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I worked myself dizzy, finishing the lessons, and then pushing through another three simple assignments that would cover the cost of one of the training courses. When I slept, it was neither deep nor peaceful; it was hard to believe I’d be able to earn enough to cover the costs listed, let alone ever catch up. Well, I guessed that was something I was just going to have to work on.
By the end of the first week, I’d covered the costs of my basic necessities, and training had resumed—only this time, I was aware of just how much each lesson was costing me, so I made them count.
“Again,” I demanded, when my trainers were ready to call it a day.
“Again,” I said, trying to pick myself up from the mat.
“Not again,” Gelf said, and watched as I tried to coordinate hands and feet into something that worked—tried and failed.
I hadn’t even been able to protest, when he’d turned and picked me up, before tossing me over his shoulder, and carrying me back to my room.
“Again.”
Took close to six months, but it got to a point where they were itching to let me out of the training center, and that was when I got to see Mack, again. Delight was right there with him, but she seemed pretty pleased, enough that you’d have thought she’d gotten me to the meeting on her own.
I did my best to ignore her, when Mack spoke.
“You ready to come back on board?”
I nodded, switching my glance between the two of them, partly because I couldn’t quite believe I might get back to the Shady Marie, and partly because I was terrified Delight would change her mind. Before I went, though...
“You retrieved me.”
Mack tilted his head to one side, and then shrugged.
“Your point?”
“You didn’t think to let me know I was still on contract?”
“You hadn’t been told it had ended.”
I looked at Delight.
“I get the impression Odyssey wouldn’t tell me when that sucker was up, even when the time came. Fuckers will probably just auto-renew it.”
Delight smiled that tight little smile that told me I might be right—and then she fixed it.
“I’ll have them send you an invoice and timer, along with a copy of your contract,” she said. “You’ll need to give permission for them to be updated once a month.”
“Fine,” I said, then remembered to add. “Thank you.”
“Anything else?” Mack asked, and I felt six months’ worth of pent-up anger rise inside my chest.
Delight must have caught something in my expression, because she stepped back, and let me swing. She was smirking as Mack caught my fist, and pulled me in close. His grip didn’t ease, as he raised the auto-injector he’d hidden in his other hand, and activated it against my shoulder.
Bastard.
I hate needles.
When I woke up, I was on my own. I was also tucked into bed, and wasn’t that just a treat. To my relief, I was still clothed. I pushed back the blankets, and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. Mack was through the door, and standing in front of me before I could try standing on my own.
Convenient of him. I pushed off the bed, and my knees buckled as soon as my feet touched the floor.
“Hey, easy there,” he said, reaching out to steady me.
I couldn’t help it. I should have helped it, but I couldn’t; I was still mad at him. I used his hand under my arm, as leverage, and got my feet under me enough to drive upwards, delivering a fist to his gut as hard as I could.
At least, that’s what I was trying to do...
Mack just lifted me, and then straightened his arms. It was the closest match for a netball throw I’d ever seen, and I hit the wall on the opposite side of the bed with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. He caught me on the rebound, using my fall to propel me into the floor, and then setting a knee in the center of my back.
I got my hands down in time to stop my face cracking into the deck, but that was it.
“You are a piece of work,” he said, and I felt his weight settle over me, “so let me introduce a few ground rules. You listening?”
I nodded, breathing hard, my hands stinging from the force of meeting the floor.
“You want to slug me, you wait until the mission’s complete. Any dispute we have, we take it to the mats. Remember?”
The mats? I groaned, and rested my forehead on the floor. I remembered the mats. Mack had handed my ass to me, the last time. That time, I’d disobeyed a direct order, and the incident was used to illustrate a point to another new passenger.
Fat lot of good that had done him. Bendigo had turned out to need a lot more discipline than a couple of rounds on the mats. There really was only one answer to Mack’s question—and it had to be as smart-ass as I could make it.
“No one’s taking me on any mat,” I told him, trying to sound as belligerent as I’d ever managed.
“The gym mats,” he said, exasperation running through his tones. “For sparring, you idiot. Stars above, why anyone would want to try and bed you is beyond me!”
“Hey!”
“Nice to see Odyssey haven’t beaten the smart ass completely out of you—and that’s good, because that brings me to point two. You’re back on my ship.”
He reached down and took hold of my right wrist, using the grip to pull my arm out from under my head, and then pinning it under his shin.
“This means you do as I tell you to, and you talk to me, if you have a problem.”
He took my left wrist, deftly hitting the nerve point to turn my arm numb below the elbow. Then he took it and pinned that beneath his left shin. After that, he leant down so his mouth was close to my ear.
“I have orders to walk you out an airlock if you don’t live up to expectations.”
I froze. The airlock, again? And he did? I felt him lift off me, and then the weight of his boot in the middle of my back, as I started to turn over.
“And now we have that out of our systems, you and I have an assignment. Delight says it’s just your style.”
He lifted his foot off my back, and moved to stand in front of my head.
I raised my face enough to watch, and saw him extend his hand.
“If you’re finished pissing about,” he said, “there’s a briefing to attend.”
A briefing, huh?
I got up slowly. One thing was for certain, the adrenaline from our little spat had driven the last effects of the drug out of my system. Taking his hand, I resisted the urge to use it for support while I slugged him in the face. Instead, I let him help me up.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do, either. I didn’t like being bullied—by him, or by the organisation that had insisted on keeping me. I cleared my throat, let go of his hand, and made a show of straightening my clothes.
He watched, and I swear he was amused.
“So,” I said, when I found my voice, again—and worked out how to keep it steady, “what do you need me for?”
