Chapter Thirteen

Orin woke to the unfortunately familiar sensation of shackled wrists, groaning as he pulled himself out of his uncomfortable slump in the metal chair, shaking the numbness from his legs.

A thick set of mag-cuffs secured his hands in front of him, attached to a metal disk embedded in the concrete table. The shrill scrape of metal against metal grated in his ears as he shifted to take in his surroundings.

Most likely one of the lower-level interrogation chambers, little more than a concrete box. Orin not so fondly remembered the sparse decor. He smacked his mouth, trying to get rid of the cottony feeling that always lingered after a stun ray, and shivered against the persistent cold.

He swiveled his head to find the blinking red light in the uppermost corner, glaring at it for long minutes before blowing an exaggerated kiss.

Nothing for it now but to wait.

His thoughts turned to Aristotle, gut churning as he ran possible scenarios through his mind.

Where was the doctor?

Why had they been separated?

Had they set him free and kept Orin behind to address one or several of his warrants?

That last scenario was optimistic at best.

Still, Orin found himself hoping that Ari remained safe and unshackled somewhere far away from here. Man like that deserved better.

His musings were interrupted by the obnoxious buzzing sound of the metal door sliding open. Two Enforcers strode in to sit straight-backed in the chairs opposite the concrete slab he was tethered to.

He assessed them both, suppressing the unpleasant clenching sensation in his chest as he studied Isolde’s face. Cataloged differences from the last time he had seen her, ignoring the twinge of curiosity over a new scar just above her upper lip.

Her fellow Enforcer was a study in opposites, broad where she was lithe, dark where she was pale. His unblemished skin and watchful eyes were the same deep shade of brown, his black curls cropped nearly down to the scalp. He appeared solid and respectable, posture ramrod straight and face impassive as he returned Orin’s gaze unflinchingly.

He quickly shifted his gaze back to Isolde, her pale hair and skin striking against the blue of her uniform, just as beautiful as she was the miserable, soggy day of their wedding.

Leaning back in his chair, Orin sucked his teeth belligerently, lifted his chin in the direction of the male Enforcer.

“This your new man, little mouse?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched as she glanced at the man at her side and returned her focus to Orin. The glint of silver in her irises pulled at Orin. It was as if he were sinking into the mire of his past.

He hated it.

She inclined her head ever so slightly in the other Enforcer’s direction.

“This is my partner, Enforcer Azu. We are here to ask you some questions regarding the circumstances under which you have been detained.”

Against his will, Orin’s mouth quirked up at the corners as he leaned forward on his elbows.

“Listen at you, girl. You have really made something of yourself. Looks like you did the right thing, dropping me like a shipment of manure three days late for delivery. I ain’t even mad. Good for you. How’d you learn to talk like that?”

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, her gaze slipping to the table between them, focusing on his shackled hands before lifting back to his face.

“What is the nature of your association with Dr. Campbell?”

He threw a particularly obnoxious smirk in her direction. “Well, now, a gentleman would never kiss and tell.”

He waited a few silent beats under the cold stares directed his way, a drop of sweat running down the back of his collar.

“Where is he?” he asked, wincing internally at showing his hand.

“That is none of your concern. What is your relationship to Dr. Campbell?”

Orin weighed his options. A simple truth was always better than a lie if you could get away with it.

“I’m his pilot. Hired ship hand, that’s all.”

“Were you aware that you have been piloting a stolen vessel set on an unauthorized course past the Verge?” Enforcer Azu asked.

His voice was irritatingly as deep and smooth as his complexion. Orin found himself hoping the man had a patchy crop of back hair, at least. It wasn’t fair for a man to be so obnoxiously flawless.

Orin cocked his head to the side, arranging his features in blinking innocence.

“Don’t know nothing ’bout no stolen ship. But that wonky course, well, that’s gotta be my mistake. I never had much schooling, see. All these fancy navigational calculations tend to tax my brainbox something fierce. Musta missed a number here or there to have gotten us so off course. I’ll need to apologize to the professor. Ask him to double-check my numbers next time.”

Isolde squinted at him.

“Enforcer Azu, I believe we will require both suspects in order to most effectively continue this interrogation.”

Her partner stood and left the room, the buzzing of the door seeming to echo at his departure.

“Where’s he—” Orin startled as Isolde grabbed his hand, delicate fingers biting into his palm.

“He’s fetching your man,” she hissed, “You have approximately three minutes to tell me what ridiculous scheme you have gotten yourself into before he gets back.”

Now there was no stopping the surprised glee that split his face. “Knew you were still sweet on me.”

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest in a familiar combative stance, lifting her chin in the direction of the door. “It’s your professor who’s sweet on you. Poor little thing’s close to tears, demanding to know what we’ve done to you.”

Orin’s brow folded together with concern. “He’s alright? You didn’t hurt him, did you? He’s done nothing wrong, swear on my mother’s grave, Izzy. He’s a good man. I’m sure you’ve got a pile of reasons to keep me here in chains, but you need to let him go.”

Her pale face was assessing, scanning him over.

“You’re as bad as each other. Your doctor will not be mistreated. You can drop your shoulders from your ears.”

Orin did just that, he hadn’t realized he had been lifting them in apprehension at the mention of Aristotle. “I’m serious now. I’m just a hired hand. He’s a respectable Core scientist who wouldn’t look twice at a thug like me.”

Isolde smiled at that, a tiny little thing that curved her thin, pretty lips into a perfect bow. “Oh, I think he’s looked more than twice. Poor man’s besotted.”

Orin tried to keep the joy from his face, but it was like trying to cover the sun with a handwoven basket.

Isolde blew a raspberry at him in disgust. “A stolen ship, Orin? Really? I know you lost your last one over a technicality, but—”

Orin snorted derisively. “A technicality, she says. It was Enforcer bullshit, stomping on Verge rats just to watch us squirm.”

“—but I can’t believe you would make an attempt to jump the Verge in a stolen ship! Smuggling a Core citizen! Where was your head?”

Orin lifted his gaze resolutely over her head. “Ain’t stolen.”

Isolde sighed, rolling her lips in her teeth the way she only did when she was losing patience.

“Is he really that good? Smuggling pure gold in those trousers or something? It’s not like you to lose your head over a pretty face. They could put you away for this, you know. Your pretty little Core darling will get slapped with a fine and house arrest, but your giant Verge ass will get dumped in a hole, and you know it. So I’ll ask you again. He worth it?”

Orin dropped his voice to a growl, squaring his jaw. “Ain’t. Stolen.”

They both turned at the hiss of the door. Orin sat up in his chair at the sight of Aristotle clapped in mag-cuffs too big for his slender wrists, stumbling after Enforcer Azu who had his elbow in an iron grip.

In a practiced movement, Azu pushed Ari down onto the chair beside Orin and secured his cuffs to the table with a metallic snap.

Orin’s lips tried to twitch up as Ari sat with perfect posture, acting more like he was taking tea than enduring an interrogation.

Isolde had snapped back into her Enforcer face, blank and rigid in her chair as though she had never shown a hint of her former self.

Orin was as impressed as he was saddened to see it.

Enforcer Azu lifted an Enforcer-blue pad in his hands and passed it to Isolde silently. Her nose crinkled slightly as she read.

“The ship is registered to one Theo—Theoff—Theoffrass—”

Ari sighed deeply. “Theophrastus. Yes, I know.”

Orin enjoyed the novelty of being the more compliant detainee for once in his life as Isolde continued with a quelling glance in Ari’s direction.

“The ship is registered to one Theophrastus Campbell. Neither of whom are you.”

Aristotle clucked his tongue impatiently, causing Orin to goggle at him in disbelief. Ari leaned in toward Isolde, ignoring the bulk of his cuffed hands on the table between them. “Theophrastus is my brother. The ship is registered in his name, but I am listed as secondary.”

Isolde studied her pad.

“I don’t have your name here. Sharing a last name proves nothing to me; Campbell isn’t that uncommon.”

Ari actually rolled his eyes. Orin tried not to swallow his tongue in terrified glee. And here he thought the professor couldn’t get more attractive. If he kept on with this sassing of Enforcers, Orin was liable to get an indecency charge tacked on.

Ari attempted an impatient gesture, somehow managing to make the stilted movement of his cuffed hands appear elegant. “This is absurd. I demand that you pull up his ident and try to tell me he isn’t my brother.”

Orin knocked his knee against Ari’s leg, earning an irritated frown as if he wasn’t trying to save Ari’s narrow ass from himself.

Isolde glared at Aristotle but tapped on her pad, huffing irritably until she froze in her seat. She lifted her head to scan over Ari’s face.

“Damn.”

Orin snorted as she shook herself back into Enforcer blankness with a subtle nudge at Enforcer Azu as she handed him the pad. He looked down, back up at Ari’s face, then down again before tapping rapidly on the screen.

He kept his handsome face blank as he stared at Ari.

“Secondary registration. Aristotle Campbell.”

Orin swallowed a whoop, turning it into a cough at an unamused glare from the Enforcers.

Aristotle settled back into his perfect posture, lacing his fingers together on the table like he had been the one to call this meeting. One delicate red brow rose imperiously.

“Indeed.”

Orin couldn’t contain it, mag-cuffs groaning as he shifted excitedly. “Told you that shit ain’t stolen!”

Aristotle didn’t even twitch. “My partner is correct.”

Isolde’s hand jerked slightly in the way that told Orin she would like nothing more than to rub her forehead in frustration. Her Enforcer training held, and her fingers remained tense against the table instead.

Enforcer Azu placed the pad on the table and rested his hands in an exact mirror of Isolde’s.

All their perfect synchronization was starting to creep Orin out, tell the truth.

Enforcer Azu turned to face Ari in tiny precise motions like he was a dial turned two clicks to the left. “There remains the matter of your unauthorized course, Dr. Campbell. As the owner of the ship, responsibility falls to you.”

Orin’s wrists yanked against his cuffs as he forgot himself and attempted to stand.

“Hold up, now, I’m the rusted pilot! I set the course, so it’s my responsibility. He’s got nothing to do with it.”

Ari’s knee pressed solidly against Orin’s leg, but he kept his face turned toward the Enforcers, somehow managing to show nothing more than slight irritation in his expression.

“What my partner means to say is that we are sure there has been some sort of misunderstanding. We are an exploratory vessel traveling along the Verge in order to collect geological samples for study. There would be no purpose to our traveling beyond the geological structures of the Verge settlements.”

Enforcer Azu remained motionless, focused on Ari’s face. “And yet we detected a plotted course for jumping the Verge.”

Ari’s face creased in a shockingly convincing display of confusion. “I’m afraid that makes no sense whatsoever. Perhaps it would be prudent to check the ship’s navigational logs again.”

Enforcer Azu didn’t move except to blink once, which apparently signaled Isolde to grab the pad and start tapping away. Orin struggled to maintain his easy sprawl in his chair. Ari just kept his angelic little face trained on the Enforcers.

Isolde’s forehead wrinkled in consternation as she tapped, paused, then tapped again more rapidly. She held the pad out to her partner, who finally broke his staring contest with Ari to read the screen. Orin was deeply satisfied to see his handsome face twist in irritation before he abruptly stood and stalked out of the room.

Orin turned to Isolde, mouth hanging open as Ari’s cuffs suddenly released, the two empty halves clanking on the tabletop.

Isolde gave the tiniest sigh, ignoring Orin. “You and your vessel are free to go, Dr. Campbell. There appears to have been a computing error. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Ari didn’t move except to fold his hands more precisely on the tabletop. “I am unable to travel properly without my pilot, Enforcer.”

Orin’s chest squeezed painfully at the words, part of him having expected Aristotle to get up and walk away without a second thought. He knew he wasn’t exactly a big loss. Shipless pilots were a dime a dozen on the Verge. Ari could have another shifty bastard in his cockpit within the hour. The thought made Orin sick to his stomach.

Isolde’s face remained carefully blank as she addressed Ari. “Mr. Stone still needs to clear up some issues with his licensing. He stays here until we have his paperwork in order.”

“Excellent. Shall we proceed with due haste, then? One does have a certain expectation of efficiency as is so often proclaimed by the Academy.” Ari sniffed disdainfully before cutting green eyes in Orin’s direction.

Orin felt a slipping sensation as though he’d missed the last step off the ramp, but instead of hitting the ground, he just kept falling over and over and over again into those eyes.

Well, damn. So much for not getting attached.