Blaedergil's Host by C.M. Simpson (reading well .TXT) 📕

understood that he was reading my mind, and was probably in my implant, along with everybody else.

I wondered why I couldn’t see him there, and he let his presence become clear. I sighed, feeling my muscles start to tingle as feeling returned. I should be mortified, or outraged, or something, but I just didn’t care. I didn’t even feel numb. Was it bad that I was starting to accept the chance I would never have another private thought, ever, again?

Was it?

I sighed, trying to shift my weight off Mack’s chest, and feeling Mack’s hands on my shoulders as he lifted me to one side.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just put you in the pod beside hers?”

Pritchard didn’t move. He continued to lounge against the door to my room.

“Because you need both me and Delight on our feet, and on your side,” he said, simply. “We’ve already gone out on quite the limb to keep Cutter, here, from a breath-takingly short-lived trip amongst the stars—and she’s not out of the woods, yet.”

They had? And I wasn’t? And why the fuck did they care, anyway?

Pritchard must have caught all, or part of that thought, because he turned his head towards me, and finally pushed himself off the door frame.

“Because the two of you are not so different,” he said, and then turned his attention to Mack. “What do you say we get Delight to join your meeting in the caf, and we get down to business?”

I stared at him, not quite able to accept what he’d said. Delight and I weren’t so different? The Hells we weren’t! He caught that thought.

“You’d be surprised,” he murmured, but his attention was mostly on Mack, and what he might do next.

Mack was studying him, intently, giving him the sort of stare that a big cat might give a snake it torn between walking past, or smacking. And Pritchard waited, not tense, not relaxed, but somewhere between the two, making it clear he’d accept whatever Mack brought, but he wouldn’t just lie down and take it.

“You risked a lot,” Mack finally said, “darting me on my own ship.” He held out the dart he’d plucked from his side. “Cutter will take you to the caf. I’ll fetch Delight.”

Pritchard nodded, releasing a quietly held breath as he unlocked my door, and let Mack move past him, and through it. Mack stopped as he came alongside the man, and Pritchard tensed.

“She only gets one chance, Pritchard. She shoots me again, and I will end her.”

Pritchard went still, his whole body quiet as he studied Mack’s face.

Probably probing Mack’s implant, as well, I thought, but Pritchard gave nothing away, and I watched as he moved back from the door and gestured for Mack to go before him. As Mack stepped past, Pritchard looked to me.

“Are you coming?” he asked, and held out his hand.

I thought about not taking it, and then decided it would be quicker if I did.

“How many spare pockets do you have?” he asked, helping me to my feet—and I knew he was referring to the suit.

“A few. Why?”

“Because you’re going to need more gear,” he told me, and I remembered who would have been riding shot-gun when Delight boarded the station. Of course, he’d known what she needed.

“Anything I don’t need?” I asked, and we both knew I was referring to what I already carried.

Pritchard shook his head.

“Nope. Some you picked, Delight could have done with on the last round. Others address the changes I saw on the schematics.”

“But not all of them.”

“No. Not all. We’ll discuss it with Tens.”

He let go of my hand and we headed for the door. I wondered just how long it would take Mack to pull Delight out of stasis, and how well she’d take it. She’d been pretty angry the last time they’d met.

“She’ll still be pretty mad,” Pritchard told me, “but she’ll be okay.”

We came to a cross passage, and Pritchard stopped, rather than continue towards the caf. I stopped beside him.

“What?”

“This airlock thing,” he said, and I frowned, but he kept going. “How much trouble is it going to be?”

“Why?”

“Because the plan’s not going to work if you can’t move through one without freezing up.”

“I figure I’ll be okay, as long as I’m going in.”

“Uh huh. And what if you have to come out?” he asked, and I felt a chill run through my chest.

I pushed it away, and made myself meet his gaze.

“I’ll be fine.”

He reached out and grabbed my good hand in a grip a tight as iron.

“Want to test the theory?”

I tried to pull my hand away.

“Not right now, I don’t. Tens is waiting.”

The needler appeared so fast, I didn’t know what to say.

“I wasn’t making a suggestion.”

I tried, again, to pull free.

“I said... Not. Right. Now!” and I punctuated each of the last three words with a movement of my own. ‘Not’ saw me wrap my metal hand over the muzzle of the needler, pull the weapon from Pritchard’s grasp, and throw the weapon away. ‘Right’ and ‘Now’ accompanied the two punches I threw at his face.

The first one connected with his cheek. The second one missed his face and slammed into his shoulder.

“Cutter!”

Well, those tones were familiar.

“Pritchard!”

Come to think of it, so were those.

“Leave him alone!” came out simultaneously with, “Let her go!”

Well, shit! Pritchard and I turned as one to look towards the voices, and I don’t think either of us were surprised to see Mack and Delight hurrying towards us. I guess Mack hadn’t taken as long as I thought he would to let her out of her box. We waited until they’d reached us, and that was when I registered that Pritchard was still holding my hand.

I tried to yank it out of his grasp, but he refused to let it go. Both Mack and Delight caught the movement, and looked at us.

“What is going on here?” Mack asked.

“Nothing,” I said, just as Pritchard answered, “She doesn’t want to check her ability to cope with airlocks.”

I shot him