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

on one shoulder and a commander’s on the other, stepped forward. Triz’s gaze ratcheted downward from the officer’s epaulets to the sidearm holstered at her left hip. “Captain, I’m going to have to ask you to come with us.”

“Of course,” Casne said flatly. “I’m happy to assist the Interior Watch any way I can.”

“Interior Watch?” Triz’s belly lurched, and not from all the drink she’d downed. The Interior Watch served as the Fleet’s military police. Like PubWel, but with shocksticks. “Casne, what’s going on?”

“Lieutenant,” the female officer said, and her junior stepped up with a pair of restraints.

“Hey—no. No!” Triz grabbed the restraints and tossed them over the side of the Arcade. Below, a few surprised voices yelped before the noise of the celebrations swallowed up any dismay. The junior officer took a few steps toward her, then stopped and glanced at his superior. Triz took advantage of the pause to jab a finger into his shoulder. Inside her own chest, her heart hammered out of kilter like a TR-39 with a misaligned nozzle. “You can’t arrest her! Don’t you know who she is? What she’s done for the Fleet? This is all a misunderstanding, Casne is a common enough name—”

“Triz.” Casne’s voice was still eerily level, but the ice in it thawed around Triz’s name. “I need you to tell my parents where I am in case this isn’t all straightened out by the time they wake up tomorrow. I need you to keep a cool head and ask the right questions. Can you do that for me? Triz?”

Triz swallowed hard. Casne’s brown eyes, usually so warm and soft, were now diamond drill bits boring into her. Instead of pounding, her heart slowed enough to fit a lifetime between each beat. “I—I can. Shitting stars. Yes, of course.”

A crooked smile cracked the hard lines of Casne’s face. She bent over to press a kiss between Triz’s knitted eyebrows. And then the Watch officer was locking her wrists into the closed cylinders of a second pair of restraints and guiding her forward through a crowd that parted before them. The noisy banter and clatter of bottles receded, falling away into shoes scuffing on the plastic floor and uncomfortable muttering.

Casne would never have done anything to merit this kind of treatment. If she’d ever broken a rule in her life, it was the stupid kind of rule, the ones that needed breaking.

People didn’t get hustled up to Justice because they spilled spicewine on the sleeve of their dress uniform. Triz felt very small and entirely useless watching Casne march along that human hallway. She didn’t realize she’d dropped the bottle of green wine until it bounced off her toe.

“Nine arms of Swalen, what’s going on?” And then there was Kalo, intercepting the Watch officers before they could hustle Casne out along the Arcade for the rest of the Hab to gawk at. He grabbed the senior officer by the arm hard enough to spin her around. “Is this your idea of a bad joke?”

The Watch officer jerked her arm out of his grasp. “This is none of your concern, Lieutenant.” Casne stressed his rank as she straightened the black stripes on her shoulder: a hint even Triz could read.

But taking hints had never been Kalo’s strong suit. “You’re not going anywhere with her.” He brandished his wrist fob in the junior officer’s direction, making him step back. “I’m calling Commander Escoth. And Admiral Savelian. Whoever I have to get down here to get this straightened out.”

“It was Admiral Savelian who issued the order.” The junior Watch officer’s lips stretched over his teeth: not really a smile, not really a sneer. “Stand down, Lieutenant.”

Kalo surveyed the bigger officer for just a moment. Then he hauled back and punched him square in the mouth.

Triz lurched forward with every intention of throwing herself into Kalo’s fight. Even if the enemy of her enemy was also her enemy, he had the right idea.

“Kalo.” Casne’s voice cracked out like a lancet gun, killing Triz’s resolve.

Triz guiltily dropped her hands.

The officer’s arm locked around Kalo’s neck, as the flyboy strained to break free, but Casne’s voice pulled him up short. Kalo’s arms fell limp and the Watch officer let him slide to the floor.

Lanniq stood just behind the officers, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Behind him, Saabe leaned around for a better view. Casne shook her head at them, an almost imperceptible movement.

Saabe skirted the Interior Watch officers to put a tentative hand on Triz’s shoulder. She wanted to shrug off the touch, and she wanted it to stay, too. Casne was the one who deserved comfort now. But she stared straight ahead, stone-faced and straight-backed, without catching Triz’s eye to offer a wink or head-shake or some kind of shitting reassurance this was going to be all right. Triz’s head spun with shock and alcohol alike, but Casne’s face was steely and sober.

“Are you at least going to tell us what all this is about?” Kalo asked, still on the floor at the junior officer’s feet, one arm wrapped protectively around his belly. Triz didn’t think she’d seen a blow come from the junior officer, but her mind was reeling. Her finger bones groaned under the strain of her fists. Kalo spat a thick wad of blood but missed the officer’s boot. “I know the Watch likes to keep its secrets. But if the Admiral sent you—”

The Watch commander’s chin jutted out. “Check the channels in the morning and read all about it with the rest of the Hab.”

So Triz would have to wait to find out alongside Casne’s family.

“It’s all right.” Casne’s voice pulled Triz’s eyes up to her. The steadiness of her gaze put the gravity back in Triz’s world, took all the upside-down and set it back on the ground—albeit in a jumble. She unpeeled her stiff fingers one at a time from her clenched fists. It hurt, but that helped steady Triz too. The Watch officer nudged Casne’s shoulder and