What if he was dead?
What did she do then?
Destroy the people who killed him. Easy answer. But what happened after?
"… think you're too fukking good to pay attention?"
The voice had been a constant background drone for a few minutes, but that last bit had volume enough to break through her thoughts. The grip on her shoulder snapped her the rest of the way back to the here and now.
The slam of bone against the table brought a moment's silence, a roar of laughter, then the business of the bar carried on.
He was Human, Torin's height, and his bare arms were heavily muscled. He might have been attractive, but the blood running down his face from above one eyebrow made it hard to tell.
Torin grabbed a fistful of vest and hauled him up onto his feet. Looking past him, she spotted three di'Taykan and a Human who were still finding the situation funny. "He with you?" she asked, raising her voice slightly. When one of the di'Taykan indicated he was, she shoved him in their general direction, sat down, and accepted a fresh beer from Werst.
"Price of these things is fukking proof piracy isn't confined to space," he said, as she took a drink. They sat silently, watching an orange-haired server clean up the blood with practiced efficiency. "Seems like you've solidified your more badass than thou reputation, though," he continued once they were essentially alone again. "Nicely done, Gunny. I know how you did it and barely saw you move. You okay?"
"Thought you said you were watching?"
"Not what I meant."
"I'm fine."
"Really? Because I'd be willing to bet you haven't bothered doing anything since Ryder was taken but try to get him back."
"Your point?"
"I'd be willing to bet," he repeated, "you haven't ranted or raged or used any of time you spent in Susumi to fall apart for a few minutes."
"Who would that help?"
"You."
Torin thought about sticking with the party line, gunnery sergeants didn't fall apart-not for a few minutes, not at all-but gunnery sergeants had the entire Corps helping to hold them together, and she'd given that up.
"All that pressure you're under…" Werst tapped a fingernail against his glass. "Cracks are starting to show, Gunny."
A missed drop of blood gleamed a translucent crimson in the light from the menu.
"I'm not under…"
What if Craig was dead? What if they were too late?
Fuk it. Torin took another swallow of the overpriced, watered beer. "Trust me, I'll use that pressure, let it blow when we find the Heart."
Werst shrugged. "As long as it doesn't use you. The Heart's here. It was here with a cargo. It went away. It came back sometime yesterday."
"But while they were here the first time," Ressk added, sitting down, "word is, they were acting strange. Rumor has it they'd scored big but weren't sharing. Were selling only a small fraction of what they had, and weren't talking about the rest. And then Big Bill got involved. That Krai ship, the Dargonar-you questioned the crew…"
"I know what I did, Ressk."
"Right, well, it left the same time as the Heart. Sent out with the Heart by Big Bill. They aren't back yet."
"Given their last meeting with the gunny, that's a good thing," Werst muttered. "And now the Heart's docked down where the processed ore used to get loaded onto the drones. It's not on an arm, it's sucking on the actual station. And no one docks way the fuk down there without Big Bill's approval."
"No one docks at this station without Big Bill's approval," Torin reminded them.
"Yeah, but where the Heart is now, that's off the beaten path."
"Considerably off," Ressk agreed. "Question still outstanding is why?"
"You could always ask Mackenzie Cho, ex Naval officer, current captain of the Heart of Stone." Mashona grabbed an empty chair from the next table and sat carefully. "Seems he finds di'Taykan service distracting." Her teeth flashed white in the dim light of the bar. "He drinks down the concourse at the Sleepless Goat."
Mashona watched Werst go into the Goat through narrowed eyes. "You sure this is going to work?"
"You've known me almost ten years," Ressk snorted. "If we switched clothes, could you tell the two of us apart?"
"Are you likely to switch clothes?" Mashona's brows went up. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Fuk off. Point is, it's a Human bar. Werst asks the bartender if he's seen Cho because the serley chrika stiffed a friend of his, bartender's not going to suddenly ID Werst from the furball's vids."
"You know she can hear you, right?"
"Doesn't scare me."
"And you're supposed to be the smart one."
"Smart enough not to sit on that bench. Your nose is just decorative, right?"
Leaning back against the recycling chute, eating a steamed momo she'd bought from a food cart, Torin kept the camera attached to her tunic pointed toward the door of the Goat and listened to Mashona and Ressk fill time with meaningless chatter. She chewed a little more vigorously than the minced filling required, the burn of the chutney almost covering the familiar taste of the vat. Years in had taught her how to wait but didn't change the fact that waiting sucked.
Craig was on the station. Or on a ship attached to the station.
So close.
When Werst finally emerged, although objectively he hadn't been more than ten minutes, he stopped by the same food cart for a kabob before joining them. Torin had known he was going to do it, throw off any attention he might have gained, but she still had to bite back an order that he get his ass in gear and deliver the damned sitrep.
"Cho hasn't been in since the Heart got back to the station." Werst took a look at the bench and stayed standing. "None of his crew have. Whatever they needed your boy for, it's keeping them at the ship.
Ressk held out a hand and Werst dropped the last bite of kabob into it.
"Seriously, guys…" Mashona's brows were back up. "… is there something you want to tell me?"
"You're sitting in…"
"Not about that."
Torin crumpled the momo's wrapper and tossed it down the chute as she straightened. "They're all in one place. Let's go." "I warned him about fukking around." Cho's voice was an ice pick that slammed into Craig's head beside the hot pokers.
Hot and cold shifted when Huirre let go, and Craig's knees hit the deck. Feeling like his head was about to explode, he curled forward, hands digging into his hair trying to relieve some of the pressure. Somehow, he managed to get an eye open as footsteps approached and stopped, and he found himself staring down at the toe of Doc's stained boots.
"He was alone with a di'Taykan, Captain." Doc sounded amused. "I'm not surprised."
"Not actual fukking!" Cho snarled. "Not this time. Nadayki says Ryder forced himself to vomit."
"And Nadayki's an expert on Human physiognomy now? Beyond the obvious? Isn't it more likely," Doc continued, before the captain could answer, "that as he defines himself by his skills, he hates needing Ryder's help to get into the armory. Odds are high, he's lying."
"Doesn't matter if he is. He says he can get through the last layer on his own. You said the station medic needs organs…"
Cho's foot connected with his ribs. Craig slammed down on his side, gasping for breath. The way he felt right now, they could take his brain. He wouldn't miss it.
"While breaking him down for parts…"
Oh, fukking hell. Craig tensed, sending muscles into painful spasms. They weren't kidding about the organs.
"… would bring us a tidy profit," Doc agreed, "consider two things." Even through the pain, Doc sounded terrifyingly reasonable. Craig tried to crawl away, but another kick from Cho dropped him flat on the deck. "All right, three points. One, stop bruising the merchandise. And two, at this point in the proceedings, I have to reiterate that Nadayki could be talking out of his ass. He says he can get through the last layer on his own, but you have no reason to trust that and every reason to believe it's what he wants you to believe to maintain his place in the crew. It might be wise to keep Mr. Ryder around until the job is done."