She almost smiled.
“The plan was mine,” she said. “The whole thing. The infiltration, the data extraction, the blackmail approach. I built it.”
“You did. Did you expect a thank you from that asshole playboy alien or something? I brought you up smarter than that?”
She shook her head. “Not what I meant. I meant that I’m running away from my plan because I let an asshole playboy alien hurt my feelings.”
“Not the way I would have put it. Walking away from him was the smartest move you’ve made in days. In my humble opinion, of course.”
She did snort at that. “Fred, you are many things, but no one could accuse you of being humble.”
Leaning forward in the chair, she pulled up the nav console, and the display flickered to life under her fingers.
“Plot a new course.”
“Of course, where are we going?”
“Back to Nethlaar.” The word came out steadier than she expected. “Back to the Summer League stadium.”
The silence stretched for three seconds… four.
“May I ask why? Or did you take a blow to the head at some point that I was unaware of?”
“That fucking plan was mine. The work was mine.” She entered the coordinates manually when Fred didn’t, her fingers moving across the console with the ease of long practice. “And I’ll be fucking damned if I’m going to let an asshole playboy alien take credit for my work.”
“And what about him? Why would you do this? Is he worth all this?”
Her hands paused over the console, just for a moment.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “That’s a question for when I get there.”
Fred sighed. “New ETA adjusted. Fuel margins will be tighter. You good with that?”
“Tighter works.”
The ship settled into the new vector, and the stars realigned on the viewscreen.
“Set automated alerts for the approach,” she ordered, her voice steadier now. “And pull up the stadium schematics again. I want to review the private box layouts.”
“Already queued.” He paused, as though he were choosing his words with mechanical care. “For what it’s worth, you didn’t run. You regrouped. There’s a difference.”
Her lips quirked. Almost a smile. The first one since she’d shoved Raaze out the airlock. “Save the pep talks for when I need them, old man.”
“Of course,” his tone shifted to that dry humor she loved. “Though if we’re heading back into that hornet’s nest, you might want to consider actually sleeping before we get there. Your vitals look like you’ve been mainlining engine coolant.”
She snorted as she opened the schematics. Raaze might still be an asshole. The R’Tevs might still try to kill them both. And her father would definitely call this ‘insufficient’.
But she didn’t care. Not anymore. This was her choice now, and god help anyone who tried to take that choice from her.
16
Chapter 15
The staging area reeked of recycled oxygen and industrial floor cleaner overlaid with the sharp, metallic tang of raw adrenaline.
Raaze leaned his head back and breathed in deeply. It was the exact same smell in every warball stadium across the galaxy, from the glittering orbital platforms of Lathar Prime to the dirt and metal arenas on Tarviisa.
He sat motionless on the metal bench. The temporary staging box was a narrow cage of reinforced mesh paneling designed to keep the teams separated before the bloodbath began. The wire rattled violently as a brawler in the adjacent team cage slammed his massive shoulders into the divider.
