TriPoint, a Union Alliance novel by Caroline J. Cherryh

He wanted Capella to let him alone. He wanted to go to the galley every day and deal with Tink and Jamal, he didn’t want to be opted anywhere else. He just wanted a long, rational life where nobody would bother him—he didn’t think that was too much to ask of the man responsible for his existence, seeing that Austin surely wanted his own life uncomplicated, too. Tink would swear to his good behavior. Tink could do that. There were people everybody instinctively seemed to like, and Tink was one of those, the same way he was one of the other kind.

“Can you find Tink?” he ventured asking, when they were dressing; and when he knew Saby was about to make the inevitable phone call. “You think Tink could walk in with us? You think Tink would mind?”

Saby looked a little surprised, maybe… a little perplexed. “Tom,” she said, “everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”

Creative no, in other words. Con job.

“Yeah,” he said, “all right.”

Tink wouldn’t tolerate him getting beaten up, wouldn’t tolerate any treachery, Tink was pure as his sugar flowers, uncomplicated. Corinthian folk could sell him out. Produce fake papers. Say he had a contract with them, or screw him in some means—or just do the mach’ business on him, show him not to run, after this. All right, lesson taken: he’d been hit before, he could survive it. They never believed you got it intellectually, the mach’ types didn’t.

And Austin was one of their kind. Maybe so was he. Genetics at work. Maybe it was why he got in trouble.

“Tom.—You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Sure. “ But he was a rotten liar when he was rattled. And he was rattled—and short on sleep and mildly hung over. “Sure, I believe you.”

“Tom… “ Whatever Saby was going to say, she didn’t, then, just took on a hurt look. He didn’t know why. Not exactly. He guessed he’d been rude, he’d burst the bubble of false trust. “Why in hell’d you…?” she started to ask.

But she didn’t finish that either, just looked upset with him, or the situation, or something maybe he’d led her to think.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He meant it. Saby’d been all right. “We don’t need Tink. It’s fine.”

“You think they’re going to pull something, don’t you?” She sounded surprised. As if it couldn’t possibly occur to her. “You think this whole thing’s a set-up.”

“Hey. “ He waved a hand, Stop, enough. “No problem.”

“Shit. “ She jammed her hands into her belt and looked at him sidelong, from under a fall of bangs, as if she was re-adding everything.

“I said I wouldn’t run. You didn’t have to do anything. But thanks. It was nice.”

Her mouth opened, her head came up, she would have hit him with the back of her hand. Hard. Except he blocked that one with his arm. He wasn’t moved to hit her. But she was mad, furious with him, and he didn’t know which of several things she was mad at.

“Don’t hit,” he said, “I don’t like it.”

“For God’s sake…”

Another censorship. Her eyes watered. Her chin quivered. He’d made her mad, but he couldn’t read it, couldn’t react to what didn’t make sense. He could defend himself if she hit him again, he wasn’t going to take that from her, but he equally well wasn’t going to get into personal arguments this close to the end—he was just scared, was all, scared of her tears, scared of him getting mad—he wanted to like her, he wanted so much to like her, and that was the most dangerous thing…

“Where did you get the notion,” she asked him, “that I didn’t give a damn? Where did you think I lied to you? Tom,—”

He panicked, backed up when she reached, she’d gotten to him that badly, and she just stared at him, confused, hurt, he couldn’t tell. Maybe it was even real, but he’d thought that too many times. It wasn’t reasonable it could be true now, when he didn’t even know her, except she liked roses and coffee and blue glitter-stuff…

“I didn’t lie to you,” she said. “I didn’t need to lie to you. Do you think I did?”

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