“Marie’s coming here, you know,” Austin said, before his hand hit the switch. It stopped him cold, short of it, and he looked around at Austin’s expressionless smugness.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know her. She’ll be here—maybe three, four days, maybe on Sprite, maybe on something else. I’m surprised you’re surprised.”
“She can’t. No way in hell. “ His hands had started to shake, he didn’t know why. He jammed them in his waistband, trying to hide the fact.
Austin just shrugged. “We’re out of this port. Glad you made it back.”
“You son of a bitch. She’s nowhere on this track. She wouldn’t leave Sprite, no way she’d leave Sprite. “
Another shrug. “Take L14 for a berth. It’s clear, nobody in there. You’ll have to move some galley supplies, the bunk lets down, probably needs linens. Water lines need turning on. You’re competent to do that, aren’t you?”
“Probably,” he said.
“You’re permitted to Saby’s cabin. The galley. The laundry. If I see your ass near an ops station, we’ll discuss it. But you didn’t want that, anyway.”
“No, sir,” he said, and the door opened, letting him out.
Marie wasn’t coming here. He hadn’t been that close to finding her, when he was loose out there. He couldn’t have been that close.
The shakes got worse on his way to the lift. He had a knot in his throat that didn’t go away on the ride.
No guard. No surveillance. He had a cabin assignment, not the barracks bunk he’d feared he might have, with hired-crew, who wouldn’t go easy on a Bowe in disfavor, crew who clearly took orders from Christian—and not a bunk with Saby, which he was going to have to explain, downside, when the offer did explain why Saby’d so cheerfully shoved him topside to talk to Austin.
Saby just didn’t know. Saby got along with Austin. And good for her. But he dreaded meeting her, when the lift door opened—and she was right by ops.
“Thanks,” he said, uneasy, not wanting to have to explain, not comfortable meeting that clear-eyed stare of hers. “Thanks for taking my side. I—didn’t want to involve you. I’ve got a bunk assignment, it’s not that I didn’t want the other—” A lie. “Just—I don’t want you hurt.”
“It’s no problem, with me, there’s nothing to worry about…”
“I don’t want to worry. “ He wasn’t doing well with the lie. His whole mind wasn’t on it, and then was, and he knew it wasn’t working. “I don’t know what I think, all right? I’m not thinking real clearly right now. Too much input. Too many inputs. I just c-couldn’t—”
“Tom. “ Saby took his face between her hands, rose up taller and kissed him, very sweetly, on the mouth. “Shut up. All right?”
“I didn’t—” He wasn’t doing better with his voice. Nobody’d ever kissed him that fondly, nobody’d ever forgiven him any least thing he’d done or not done or been suspected of thinking. Of a sudden his chest was as tight as his throat and his wits went every which way—suddenly everything good around him was Saby, Saby, Saby. Saby—who’d for some reason just kissed him, and for some reason didn’t look like once was enough. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do next, or what had just turned inside out in him, so that a minute ago he could reason that he was infinitely better off in this universe without Saby and the next she was everything, absolutely everything worth living for.
“It’s all right, Tom. Can I possibly write? Leave notes on your door? Messages through Tink, maybe.”
“Don’t do that to me!—I’m in L14, all right?”
“That’s a damn closet!”
“It’s home. It’s my home. “ He snatched a retreating hand, held it as if it was glass. “I want a place, Saby, I want somewhere that’s mine, I don’t care how big it is, or what it isn’t, I just want a place. But you can come there. I want… “He couldn’t shape it. He hadn’t a chance of the hope he had. He wasn’t worth it. An instant ago, losing Marie had him shaking with panic and now he couldn’t see anything but Saby. He told himself no, what he’d felt last night wasn’t real—but now it was and Marie wasn’t.