Current drift, p.4
Current Drift, page 4
Thankfully, the Current allowed Moneymaker to continue its route to Lostelle without another hiccup. Even with the disconcerting interruption, Sloane felt like they were actually making progress. Winning battles. Capturing more intelligence. It was encouraging.
If the Current would keep behaving, things would really be looking up.
Lostelle had been like a ghost planet when they’d visited before. A tropical, vacation-themed ghost planet, complete with beach chairs and tiki bars, all of which had only increased the feeling of emptiness.
Now, though, the place bustled with activity. The System leaders had brought staff members to join them, and those staff members had brought staff members—which had necessitated more Fleet soldiers to offer assistance. The cafes lined up along the meandering entrance path were full of people, all of them huddled over fliptabs or watching holo presentations that’d been set up on the bars. Clerks and administrative staff hurried back and forth, stepping around one another with nods and hurried gestures, everyone apparently working together.
Sloane didn’t see Schere’s jackass of a king anywhere in the mix, which was probably making it easier for people to get along. Knowing him, he was probably directing matters from his private bathtub.
There was still no one on the beach loungers, though. They looked so sad. So lonely.
Candace Fortune joined Sloane and Gareth as they made their way toward the hotel, now the ad hoc headquarters for the Parse Galaxy Resistance. Though Sloane would have preferred a cuter name, like the Hero Brigade or the Not-Evil Society. Sometimes, though, you couldn’t be picky. Sloane hadn’t known Candace was here, though on the other hand, her presence made complete sense.
To Gareth’s right, Captain Lager’s husband, Jim, fell into step beside Gareth. As if he and Candace had planned the maneuver ahead of time.
“We’re acting on intel from the Obsidian City raid,” Candace said. Straight to business. “You didn’t mess that up, so good job.”
“We were too late to stop the CTF from occupying Fenter System, in the Fringe,” Jim continued, “but we prevented a raid on Indly Station, which would’ve been disastrous since it shares this System with us. Don’t need them breathing down our necks.”
Candace nodded. “We also sent extra backup to protect the Interplanetary Dwellers on the Atom.
The way these two were finishing each other’s sentences, they might’ve been friends for years. If Jim had been acting as a part of Candace’s secret spy network all this time, Lager was going to lose his mind.
“Pardon me,” Gareth said, “but, Mother, are you giving us a report?”
She reached around Sloane to smack him on the shoulder. “I don’t report to you, Commander. However,” she added, drawing the word out into a long, reluctant admission, “even I can see the value of keeping you up to date. I was relieved to come here and meet Jim. First person I’ve encountered in a long while who’s got a decent head on his shoulders.”
Jim wasn’t a spy, then. Good. That was good. Though no doubt Candace would be working on recruiting him.
“So everyone’s working… together?” Sloane asked. After the tense atmosphere of that meeting, it seemed an unlikely dream.
Candace gave her a toothy grin. “Yes, well, we have a good role model.”
Sloane walked a few more steps, expecting her to elaborate. When she didn’t, though, a horrifying thought bloomed in her mind. Horrifying enough to make her trip over her own feet. “What,” she said, “you mean me?”
“Of course.” Candace said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Space is a vacuum. Olton Moon is cold. Sloane Tarnish is a good role model. “Though we may need a bit more help before the end.”
Sloane was still stuck on the role model thing. “Which we’ll get from where, exactly?”
Candace shrugged. “You’re in charge.”
Yes, yes. That much she knew. Though it was nice to see the rest of them taking initiative for once. Jumping into the fray. Helping each other out.
“You’re not going to be one of those mentors who withholds critical information so I can learn how to grow, are you?” Sloane asked.
“With the fate of the galaxy at stake? Don’t be a fool. And I’m not your mentor.”
That was too bad. She could use one.
Jim dropped back, allowing Candace to exchange spots with him to walk beside Gareth. Still walking, she gave her son a kiss on the cheek, which seemed unlike her. But given the danger they’d all been dealing with lately, Sloane supposed it wasn’t all that surprising. Gareth could hand the data over to her—classic Fortune family mother-son bonding time, she supposed—and Candace’s spies would deal with it. As long as she didn’t decide to disappear again.
“I have a message for you,” Jim said to Sloane, keeping his voice low. “I hesitated to deliver it, if I’m being honest. In the end, I thought you should hear it and decide for yourself.”
Sloane’s stomach dropped. He could only be talking about Vin. “My uncle?”
Jim nodded, letting his gaze wander out toward the sea. It was beautiful, glittering in the afternoon light. Not a bad spot for a Resistance campaign. Not a bad spot at all. “He’d like to speak with you. I told him you might not be willing, and I certainly wouldn’t blame you for that.”
“I’m definitely not willing.”
“Understandable. But if you change your mind, he’s the sole guest on the top level of the hotel. The guards have instructions to let you visit.”
She didn’t want to visit. She didn’t want to see him again. And yet, she found her eyes skipping away from the water to find the top of the tower hotel. Was he watching her right now? Could he see this far?
“Is he a guest, or a prisoner?” she asked.
Jim gave her a wry smile. “He can go where he wants, as long as he stays away from any operational planning. And as long as he remains under guard.”
“I see.”
Jim gave her a pat on the shoulder, which should have been awkward given how little they knew each other, yet somehow felt completely natural. Jim had the same ease with people as his husband. She didn’t feel comforted, exactly, just… less alone.
She hoped he’d get a chance to open his bed and breakfast when this was all over. She had a feeling he’d be good at it.
As Jim split off to join one of the cafe groups, Sloane considered looking in on one of the other meetings. But they were all working so well together, and she couldn’t help feeling like she’d only throw them off if she interrupted them now, like a teacher peeking in on a group project. Distracting.
Maybe she could keep the lonely beach chairs company. Even after the long trip, though, it didn’t seem right to sit in the sand when everyone was working. Besides, she really hadn’t pictured doing that alone.
Somehow, perhaps inevitably, she found her feet carrying her toward the hotel. And, once she was in the lobby, to the elevator.
It wasn’t so much that she wanted to see Vin again—she didn’t—but that she owed it to herself for face him. She hadn’t demanded explanations when he’d reappeared, acting like he’d never left, like he’d never abandoned his crew and his ship on her doorstep. She hadn’t yelled at him, and he deserved to be yelled at. He really did.
Whatever he had to say to her now, whatever reason he’d requested her presence—wasn’t it so like the current version of Vin, to summon her to his side like a prince rather than a prisoner?—it couldn’t be as important as getting those answers for herself.
By the time she reached the top floor of the hotel, she was determined. And by the time the guards opened the door to let her into the room, she was furious.
Vin was sitting on a half-circle couch in the middle of the room, watching some vid drama on a wall-sized screen. The room was enormous, which made sense—it had to be the penthouse—and it looked as if it’d been ransacked. She hadn’t even realized her uncle had so much stuff to throw around. Clothes were strewn over the backs of every chair and dropped in piles on the floor. Plates and bowls covered every surface, from the coffee table to the kitchen island, while dirty silverware languished in cups. There was clearly a dish cycler in the middle of the counter, but it didn’t seem to matter.
The shades were closed, and the place smelled musty. And a little like Vin hadn’t showered since he’d last done dishes.
Her uncle looked up when she entered, clearly expecting a meal or a guard, or some visitor he’d grown used to over the past few days. When he saw her, his eyes widened, and he leapt out of his seat, diving for the nearest pile of clothes, which happened to be teetering on the end of the couch. As if he could hide them now.
“The mess,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think… I didn’t know you were coming.”
Sloane hovered by the door, trying to shove away the wave of emotion that rose at the sight of her uncle cleaning up, embarrassed by the mess. It made him too human, when she wanted him to be a monster.
“Why did you do it?” Her voice was low and quiet, yet Vin stopped fussing when she spoke, his arms still full of discarded shirts. Where had he even gotten this much laundry? The gift shop?
Vin sighed. His eyes were sunken, as if he hadn’t been sleeping, the lines in his cheeks digging deeper than they had even a few days ago. “I’m sorry I tried to take the ship,” he said. “I was upset, but it’s no excuse.”
No kidding, it was no excuse. She didn’t trust his apology or his reasonable tone. She didn’t trust it at all. “No,” she said. “I mean, why did you leave it with me in the first place?”
Vin set the pile of clothes back where it had been, then brushed his hands together, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I never expected you to pursue all this. I just, I figured you’d leave Moneymaker in the academy hangar. I figured Alex and Hilda would part ways, and eventually I’d be back. Pull the crew together again, if I could.”
As if they meant nothing to him. As if they were employees, and nothing more. Sloane shook her head in disbelief. “You disappeared. Your crew cared about you, and so did your family. You just expected us to accept that you’d vanished without a trace? Obviously we were going to try and find you.”
“I didn’t—”
But Sloane wasn’t finished. “When I abandoned them, they waited for me. For weeks. I shouldn’t have left them either, and I should have known they’d wait for me. You should’ve known, too. They’re loyal. They’re family.”
Vin rubbed his hands together again, his dry skin rasping with the gesture. “It was… I thought I’d be back. I did, truly I did. I thought I’d be in time to prevent Striker from making his move. And if I did that, we could just keep going the way we’d been. But then…” He licked his lips. “But then I saw the ships he’d amassed on Olton Moon, and I knew it was too late.”
So he’d abandoned them in the midst of what he alone had known was a coming crisis. “It’s not too late,” Sloane said. “We’re winning.”
“It might look that way.”
“It is that way.”
“He’s too powerful.” Vin darted a glance toward the windows, like he was afraid Striker could hear him talking right now. “And working with the Fleet isn’t going to change that. They’re corrupt, Sloane. Commander Fortune might pretend to be a friend, but he will turn on you. I know that for certain.”
For a second, she’d almost thought they might have a chance at reaching common ground. That she might get through to him. But it was obvious his vendetta against the Fleet would leave him unable to see the real picture before it was too late. It was a sickness, one she couldn’t cure.
“Is he here with you?” Vin asked. “Commander Fortune?”
Disgusted, she turned away, ready to be finished with him.
“Sloane,” he called after her, “you can’t keep working with—”
She walked out, uninterested in hearing the end of the sentence. She let the door slam behind her, then kicked the wall before she remembered there were guards out here to witness her temper tantrum. The closest of the two was looking at her in open concern. He looked familiar somehow, though she couldn’t quite place him. She’d seen a lot of Fleet soldiers lately.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Sloane brushed a strand of hair out of her face, trying to pull herself together. “I’m fine. Do you happen to know which room Commander Fortune’s in?”
“I’ll check.” The guard paused, and she frowned at him, distracting herself with trying to remember who he was. Which must’ve been obvious, because he added, “It’s Ensign Sands, ma’am.”
“Right. From the infirmary.” She’d met him after the rescue mission to the Forge, when the fight with the dinosaur-duck monster had landed her in Sabre’s med bay. She’d been avoiding Gareth at the time, if she remembered correctly.
“Good few days,” he said.
“I’m still better at cards than you.”
“Acknowledged, ma’am.”
She snorted. “I’m not in the Fleet. It’s just Sloane. How’re the headaches?”
“Better here on Lostelle. Air’s cleaner.”
“Glad to hear it.”
There was a pause, and then he nodded. “Commander’s in 14C.”
“Thanks, Ensign. Catch you for cards when you’re off duty?”
He grinned. “Absolutely, ma’am.”
She pointed at him. “I will kick you if you don’t cut that out.”
“I wouldn’t want that.”
“You really wouldn’t. I wear sharp shoes.”
Gareth was in his room when she made her way downstairs, and judging from the look of sympathy on his face as he opened the door, he knew exactly where she’d been. She stormed inside, ready to throw random belongings around herself. Though what that would fix, she couldn’t exactly say. Also, she hadn’t really brought any belongings in from the ship.
“I take it Vin’s still an ass?” Gareth asked.
“And completely delusional.”
He leaned back on the edge of the couch, watching her pace. Which was somewhat of a challenge, since his room wasn’t quite as large as Vin’s. Didn’t matter. She had to expend this nervous energy somehow. If she had to bounce between walls to let it out, then she’d do it.
She’d spent all this time searching for Vin, knowing good and well he might be out of her reach, that he might be dead. And when he finally showed up, he acted like he was in the right.
And it hurt, damn it. It hurt. Even if his excuses had made sense, even if they were completely reasonable rather than raving delusions about the Fleet’s unworthiness, it would still hurt. Because he’d abandoned them, and he didn’t care. At all.
She never should have gone up there.
Gareth just let her rant, nodding occasionally, resting the heels of his hands on the arm of the couch. He could have said any number of things—namely ‘I could have told you that’ and ‘obviously’—but he didn’t. He just listened until she stopped pacing long enough to brush angry tears out of her eyes.
At which point she saw him, truly saw him, for the first time in a while. He was serious, and he was solid—and he was not the person she’d expected to encounter in all of this. Not the partner she’d wanted, to put it bluntly. Somehow, against all reason, he was the exact person she needed.
What was the point of railing against Vin? She had everything right here.
Sloane let herself go to Gareth, let herself lean against him. He touched his forehead against hers, his fingers caressing her hair. “To answer your question,” he said softly, “yes, I’m thinking of a career change.”
Her heart jumped, and she leaned closer, until he was only a breath away. She’d thought… but she hadn’t been sure. And it was true that she hadn’t been able to voice her feelings, had hardly had time to put them into words. She’d never been all that good with having emotions and then expressing those emotions, or anything that had to do with emotions, really. Maybe that was why she’d never been all that good with relationships in general.
“Really?” she breathed.
He brushed his lips against hers, gentle. “Yes. But first, those beach chairs.”
“First save the galaxy,” she said. “Then the chairs.”
CHAPTER 6
Sloane’s breathing had eased to a quiet rhythm some time ago, but Gareth hadn’t yet shifted his mind to rest. He should be exhausted—he was exhausted, to his core—but tonight, he was having difficulty quieting his thoughts enough for sleep.
Gold-tinted moonlight filtered into the room, tempered by reddish hues that made it feel like someone had wrapped the world in rosy foil. If he could crack open one of those floor-to-ceiling windows without disturbing Sloane, the gentle murmur of waves might join it. He could almost hear them now, the way they’d wash into the room like a lullaby. It’d been weeks since he’d had the chance to sleep in such comfortable accommodations. Maybe even years. If only his swirling thoughts would allow him to take advantage.
It wasn’t concern for his own future that made sleep elusive tonight. The idea of leaving the Fleet was nothing new to him; in fact, he thought part of him might have been contemplating it since he’d watched Sloane dive into that fighting ring on Shard. It felt right in a way he couldn’t put words to, so much so that he suspected he’d eventually have made a move in that direction, even without Sloane in his life. But when his body was tangled with hers as it was now, her head resting on his shoulder… It was the easiest decision he’d ever made. Truly, he’d make it again a thousand times.
No, it was her description of her uncle, and the man’s dangerous pessimism about the fate of the galaxy, that bred tonight’s insomnia. Striker was powerful, true enough; they’d be fools to underestimate him just because they’d won a few battles. That much, Gareth could understand.
But why did Vin continue to insist that the Fleet was corrupt? There was the intelligence director’s betrayal, of course, which had led to Fane’s easy fall. Certainly, Gareth should have detected signs of West’s true alliances. But even his mother hadn’t—she’d surely have alerted him—so he had to absolve himself for having been fooled.
