Read Online Edge of Redemption (A Star Too Far Book 3) by Casey Calouette - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Casey Calouette
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done. They hardly touched dinner, Emilie assumed they preferred condensed meals fed while linked to the ship.
“Your corvette, uh, Mr. Mustafa, is there a last name?” Captain Grace asked.
“There is, but Mustafa works.”
Captain Grace nodded with a raised eyebrow and looked to Emilie. “You own the corvette then Ms. Rose?”
“Chartered,” Emilie responded.
“Mercenaries?” Captain Grace asked as he shoveled another load of food into his mouth. The Marines came behind him and landed another plate of steaming garlicky goodness before him.
In the silence, Mustafa leveled a fork at the Captain and waved it before him. “You. You take away that little silver platter on your shoulder and you’re the same.”
Emilie snapped her eyes to Mustafa and frowned at the Turk. Good god, she thought, what the fuck is he doing?
Captain Grace swallowed hard and set his fork down. “Mustafa, if that is your name, I’ve had dealings with mercenaries, on a corvette similar to yours. Took it, seized it, and fled with it.” The words came out thick like a bitter syrup. “As long as the good lady sees fit to keep your leash tight, you’ll be fine. But one slip and I’ll see you hang.”
Mustafa stood and slammed his fork onto the table. He opened his mouth and stopped himself. His upper lip flapped as he took heavy breaths.
Grgur and Igor each crossed their arms and took stepped forward.
“Mustafa!” Emilie yelled. “Take a walk.” The meal was an opportunity to pump the Captain for information, learn a bit—instead, she was running damage control.
The Turk turned and walked out of the room in silence. Captain Grace’s eyes followed him until he was gone. He shrugged it off and jammed another hunk of rich red pseudo-protein garlic sausage into his mouth. “You have my apologies, Ms. Rose, but I’ve seen the worst mercenaries can do.”
“Of course, Captain, now please do tell me about your chefs.”
She felt lucky to have struck on something Captain Grace enjoyed. The remainder of the meal was spent discussing the finer points of the dinner. Both of the Marines looked quite pleased by the finish of the evening. She regretted not being able to talk more shop with the Captain. He carefully deflected any critical question back to the topic of food.
The evening ended. Her last glimpse of Captain Grace was him stuffing garlic rolls into his pockets. She did a double take and shook her head as she walked away.
Typical Navy, she thought. Duty, country, a ship, and not much else. As predictable as economic units of citizens. She didn’t mean to think ill of him, but she knew that he was, to someone, just a pawn on a board. Her plan would go much smoother without a Naval asset in place. The sooner he was out and gone, the quicker she could secure a contract for patrol.
She found Mustafa sulking before the airlock. He glanced up and turned his head aside. They weren’t due to be picked up for another hour. The edge of the personnel carrier was cool with a hint of garlic still in the air.
“What was that? What the fuck was that?” Emilie asked. She leaned against the side wall and shook her head at Mustafa.
“We won’t have to deal with him anymore,” Mustafa said in a low voice.
“He hit a fucking nerve, didn’t he?” She watched Mustafa divert his gaze and shrug lightly. The Captain did hit a nerve she thought. “What did you go to prison for?”
Mustafa looked up from the floor and shook his head slowly. “That’s off limits.”
“Bullshit, it could jeopardize my contract. Which means it’ll jeopardize your pay.” She stabbed a finger at him. “What did you do?”
Mustafa ran a finger over his bare upper lip and licked his teeth. “We ran a job screening a corporate jump, early assets out of unclaimed space.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Emilie groaned. “Who did you steal from?”
“Dythco. But we were just a screen, we never touched the shit,” Mustafa said.
“So someone else ran, had
“Your corvette, uh, Mr. Mustafa, is there a last name?” Captain Grace asked.
“There is, but Mustafa works.”
Captain Grace nodded with a raised eyebrow and looked to Emilie. “You own the corvette then Ms. Rose?”
“Chartered,” Emilie responded.
“Mercenaries?” Captain Grace asked as he shoveled another load of food into his mouth. The Marines came behind him and landed another plate of steaming garlicky goodness before him.
In the silence, Mustafa leveled a fork at the Captain and waved it before him. “You. You take away that little silver platter on your shoulder and you’re the same.”
Emilie snapped her eyes to Mustafa and frowned at the Turk. Good god, she thought, what the fuck is he doing?
Captain Grace swallowed hard and set his fork down. “Mustafa, if that is your name, I’ve had dealings with mercenaries, on a corvette similar to yours. Took it, seized it, and fled with it.” The words came out thick like a bitter syrup. “As long as the good lady sees fit to keep your leash tight, you’ll be fine. But one slip and I’ll see you hang.”
Mustafa stood and slammed his fork onto the table. He opened his mouth and stopped himself. His upper lip flapped as he took heavy breaths.
Grgur and Igor each crossed their arms and took stepped forward.
“Mustafa!” Emilie yelled. “Take a walk.” The meal was an opportunity to pump the Captain for information, learn a bit—instead, she was running damage control.
The Turk turned and walked out of the room in silence. Captain Grace’s eyes followed him until he was gone. He shrugged it off and jammed another hunk of rich red pseudo-protein garlic sausage into his mouth. “You have my apologies, Ms. Rose, but I’ve seen the worst mercenaries can do.”
“Of course, Captain, now please do tell me about your chefs.”
She felt lucky to have struck on something Captain Grace enjoyed. The remainder of the meal was spent discussing the finer points of the dinner. Both of the Marines looked quite pleased by the finish of the evening. She regretted not being able to talk more shop with the Captain. He carefully deflected any critical question back to the topic of food.
The evening ended. Her last glimpse of Captain Grace was him stuffing garlic rolls into his pockets. She did a double take and shook her head as she walked away.
Typical Navy, she thought. Duty, country, a ship, and not much else. As predictable as economic units of citizens. She didn’t mean to think ill of him, but she knew that he was, to someone, just a pawn on a board. Her plan would go much smoother without a Naval asset in place. The sooner he was out and gone, the quicker she could secure a contract for patrol.
She found Mustafa sulking before the airlock. He glanced up and turned his head aside. They weren’t due to be picked up for another hour. The edge of the personnel carrier was cool with a hint of garlic still in the air.
“What was that? What the fuck was that?” Emilie asked. She leaned against the side wall and shook her head at Mustafa.
“We won’t have to deal with him anymore,” Mustafa said in a low voice.
“He hit a fucking nerve, didn’t he?” She watched Mustafa divert his gaze and shrug lightly. The Captain did hit a nerve she thought. “What did you go to prison for?”
Mustafa looked up from the floor and shook his head slowly. “That’s off limits.”
“Bullshit, it could jeopardize my contract. Which means it’ll jeopardize your pay.” She stabbed a finger at him. “What did you do?”
Mustafa ran a finger over his bare upper lip and licked his teeth. “We ran a job screening a corporate jump, early assets out of unclaimed space.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Emilie groaned. “Who did you steal from?”
“Dythco. But we were just a screen, we never touched the shit,” Mustafa said.
“So someone else ran, had
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