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The ore hauler was surprisingly well built, for all that Imee had trash-talked it. Assuming they all survived, she’d really have to come up with a name for it. “The ore hauler” was tedious, even just thinking about it.
That said, the lance strike had left them badly damaged. Right main engine off-line. Cargo ramp damaged. Main power wouldn’t restart. And the damage to the ramp meant the whole vessel was exposed to vacuum except for the cockpit. At least they’d built a second airlock into the cockpit hatch for redundancy purposes.
A heavy, furred head pressed into her lap, and Imee stroked Djehuti’s ears absently as she brought the ship around for another pass. The Triptych vessel had hightailed it as soon as it could. The threat that it could be back with reinforcements had her pulse hammering in her throat.
“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “He’s down there. He’s too dumb to die.”
Concern thrummed into her blood, as well as the warmth of the wolf’s trust. She knew Grenville was still alive because Djehuti knew he was still alive. But that didn’t mean he might stay that way for long. There was no telling what had happened to him as the other ship took off.
Her first pass over the area revealed the overturned runabout, but nothing else. She gripped the controls so hard her knuckles ached. She could hear her tendons creak as she brought the ship around for a second pass.
She spotted him in the lee of a rock, and he waved a hand to make sure she saw him. Relief flooded through her, putting her frustration on momentary hold. She could be happy to know he survived, and still be angry with him. The ship responded as well as it could while she hovered it, and he signaled from the bay when he climbed aboard.
Getting into the pressurized bridge would take him a while, giving her time to collect her thoughts. It also allowed her to radio the constellation, alerting the Hunting Cry that she and Grenville were damaged. Hopefully they could send a ship to meet them, otherwise it would be a long, slow crawl back home.
The interior door of the airlock opened, and Grenville stepped in, vac helmet in one hand. For a heartbeat, she hated how her pulse eased just knowing he was safe. She let that fuel her anger. “I told you not to do anything stupid, and what did you do?”
“My job. I solved the problem.” His eyes narrowed. “What the hell did you think I would do?”
She threw up her hands in frustration. “Unbelievable. Just because you’ve got a hammer doesn’t mean every problem’s a nail.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that violence isn’t the only way to solve a problem!” Her voice was too loud in the tiny space.
“And just because you’ve run from every difficult thing in your life doesn’t mean that it’s the only solution either.”
The words hit so hard Imee was surprised she didn’t physically recoil. For a second she clenched and unclenched her jaw, not sure what else to say. She settled on the easiest choice. “Fuck you.” After a moment she added, “Then again, who hasn’t.”
From the look on Grenville’s face, he realized he’d crossed a line. “Imee, I—” He reached toward her when the damaged ship course-adjusted, and the thrust change threw him off balance. His hand came forward, and Djehuti leapt from the chair and knocked him back. The wolf’s blur took a protective position between her and Grenville, and he stared back at his bondmate. “Fine. But you’re stuck with me, so you’d better learn to get over it.”
After a moment, he turned to look at her. “And as for you, wake me when we reach the constellation.”
She wanted to tell him it would be at least a week, but he’d zipped himself into one of the emergency beds hooked to the wall of the bridge and sealed it up to close her out.