New Blood Page 12

  “She’s a heck of a knife thrower,” Raptor offered.

  Hawk gave him a long, hard look. “How long have you two been a couple?”

  Raptor blinked, but recovered quickly. “Since about halfway through the first year. Is that problematic for you?”

  “Not unless you make it a problem, with fighting or whatever. Just keep your personal shit clear of our work.”

  “Not a problem,” Raptor answered breezily. “I make it a point to keep all personal shit out of my work.”

  Emiko wanted to see Hawk smile at that, but he didn’t.

  The energy went out of the room and she felt disappointed. For a second there, she thought they’d been getting somewhere.

  Hawk crushed his bowl in his hands and shoved it into one of the bags the food had come in. “Should we get the math stuff over with? I have plans tonight, so I only have two hours left.”

  Emiko had to fight a frown. She tried to embody Peregrine’s steely expression. She was annoyed, though. What plans could he have that were more important than making sure his grades were where they needed to be?

  How had this guy even made it into the academy?

  “Let’s get to work,” she said.

  Two hours later, Fallon thought it was safe to say that all four of them were tense. Hawk did not suffer math well, and Peregrine’s sullen silence had made Fallon feel like she was being judged.

  At least Hawk had made a little progress in his ability to work through the equations. That progress had been hard earned, as the rest of them had to suffer frequent outbursts like, “Why do I even need to know this? I’ll never use this!”

  Now, he said, “Time’s up. I’m outta here.”

  Just like that, he strutted out.

  Peregrine gathered the trash. “I’ll take these to the recycler.” At the door, she paused. “Thanks for the help. Math isn’t my favorite, either.”

  Once they were alone, Raptor rubbed Fallon’s shoulders.

  “It could have been worse, right?” she asked, leaning back against him.

  “Much worse,” he agreed. “Much, much worse. We should be cautiously optimistic.”

  She let out the sigh she felt like she’d been holding for hours. “I hope you’re right.”

  The next time she did one-on-one training with Whelkin, she took the opportunity to talk to him about her team.

  “Raptor and I make sense as teammates. Peregrine and Hawk are very different than us.” She sat, sweaty and rumpled, on the floor of the training room.

  Whelkin looked sympathetic. “Teams are put together very carefully based on the skills each member has. You four were selected because your combined areas of expertise will make you highly effective.”

  “Is any consideration put into personalities?”

  “Personality is irrelevant. It’s up to you four to figure out how to work together. A lot of that burden falls on you as the team leader.”

  “Do they know about that bit yet?” she asked.

  “Raptor does. Not the others.”

  “I’m sure that will be a great conversation,” she said sourly. “Hawk has a temper. Maybe Peregrine does, too. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking.”

  “There’s a lot more to Hawk than it seems. Keep working at it. Peregrine’s even harder to know. It will take time.”

  “Do you have a team?” she asked, suddenly curious about his experiences.

  “Yes. Two of them, in fact.”

  “Two? How?”

  He took so long to answer that she thought he would tell her it was classified information and he could divulge nothing.

  But he finally said, “My first team got ambushed. It was a hostile planet, and all three of them died. I nearly did, too. A year later, I was assigned to another team. We lost one member after three years, to a sniper. A year later, we lost another on an undercover mission. And the third never got over the death of the first one. He would have, eventually, but he got reckless. He made a mistake. And then there was just me again.”

  “I’m sorry.” It seemed like a woefully inadequate thing to say about losing six teammates.

  One side of his mouth turned down in a wry expression. “I had worse luck than most, but few teams make it five years together without losing a member. The career you’re aiming for doesn’t give you great odds of living to see old age.”

  “I know.” She’d always known that. Having someone who had seen operatives die, though, made the danger feel closer.

  “Do you? When you’re nineteen, dying gloriously sounds like a great idea. Right up until you get knifed in the belly and lie in an alley watching your blood pour out of you while you’re unable to do anything about it. I promise you, when that happens, it will not feel glorious. It will feel shitty and stupid and pointless. You’ll die alone and scared, like everyone else.” He suddenly looked much older. Maybe it was the sadness, or the knowing, in his eyes.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know that.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you say this to all your students?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you hoping they’ll drop out?”

  He shook his head slightly. “Yes and no. I hate getting to know such bright, talented young people, and knowing that their futures are bound to be ugly. But then, someone has to do this job, and only the best can.”

  “So why give the speech?”

  “So that when I get your fatality report, I know that I warned you, and that you made an informed choice.”

  “Wow.” She stared at him, trying to imagine how it would feel to hear about the death of someone she’d trained.

  “Yep. You and I live in a world of hard realities.”

  “Someone has to,” she pointed out. “So that the general public doesn’t have to know about those realities.”

  He smiled sadly. “Recognizing that is why you’re the team leader. You’ve got that hero gene that enables a person to put her ship on a suicide course, if that’s what needs to happen. You have the ability to see clearly and make the right choices under pressure.”

  “Hero gene,” she repeated.

  “There’s probably a better word for it. But it would amount to the same thing. That’s how I know you’ll figure out how to make Avian unit into a real team.”

  “Were you the leader of your teams?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you unite them?”

  His sad smile returned. “Doesn’t matter. Your team is different. Only you can find what will work for you four.”

  “Right.”

  She was on her own.

  The day after Emiko’s talk with Whelkin, she went on her first stealth mission.

  Never mind that it was self-assigned rather than a mandate from her superiors. She had a mission and a goal.

  She’d make friends with Hawk if it killed her. The way she figured it, if she didn’t, their lack of camaraderie would end up killing them anyway.

  Was it too soon? Was she pushing too hard? There was something to be said for an organic approach and letting things develop in their own time.

  Then she remembered Whelkin’s words. She wasn’t going to lose her team. She’d use brute force now to prevent losing them later.

  Raptor had patched into security feeds so she could track Hawk’s movements the night before. She couldn’t risk tailing him right from his dorm, because he’d surely notice her at some point.

  Instead, she put herself in his path in the downtown area of the adjacent city. As she waited inside a store across the street, looking out the window to the tram drop-off site, she hoped Hawk was a creature of habit. Or at the least, his recent favorite routine would prove to be consistent.

  Success.

  As the tram moved away, she saw an unmistakable large figure receding into the distance, toward the bar he’d visited the night before.

  Yes!

  She counted out two minutes, pretending to admire some clothing, then proceeded to a
cquire her target.

  She went through an old-fashioned wooden door with a huge metal handle, then quickly assessed the bar. A wide, open space with lots of small tables and chairs scattered around. Not too many at this early hour. Aside from the entrance she’d just come through, she noted two additional exits.

  Hawk’s back was to her as he sat on one of the stools that lined the edge of the long, dark surface of the bar.

  She sat on the stool next to him, telling the bartender, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

  She’d always wanted to say that.

  Hawk gave her a long look. “Not sure you can handle it.” He tapped his tall mug. “This has a lot of kick.”

  “You’d be surprised what I can handle.” She held his gaze, unblinking.

  She could have asked Jane or Val for an injection to counteract the effects of alcohol, but that would have felt like cheating. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right. She had, however, eaten a full meal beforehand.

  She didn’t think of it as cheating. Just tactical thinking.

  “Whatever.” He shrugged. “Just don’t expect me to carry you home.”

  “Back at you. I’m stronger than I look, but I’m not moving you anywhere without a complex set of pulleys.”

  He smirked.

  Score! At least he seemed to have a sense of humor hidden under there somewhere. She felt mildly encouraged.

  Her drink arrived and she took a careful sip.

  Her burning sinuses alerted her to the fact that this was not the way to get this particular beverage down.

  She blew out a long breath, then held it, taking several fast gulps, then turned her head to blow out another long breath. She hoped Hawk didn’t notice.

  He did. He all-out smirked at her this time.

  “Okay,” she admitted, “it’s higher-octane than I tend to drink. But it’s fine.”

  He drained his mug in response, taking the glass from three-quarters full all the way down.

  Prelin’s ass. Her work was cut out for her.

  The bartender returned, shoving a basket of pretzel knots at Hawk. They looked good, all brown on top and speckled with salt. Then the smell hit her, making them even more appealing.

  She considered before acting. Hawk seemed to be the kind of guy who was always on the offensive. She guessed—hoped—that brazen behavior was the way to go with him.

  This thought process took only a moment. Within a moment of the bartender bringing it, she snatched a pretzel knot out of the basket.

  Hawk squinted at her, then grabbed one for himself. “These things are awesome.”

  She bit in, and the chewy outside and the moist inside, combined with the saltiness, made her sigh with pleasure.

  “Yep,” Hawk said.

  He was being surprisingly agreeable. She’d half-expected him to roar at her until she left his watering hole.

  Actually, more than half.

  She chugged back a few more gulps of the drink. She didn’t even know what it was called. It could have lighter fluid in it, for all she knew.

  No matter. She was on a mission.

  Every time he took a drink, she drank. Every time he ate a pretzel, she grabbed another. She sat next to him, saying nothing.

  After he drained another mug and punched an order into his menuboard for another, he sighed.

  “What do you want, skinny girl?”

  She refused to be baited. “I want to get to know you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s my job.”

  His head went to the left so slowly that it didn’t look like a shake of the head, but then it proceeded to the right side, too. “Rich girl like you, from a military family, has nothing in common with me. Don’t bother.”

  She allowed a smile to curl up one side of her mouth so he could see it. “You checked up on me. Good. I like people who are thorough.”

  He scowled at her.

  “But I’m far from rich. We lived a very modest lifestyle in a very expensive place. Yes, I had certain privileges. That doesn’t mean I didn’t fight to get where I am.”

  She hoped that would lead him into revealing more about his background, but he just stared at her thoughtfully.

  He wasn’t dumb. The awareness came to her in a flash. She saw cunning in his eyes. Calculation. Math might not be his thing, but he knew people. He could figure them out by watching them.

  This was why he was on her team. That was how he fit.

  She smiled.

  “What’s funny?” he asked. “I want to laugh, too.”

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m not laughing. I just realized why we were teamed up.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “Because you can go places I can’t, and can understand people in a different way than I do.”

  The aggressive set of his shoulders eased. “Good. As long as you know you’re not better than me, this might actually work.”

  She grinned. “Oh, I am better. I fully intend to win all the championships for our class.”

  He looked annoyed, but the expression quickly morphed into wry amusement. Yet he said nothing.

  Neither did she. Instead, she drained her mug of Pure Hell, as she’d privately named the beverage, following it up by blowing out a long breath to get rid of the lingering vapor burn.

  “You drink well, Fallon,” Hawk said, putting stress on the name. “That’s something, at least.”

  She didn’t respond, other than a shrug. He wasn’t ready to share anything with her, or ask anything about herself. But she’d gone toe to toe with him and showed that she was worth considering, at the least.

  For tonight, it was enough.

  Although Emiko had eaten as many pretzels as she could, while sticking Hawk with the bill for them, by the time she returned to her dorm, she felt light-headed. Light in general, actually.

  Raptor looked up as she entered. “How’d it go?”

  “Better than expected.” She made an okay symbol with her fingers. “Still work to do, but mission accomplished.”

  His forehead crinkled. “Have you been drinking?”

  “A little. Why?”

  “You seem a little…drunk.”

  She frowned. “That’s probably why the bed’s slanted.”

  He chuckled. “Yep. That’ll do it. What happened?”

  She closed the gap between her and the bed. Funny. On the tram, she hadn’t felt so hazy. “Did my job. He’s clever. Doesn’t trust people.”

  He stood, and she knew he intended to help her to the bed. She wanted to do it herself, so she hurried. She flopped onto the bed.

  “I’ll get you some water.” He left, presumably going to the common area to get chilled water.

  She watched his butt as he went. He had a cute one.

  When he returned, carrying a bottle of water, she giggled.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I like your butt.” She accepted the water and drank, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d have a nasty headache the next day.

  He took the compliment in stride. “Good to know.”

  She pushed the mostly empty bottle back into his hands. “I’m tired.”

  “I bet. It’s late.”

  She flopped over sideways, a little harder than she intended. With her head on the pillow, she wriggled to push the sheet and blanket down, then back up over her.

  “I guess that’s goodnight, then,” he said, helping her with the covers.

  Her eyes popped open. “He called me Fallon again. I think he might be kind of funny.”

  “Interesting.” He patted her head and got up from the bed.

  She knew he was patronizing her, but was too tired to care. She rarely stayed up so late, much less drank so much.

  “I have to start working on Peregrine next,” she yawned. She meant to say more, because thoughts were unspooling in her mind, as they always did, but she gave in to the haze of sleep calling to her.

  7

  Emiko w
oke up with a headache. She refused to do anything about it but let time sort things out. She rarely did such destructive things to her body, but since she had, she deserved to live with the results.

  A lingering headache made for a rough day in class, though, and by the time she got to the end of the day, she was grateful to flop onto her bed and close her eyes. Raptor was still gone, and as much as she enjoyed his company, having a little bit of quiet time meant everything at that moment.

  She woke to the smell of Bennite stew. Was she dreaming it? She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep.

  “I thought that would bring you around.” Raptor sat next to her with the heavenly smelling bag of food.

  “No words,” she said. “Just food.”

  He laughed, putting a bowl of stew into her hands, then sticking a spoon in. “This ought to fix you up. I don’t know how the Bennites put healing properties into their food, but this stuff is not only delicious, it’s great for hangovers.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Though she felt cranky, she was glad to shovel the thick, meaty stew into her mouth.

  “Right,” he said. “I bet hangovers are too undisciplined for you.”

  “Something like that.” She talked with her mouth full. She didn’t care.

  “It’s good to see you being pushed out of your comfort zone.”

  She stopped eating to frown at him. “I don’t have a comfort zone.”

  “Sure you do. You like things that can be summed up, diagnosed, and solved. You don’t like things that make you deal with messy psychological stuff.”

  “I’m dealing. I already dealt. And I’ll deal some more. With Hawk, and with Peregrine next. I need to work at figuring her out.”

  He handed her a napkin. She took that as a not very subtle hint to wipe her mouth.

  He said, “What if there’s no figuring either of them out? Maybe it’s more about accepting them.”

  Her minor irritation stopped being minor. “If you have something to say, just lay it out.”

  “I’m just saying that they seem to be from a background very different from yours. Not that I’m making assumptions about your first life, or theirs. Sometimes there’s no middle ground. Maybe you shouldn’t push too hard. Not everything can be forced.”