Torian’s voice was stiff. “Yes. Freedom.”
“You had freedom,” Amelia said. “This is a liability. A meteoric sign of stupidity, paraded around for everyone in the Fleet to see.”
Torian felt hot and shaky. Shehatedconfrontation, especially like this, especially with someone like Amelia. But she couldn’tback down, and she didn’t want to cry, so she pivoted. “Nine months ago, I told you about my sister. The day I gave you that jacket—remember?”
It should have softened Amelia’s ire, but instead it just made her tense. If possible, her words were crueler now than before. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Not this again, Torian.”
It stoked Torian’s ire. She clenched her fists. “Itoldyou she has Halyon’s disease. She’s going to die, and Rhymarra is how I’ll save her.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told you then. Going to Rhymarra is afool’s fucking errand.”
It hurt to hear it from Amelia’s lips—lips that used to quirk upward whenever Torian entered a room, lips that had once pressed passionately against hers. They used to stay up late in Bartlet’s galley, talking about the galaxy and their dreams for it. They used to take shore leave together, exploring the other colony space stations. Torian had made a model of Amelia’s starship, for fuck’s sake—it still sat on display on the flight deck.
Torian thought those memories would at least soften Amelia’s cold reputation.
What a joke.
“Well. Since you wouldn’t bother taking me, I’m going to Rhymarra myself, in my own ship.”
“Don’t pull that bullshit. You know why I wouldn’t take you.”
Torian stiffened. “Because ‘smuggling ships are flagged,’ and they know yours? You change your ship’s name every week.”
“TheID numbercan’t be changed, Scrap, and Rhymarrans track those the second you enter their space.” Amelia’s voice was hard, and she flicked the small knife back into its sheath. “I told you six months ago that I would handle it. I’ve been working on getting another ship—one without any kind of smuggling connections.”
It felt like a false promise, a final attempt to keep Torian on her ship, in her crew. In her clutches. Torian’s anger was turning brittle, and sarcasm broke through. “You’re the prized ‘Princess ofthe Fleet.’” Torian knew that there were others fighting for that title, that nothing in this work was guaranteed—but she wielded it like a shield anyway. “It doesn’t sound very difficult or time consuming for you to find another ship.”
“Finding another Fleet ship that isn’t already flagged for smuggling isveryhard, considering our line of work,” Amelia snapped.
“Have you tried the impound lot a few levels down?” Torian couldn’t help saying it.
Amelia barked a laugh. “My bars went to you, Scrap. You and the rest of my crew.”
“Well, I saved my money. And then I bought a ship to go to Rhymarra myself, because last month, my sister started coughing blood.”
That hung between them.
Amelia’s expression softened. She pressed her lips together, rubbing her face with a hand. “I get it. But you won’t be allowed to land on Rhymarra. They don’t give a shit about you or your sister. And this ship?” She pointed at the moss-covered vessel. “It’s a huge risk for so many reasons. It looks ancient; what happens if there’s a mechanical?”
“I’m at the point of taking risks. I have to try.” Torian’s voice was dark.
Amelia drew a slow breath and grumbled something inaudible. She paced away from Torian, then back again. She fished a small pack of ammo—jelly bullets, meant to pulverize bone without piercing starship hulls—and tossed it at Torian. “Don’t forget ammo, because I know you always do.”
“Gee, thanks,” Torian said drily, but she pocketed the bullets.
“When you’re stranded somewhere, don’t come crying for us.” Her voice eased to something vaguely sarcastic, tinged with an undertone Torian couldn’t quite place. “I hope it works out for you, Torian. Truly. I hope Rhymarra throws a welcoming parade in your honor.”
“Sure.” Torian wasn’t sure if Amelia meant that. Still, this wasn’t how she wanted to leave this almost-relationship, so shecautiously added, “I did enjoy my time on your ship. It was nice to… well, to almost get to know you.”
That Night hung between them.
That Night Torian was released from the medical bay, limping back to her bunk to sleep off the wound.
That Night Amelia cornered her in the corridor, eyes rimmed in red, and whispered,That was fucking stupid. Don’t ever do that again.
Torian had released a shaky breath, their proximity overriding any pain, her mind blissfully blank as Amelia was drawn closer, as she replied,Okay.
You’re worth more than that,Amelia had said.
