She returned her attention to the control panel before he could be sure. Im just a bottom feeder.
What I do doesnt matter.
Mara
Drop it. She punched buttons on the panel with unnecessary force. The only reason Im on this mission is because the 8th Wing blackmailed me into it, not for some greater good.
A strange double sensation of both remorse and righteous anger pierced him. He didnt like the fact that the 8th Wing had coerced her into cooperating. It made them little better than PRAXIS. But how could anyone insist on neutrality in a war that affected everybody?
Your allegiances are clear. He started pacing again, because that was all he could do.
And if were drawing lines in the sand, she added, youd better stay on your side.
Meaning what?
Meaning I dont need you getting into a dick-measuring contest when PRAXIS comes calling.
He felt the blade of her words between his ribs. Right. Better to just play Nitikkan checkers while that PRAXIS jackass assaults you.
I was assaulted? She batted her lashes with mock astonishment. It must have happened without me noticing. Not a very good assault, then.
He glowered at her. Lesson learned. Next time I feel like protecting you, Ill punch myself in the face as a reminder not to.
The anger in her expression slowly dissolved, giving way to uncertainty. Protecting me? Is thatIs that what you were doing?
He didnt answer her, but the look he shot her was answer enough.
Protecting your way into the Smoke Quadrant, she said. Right?
She saw only what she wanted to see. Nothing he said made a difference. Frustrated, he turned and kicked the little table in the galley, denting it. No wonder you work alone.
He stalked off, but wasnt going to get very far. From a porthole, he saw the retreating lights of the PRAXIS ship. For now, it wasnt a threat. PRAXIS wasnt crazy enough to follow them into the wilds of the Smoke Quadrant.
As Mara guided them toward their destination, he looked through a front-facing porthole and saw the faintest trace of red in the distance. Before anyone could enter the Smoke, they had to breach Ildens Lash.
He didnt know what was going to be more dangerousthe ring of fire encircling the quadrant,
the murderous thieves and scoundrels who lived there, or the woman piloting this ship.
Chapter Three
he came from, what made him join the 8th Wing, if he liked reading or preferred watching vidsand her curiosity unsettled her. Normally, she didnt give a damn about someones life story. Learning more about them made her own life too complicated.
But something about Commander Frayne spoke to her, reached her, no matter how much she wanted to preserve her isolation. And that bothered her.
She spent most of her time silent, going about her business without speaking to another person for hours, if not days. Yet the silence between her and Frayne grated, reminding her how those silent days were often more lonely than peaceful.
Foods not too spicy, is it? I developed a liking for Tulian peppers and put them in everything.
Gods, could she be more banal?
Not too spicy. I like it hot.
Of course he did. More than the Tulian peppers made her face heat. She took a long pull from her bottled water and vowed to keep quiet.
As soon as they finished eating, they returned to the cockpit. He filled the small space, not just with his size, but his presence. A radiance of energy around him, male and potent.
She needed to get away from him.
With almost eighteen solar hours to kill before reaching the outer perimeter of the Smoke, the best use of time would be to get some rest. She had navigated Ildens Lash dozens, maybe hundreds of times. But it was still dangerous, no matter how familiar, and she needed to rest before threading her ship through the belt of neoplanets and magma. A tired pilot was a dead pilot.
Ill take the controls while you sleep, Frayne said when she told him her plans.
Nobody touches the Arcadia s controls but me. She punched in the directional coordinates and set the ship to autopilot. All sensors were engaged, so if anything or anyone came within a solar hour of the ship an alert would sound, waking even the deepest sleeper. Just one of the many modifications shed made to her baby. Cant be a solo flyer without a little technical assistance.
The commander didnt look pleased to be superseded by the autopilot, but she didnt care. This was her ship, her rules.
If you dont like it, she suggested, you can get out and walk.
He did not bother to respond to this. Instead, he stared out the front display, eyes intent on the red miasma of Ildens Lash in the distance.
From the corner of her eye, she followed the hard, clean lines of his profile, the strong nose, full bottom lip. A few creases in the corners of his eyes from years of squinting in the unfiltered starlight.
That tiny scar at the very edge of one eyebrowit looked like it came from a knife, not a plasma weapon. He was rugged. A fighter.
She had to wonderwhat truly made him want to protect her from the PRAXIS captain? Had Frayne been a fellow scavenger or smuggler, she would immediately know the answer to that. Self interest. Had the commander been anyone else in the 8th Wing, she would make the same guess.