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“We need better equipment,” he said, when I caught up to him in the hall. “We didn’t have nearly enough, last time.”
“Yeah? Well, you didn’t arrive butt-naked with a hole in your chest,” I snapped.
He hadn’t had enough equipment? Man! I hadn’t had any.
“I won’t let that happen again,” he said.
I wished I could believe him, but I didn’t, so I didn’t say anything, just followed him down the corridors of his ship, until we reached the small fabrication shop set up in Engineering.
What did we need from here?
“Grappling hooks.”
I frowned, not liking the implications. Mack’s lips twitched when he saw the expression on my face, but he didn’t bother to explain.
“Come on,” he said, and we headed for Supply.
I figured he’d tell me when he was ready—and would get far too much satisfaction if I asked.
To my surprise, there was a range attached to the Supply Store—a firing range. For target practice. That was news to me. I wondered if Mack would let me on it.
He must have caught me staring at it, because he answered.
“Later, Cutter. Right now, we need weapons.”
Right. Weapons. But we were also heading into a contaminated bio-zone for a bunch of diseases that—if I had understood Tens and Delight—didn’t really have a cure. I wondered what Mack was going to do about that.
He didn’t respond, and I realized that, for the first time in a long time, I had my head to myself. It didn’t feel right.
I remembered them taking my implant out—and being there when the operation was over—but I didn’t remember a thing about being given a new one. That was something that would need to change, before the mission—and then I’d need time to get used to it.
And all that meant another operation, which meant I’d have to be unconscious, which meant...
I stopped halfway across the room, and Mack glanced back.
“What?” he asked, but I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
He stared at me for a moment longer, and then turned back to the counter.
“What weapon do you prefer?” he asked, expecting me to follow him over, and go through the selection process.
I didn’t. I stood where I was, and took a breath.
“A hand-las with variable settings, one stunner, a darter, and a sweeper.”
It wasn’t the reply he’d expected, and he glanced back at me.
“Any particular brand?” he asked, “And do you want them gift-wrapped?”
That last bit was pure sarcasm, and I rolled my eyes.
“That’s my wish list,” I told him. “You can fill it as you like. Brand doesn’t mean much to me. Odyssey trained us on a variety, and I don’t have a preference, as long as it works the way I expect it to.”
Mack raised both eyebrows, and then shrugged and turned back to his Supply Officer.
“What can you do me for, Steppy?”
The man leaned out so he could see past Mack, and I caught sight of him for the first time. He was rangy and narrow-faced, with a disreputable moustache and goatee that did nothing to hide the hard curve of his mouth. I’d seen that kind of hardness before, and wondered why Mack had a killer manning his supply store.
I let my gaze travel over him, and then took a good look into his eyes. He obliged me by meeting my gaze.
His eyes were a brown so dark it was almost black—and they were creased at the corners—but the hardness I’d seen in the angles of his face, and along the lines of his mouth was evident in his eyes, as well. I took a step back, and watched them narrow.
“What’s the matter, girl? Not scared of old Uncle Stepyan, are you?”
I shook my head. Scared didn’t quite cut it. The expression in his eyes engendered the same terror in me that the idea of returning to Ghoul’s lair had done. Mack pivoted so he could get a good look at me, and I took another step back.
“Come on, Cutter. We’re only getting equipment. Stepyan won’t hurt you.”
I looked at Mack, and then turned my gaze back to the Supply officer. He wouldn’t, huh? I shot another look in Mack’s direction, and saw him glance past me, as I heard the door cycle open. Tens’ voice in my ear, followed the weight of his arm draping across my shoulders.
“He had the same effect on me, when I first met him,” he admitted.
I startled, and tried to step out from under his arm, but he wrapped his hand around the shoulder opposite him, and tugged me toward Mack and the waiting Stepyan.
“I think she’s worked it out,” he said, and I watched as Stepyan held out his hand.
Mack passed him a cred stick, and I froze, pulling Tens to a stop beside me.
“Worked what out?” I asked, as I felt Tens readjusting his grip.
Mack held up a hand, and gave me his sternest look.
“Courage, Cutter,” he said. “You need to choose your weapons, and then we’re going to Medical so you can get a new implant fitted.”
He paused, so that all that could sink in, watching as I assimilated it, and tried to get my fear under control.
“Which gun?” he asked, when I’d taken a couple of breaths and nodded.
Gun?
Stepyan laid a half dozen out on the counter in front of him, and Tens dropped his arm from around my shoulders. I closed the space between me and the Supply Officer in a few paces, and looked at the range they were offering.
The Glazer was a good piece in most situations, but the thing I liked most about it was the amount of ammunition it carried—that, and the fact I could switch between lethal and non-lethal modes fairly quickly.
“That one,” I said, pointing, and then I saw the Zakrava beside it. “Oh. Pretty.”
I had it off the counter, and was turning it over in my hands, before any of them could react. After examining it, closely, I looked up at Stepyan, all fear of him forgotten.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, and didn’t regret the near-worship in my tones.
The hardened lines in his face softened in an instant, and he smiled.
“You know them?”
One of Ax’s disreputable lady-agent girlfriends had owned one. She’d lent it to me for a day, in return for my silence about their off-base rendezvous—and I’d fallen in love with it—especially after taking Ax down on the practice range a few dozen times. I didn’t mention any of that to Stepyan, or the suddenly attentive Mack and Tens.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “I’ve used one, once.”
I sighed.
“I had to give it back. It was only on loan.”
When I looked up at him, again, I couldn’t keep the hopeful tone from my voice.
“Do I get to keep it?”
Stepyan scowled, and looked from me to Mack.
“I think this is one of those things you’ll need to earn,” he said, and Mack nodded.
“But I get to use it on this mission?” I asked, and they laughed.
“You do, but both it and you have to come back at the end.”
I eyed the Zakrava. That little piece was worth all the trouble that returning would mean, and I suddenly didn’t care they were making it a condition of coming back.
“Deal,” I said.
The Zakrava was like the Glazer, in that it had lethal and non-lethal settings, but, where the Glazer had a set type of ammunition, the Zakrava had settings for both darts and solid slugs. It also had a way of compensating for the recoil that I hadn’t worked out. That wasn’t a problem for me; as long as I could get it repaired when I needed. I didn’t really care how it worked—just as long as it did.
Even with the Zakrava and the Glazer, I wanted another side-arm.
“Why?” Mack wanted to know, and I risked a glance at Stepyan.
He rolled his eyes, but pointed to a Blazer 54, like the one Bendigo had favored.
“Seriously?” I asked, and he nodded.
“It’s not pretty, but it fills in the only gaps you have left.”
“Except for the ones that can only be filled by a blade,” he added, and I grinned.
“That was my next question.”
Beside me, Tens sighed.
“Honestly, Boss, she’s as bad as he is.”
“I figured they’d get on.” Mack’s voice was dry. “Just remind me not to bring her down here, too often—and never to let her down here on her own.”
“How else is she going to practice?” Stepyan wanted to know, asking the question a fraction of a second before I did.
I think it should have bothered me that the killer in disguise could answer Mack’s obstructionism the same way I would have, but I already knew I was heading down the path he and Delight had already taken. Maybe...
Thing was, I liked living the quiet life, but I got bored, too. If Mack left me alone, long enough, I think I might head back on board the ship of my own free will after a year or two of being ‘ordinary’. And that was something I was definitely not going to tell him.
I dragged myself into the here and now, and made myself concentrate on the selection of blades Stepyan laid out on the counter. I took the four that would fit in a joint scabbard along my belt, and then looked at the two that needed boot sheaths.
“Do you have something in my size?” I asked, and Tens snorted.
“Talk about a kid in a candy shop.”
“Yeah, well, we have to head to Medical after this, so...”
“Kind of like a lollipop before the doctor’s visit, huh?”
I ignored the pair of them. While I didn’t want to think about the need to go see the Doc, I wasn’t going to let either of them spoil the shopping trip. Stepyan reached under the counter, and pulled out a pair of boots.
“Like these?” he asked, and I felt my breath catch.
These were exactly like the pair I’d lost when I’d gone into Ghoul’s complex with Bendigo. I snuck a glance at Mack, and found him staring intently back.
“That pair has knife sheaths,” he said, and I looked quickly away, as I felt my eyes start to prickle.
“Take a look,” Stepyan added, passing them to me.
I’m not sure what made him choose that moment to intervene, but the distraction was exactly what I needed in order to get my emotions under control. It also helped me hide the confusion I felt over Mack providing them. After all, it was just a pair of boots, right? It’s not like it was flowers and chocolate.
Mack was equipping me, not courting me—and that’s all it was. I turned my attention to seeing if the boots fit. It was no surprise when they were hand-glove perfect.
Once I had the boots sorted, Stepyan stowed everything into a small duffle bag, and passed it across to me.
“That’s all, for now,” he said. “I’ll send Mack a timetable of when I’m free for training, and he’ll let us both know which sessions you’re allowed to take.”
I nodded.
Typical. I’d been on board long enough to agree to a second mission, and the man was already organizing my life. There was really only one thing I could say to that.
“Thanks.”
I took the duffle, and looked at Mack. He pushed himself away from where he’d been leaning on the counter.
“Medical?” I asked, feeling the first wrinkle of panic curl through me.
I stamped it down, as Mack regarded me with thoughtful eyes.
“Medical,” he agreed. “Can you make it?”
I nodded, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, all too aware of Tens coming alongside me. I forced myself to focus on the boots, and the slim, leaf-bladed daggers fitted inside them. When my mind wandered towards panic in spite of it, I thought of the Zakrava.
That was one sweet piece. I wondered where Stepyan had sourced it... and on whose orders.
Mack came to a halt, and pulled me from my contemplation. I looked up, just as the doors to Medical opened in front of us. My mind stopped as the implications hit me, all at once, but Mack moved through them, and I followed forcing myself not to think.
I wondered what Doc would make of my new boots.
Would he like them? Or would he be annoyed that I’d found another way to hurt someone—and hide the tools for doing it. I guessed that, in the end, it wasn’t his choice to make. It was mine. Looking around the clinic, I wondered where he was, almost leaping sideways into Mack, when he spoke.
“Hello, Cutter. Not causing any trouble for a change?” he said from beside me, and I felt the sting of an auto-injector, heard the hiss as each needle drove home.
“What the Hells, Doc!”
“You like it?”
I couldn’t say I did, but the words weren’t being cooperative. The world tilted me into Mack, and Tens helped him catch me. Well, that was short and sweet. I wondered what it would be like to be able to sense a move like that coming—because I figured I would, once the implant was on-line.
I closed my eyes, as Mack lifted me.
“Where do you want her?”
