Drifters' Alliance, Book 3 (8 page)

“You need to re-acclimate,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of his bunk.

“Why bother? I’ll be back to scows and stations soon enough.”

“You’ve decided to leave, then?”

He shrugs, his hands barely moving as they rest on his belly. “Not like I have a choice.”

“You do have a choice.”

He tilts his head to look at me. “You’d seriously let me stay on this ship?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“After I planned to throw you over?”

I smile. “Was that your grand plan?”

He scowls before going back to contemplating the ceiling. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually.” I lie back on the bed so I can lace my fingers behind my head and use his pillow. One leg rests on the floor, but the other comes up to stretch out. “Tell me all your secret plans. Tell me what you know about Tremblay and Captain Boob, too, while you’re at it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“A show of good faith. Show me you want to stay on here as a member of my crew.”

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t just kill me instead?”

I look over at him and roll my eyes. “I could have killed you a thousand times by now. Hell, I could throw my blade between your eyes right this second if I felt like it, but I won’t. And I haven’t.”

He laughs. “Kind of hard to throw a knife between my eyes when you don’t even have one on you.”

It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. Then my hand and my gaze fly down to my leg. “What the hell?” I whisper. The sheath is there, but the knife isn’t. I put my finger into the spot where the knife should be, and come out with a piece of plant root. My blood runs cold. “Ohhh fuuuuuck …”

Chapter Twelve

“SHHH!” I PUNCH MACON IN the arm. We’re supposed to be opening the door to the biogrid as quietly as possible, but he’s blowing it. I’ve put it in manual mode and together we’re pushing it open, but Macon’s grunting like a damn goat.

“It’s heavy,” he whines at me.

I pause, holding up my hand so he’ll stop too. “I think I heard something,” I whisper, cocking my ear toward our destination — the heart of the biogrid.

“Yeah, it’s called watering systems.” He pushes the door open a couple more inches, finally making it possible for us to enter.

I slide through the space and wait for him to follow. Together we close the door behind us. I put my finger on my lips to tell him to be quiet.

“Where is it?” he says, apparently not understanding what
be quiet
means.
Idiot.

I point and start walking on tiptoe in that direction. When I realize my boots are going to make that method of walking louder than my normal gait, I take them off, motioning for him to join me. I nudge them between some tower bases to get them off the walking path.

“My socks smell really bad,” he says quietly in my ear.

I push him off, scolding him with a look, jerking my thumb at his boots so he’ll understand that I don’t give a shit how bad his feet smell. I need my knife back, and I need him to help me get it, just in case Lucinda or her papa are roaming around. I’ve never felt so naked and vulnerable as I do now. I’m not totally defenseless without my weapon, of course, but I have a much better chance of surviving an attack with it on my person. If Macon calls it my security blanket one more time, I’m going to knock him out.

I shove Macon’s boots in between two grow towers and walk on, expecting him to follow me. A few seconds later, I check to be sure he’s there and find him several meters behind me. I motion for him to hurry up.

When he gets next to me, I can see the reason for his concern. His socks are brown, but I’m pretty sure they started off white. I cringe at the stink that comes wafting up. I have to hold my nose closed to keep the stench from sneaking into my skull. His boots must be specially treated or something to hold that stench inside.
Damn.

“I told you,” he whispers.

I shake my head and move off in the direction I think is the correct one, praying we won’t run into Lucinda before I locate my knife. I keep my eyes on the ground, hoping it’ll turn up before we actually reach Papa’s sleeping pallet. I know it’s naive to think that I just dropped it out here somewhere, but that doesn’t keep me from dreaming. There is a very, very slight possibility I lost it before I got tangled in those roots or vines or whatever they were, and I’m going to hold on to that hope until there isn’t any more of it left.

I hear someone mumbling ahead, so I jump in between a couple towers, dragging Macon with me. We’re crammed in there together with nothing but sweat, worn linen, and a flight suit between us when Lucinda walks by.

“I hope she doesn’t expect me to feed these people like this all the time.” She’s pushing a cart loaded down with vegetables, scowling as usual.

I hold my breath and close my eyes, worried that my stare will draw her gaze over to us. Our hiding place isn’t very good. The beans we’re drowning in don’t have very many leaves in the spot where we’re standing.
Please don’t feed them beans, please don’t feed them beans!

When the noise of the cart slowly fades out, I open my eyes, half expecting to see Lucinda there glaring at me, but the part of the aisle that’s visible is empty. I can feel a heart beating, but I’m pretty sure it’s not mine; it’s going too fast. I look up and see Macon staring down at me.

“That was close,” he says in a tiny whisper.

I nod.

“Should we go out?” he asks.

A hissing starts above me and then suddenly we’re being misted with water.

“Yes!” I say, shoving him out of the way so I can get out.

“Argh!”

I want to kill him for making so much noise, but then I see why he did it and my anger disappears in a flash. Now I have to battle not to laugh. He has fallen backward into a bunch of plants, his body wedged between two towers and his legs flailing.

“Don’t just stand there; help me!” he growls.

I climb back into the greenery and give him a hand. He grabs it and I’m surprised by the strength I feel there. He could have probably snapped my neck about five different times by now. The knowledge that he’s chosen not to kill me when he well could have makes me go warm inside.
Maybe we can be friends again.

When he gets back to his feet, he’s right up against me again. “We have to stop meeting like this.” He grins, very happy with himself.

I punch him in the chest. “Shut up.”

He wheezes out some air, but follows me from the towers out to the aisle. He’s bent over, holding his chest and rubbing it a little. “Damn, you sure can pack a punch when you want to.”

“Just shut up and follow me, would you?” I’m starting to question the brilliance behind my plan to bring him along. I thought he could function as a distraction in case I found myself in a bind, but now I’m thinking he’ll be the reason I’m caught.
All the more reason to get this over with. Hurry!

I continue toward my destination with renewed energy. I need to get out of here. I don’t want to lose my upper hand with Lucinda, and if she catches me sneaking around, or if her father does, I’ll be screwed. I don’t like being screwed
and
weaponless.

I see the spot where I fell up ahead. Holding out my arm, I block Mason’s progress.

“What’s the plan?” he asks, bending down behind me to whisper in my ear.

It tickles, so I reach up to flick at his face and get him to back off. I catch him in the nose and he inhales sharply.

“Not so close,” I say in a loud whisper. Then I point. “That’s where it is. Somewhere in there.”

“In where? That’s just a pile of plants.”

“No, it’s not.” I stand there chewing my lip, trying to figure out how I’m going to find out if that guy’s in there. I don’t want to surprise him and end up getting stuck with a blade for my efforts. But we can’t stand here for too much longer or we’re going to get busted by Lucinda gathering her food, or by her father coming back to hide, assuming he’s not in there now.

“So, go get it.” Macon pushes me. “What are you waiting for?”

I turn to face him so he can see how frustrated he’s making me. I can feel my face going red. “I told you … it’s a small chamber. He could be waiting.”

Macon’s eyes widen. “You think he has your knife?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s really messy in there.” I look over my shoulder. “I need to find out if he’s there.”

Macon stands up straighter, looks at the spot, and steps around me. “Let me handle this.”

He’s gone before I can stop him, so I quickly slide in between two towers and watch him from behind a clump of leaves.
He’d better not screw this up.
I’m not as panicked as I could be, though. Lucinda would probably expect to see him in here more than she’d expect to see me. I told her I’d send him to help, so if she busts him walking around without boots on, she’ll probably just write it off as Macon being Macon and not get too suspicious.

Macon acts like he’s messing around with the plants above the hidden chamber and then kicks at the roots at little. “Hey, what’s this?” he says in an exaggerated and extra loud tone. “What a mess. I should cut these roots away. Lucinda will thank me for it later.” He grabs a hunk of them and moves them to the side. Looking back at me, he waits, standing there like an idiot. Apparently, he’s not worried about a Romanii guy who has everything to lose reaching out and stabbing him in the nuts.

I shake my head at Macon’s idiocy.

He bends down and sticks his head inside. “Wow, look at this. It’s empty under here.” Then he stands and smiles. “All clear!”

I stride out from my hiding place and push him away. “Go. Find Lucinda and keep her away from here while I look for it.”

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes before he leaves me there. I watch his retreating form for a few seconds, wondering how in the hell he survived all these years out there in the Dark alone. He must have had a guardian angel looking out for him or something.

Saving the mystery that is Macon for later, I duck down into the chamber and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, things come into focus, and everything appears the same as I left it. Once I can see, I waste no time pulling up the materials on the pallet and searching every inch of the place for my blade. As the first minute ticks by, I hold on to hope, but as I move into the second minute with no success, I start to panic.
It’s not here! Where could it be?!
I had to have lost it in here. Those frigging roots were all over me.

I quickly comb through the plant parts in my last ditch effort to calm my racing heart, but it does me no good; the blade isn’t there or in this bed, and I’m running out of time before Lucinda comes back in this direction. I just don’t have the kind of luck that’ll keep her away for very long.

I shove the roots aside and step outside the chamber, holding the plants out of the way until I can stand upright. I let them go as I move to straighten my posture, but then I stop abruptly when I find myself staring at the point of my own blade. I remain motionless as I take in the details of my predicament.

The sharp end of my knife is ten centimeters from my eyeball and it’s being held by a miniature person with the whitest hair and the wrinkliest skin I’ve ever seen.

“Looking for something?” the small man in front of me asks, his face expressionless, his body language anything but.

Chapter Thirteen

I STAND SLOWLY, PULLING THE front edge of my flightsuit down to remove the folds and wrinkles from it. “Hello, Papa.” Putting my shoulders back, I stretch myself up to my full height, happy to find I have at least twenty centimeters on him. Not that I relish the idea of dropping a guy at least forty years my senior, but he does have my blade, and he is pointing it at my heart right now.

“Hello, Captain.”

I lift a brow. “Are you going to give that back to me, or am I going to have to take it from you?”

He flips the knife around so fast I barely see it happening before the handle is facing me.

I reach out to retrieve it, expecting a trick, but receiving nothing other than his penetrating gaze, taking my measure. As the knife goes back into its sheath, I breathe out a sigh of relief.

“So, where do we go from here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You’re the captain.”

“And you’re …” I wait for a response, not certain I’m going to get one from this mysterious man.

“I am grandfather to Lucinda. I hope you’ll not blame her for my presence here.”

I smile. “Of course I will. Who else is to blame? Jeffers? Tremblay?”

The old man shrugs.

“Do you have a name?”

“I do.”

“Feel like sharing it?”

“Simion.”

I nod. “And you’re the one I can thank for this biogrid, I take it.” I raise my hands up and gesture to the plants around us.

“My granddaughter is the mistress of the grid.”

“Ohhhh. Mistress of the grid? Fancy.” I step back, suspecting that this guy’s as wily as they come, and I really, really don’t want to cut him. If he comes at me, though, I’ll do it.

“Shall I summon her?” he asks.

I can’t decide if he’s worried, planning something, or completely unfazed by all of this. His expression is as plain as Baebong’s is when he’s asleep.

I shake my head. “No need. She’s busy collecting food for our friends, and I have other things I need to do. You and I can catch up later.”

He nods and folds his hands in front of him, reminding me of Jeffers.
Do they know each other?

“You don’t need to hide anymore,” I say as I’m walking away sideways, keeping my eyes on him. “Now that I know you’re here, there’s no point.” He’s kind of a stowaway and kind of not, since he is at least partially responsible for the food we’ll be eating and the system that generates it. Unlike Macon, he’s not taking without giving, and he’s been a shadow member of this crew since before I arrived.

“We were never hiding from you,” he says as I turn the first corner.

I don’t bother to go back and discuss that with him, because first of all, I don’t believe it, and second of all, I already have enough mystery on this ship to manage. I have a party to go to, and before I get there, I need to decide how much of my current situation I’m going to share with the other Alliance members. Dealing with a hidden Romanii grandpa is last on my list of priorities.