“Works for me. I’ll be glad to have it back in my room where it belongs. What about you, Gareth?”

  Gareth glanced down at the pair of twenty-credit chips remaining from what he’d cashed out. Forty credits wouldn’t keep him in the game. Shit. He placed his datapad on the table, unable to bear losing anything more valuable than that, though it would still be a grand gone to waste. Morna’s eyes shone with interest when the thin glass shard unfolded and activated, powering up to reveal its model as proof of value. Regret sliced across Jinx’s features.

  The mechanic slouched down in his seat and hung his head. “Damn. I’d have stayed in if I knew you were putting that on the table.”

  “Bloody brand-new model. How well does the damned Royal Navy pay these days?” Ranulf demanded.

  “Not nearly enough.” He grinned. “I just don’t have enough of a life to spend my earnings on anything else.”

  “Welp, your loss,” Morna crowed. “Read ’em and weep, boys. Read ’em and weeeeep.”

  She laid her cards out on the table, revealing a straight flush, queen high. Ranulf groaned and threw his cards to the table. He’d only had four of a kind.

  “C’mon, pretty boy. Show us your hand.”

  Gareth laid down his cards, not even trying to hide his grin. Ranulf took one look and broke out in hearty guffaws, while Morna’s triumphant smile slid right off her face. His royal flush won the round.

  “You have one hell of a poker face,” Lissa muttered. “I was positive your hand would be as shitty as mine.”

  “Practice. Lots of people on the ship to play against.”

  Jinx gathered up all the cards and started to shuffle. “Another round?”

  “Nah, not for me.” Gareth gathered up his winnings and scanned the chips. “Nice doing business with you gents, but I think I’m done for the night.”

  “What?” Ranulf blustered. “You’re not giving me the chance to win back my drink?”

  Gareth beamed as he cashed out his earnings. It may not have been as much as he arrived with, but he’d taken a valuable prize. “Nope. One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned playing poker in the Royal Navy is to quit when I’m ahead.”

  “I’ll drop the cask by your room later, asshole.”

  “Thanks for everything.” Whistling a cheerful tune, Gareth strode from the lounge to his stateroom.

  * * *

  Gareth reported bright and early to have a seat with Morna at the comms, though her station was located just off the bridge on the smaller vessel. On the Jemison, an entire room had been dedicated to running comms. Jinx kept the terminal to her left, where he worked on programming when he wasn’t somewhere deep in the belly of the ship living up to his mechanic duties.

  “I’m telling you. This is a critical update for Gryph’s systems,” Jinx argued.

  Rolling her eyes, Morna turned away to pluck a bowl of ice cream from the adjacent table. “Any person can do that job. Captain isn’t going to buy it.”

  “She will if you validate it.”

  “I’m not validating a frivolous purchase to make your job a little easier, dude.”

  “It’s not frivolous. Oh my God, why can’t you just listen?”

  “Listened, heard it, unconvinced.”

  Grinning, Gareth slid into the vacant terminal to her right. “Which one of you is older?” His gaze shifted to Morna, suspecting her.

  “Morna,” Jinx confirmed, looking glum.

  “What gave us away?”

  “Two things. First, I heard Jinx say he wasn’t letting his sister take him for everything last night. Second, I’m a twin, but he’s still my older brother. I went through the same thing when we left home together.”

  “Oh,” Morna said.

  “So my second guess is that you guys haven’t been part of her crew for too long.”

  “Two years,” she replied. “Jinx came on last year when the old mechanic got blitzed by a faulty eventide cluster in engineering.”

  Gareth stared. “Why didn’t the—”

  “He cut corners wiring the energy modulator, so instead of fizzling out, it scorched him down to the bone. Doc said he probably went fast. Didn’t feel a thing.”

  Of all the ways to die on a star ship, getting scorched by an engine component had to be about one of the worst. He grimaced and booted up the terminal to begin his search.

  “Anyway, grisly details aside, we’ve been hunting around for any intel we can find on the name Izik, and also made contact with your brother. He sent me a link to this about five minutes before you arrived,” Morna said, duplicating her browser to his terminal.

  “Psychic wanted for long term, unpaid internship. Hundred thousand credits offered to a fixer who can provide references.” A wrinkle slid across Gareth’s brow. “Why the hell would anyone agree to that?”

  “It’s code,” the young woman said, winking. “Code for slave wages. You have to read between the lines. They’re not asking for references or a legitimate fixer. They want a slaver to provide some psychic flesh to them. Either for a slave or… you know, an experiment, given the shit that’s been going down lately.”

  Gareth skimmed down the screen. “Must speak Volk. That’s a dialect of Russian adopted by the ASR.”

  “You’ve done your homework.” She slid a mountain of chocolate ice cream into her mouth then grimaced at the inevitable brain freeze.

  He chuckled at her. “I speak and read it.”

  Both techies exchanged a glance, Morna’s brown eyes going wide. “You just decided to become fluent in Volk one day?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nobody learns Volk for the hell of it, Lockhart. Most people who learn it are hackers. I know it, because duh, it’s what I do. Morna’s been learning it for a couple years, but I started it when I was a kid. Not an easy lingo to master.”

  “Maybe I learned it as part of the job. I’m a communications man.”

  Jinx leaned back in his seat and crossed one leg over his other knee. “Bullshit. It takes years to learn Volk since its creators wanted it to vary from the standard Russian. You have to learn it from someone who knows it. Most of you UNE types rely on AI to translate for you unless you’re a special op doing deep cover work in ASR territory. And we already know your brother was the Ghost. Not you. He talked about it sometimes while he was here with us.”

  Damn. They had him there. “Let’s just say I did a lot of dumb kid shit before I enlisted in the Royal Navy. Did a lot of hacking, got into a wee spot of trouble just before I was due to receive my leaving certificates. The magistrate gave me a choice. Said I could finish school and follow in Dad’s footsteps or do a little juvenile time to teach me the consequences of hacking the intergalactic web. I picked the easy route.” He paused and tilted his head back, recalling all those painful hours in boot, the loss of privacy, the stress, the lack of a social life as he surrendered everything he’d ever known. “Seemed easy at the time, anyway. My brother didn’t like the idea of being left behind and joined me.”

  “Your bro joined the fucking military because he didn’t want to be left alone? Man, I don’t care how much I love my brother, if he joined the Force, he’d be doing that shit alone.”

  Gareth grinned at her while Jinx cackled. “Yeah. Wasn’t easy and I got a lot of shit from him. But our psychic scores were off the charts, and our recruiter was desperate enough to let us make a few of our own terms. One was that we wouldn’t be split up unless necessary. We didn’t go through boot together or tech school, ’cause they wanted to spare our trainers the headache of dealing with twins, but after that, we both served on the same ship.”

  “And now you’re a military hot shot,” Morna muttered.

  “Yeah. Kinda. Beats doing ten to fifteen for hacking into a government database.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t have gotten busted if I didn’t brag about it to the wrong people online.”

  “You know what’s funny,” Morna said, gazing thoughtfully at the screen while spooning ice cream into her mouth.

  “What?”

  “You’ve done more time in the Royal Marines than your original sentence would have been.”

  Gareth snickered. “I doubt I would have done that long of a stretch. Maybe a few years and some probation. I didn’t find out until a few years later that Da’ and the judge were best pals. They orchestrated the entire thing over drinks one night to teach me a lesson.” He reached the bottom of the classified ad and rubbed his chin. “Contact name is Izik. This looks like the right lead to follow, so let’s see what we can find on him.”

  Half an hour later, the three most skilled hackers in the system—excluding Kaiden—uncovered every ounce of dirt they could find on a man using the online handle “Izik”, down to a reputation for working closely with a few crime syndicates out of the ASR.

  “We going with this lead?” Jinx asked.

  Gareth stared at the screen. Echoes of a crying voice, pleas and choking sobs, trembled through his brain. He couldn’t get the woman’s desperate screams out of his head, or the betrayal in her voice. “It’s the only lead we have.”

  “Whatever you say, Chief.”

  “Chief?”

  “That’s your current rank, right?”

  A Cheshire grin spread across Jinx’s mouth, that and his green hair making him resemble a twenty-first-century comic villain Gareth read about years ago. “We decided you needed a handle. Did you think any of us use our real names here? You’re Chief now.”

  “Ahh. So what’s our plan?”

  Morna licked a streak of chocolate from the back of her spoon. “Maybe arrange a deal to sell some illegal merchandise with the guy.”

  “Count me in. He’s looking for a psychic. I’m a psychic.”

  Jinx’s green brows rose a mile high. “Offering yourself?”

  “Aye.”

  “Big balls on you then,” he muttered, looking impressed. “You Royal Marines are fucking crazy. We just need the bosslady’s permission, then. You mind convincing her to go along with the scheme, man?”

  Gareth glanced toward the curving staircase that would take him up to Evie’s private cabin. “Leave it to me.”

  Chapter Ten

  Gareth showed up at the captain’s quarters with the cask of spiced beer and the present he’d completely forgotten about. If anything would soften her up to his harebrained scheme, this would be it. So he hoped. He took a deep breath and then rapped on her door.

  It slid open to reveal an angelic vision on the other side. Evie both looked her age and didn’t, one of those timeless beauties of indiscernible age who probably still had to flash her chip to gain admittance into bars. He liked the freckles under her eyes high on her cheek bones, and her pouty lips.

  And mile long legs that went on and on forever. Wearing only a thin black tank top with no bra beneath, her full and perky breasts stood at attention. Gareth imagined drawing the tip of each one in his mouth, and his cock hardened stiffer than rebar.

  Damn. A little psychic nudge kept his erection out of sight, though it pained him.

  “Need something?” she coached him, the corner of her mouth raised in a half-smile.

  “Uh. Yeah. Care for a second date? Figured it was about time to repay your generosity for sharing that sweet bottle of Sargossan blue.”

  Evie’s gaze darted to the bottle in his hand. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Won it off Ranulf last night during that game of poker.”

  Then her brows flew up, and her smile widened. “You beat Ranulf? Without cheating?”

  Feeling undeniably smug about his victory, Gareth grinned back. “You can ask him yourself if I cheated, since he and Jinx wore sensors all night. They didn’t trust me either, but I behaved the entire time.”

  “Uh huh. You behaved.”

  “I did. Why does it matter, anyway? Are you saying you turn down immorally gained liquor?”

  “Technically, it isn’t liquor. It’s beer.”

  He grunted. “It hits as strong as liquor. Anyway, how often do you get to sample beer from Aaru? Be honest. You aren’t turning down free alcohol.”

  Her eyes filled with warmth and good humor. It was good to see her smiling again, especially after Omega 7 and the tangle of dead-ends they’d spent days unsnarling for the smallest clue. “Second date, huh?” A gesture of her hand beckoned him inside, then Evie shut the door behind him.

  “Yup. Or maybe 1.5, since we never finished the first one. I even came with a gift.”

  Her expression brightened and her gaze snapped to the box in his other hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I actually meant to give it to you on Ame. An anniversary present.”

  “Gareth, I…”

  He offered the gift, strangely queasy, worried now that it was too impersonal. A dumb gift. Unaware of his feelings, Evie tore into the packaging as eagerly as a child at Christmas. All his worries vanished the moment she squealed—actually squealed—and pulled the hyperspeed core from its protective case.

  “How did you get this?”

  “Put it together myself,” he said with more than a little pride in his voice. “You’d mentioned needing one and I tracked it down. Well, Kaiden tracked it down, but I built it. You, uh, still need it, right?”

  “I do. My bike was trashed after that whole deal with your brother and Nisrine.”

  “That’s what messed up your gear?” He laughed, unable to help himself. Now that he knew the truth, it all made absurd sense. “Well, once things are settled again, I’d love to help you fix your bike.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  She leaned in and kissed his cheek, the touch brief but warm. “Thank you for this. Really. It’s a perfect gift.”

  “You’re welcome.” He wanted more than a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he’d take what he could get. A genuinely pleased smile from Evie and the giddy joy swelling across her emotions were all the gratitude he needed. “So, shall we watch something while we enjoy our drink?”

  “Sure. I’ll put this away and get the glasses.”

  While she fetched a pair of semi-translucent ale mugs from an L-shaped wet bar in the corner, he settled on the loveseat in front of her personal holo and scrolled through her video library.

  “What are you in the mood for?” he asked, veering away from the flicks with movie covers featuring explosions and barrel-chested action stars. He’d had enough real-life action to crave the peace of a little comedy.

  “Anything but action tough guys. I need a laugh.”

  This woman was a keeper. With the additional days, if not weeks, they were bound to each other’s company, he hoped to prove to her that he was the same. Five years, she’d been his closest friend, and three years, they’d dated over the intergalactic web.

  Ignoring the actual mission that sent him to her stateroom, he poured their beer and savored the unique flavor of Lexar booze. It hit with twice, if not three times the potency, though Gareth had the benefit of his psionic powers and metabolized it faster.

  Evie nudged his thigh. “Refill.” Habit. Unless she picked up a rare item drop of sylvan wine while in the faerie realm, Gareth usually carried the drinks in his personal inventory. On date nights, he poured the booze and served the food.

  “This isn’t VR. You have arms,” he tossed her words back in a tease, a short-lived jest when her dark eyes cut to him and golden-red brows raised. He’d had a wife before and knew that look, acquainted with the expression over a decade of marriage. “Pouring.” He barely glanced from the holodisplay, possessing enough fine control over his psionic powers to pour a glass without spilling a drop.

  “Appreciated.” One sip of the golden brew slid an expression of pure euphoria onto her face. “Damn, this is good stuff. Thank you.”

  “Just returning the favor. Sargossan blue is one of my favorites.”

  For a while they sat in silence, watching movie previews and sipping delicious alcoholic nectar from the space gods.

  Evie broke the silence first, glancing askance at him. “So… How long have you been training your telekinesis to do stuff like that? I’ve met lots of A and B-class psychics before, but no one had that level of control.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. “I’m an S-rank psychic, lass, though even a B could pour you a drink as I did.”

  “True. But I’ve met enough psychics to know the likelihood of receiving my bloody drink in the actual mug is less than my chances of ending up with my cleavage or lap drenched in beer.” She nodded to her mug, the semi-translucent vessel decorated with an etching of the Eloran mountain range near Pacifica Cove. “Class usually refers to power and strength, not fine control or stamina.”

  “You know more than I expected about psychics.”

  “I was a Royal Navy officer, remember? Knowing the crew and their abilities is integral to command.”

  He tipped his head and studied her. “Easy to forget.”

  “There were times I suspected you of being a psychic when we played. Like I said to you a few weeks ago, you squint when you have a migraine in the real world. Medical improvements have cured chronic migraines for everyone but your sort.”

  “It’s true. And I do have a lot of power and fine control, but I lack the endurance to maintain it for long. I should have kept up my training during Kaiden’s absence. My own fault. I’ve slacked and done only the bare minimum. I need more stamina.”

  She squeezed his thigh. “I have no doubt you’ll improve soon.”

  By the third mug, Gareth was feeling it. Despite his hyperactive metabolism, the alcohol clouded his senses. Evie still sipped on her first refill, but she directed him to her private restroom.

  The place wasn’t a palace, but it was fitted with a deep basin tub surrounded by a shelf of candles and scented melts of varying colors secured by a band of pale blue kinetic energy. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he leaned out. “That girlie faerie stuff online isn’t an act, is it? You really do like flowers.”

  She blinked at him, a deer caught in hoverlamps. “Were you snooping around my loo?”

  “Didn’t need to snoop. There’s like a thousand bath things in there.” He returned to his seat and dragged her back against him. “No wonder you always smell amazing.”

 

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