Local Star, Aimee Ogden [ebook reader that looks like a book txt] 📗

Triz tossed back the entire glass of ‘shine. It burned on its way down, and the burn cooled the fury inside of her. Everyone here sat around wasting time while Casne waited for Justice to turn its back on her. And here was Triz, too, entertaining a space-addled cockpit jock instead of doing the something-real that eluded her. Something that would help Casne. Maybe he’d even been the one to set Casne up, as some sort of ultra-petty revenge for the crash-and-burn of a matchup she’d made between him and Triz. Revenge against either of them, or both, and now he’d come to enjoy a long salty pour of her misery.

Triz couldn’t quite square that image with the person she’d—occasionally—enjoyed spending time with. The person who’d brought her confectionary stars from the Webward Pearls, who’d sent her long-distance dinners from halfway across the galaxy when she came down with the strain of mendicant’s flu that came through the Hab a few months back. Still, she couldn’t rule anything out, even if that made her the ultra-petty one. “What. Do. You. Want.”

“To help Casne. I want her out of there too. I mean, do you think she went and grabbed the first pilot she could find to throw at you? She and I came up together.” That must have meant something in Fleet-talk, because it meant nothing to Triz. “Even if she’d rather crunch numbers than swing a yoke. This is pulling Justice’s attention from the Ceebee trials so realistically, Casne’s case isn’t going to get the attention it deserves. Fleet Hero or not, when a pile of 22CR Starbusters gets unloaded on an occupied Arcology . . . ” His throat jerked; Triz looked away. “I’ll be your errand boy as long as it means something, the right thing, gets done.”

“I tried doing the right thing.” Triz beckoned the attendant and pointed at her empty cup. E nodded and took out a larger pitcher to hold up to the ‘shine tap. Well. Triz wasn’t going to argue with that. “It didn’t get me anywhere.” And I don’t know what to do now, she didn’t add, in case he had an opinion about that.

“Okay, so . . . maybe the right thing is what Casne would do. Or Nantha. And since neither of them is here, and we have to pick up the slack, we have to make do with the Triz thing or the Kalo thing.”

“I don’t think hitting things with a wrench is going to help. And the Kalo thing is just talking. How’s that working out for you so far?”

The attendant set the pitcher neatly on the table; Kalo offered his fob and paid before Triz could. She washed away a muttered thanks with a fresh pour of ‘shine. She’d spent a lot already tonight, and she had no job to replenish that credit now. She’d worry about that next. PubWel would see her housed and fed in the meantime anyway.

“You want talk?” Kalo tipped his glass at her. “Fine, let’s talk. You know and I know that Casne would never take a shortcut to win a fight.” His gaze lengthened, staring through Triz. “I once watched her fight a Ceebee in a dive on Gnosseo without a scrap of tech to help her, just to prove she didn’t need it. I’ve seen her sacrifice her own tactical array to take fire from Do-Ffash pirates so a divvy Hab didn’t get hit.”

Triz knew about the Fleet’s activities clearing pirates out of the Armward Bands thanks to Nantha; she hadn’t heard about Gnosseo and had trouble picturing Casne engaged in a fistfight. “She did that?”

“She did. It was amazing. Just . . . don’t tell Nantha about that one.”

“Tell Miss By-the-Books about a dive bar fistfight? Yeah, I don’t think so. She’d probably write a disciplinary note for her own file just for knowing about it.” When he grinned, Triz felt a matching expression tug at her own mouth. She crushed that tentative smile under the easy weight of pessimism. “Anyway, yes, we know what we know, that’s great. But I don’t think any Justice will factor any of that in.”

“No, but—don’t stop there. So if we know Casne didn’t do it, who’d want to smear her?” Kalo slammed his glass down on the tabletop. It tipped onto its side, the round gleaming eye fixed her accusingly. “Lanniq might know some likely suspects, but I haven’t seen hide or hair of him in days. He basically lives on the drilling circuit these days. I’m surprised he’s not chewing down the Admiral’s door himself to get answers. It’s not like him to run away from a fight.”

“Well . . .” Triz frowned. The two glasses of ‘shine blunted the edge of her thoughts. She had to try a few times to pierce Kalo’s question about who could be out to get Casne. It felt good, though, like the alcohol could smother the fire of frustration inside her instead of starting a larger conflagration. “The Ceebees, obviously. They’d be mad at her. She was key to their loss at Golros.” But not because of civilian casualties.

Kalo shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, but they’re mad at a lot of us. Like, some five thousand Fleet officers and crew. If they were going to fob a war crime off on one of us, why not Savelian, who actually supervised the whole thing?” A curl lifted his lip. “Plus, they have other stuff to be worried about besides revenge, like, I don’t know, losing at least half their fleet and their last major planetside strongholds?”

Triz refilled both glasses, then rounded on Kalo. “Why did you ask me what I think if you’re going to laugh at whatever I say? Stupid guttergirl with delusions of intelligence.”

“I’m not laughing! And I’ve never thought you were stupid, Triz. You know that. I hope you know.” His eyebrows came together as she set the pitcher down lopsided and nearly spilled it. “I’m just saying, the Ceebees aren’t the