Last time she’d listened, she’d dropped the damn sword, so she put her barriers back up, those constructed walls of thought to keep her centered. She focused on Nate, on his ragged breathing, the warm weight of his humanity as it touched her side. That physical contact brought more of what he was feeling to her, that friend/not-trust/family/protect/trust, over and over. Grace was buffeted by it.
It made her feel warm, so she held him tighter.
She’d believed, really believed she might have a place on this ship. Against all the odds, against what she’d seen, because of what Nate was feeling. Right until she’d slapped a frantic hand on the door controls, the hull of the Tyche cool and solid under her hand. The door had slid open with a low cthunk, and she’d looked up, one foot on the metal of the gangway, the other still on Absalom’s dirt, and had the blaster pushed into her face.
Looking up beyond the blaster, she saw a hand. Big knuckles, used to hitting things. Grace lifted her head higher, took in Kohl’s face, and said, “Oh, fuck’s sake. Of all the people who could meet us, you’re the one?”
“Okay,” said Kohl. He turned his face back to someone behind him. “I’m pretty sure she’s still human.”
“Of course I’m still human,” said Grace. “You asshole. Help me with the captain.”
“No,” said Kohl.
Grace looked at his face, at the blaster that hadn’t moved. “He’s human too,” she said. “I’m pretty sure he’s got internal bleeding.”
“Sounds bad,” said Kohl, not moving.
“What’s worse,” said Grace, “is that we’re here on the doorstep of fucking salvation and you’re in the way.”
“Let ’em in,” said El’s voice, from somewhere behind Kohl. The Helm stepped out from behind the doorway, an old, ugly kinetic weapon in her hand. “We’ve had worse things here than a little internal bleeding.”
“Worse?” said Grace. She looked at Kohl, then at El. Looked for Hope. “Where’s Hope?”
“Yeah,” said El. “Well, that’s the thing.” She turned away, holstering her weapon.
Grace hauled Nate in with her, pushing around Kohl. She saw the cargo bay, a slop pile of human remains on the floor, and she felt something sick in her stomach. “Is that…”
“No,” said Kohl. “That, there, is just one less asshole.”
“Penn?” said Grace.
“Not anymore,” said El. She cycled the ship’s lock, shutting Absalom’s dangers out. “You’d best see for yourself.”
• • •
The sickbay was like Grace remembered. A cheap machine keeping a patient alive. Except this time, it wasn’t Kohl in there, it was Hope, and she was in some kind of coma.
“It looks bad,” said El. “But I think we got to her in time.”
“What do you mean by, ’in time?’” said Grace. She was getting nothing from Hope, just background noise. Hope wasn’t dead, but she sure was out to lunch.
“If you hadn’t gone off,” said Kohl, “this wouldn’t have happened. That’s what she means. We’d have had two more guns.”
“Kohl,” said Nate. His voice was weak. He was slumped on the floor, face gone ashen.
“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” said Kohl.
“Yes,” said Grace, “you are.” She was looking at El, who was radiating concern/fear/distrust in about equal measure.
“I am?” said Kohl. He looked surprised.
“You’re not saying what Nate’s thinking,” said Grace, “but El’s on message with you.”
“Hey,” said El, “I didn’t say—”
“You’re right,” said Grace. “It is my fault.”
“It’s the fucking Ezeroc’s fault,” said Nate. He tried to get himself to his feet using his sword — Grace had given it back to him — before he coughed, winced, and slumped back. “The aliens—”
“Oh, so the aliens got her,” and Kohl jerked a meaty thumb at Grace, “to lead you into the forest?”
“She didn’t lead me,” said Nate. “It wasn’t—”
“You both left us,” said El. “You left us and we almost died.”
Grace could feel the situation unraveling, all of them trying not to look at Hope’s unconscious form, all of them trying to find someone to blame for it. Like a pack of too-hungry dogs, nipping at each other. She cleared her throat. “The thing is—”
“The thing is,” said Kohl, “that you’ve brought nothing but bad luck since you got here.”
“It’s not like it was her fault that the reactor blew,” said Nate. “It’s just that—”
“Wasn’t it?” said El. “Our reactor was fine. She gets on board, and—”
No sword. But she shouldn’t need one. Not here. Because Nate said this was a family. “I—” began Grace.
“And then,” said Kohl, “we get out here, and there’s a shit show. Aliens. A fucked-up destroyer. A planet with no people on it.”
“She couldn’t have done that,” said Nate. “Because how? I mean, Kohl, think about it. How would she—”
“I don’t know,” said Kohl, “but I say we throw her out.”
“That’s—” said Nate.
“Because if you hadn’t gone,” said El, “Hope wouldn’t have been caught by that … thing. Whatever Penn was.”
“Penn was a person,” said Nate, “who got infected by aliens—”
“I reckon,” said Kohl, “that she’s been infected by aliens. I reckon that your little girlfriend here is infected, or is in league with them. She’s talking to them, Cap, and you can’t see it.”
“Now hold on, Kohl,” said Nate. “That’s—”
“He’s right,” said Grace.
Silence.
Grace looked at Nate, then at El, and finally, at Kohl. “It’s not what you think, or even the way you think it,” she said. “You’re thinking in straight lines. You’re thinking Penn was just some guy who got unlucky. You’re thinking these aliens are hunting us.”
Silence, then Kohl said, “So?”
“Penn,” said Grace, “got the aliens to come here. Lured them in.”
“Doesn’t explain the Ravana,” said El. “It doesn’t explain—”
“Sure it does,” said Grace. “The Ravana did a runner. Full sail, straight on until morning. Her captain saw what was going on down there. Her captain didn’t do the stupid thing,” and here, Grace’s internal voice said the brave but still idiotic thing, “of trying to help people. Her captain hauled up the anchor and punched the black. And they died, because they got scared. Just like you are, Kohl.”
“I ain’t scared,” he said. “I ain’t—”
“You reek of it,” said Grace. She tossed a glance at El. “I know she’s scared, because she’s always scared.”
“Hey—” said El.
“But you? It’s a foreign fucking concept, isn’t it? October Kohl, afraid. Well, get used to it. What did you call it? A shit show? I can assure you it’ll get shittier, like an open sewer. And you’ll get more and more scared.” Grace took a step towards the big man. “What’s really eating at you,” she hissed, “is that you were sleeping. You were helped on to this ship by me,” and here, Grace pointed a thumb at her own chest, “while you put your feet up. While El did the hard stuff. While—”
She choked. Not because she was a running out of words, but because Kohl had grabbed her throat. The man had moved so fast she hadn’t even seen it coming, his fingers like a vice. He’d slammed her up against the glass window of the sickbay, his face next to hers. She struck out, fingers stabbing at the soft area under the armpit, a kick to his groin, because he was holding her off the ground. He dropped his shoulder against her fingers, her nukite starved of energy, and shifted his inner thigh against her foot. She kicked nothing but leg, and it felt like kicking a tree — the tree just didn’t care.