A/N: And with this chapter, you're caught up with the story and my posting at ExIsle.
-o-
"I knew we'd get along," Trance interrupts, wearing the same mournful, dreamy expression she wore as she gazed at Captain Hunt's dead body. "even though Beka sometimes left Harper and me behind on assignments because she thought I wouldn't want to know what they were doing. Even though she hurt and killed people; but then, she's never been able to lead a peaceful life.
"The worst was when she helped Flash dealers. I don't think she slept very well after those assignments. Tyr tried to help, in his way, but it start to wear on her. The thing is, she was good at helping them. Just like she was good at smuggling peaches to Chirew, she was good at smuggling Flash and good at intimidating dealers who tried to move in on Darjella's territory.
"So she had two choices. She could quit, but you know by now that Beka Valentine isn't a quitter." Trance laughs here, a little bitterly. "It was one of her mantras, you know. I wish I could have met her sooner, maybe before she met Tyr. Like I said, he tried to help, in his way, but she needed someone to balance him out. Dylan would have done that, and maybe I could have helped, but I found her too late.
"She couldn't quit. So in order to stay sane, she had to become hard."
-o-
As she waited for the airlock to finish pressurizing, arm in arm with Tyr, Beka allowed herself a deep, heartfelt sigh. She was glad to be finished with the business of the last two weeks and would soon be glad to see the two crewmates she had dropped off just before the assignment. Harper had begged to attend a surfing competition, and Beka had been so overwhelmed with relief at his timing that she had not made even a perfunctory objection. She hated thinking up excuses to leave Trance and Harper behind, but she hated more the thought of those two, especially Trance, tagging along when she arranged and carried out the murder of a rival Flash dealer honing in on Darjella's territory.
She told herself – and Tyr tended to agree – that killing Flash dealers was a service to the Known Worlds. So often during her adolescent years had she dreamed of killing the dealers who enslaved her father that this should have felt like fulfilling that fantasy. She told herself that it did feel like that, that it felt good and satisfying and right. If part of her was inclined to argue, well, she was not inclined to listen. If she wanted to stay in Darjella's good graces, she would have to do her damn job without whining. And if she did not want to stay in Darjella's good graces, she might as well throw herself out the airlock. Outer space would not care to prolong her suffering.
But it felt good to be finished, too. And hell, she had done the job pretty well. "So suck it up already," she muttered and ignored Tyr's inquiring glance, gritting her teeth in a prepared smile for the sake of her two crewmates.
A hatch slid open to admit Harper and Trance, both a little darker after two weeks in the sun.
"Hiya, boss!" Harper called cheerfully. "Check it out!" He hoisted a silver cup that probably had more mass more than he did and waved it around, a trifle unsteady under its weight.
"Tenth place!" Trance supplied, practically bouncing at his side.
Beka quirked an eyebrow. "Tenth place?"
"Out of six hundred," Harper added.
Her forced grin bloomed into a genuine smile. "Nice job, kid. Now set that thing down before you fall over, and get your ass down the engine room. Path's making weird noises at anything above 10 PSL."
"Aww, give me a break," he whined. But the smile he wore to match hers belied his tone, and soon he was scampering down the corridor, recounting the most exciting moments of the competition to Trance, who had doubtless heard it all ten times already but bore his bragging with cheerful patience.
Skarynet chose that moment to emerge from an adjoining corridor, and she watched Harper with a thoughtful expression on his face. While she would never be friendly with Beka the way Trance and Harper were, she had grown comfortable enough around her employer to express her misgivings from time to time. Fortunately for everyone, Beka thought, she knew enough to express them in private.
"Good for him. I wonder if Trance will have a conference on the migratory habits of the blue spotted snail the next time we have to dispose of an inconvenient player." She spoke quietly and without a trace of heat in her voice. Only then did she appear to notice Beka, though she could hardly have missed her, standing a foot away. "Excuse me, I'm about to start a shift in Command."
Beka held her tongue until the woman was out of sight and then turned to face Tyr. "Don't even say it."
He gave her his most innocent expression, which only served to make him look very guilty. After a prolonged glare on her part, he relented. "I don't have to say anything, Rebecca. You know my opinion on the subject."
She knew it very well. He had been regaling her, in fact, with the intricacies of his opinion on the subject intermittently for the past two weeks, and other members of the crew had dropped significant hints. Even those like Skarynet who had warmed to the pair could not help resenting them for weakening Beka, as they saw it. She was losing their confidence, and she knew it.
"Glad to hear it," she replied wearily. "Didn't you promise me good news this morning? I have yet to hear anything from anyone besides those two that is not an attack on my leadership."
If he was bothered by her complaint, he showed no sign of it. To the contrary, his lips curved in a small smile, and a warm note of amusement touched his voice when he answered. "We have congratulations to make to an old friend of ours."
They continued their walk from Command to the Obs Deck, which had quickly become their favorite spot on the ship to talk and enjoy each other's company. Maintaining their charade – Beka doubted that any real good had come of it, after all, but if Tyr was not going to complain about it, she would not bring it up – had become so easy it worried her sometimes. There was more than a little feeling in every kiss and touch, at least on her side. The kisses and touches were certainly more convincing that way.
She kept her arm in his, though there was no one present to see it. "Oh, don't tell me there's a swarm of little Gerentexes devouring each other in some godforsaken swamp."
"Not quite. The esteemed Arch Duke of Pride Jaguar has agreed to take a Sabra bride, in the hopes of establishing a truce between their two peoples. Elsbett Mossadim is the First Daughter and quite a specimen, if the rumors are true."
Fertrun Nav, another of Beka's bodyguards, was making his silent way down a perpendicular corridor. To her shock, the man had the temerity to glare coldly at her as she passed, not acknowledging her presence with a word. This had to stop.
Tyr continued speaking in a normal tone as they went their separate ways, but his eyes traced the bulkheads as if he could see the other man through them. Tyr did not approve of what he considered coddling of Trance and Harper, but he approved even less of the slightest sign of insubordination from Beka's crew. If Fertrun remained on board to see their next mission, Beka would be very surprised.
"People are saying he's unworthy of her," Tyr said. Anyone listening in would have thought him wholly absorbed in recounting idle gossip, but she could read the intent expression on his face. Most of his attention was focused on the matter of their crewmates, calculating and estimating and planning for various scenarios.
"I wouldn't want my daughter marrying him," Beka replied in the same light tone. "But there must be more to it than that. Surely he hasn't tried to kill that many people."
The hatch to the Observation Deck hissed open, displaying a gorgeous starscape. Light-years away, a nebula shimmered scarlet and purple and azure against a milky stretch of galaxy. Whether it was logical or not, Beka always felt the burden of her worries lighten when she stared out from this powerful and comfortable ship into the vastness of space. No matter what was out there, she could put up a decent fight with the Shining Path. The most serious problem would come from inside, she knew.
"There is more. Charlemagne Bolivar commands a great fleet, but his decadent lifestyle and various… eccentricities have earned the reputation of a fop. I must admit that until he first tried to kill you, I would have agreed with the majority on this point." First, he said, for Charlemagne had tried at least two other times to eliminate her.
"He's a sneaky little son of a bitch," Beka agreed. "Tyr, I don't see how this is good news. Actually, I think it's very bad news. With the resources of those two prides combined at his beck and call, he might finally succeed in getting past even you."
She was leaning on the ledge that ran along the bottom edge of the viewport, and Tyr's arm had snaked around to rest on her waist. This close, she could feel the rumble of Tyr's laugh when he replied. "I would be insulted if I had not thought the same thing myself. But I maintain that this is good news because it presents us with a rare opportunity."
Beka turned partway to look at Tyr, not bothering to hide her curiosity. "Don't tell me we're gonna crash the wedding, thereby eliminating two threats to both our lives and Darjella's income." She hoped that Tyr was going to tell her exactly that.
He smiled. "It will not be necessary to crash the wedding because there is not going to be a wedding. And you won't even feel obliged to send the purple girl and her mudfoot away on a fishing trip."
-o-
Trance pauses, and interrupts her tale once more. "It was just a lie. Funny how a few words can have such power. When I think back on it, this must have been where it all started. Where it ended, I mean. Those words had more impact on the fate of the Known Worlds than the murders, the drugs, any of it. Except Dylan, of course, but you already knew that." She shakes herself and looks down at her hands, lost for words for a long moment.
"I should have seen it. I should have tried to stop it, but maybe it wouldn't have mattered, in the end."