But with Saby… with Saby…
Hell, he thought. He was physically attracted, he was in the mood and now shewas zeroed out.
He shifted down to the end of the bed, not too gently, hoping to rouse a little attention by quasi-accident. Didn't work. He wanted her. Still. And worse. He grabbed her ankle under the blanket. Shook her foot. Hard.
Not a twitch. He sat there a moment, thinking it was a hell of a thing to do to a guy.
But if he woke her out of this sound a sleep she was going to come out of it mad.
Which wasn't the reaction he wanted.
The bed was wide enough. It was the last night before board-call, and he didn't think he was going to sleep, now, he was just going to lie there, wide awake, and worry.
But hell, too, if he was going to turn up in somebody's bed uninvited. There was a rude word for that. So he got up and headed for the bath and a—he glanced at the clock—an 0558 hours shower.
"Tom."
Nowshe was awake. She sat up on an elbow. The glitz blouse sparked blue in the night-light. "You want to?"
"Want to, what?" He was in a mood to be difficult. Now she wasn't. She reached out a glitter-patterned arm, a mottling of shadow and light.
"Do it, you know."
"Were you asleep?"
"No," she said, to his surge of temper. "Curious."
"Curious, hell! I'm not interested!"
"I've got a ship to protect!"
Loose logic always threw him. He got as far as the bathroom door. And stopped. And looked back.
"From what? From me? I'm not the one walking the corridors in the deep dark, thanks, I've beenscrewed, or something like it, by one of your night-walking shipmates, and nobody asked mypermission."
"Shit," Saby said, and sat upright. "You're kidding."
"It's no damn joke. I'm notflattered.—I prefer to be awake, thank you, the same courtesy I give anybody else."
"Shit, shit, shit. " It was dismay he heard. Saby got out of bed. " 'Scuse me. It's not me that did it. I know who. Damn her. I'm sorry."
That was fine. So it wasn't Saby crawling the corridors. He never had thought so. And he didn't need the shower, now, but he wasn't inclined to sleep, now, any time soon, and the bath was an excuse not to deal with Saby.
"Tom."
"I'm not in the mood, now. Forget it."
"Tom. Wait. Talk."
"What's the difference? I'm going back. Nothing in hell else I can do. You win. You've got all the answers."
"It's not going to be like it was."
"Like what? Shanghaied off my ship? Is that going to change?"
"Other things can change. You can work into crew. The allowances are huge, I mean, it's not just the captain picking up the tab, the hired-crew lives real well. You couldn't do better on Sprite. "
Some things maybe you didn't want to question. Some things could be real trouble to question. But he was in it, deep, and deeper.
"What's Corinthianhaul?"
"No different than Sprite. "
"The hell it isn't."
"We sell, we buy, no damn difference—"
"Then where? Is that the question? Where do you haul it to? Can we handle that one?"
Silence, the other side of the dark. Then: "Ask Austin."
" Austin, is it?"
"Most of the time. To us. To regular crew. You could do what you trained to do—"
"On a damn pirate?"
"Just a hauler. Nothingwe're ashamed of. We're damn proud of our ship. We've reason to be proud."
He wanted to believe that. He had no idea how many dicings of logic it might take to believe it didn't matter… who you traded with, or for what, or with what blood on it.
Silence again. And dark. Then: "I've already said more than I should. Aboard the ship, I'll tell you. You don't talk in sleepovers. Some stations bug rooms. Pell doesn't—that we know of. But still—"
He'd never heard that. But no station had ever had a motive to bug Spritecrew's rooms. And it didn't change anything.
"Yeah," he said, "so the pay's good. That says a lot."
"I'm not a criminal. Austin isn't."
"That's not the rumor."
"I sleep at night."
"Is that a testimony to your character?"
"You don't know our business, you don't know a damn thing. You're assuming."
"I'm going back because I can't go to the cops without get ting stuck on this station. That's all you need. That's as much as you can buy, I don't care what else you're selling."
Another silence. A thunderous, long one before Saby returned to her bed, shadow in shadow, a rustling in the dark. She sat down. He couldn't see detail by the night-light, it was too close to her. He couldn't see her face, whether she was just mad, or hurt.
Didn't need to have said 'selling. ' Wrong word. Real wrong word. He'd been on the receiving end of words too often not to feel it racket through his nervous system.
"Sorry," he said. "I can believe you. Not him."
Silence. A long time. He didn't want the solitude of the bath, now, but he didn't think he was going to sleep. Still, she didn't move.
Not for as long as he waited.
"Saby, dammit, I'm sorry."
"Sure. No problem. " The voice wobbled. Unfair. "Go to bed. I said no sex. I don't need the damn favor, all right?"
"Saby. This is stupid."
"Fine."
"My father told you to get me in bed?"
"No!"
Wrong step, again. He couldn'tsleep with Saby hating his guts. He wasn't going to sleep. Shewas going to talk to him and calm down. "I liked tonight, Saby. For God's sake, I did. I had a good time. " He couldn't restrain the barb. "When papa lets me out of the brig I'd like to do it again, somewhere."
Long pause. "There's still tonight."
"I'm not in the damn mood! God!"
Another watery silence.
"Dammit," he said, "I'm worried.—I'm scared, all right? I'm making the wrong choice, I'm doing something stupid, maybe I shouldstay here and deal with the cops, maybe it's better I get stranded for the rest of my life, I don't know!"
"Tom."
"God,—fuck off, will you?"
He hadn't meant to say that. He was rattled. He was cornered. It was six in the damn morning of the day he had to go back or go nowhere for the rest of his life.
He saw the shadow lie down, heard the rustle of sheets drawn up.
"Saby."
Silence.
"Saby, dammit. " He went over to the bed. He sat down on the edge, shook her foot.
Jerk of that foot, out of his vicinity. "No favors. I'm sorry. Forget it."
He sat there a moment, obdurate against the silence. He tried to think how to patch it. Found the foot again and patted it, a lump under the covers.
She didn't move.
"It was an experience," he said, unwilling to break it off in her angry silence. "It's been a good time. " More silence. But no jerk away from him. "It's just over, is all. Bills come due. Don't know if I can handle this one."
Foot moved. Second one joined it. Wiggled toes against his leg, once, twice.
He patted it, too. "Get some sleep. " He started to get up.
"Tom. " Saby reached out an arm. "Tom,—"
"Don't play games. Go to sleep."
"It's not games, dammit. I can't talk to you, I can't make sense."
Still upset. She'd found his arm, he found her knee. He sat there, just glad he'd made some kind of peace, moved his hand, she moved hers, a clumsy, mutual peace-making that wasn't, then, only that, he wasn't sure if it was him, or her, going past that, but they were past that, her arm sliding up, his sliding down, bodies shifting—