desperate enough to pay whatever they charge. I’ll even do cash on delivery, but only because I know you’re too dumb to rip me off.”

“In that case, I take back everything I said about you.” Dragonfly stood and offered his hand. “An unsavory pleasure, as always.”

Bastie clasped his hand, and raised a glass to me with a lascivious wink. “All yours, by the look. Don’t keep him up too late, miss.”

12

We weaved through the bar crowd to the walkway’s edge. I unclipped my jacket, the beer and the overheated air making me sweat.

“So, are we really refueling?”

“Sure.” Dragonfly dug in his pocket, counting plastic cash chips. “But also avoiding another sore head. That bar better have some serious
cerveza
on tap. Bastie could drink a small ocean dry.” He saw my expression and shrugged. “He’s okay. Not as dumb as he pretends.”

“And he gets you stuff.” I tucked my thumbs in my belt as we walked along beside the carbonsteel railing.

“Yes. He does a freight run from here to the Leonov cluster every few weeks. Slow and inconspicuous.”

Vyachesgrad to Leonov. Long way. Could be going anywhere.

I fished a little deeper. “Yeah? What kind of ship does he run?”

“A rusty one with radfuel in the coolant, apparently.
Tiene hambre
?”

“Excuse me?” Paranoia never slept. I’d try again later.

“Hungry. Food. You want some?” He dragged me up to a high plastic counter, where a crazy-eyed Espan guy in a blue apron was slashing greasy slabs of flesh off a carcass that rotated on a spike in front of a bright orange flashspit.

I didn’t like the idea of Dragonfly buying me anything. I didn’t want his bloodstained charity, and I remembered Lazuli was supposed to be a vegetarian. Any cyberthief worth the name would already have his console fishing out information about me, and the false identity Axis had cooked up for me was there ready for him to find. But my stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered at the juicy aroma. I had to eat something or I’d lose efficiency.

“That’s not sub-meat,” I argued for show. “That’s a real animal. It had fur once. You want me to eat that?”

“Are you kidding? I live on this stuff.” He paid for two piles of spicy dead beast wrapped in thin bread with what looked like shredded red cabbage and cream, and squirted them with a generous flood of garlic sauce. He handed me one. “Come on, try it. Your mouth will love you.”

“I don’t eat meat, okay?”

“Do you see anything else?”

“I guess not.” I took it. Warm sauce dribbled from the paper over my hand. I wrinkled my nose, but had to admit it smelled fantastic. I closed my eyes and took a bite. Mmm. Hot, spicy, flavorsome. I chewed, the stringy texture filling my mouth, salt and juice tingling my tongue.

I swallowed, smacking my lips. “Okay, you win. But only because you starved me all day.”

“All part of my plan to buy you dinner.”

He grinned, and we stuffed ourselves. Crackers and juice for lunch just didn’t cut it.

I wiped my mouth and licked the last tasty drops from my fingers, but my mood clouded dark. This made me think of Mishka, the one time we ever got to go away together, a sultry summer planet with endless beaches and cobalt skies.

Him and me, eating weird food with our fingers in a crowded marketplace full of rickshaws. Lazing in the green saltwater until our skins shriveled, diving to the coral reef in a cascade of rainbow-scaled fish. Choking on sweet-smelling shisha pipes in a dusty velvet bar, with a piper wheedling his snake from a basket in the corner. Hunting each other through a fragrant maze of overgrown jungle flowers at the laser range. He beat me, like he always did, never one to suck up to a superior, even when he was courting her like the old-fashioned gentleman he did his best to be. We slept under red summer stars on a wicker-lined rooftop, his body hard and warm next to mine and my head nestled in his massive shoulder amid the woody scent of his long black hair, and he woke me in the middle of the night when the meteors rained crimson fire and asked me to be his wife.

Two weeks later, we landed on Urumki Mor.

Now my lover was dead, and the man who’d killed him had just bought me dinner.

My eyes ached, and the empty place in my heart swelled like an icy abscess. My sweet, silent soldier. I missed him. But most of the time, I just got on with life. Filled that empty space with hunger for vengeance while he faded to a distant dream.

Wounds heal, right? Memories wash thin. Broken hearts mend. That’s how it’s supposed to be. How we survive.

It didn’t make me feel better. Only more like a traitor.

My stomach creaked, satisfied in spite of me, and I made an effort to sound cheerful above jangling nerves. “Meat
and
beer in the same day. Great. You owe me a week in the grav gym to get my ass back into shape.”

“Your ass looks just fine to m— Hold up.” Dragonfly touched my shoulder, a warning.

I spun around, tense, but too late. The cavemen had already seen me.

My special friend sauntered up, a shit-eating grin on his crusty mouth. “Hey, baby. Still ain’t ditched your pretty-face boyfriend? Why don’t ya come with us? We’ll show ya what a real man can do.”

Bad smell. Bad hair. Bad teeth. Zero on the hygiene scale, pal. But Dragonfly ignored him, so I did too, even if I itched to smack the guy’s nose from his face. We didn’t need a fight right now.

But the guy wouldn’t give up. He squeezed my butt with one greasy hand. “Tasty. What’s it worth?”

My cheeks warmed. Those odd-colored eyes made my guts churn. Would Lazuli put up with that? Hell, no. And neither would I.

I shoved him back into his pile of Neanderthal friends. “Kiss my ass, pencil dick.”

He stumbled and righted himself, and they all advanced on me like a pack of one-track-mind jackals.

His face twisted. “I’ll do something to your ass, bitch. So hard you’ll scream like a baby.”

Dragonfly gripped my arm. “Leave it. Let’s go.”

But fury rippled in my blood, washing away caution. I should be keeping a low profile. Security could kick us off the station for fighting … but I couldn’t forget that image of the hungry little colony girl. I wasn’t her any more, scrapping for favors in alleyways. I didn’t have to take this shit and run home crying afterwards. I’d disgraced my family and joined the marines so no one would have to take this shit again.

I shook Dragonfly off. “Yeah, you’re right. Wouldn’t want this moron to get his ass kicked by a
girl
.”

The guy swung at me, and I grinned. Idiot.

I grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his head, ramming the heel of my hand into his kidneys. There was muscle under that lazy fat, harder than I’d expected. Still, he oomphed and buckled. I kicked his legs from under him, jammed his throat to the floor with one knee, and crunched my shatterjay deep under his chin where his pulse thudded.

My hand shook, adrenaline pumping, but I forced it steady. “Go on, dickhead. Move, and see what happens.”

And that’s all I had time for before the rest of them crashed into me.

I thudded into the hatchway bulkhead and bounced off, bones jarring. My chin hit the floor, and salty blood squirted in my mouth. A kick slammed into my side. Blindly, I jabbed the jay into flesh and fired. Anonymous blood spurted. A hand grabbed my hair and yanked hard, and my neck whiplashed back. And then the harsh slide and clunk of a weapon being cocked, and I was free.

I clambered up, still clutching my jay. One guy lay limp and groaning on the metal floor. My guy howled on one knee, gripping his other kneecap. Dragonfly stood over him, hair falling in his eyes and blood staining his mouth, pressing the sawn-off barrel of a ballistic metalgun into the guy’s forehead. Not his own weapon; he’d taken it from someone. It was corroded, the trigger housing bent out of shape, but it still worked.

“Back it off.” Tone soft but steely, that cold determination I’d noticed on Esperanza gleaming darkly in his eyes. “We don’t want a fight.”

Unassuming to scary in five seconds flat, and I still didn’t know which was the real him. Still, he’d jumped in to help me when he could’ve walked away. That was promising.

The other two guys cursed and pulled out weapons. My pulse leaped. This could get nasty.

But marching boots clanged on the floor, and someone shouted in that clipped, formalized Rus you only ever learn in the military. Imperial marines, displeased with our breaking the peace.

Dragonfly looked over his shoulder and swore in Espan. The cavemen hesitated, their dull eyes glinting.

Neanderthal and his friends looked like Vyachesgrad regulars. No guarantee the marines would take our side, even if we didn’t start it. I bit my lip. How had I gotten myself into this? My buttons were way too easy to press right now. Port Victoria was a long time ago. Forgotten, I’d thought, just one lousy day among a host of lousy days. Maybe Director Renko was right not to trust me. Maybe it was true that I’d been twitchy since Mishka died …

No. I felt fine. At the top of my game. I had a bunch of successful missions to prove it, even if Renko no longer gave me the responsibility she used to.

So why couldn’t I prise the memory of that dirty little girl from my mind?

The bootsteps came closer.

Dragonfly gnashed his teeth in frustration. “Don’t say anything,” he hissed, and dragged me by the arm across the hatchway threshold.

He jammed his palm on the button and the bronze hatch spiraled shut with a clunk. Sparks showered as he smashed the electric controls with the metalgun’s grip. We could only hope the marines didn’t care enough to come after us.

The curving black corridor was dim, old icelights flickering, and he pulled me into a swift walk, past locked instrument panels and storage bins and ironclad doorways.

I bristled, and he let me go, but we kept walking. “What are you—”

“What were you thinking?” He uncocked the metalgun and stripped it, his gaze focused ahead. “Can’t you hold your ego in even for a few minutes?”

I flushed, because I knew he was right. I’d made a mistake. What would Lazuli say?

“Don’t give me a hard time, okay? It wasn’t your ass he grabbed. You’re not the one who has to listen to that shit.”

“You don’t think so?” He dumped the barrel into a storage bin with a resounding clang and kept dismantling. “Look at me, Lazuli. I’m not exactly a poster child for Russiyan genetics. You think no one’s ever called me names?” Crunch: the firing mech in pieces into a trash receptor. “You have to be smarter than that if you want to play this game.”

I wiped blood from my lip and spat copper. He was right, about me and Lazuli both, and it stung.

“What the hell does it matter? So we punch a few guys. I can handle myself. You didn’t do too badly yourself—”