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Authors: Pauline Baird Jones
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out and lightly, very lightly touched the side of his face, but pulled her hand away before he could grab it.
“You should run. Save yourself. I’ve got personal baggage trailing all the way back to my galaxy.” Her lashes lowered again. “You should get away while you can.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, making the damp strands stand up around her face.
He could have said the same thing to her, but he didn’t. He could tell her she could trust him, but why should she believe it? He wasn’t sure it was true. He had baggage, too, dangerous baggage.
He ran his finger down the place where her wound should have been. The color ran out of her face, leaving her looking drawn and sharply pale.
He leaned forward and found her mouth for a long moment. He sat back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It was the truth. Whatever his other…responsibilities, he couldn’t leave her until, well, until .
His touch put the color back in her face. Her lips parted, like she was going to say something, but the door slid open, ending their isolation. Her lashes went down and when they came up, she was gone again.
In a swift, graceful movement, she was up and moving toward the door as several guys entered, chatting easily. They parted to let her through, exchanging offhand greetings, not really seeing her.
They stopped when they saw him, but he just nodded and followed Sara out.
There were too many people on this ship.
* * * *
After they’d both showered and grabbed some breakfast, Sara told him it was time to face the sim. It had a longer, official name, so he could see why they’d shortened it. Though they kind of went overboard with the shortening. It was like a special code within their language and each time he got something figured out, he’d find out it had yet another name.
As they walked through the ship, he was aware that he walked with the “Captain” part of Sara. Only when they were alone did Sara emerge from hiding. He’d think it was a military thing, but not everyone was as…remote as Sara. As far as he could tell no one saw her. How could their gazes pass over her? The worst were the guys who treated her like she was one of them—not that he minded. It was as if she’d been hidden, so that only he could see her—but even that seemed like a cruel joke.
It was…difficult to adjust to so many people and the differences between Sara’s people and himself, but what he’d seen of these people, he liked. When he’d first arrived, he’d doubted he could fit in here, but as personalities emerged, he realized that wasn’t a requirement. Carey told him he was their “Indian scout,” then explained what it meant, well, kind of. He’d promised to show him yet another movie that would explain it better. Sara said the same thing about the “Chewie” nickname.
They were brave people, to leave their galaxy and risk it all out here. He wished he had a better galaxy for them to explore. Maybe that’s what spoke to him about them, their willingness to push the boundaries, to risk everything to go somewhere they’d never been.
Sara had explained the sim, but he didn’t understand that either until she introduced them. According to her, it mimicked anything a Dauntless could do in space.
“We have to ration all our resources, so this is the only way we have to practice, to keep it sharp, though we do shake the cobwebs out once or twice a month, make sure everything still runs.” She stopped at the base of a ladder. “When my bird is up again, she’ll need a test flight. That’ll give you a chance to compare.”
“You’re going to let me fly your…bird?”
Sara slanted him a look. “Well, much as I’d like to take credit for being that generous, it was Colonel Carey’s…idea.”
That meant order, he’d bet.
“He has this funny idea that the Air Force owns my bird and not me. You have to gear up completely. It’s a pain, but a necessary one.” She handed him gloves and a helmet.
“You should run. Save yourself. I’ve got personal baggage trailing all the way back to my galaxy.” Her lashes lowered again. “You should get away while you can.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, making the damp strands stand up around her face.
He could have said the same thing to her, but he didn’t. He could tell her she could trust him, but why should she believe it? He wasn’t sure it was true. He had baggage, too, dangerous baggage.
He ran his finger down the place where her wound should have been. The color ran out of her face, leaving her looking drawn and sharply pale.
He leaned forward and found her mouth for a long moment. He sat back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It was the truth. Whatever his other…responsibilities, he couldn’t leave her until, well, until .
His touch put the color back in her face. Her lips parted, like she was going to say something, but the door slid open, ending their isolation. Her lashes went down and when they came up, she was gone again.
In a swift, graceful movement, she was up and moving toward the door as several guys entered, chatting easily. They parted to let her through, exchanging offhand greetings, not really seeing her.
They stopped when they saw him, but he just nodded and followed Sara out.
There were too many people on this ship.
* * * *
After they’d both showered and grabbed some breakfast, Sara told him it was time to face the sim. It had a longer, official name, so he could see why they’d shortened it. Though they kind of went overboard with the shortening. It was like a special code within their language and each time he got something figured out, he’d find out it had yet another name.
As they walked through the ship, he was aware that he walked with the “Captain” part of Sara. Only when they were alone did Sara emerge from hiding. He’d think it was a military thing, but not everyone was as…remote as Sara. As far as he could tell no one saw her. How could their gazes pass over her? The worst were the guys who treated her like she was one of them—not that he minded. It was as if she’d been hidden, so that only he could see her—but even that seemed like a cruel joke.
It was…difficult to adjust to so many people and the differences between Sara’s people and himself, but what he’d seen of these people, he liked. When he’d first arrived, he’d doubted he could fit in here, but as personalities emerged, he realized that wasn’t a requirement. Carey told him he was their “Indian scout,” then explained what it meant, well, kind of. He’d promised to show him yet another movie that would explain it better. Sara said the same thing about the “Chewie” nickname.
They were brave people, to leave their galaxy and risk it all out here. He wished he had a better galaxy for them to explore. Maybe that’s what spoke to him about them, their willingness to push the boundaries, to risk everything to go somewhere they’d never been.
Sara had explained the sim, but he didn’t understand that either until she introduced them. According to her, it mimicked anything a Dauntless could do in space.
“We have to ration all our resources, so this is the only way we have to practice, to keep it sharp, though we do shake the cobwebs out once or twice a month, make sure everything still runs.” She stopped at the base of a ladder. “When my bird is up again, she’ll need a test flight. That’ll give you a chance to compare.”
“You’re going to let me fly your…bird?”
Sara slanted him a look. “Well, much as I’d like to take credit for being that generous, it was Colonel Carey’s…idea.”
That meant order, he’d bet.
“He has this funny idea that the Air Force owns my bird and not me. You have to gear up completely. It’s a pain, but a necessary one.” She handed him gloves and a helmet.
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