No arguments from me on that front. This feeling is totally bizarre—and also pretty wonderful at the same time. Part of me wants it to go away so I can think, and part of me is grateful to be free of pain.
That doesn’t mean I don’t owe Beckett an apology, though. Human decency is human decency. “I am sorry. It was a terrible thing to say, and I didn’t mean it.”
And I may have butted heads with Beckett, but I finally feel as though I understand her. Plus, now that I’ve learned what the Corporation does with its prisoners, it’s a small silver lining that it’s only because the Caelestis blew up that Beckett isn’t already on her way to the Wilds.
The thought almost makes the lovely floatiness disappear.
“What made you ask about mercenaries?” Rain prompts.
“I don’t know much about them, obviously.” Apparently, I don’t know much about a great many things. “But I assume they aren’t cheap—especially that many. There were at least twenty guys, and they seemed like they knew what they were doing. Which means whoever is currently trying to kill us not only has the money to chase us through the system, they also have the money to hire a lot of mercenaries.”
“A lot a lot,” Rain comments.
“A lot a lot,” Ian agrees grimly. “But that’s probably not the Corporation. The only thing they like more than their money is keeping their money.”
“Exactly,” I add. And even though it’s the last thing I want to say, I finish with, “This smells like the Empire to me now.”
“Fuck,” Ian says. “One more someone to add to the list of people on our ass.”
My head is starting to spin now as well as float, but at least I’ve made my point. “Can we keep talking about this tomorrow?” I ask. “After Gage and I have gotten some rest?”
“What did you give her?” Rain asks, her face coming very close to mine. I can see her eyelashes and the worried look in her eyes. “She’s slurring her words.”
“The painkillers are pretty heavy-duty,” Max concedes.
Merrick snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”
As if to prove his words, Gage sways a little on his feet. Or maybe that’s me swaying. I can’t really tell anymore.
I yawn at the same time my stomach growls. Loudly.
“Hungry, Princess?” Ian smirks, but I don’t care—he saved my life, so he can smirk as much as he likes. Just for today.
“Starving.” I haven’t eaten all day, and now that the pain is almost gone—as are my inhibitions, thanks to the medicine—all I can think about is food and sleep.
“Okay, I’m calling it,” Beckett announces to the room in general. “I say we let Gage and the princess get some dinner and then sleep it off. We’ll reconvene tomorrow, and hopefully we’ll all have had some time to process shit and have some new ideas.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go sort out some food.” Ian looks around. “The rest of you go do something useful.”
“I’m always useful,” Gage says, sounding insulted. And then promptly walks face-first into the sick-bay wall.
“What the hell was in that syringe?” Beckett laughs as she hooks her arm through Gage’s. “Come on, gearhead, I’ll tuck you in.”
“I always liked you, Beckett,” he says as she guides him toward the door.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve always liked you, too.” Her tone is long-suffering, but the look she has on her face is…something. Affectionate, maybe?
It’s such a strange word to apply to Beckett that I’m sure my drugged-out mind must be playing tricks on me. But there’s definitely something there. I just can’t figure it out right now. Maybe later, when I don’t feel so tired and I can actually see straight.
As they’re walking, something shiny slips out of his pocket and hits the floor at her feet. “Oops!” he says, giggling a little. Which isn’t like Gage—he’s definitely not a giggler. If we’re on the same pain meds, apparently I’ve got that to look forward to next.
“I’ll get it,” Max volunteers, bending down to pick up whatever Gage dropped. But something must be weird about it, because he freezes the second he does. “Where did you get this? It’s got blood on it.”
“My blood,” Gage says, and he sounds very far away. I don’t know if that’s because of his voice or my ears, though. “It fell off one of the guys in the office. After Ian killed him, I saw it and grabbed it.”
“It’s a Sisterhood medal,” Max announces grimly.
“What is a Sisterhood medal doing on the floor of a place like that? In Glacea, no less?” Ian asks.
He’s looking straight at Merrick when he asks the question, but Rain is the one who answers. “Maybe the soldier was a believer.”
“Gotta love believers.” Beckett snorts. “Especially the murdering kind.”
“We do have a small force on each planet,” Merrick says quietly.
“A force?” Rain asks, her voice rising.
“There’s been a lot of unrest the last several years,” he explains. “Ever since the sun started dying. Our followers were in danger, so we’ve had to put a small fighting force on each planet to protect them.”
“Protect them?” Ian asks. “Or act as mercenaries?”
“Protection only,” Merrick tells him, his voice firm.
Ian narrows his eyes. “You sure about that?”
“I am, yes.” Merrick sounds very confident.
“So now we’ve got proof that the Corporation tried to take us out, a hunch that the Empire was next, and we round it out with the Sisterhood. Fucking fantastic,” Ian says. “It’s not just someone on our ass anymore. It’s everyone.”
Right then, my stomach growls again, even more loudly this time, and I can see the second he decides to table this problem.
“I’ll be back with food in a few,” he tells me as he heads through the door.
Everyone else files out behind him, except Rain, who bustles around for a couple of minutes, cleaning up the last of the supplies the crew used to fix up my leg. I watch her with my eyes half closed, which is the best I can do.
Part of me wants to just roll over and go to sleep, but it seems rude. Also, I’m exhausted but restless, my brain going over and over the fact that Ian, Gage, and I almost died today. My mind is too fuzzy to put much more than that together, but the echoes of the fear—and regret—are definitely floating around in there. So much so that I’m having a really hard time just closing my eyes and letting go.
“You’re okay, Kali.” Rain’s soothing voice washes over me as she moves the room’s only chair over to sit next to my bed. “You’re safe now.”
“I know,” I whisper to her through dry lips.
“Oh!” She jumps back up and rushes over to the sink. “Let me get you some water. You must be so thirsty.”
I take the cup she offers me and drain it before she even sits back down. She takes it from me with a soft smile and fills it up again. This time, while I drink it more slowly, she wets a clean cloth and brings it over to me.