Heart of the Spider's Web Read online

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not going to run off and tell the crew about what happened on the launch, are you?”

  The goanna gave up trying to understand her and dug back into the pile of clothing.

  Sheri chuckled quietly and walked to the water-reclamation unit. It wasn’t as good as a long, hot soak planetside, but even the basic niceties went a long way. She wet a washcloth and wiped herself down, then threw on a clean outfit. Fortunately, she and Hicks were about the same size, and the pilot was willing to provide some of her older clothes. Sheri didn’t recognize the band name on the front—Jovial Nova—but that hardly surprised her. With three systems’ worth of constantly shifting music genres, it was tricky to keep track of artists a person liked, let alone all the bands in every style.

  After hanging her old outfit to dry, much to Darcy’s dismay, she wondered if it was too early to go looking for Barr. If she were him, she’d be reporting in their failure to make progress on Hodur. The question was how much he decided to share, and how much he’d figured out on his own. The captain wouldn’t be happy with the results, and the idea that she might punish Barr for it made anger flash white hot and incandescent even as the idea made little sense. Mira Barnes ruled her ship with a certain cold efficiency, yes, but at no time had Sheri seen any evidence that the woman was cruel. Or unfair.

  The reaction made her pause. She’d promised herself that the launch was a one-time thing, and here she was, already making excuses to see Rayan again. To have him above and inside her. That would be a lot harder to sell as a simple seduction for IntCom. Harder for her to keep her feelings out of. She needed to get out before she got dragged in too deep.

  It pained her to think, but the next place they visited she needed to break away from her keeper—Barr or anyone else. Ideally it would be a world with an IntCom safe house, so she could lie low. If it wasn’t, her omnidevice had an entire separate persona waiting on board, which was more than enough to book anonymous passage.

  Sheri flopped backwards onto her bunk. Darcy crawled to press against her side, leaching heat from her skin. She reached down to stroke the goanna’s eye ridges and he trilled quietly, legs stiff as he pressed into the touch. With her other hand, she opened up the IntCom software suite on her omni, ready to send an update and see if they had instructions for a way forward.

  The counter on her secure message app indicated one unread message.

  She sat up and braced against the back wall of the bunk, counting to ten before opening the message. Hopefully it would be some sort of explanation as to why Collin’s relationship with Ariadne was somehow more important than her life.

  Operative Tyler. While Command expects their operatives to show initiative in the field, they are also expected to show common sense commensurate with the responsibility given them. So far you have robbed a high-value target, potentially damaging your cover beyond repair; abandoned your assigned post; potentially revealed the cover of a fellow operative; assisted known criminals in escaping apprehension; and fought your way free of a legitimate impound. Command is displeased with the lack of progress. Your new mission parameters are to bring in the crew and any cargo they have for processing at the primary facility on Farhope. Your compliance is expected on receiving this message, and failure to act as ordered will lead to a warrant being issued for your arrest.

  Sheri closed her eyes, fingers able to close the omni down by rote muscle memory. Even with the screen dark, it felt like she could still see the words, seared on her eyelids. “Bring in for processing.”

  The language was obscure, but there was no question of the intent. They’d be arrested, separated, and IntCom would use its rather substantial arsenal to wring every drop of information from them.

  The real question was why? Yes, the Sentinel was well traveled, but it mostly skirted the edge of legality with its cargos. She could easily name a half-dozen crews committing more heinous acts, carrying cargos so illegal that any civilized moon would lock them away permanently. So why was IntCom suddenly so interested in this ship? This crew?

  Because I’m already here.

  It was the only reason that made sense. Those other ships were worse, sure, but they were also out of reach at the moment. She could deliver the Sentinel and its crew, who could be a stepping-stone to those other ships. Her throat hurt at the image of Barr locked up and confined. He was a wild beast; caging him would kill him. Her heart and mind both rebelled at the idea.

  Her first thought was to get him off the ship somehow, before turning it over to Intelligence Command. Then she considered what they’d do to Layth. To Hicks, who she’d barely met. To Baker and April. The guilt at her own selfishness brought sour bile to the back of her mouth. They weren’t any more innocent than Barr was, in the eyes of IntCom. And none of them were more criminal than she was.

  The answer was plain; she needed to warn them all away from Farhope. In a perfect world she could do it without blowing her cover, but if she couldn’t, it was a small price to pay. She’d already cost them Nobu Station. Taking the TriSystem capital out of their rotation meant they’d have that much more difficulty delivering cargoes and making ends meet. Losing her own position seemed like a small price to pay.

  She grabbed a cardigan and wrapped it around her shoulders before scooping Darcy into her arms. Sheri rubbed her fingers along the broad scales of his cheeks. “Okay, you. Let’s go see how easy it is to convince your partner.”

  Fortunately, she could be very persuasive.

  Twelve

  Rayan drove his unwrapped fists into the heavy bag, the sting of the canvas as it scuffed his already bruised knuckles a rhythmic pain that helped him focus. Zion was wrong. The bastard had to be wrong. The alternative would be that he’d been suckered by IntCom a second time, and at that point he might as well give up. A second group of friends dragged in by the authorities? It wouldn’t take long for the story to start implicating him. And they’d be right to do so.

  He wrapped an arm around the bag, holding it still for his other fist to punish.

  He’d let her inside. So had Darcy, and the goanna had an uncanny sense of who would fit with their misfit crew. The SkinSeal he’d used on his damaged knuckles wasn’t designed to hold up to the punishment and split. Red smeared onto the canvas where his hand pounded the bag, but Rayan didn’t stop. Anything less wasn’t going to clear his mind, and at the moment that was what he needed. To stop thinking. To be empty.

  “You need someone to spot the bag for you? Looks like it’s starting to win.”

  Rayan stood, letting the bag swing free. He hadn’t expected her to find him in the gym; most of the crew was smart enough to leave him be when he got like that. He wiped his face and chest with a towel as he turned, and Sheri’s gaze trailed down his torso with obvious hunger. It reminded him too much of their time in the launch, the delicious noises she made in the grasp of her ecstasy.

  He shook the images from his head. “Actually, I’m good. Thanks for bringing Darcy along.” The medical alcove in the corner of the gym had some rudimentary first aid supplies, so he cleaned and wrapped his split knuckle as well as he could. “Let me clean up the bag.”

  She stepped in front of him, blocking his path with her presence, if not her actual size. “What the hell, Barr? Shit going to be weird between us now?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He reached out to pluck Darcy from her shoulders, but the goanna shied away from his touch. He glared at the lizard, who stared back with all four eyes. He gave up and stepped around her to wipe down the heavy bag. “I’m just tired, okay?”

  A towel hit him in the back. “You got what you wanted and that’s it? You should at least have the decency to pay me, like your other ‘conquests’.”

  It stung, but she was trying to hurt him, trying to provoke a reaction. Ironically, it made her easier to ignore. He finished cleaning his blood off the equipment and put the supplies away before she finally landed a blow that actually cut.

&nb
sp; “Fine, Barr. This is on you, then. Step into the ring.” She crossed over the covered rope that marked the edge of the ship’s sparring area.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.

  “I think I do. You brought it up yourself—the ring is where crewmembers settle their disagreements. Well I’ve got a hell of a disagreement with you, and we’re going to clear that shit up right now.” She took Darcy off her shoulder and set him on a perch at the edge of the ring. “Or you can nominate a champion. I assume that’s allowed, right?”

  “I fight my own fights,” he growled. “There’s no disagreement here though. Whatever you think, I’m fine with it.”

  She tossed her cardigan out of the circle. “Don’t want to risk someone half your size kicking your ass?”

  “Contrary to popular belief,” Rayan said. “My ego’s big enough not to worry about that.”

  “Fine. Maybe Sanderson will step in. He seems like he knows what he’s doing.” She started toward the edge of the ring.

  He was in front of her before he realized he was moving. Angry heat blossomed at the idea of Zion in the ring with her. Of Zion’s hands anywhere near Sheri. And he’d do it, just to get under Rayan’s skin. “No.”

  “Then get in this ring.” She stepped back to give him room.

  He stretched his shoulders, already studying how she carried herself as she bounced back from him. She’d be quick, with surprises and feints, if her skills on Hodur were any indication. Nothing he couldn’t endure. “Just remember, you wanted this.”

  Sheri’s grin was pure predatory pleasure. “Just remember, you deserved it.”

  “Sure you don’t want to tape your hands?” He looked at his own, debating if he should. Bare-knuckle was his preference, but that didn’t mean it was hers.

  “Why, afraid I’ll mess up your face more?”

  He couldn’t do anything but chuckle. She was fearless. Against the captain, against him. Hell, even facing down Ariadne. Sheri never let an ounce of nerve show. “Suit y’self.”

  She danced out at the edge of where she thought his reach was; her shorter arms meant she’d have to come inside his range to land anything meaningful, and her legs weren’t much longer. Rayan could step forward and touch her, but he kept his distance. Let her set the pace of the fight. All that bouncing she was doing would wear her out faster anyway.

  Her first feint was telegraphed, a big lunge right that was wide by a good meter and set up a spinning back kick that he slapped down. She regained her feet and smiled at him. “Thought I’d make sure you’re awake.”

  “Barely. You plan on fighting or just dancing around?”

  Her next attack was better, an inside strike he had to catch on his forearm, which she turned into a quick blow to the jaw and a cross to his body. He let her land the combo, then swept her leg as she tried to retreat out of his reach. She tumbled backward, and he charged in for the follow-up, only to catch her feet in his solar plexus as she planted her hands on the mat for the back kick.

  He stumbled and retreated, coughing to regain his breath. It was a good move, and he’d been suckered in clean by it. Despite the surprise and pain, he couldn’t help but be proud of her. She’d trick plenty of others with that move. Hell, she probably had.

  Rayan replanted his feet, centering himself. He understood her attacks now—all airy and deceptive. It was her advantage, until he took it away. Unfortunately for her, that was easy to do.

  Sheri feinted in again; this time his hands shot out to grab her shoulder and the side of her neck. She twisted, but he tightened the collar, pulling her forward and off-balance. Her hand dug into his armpit, ineffective at breaking his hold. He pressed forward and down, and the next moment, she’d ripped at his triceps, acquiring just enough space to duck under and slide by. His arm, still trying to keep contact, extended as he stumbled forward. She wrapped it up in a brutal shoulder lock.

  Pain lanced through his back as she twisted his arm. He had to step to avoid her dislocating his shoulder, and she guided him forward several steps. Rayan thrashed about, but her control was absolute. He couldn’t go anywhere she didn’t want him.

  After a long sixty seconds, she tapped him in the armpit with enough force to let him know she could have struck that nerve bundle much harder, then let him go.

  Rayan wiped his mouth and turned. Okay then. If that’s how she wanted the fight to go.

  She went for his left ankle, and he moved to shed her off to that side. Somehow, she slipped inside his arm to the right, hooking his leg as she wrapped around behind him. His mind reeled for a second as his feet left the ground before his back slammed into the mat and flashed stars across his vision. A different armlock, but no less painful, and she was atop him.

  He couldn’t see her grin—her knee in his neck assured that—but it permeated her voice like bubbles in a sparkling wine. “Do you yield?”

  It was a great move. And a tell in its own right. There were only a few places to learn her level of hand-to-hand training, and they were all military. Except ex-military didn’t end up working a dock. Unless they were undercover. He took a deep breath. “Tell me you’re not IntCom.”

  SHERI JUMPED OFF HIM as if he were an electric fence. Her gut response was to deny everything, like she’d been trained to do for years. Even the time she was taking to pause and consider her answer could be endangering her mission, so she laughed. “Clearly I jarred your head harder than I intended.”

  Barr stood, careful to stay out of arm’s reach as though he didn’t trust himself if he could touch her. Honestly, she shared that sentiment. Fighting always fired up her libido and being wrapped around him on the mat brought up too many delicious memories. And fired her anticipation for more. She doubted it was lust staying his hand, however.

  After wiping his face, he tossed her a clean towel and crossed the ring. “You remember what I said about Adiona?”

  “Yttrium mining and predatory business practices. Yeah, tough to forget.” She cleaned herself up and tried to figure out where he was going with this.

  “So, with all the lung disease, Goff brought in Spectrivax. It was the only affordable medicine in the store, since they set the prices.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Sheri grabbed a packet of water from the chiller and took a long drink, then tossed it to him. “’Vax isn’t any good for cancer. Or chronic pulmonary dysfunction.”

  “And yet, when all you’ve got access to is a hammer, you treat everything like it’s a nail.”

  Sheri had a sickening realization, both why Goff would do such a thing, and why the company name sounded so familiar. She’d only been a cadet, but... “The heightened aggression from the ’Vax made it harder to organize. Because miners would come to blows over the smallest disagreements.”

  “Right. But Goff wasn’t content with that. And with a stranglehold on Yttrium production, there was a general push to have things settled decisively. To round up the rabble-rousers, so the rest of the worker bees would toe the line. Everyone in the Three Systems wants cheap LED lights, so Intelligence Command had a mole.” He took a drink before staring at her. “I had a friend on my work crew, Alaric. Dug yttrium next to him for almost two years. The guy was pro-union and anti-Goff, as fervently as the rest of us. Maybe more so, in retrospect.”

  The pain in his voice tore at her, more so with her awareness of what was coming next. She knew how this story ended. Had seen it enacted more than once. Hell, it was part of why she was on Nobu Station to begin with.

  “The bosses showed up at our supposedly secret vote to unionize, along with a couple hundred armed strikebreakers. They arrested everyone there. That’s where Alaric tipped his hand. He left seconds before they showed up. I checked, he wasn’t on any of the vehicles, wasn’t on the arrest record. He just disappeared. From a full cordon.”

  “It’s possible they missed him.” Sour acid filled the back of Sheri’s mouth, experience telling her that wasn’t what happened.

  “I
told myself the same thing. But with my father and me in jail, my sister had to work twice as hard to feed the family. Her respirators had no chance of taking that much use.” Rayan moved to stand by his goanna, stroking the lizard’s back absently. “After she died, it took Darcy and me two full years to track down Alaric. He was undercover, under yet another name, but he still recognized me. Bought me a drink, even. And do you know what he said to me? It wasn’t anything personal. He was doing his job. My father died in that prison. My sister died trying to keep the rest of the family alive. My friends’ families starved to death. And it was just another day at work for him.”

  Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, not sure if she was grieving his losses or her own frustration. Because she’d heard the story from the other side, about the undercover operative who’d stopped a riot on Adiona in its tracks without a shot being fired. Who’d been found dead years later, and everybody suspected he’d crossed a mob boss. The man’s picture was in the academy on Farhope. Like a hero, instead of the monster that he was.

  That she was.

  “I’m sorry.” She sank down to the mat and crossed her legs in front of her. “It’s not enough. The words. Hell, even the revenge. It never feels like enough. It doesn’t ease the hurt.”

  When he looked at her, his dark eyes had gone flat. “Except it was. It was plenty. I joined a mercenary unit not long after, someplace my skills could be useful, and didn’t mind the blood on my hands. They helped me get off the ’Vax and didn’t ask questions. But that’s not the kicker.” He picked up Darcy and crossed the rope to stand outside of the ring. “The thing that’s sticking in my head, over and over, is that he fought exactly like you. Even had that fancy duck-slide-into-armlock move you used.”

  He had her dead to rights, and still her first instinct was to lie to him. Her mouth opened, ready to say she took self-defense classes because being a woman on the docks meant sooner or later a creep would get handsy. It wasn’t wrong, but self-defense didn’t tend to teach the kinds of locks and strikes that restrained an opponent. The point was to cripple and get away, not to detain and subdue.