“Of course I do,” Kiva said. “My family owns the ship. I’m the owner’s representative. You think they’re going to put me in a fucking bunk?”
“No, I suppose not. It’s just funny.”
“It’s not that funny.”
“Says the woman who doesn’t sleep in a bunk the size of a coffin.”
“Well, you won’t be sleeping there tonight, anyway.”
“What?” Marce turned and Kiva was entirely undressed.
“Let’s get laid,” she said, to Marce.
“Uh, okay,” Marce said, and then paused. “No, hold on. I’m confused.”
“You’ve had sex before, yes?” Marce nodded. “With women?” He nodded again. “And you liked it.”
“Yes—”
“Then what’s to be confused about?” she asked, coming up to him.
“I don’t think you actually like me,” Marce said.
“I like you just fine.” She grabbed his waistband, and worked the uniform tab there.
“You were willing to give me up to the pirates if you had to. Ten minutes ago.”
“Yes. And?”
“You tell me to shut the fuck up nearly every time we talk.”
“I tell everyone that.”
“I mean—”
“Look, we’ve both had a stressful day,” Kiva said, and pulled down his uniform trousers. “Now, you could stand around trying to talk to me about all the things that didn’t happen, in which case I toss your ass out and you go back to your tiny bunk and smell your own farts until you fall asleep, or you can shut the fuck up, get naked with me, and then we bang each other until we collapse from exhaustion. It’s your choice, but if I were you I know what I would rather do. So, are we going to fuck or what?”
“This is your idea of romance, isn’t it?” Marce asked Kiva.
“Basically,” Kiva said, and then dragged him onto the bed.
A few hours later, as Marce dozed with Kiva nestled up against him, a long mellow ping reverberated throughout the ship.
“Hmmmm,” Kiva said and opened up her eyes.
“What was that?” Marce asked.
“It’s the signal that we’ve entered the Flow.”
“So we’re safe.”
“Nothing is safe in the Flow. If our bubble collapses, we cease to exist.”
“I mean we don’t have to worry about pirates or Ghreni Nohamapetan,” Marce said. He was aware of Kiva’s body next to his and felt an erection pop up almost instantly.
Kiva felt it too and shifted her body on top of his, reached down to position Marce where she wanted him, and then pushed herself onto him. “No, you don’t have to worry about pirates, or the fucking Nohamapetans,” she said, working herself on him. “You might have to worry about me, though.”
Marce smiled at this. “If this is what I have to worry about, I think I can handle it.”
“This isn’t what you have to worry about.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about whatever it is that Ghreni Nohamapetan was fucking willing to kill you over, Marce.”
“Wait,” Marce said. “Are we having an actual conversation? Now?” He started to prop himself up.
Kiva pushed him back down. “Yes, we’re having an actual conversation right now,” she said, increasing her pace. “I can fucking do both. Here’s the thing. You’re going to tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me. You’re going to tell me why you’re on the ship. You’re going to tell me why you’re going to Hub. You’re going to tell me why Ghreni Nohamapetan wants you dead. You’re going to tell me, or I’m going to rip out your fucking heart.”
“When did you want me to tell you?” Marce asked.
“Give me just a minute,” Kiva said.
INTERLUDE
Ghreni Nohamapetan was not having a very good day.
Point one: The Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby had managed to make it into the Flow, despite reporting damage to its engineering systems from the bomb Chat Ubdal had by all reports successfully planted, also allegedly blowing himself up in the process. Reports of Chat’s demise had given Ghreni a slight twinge. Chat had been one of his more useful people, which is why Ghreni had used him for this particular and delicate mission. On the other hand, now Ghreni wouldn’t have to pay out Chat’s completion bonus, which would have been considerable. So that was the one silver lining on this particular mess.
Point two: Not that Chat would have gotten that bonus anyway, come to think of it, because he failed to do what he was supposed to: deliver or kill Marce Claremont. Ghreni had thought he’d managed the latter, despite blowing himself up, when the Red Rose messaged that they had taken delivery of Claremont, albeit in a damaged state, and that various tests confirmed Claremont’s identity.
But then, more than an hour later, a message from the Red Rose:
Claremont out of coma and screaming that he is not Claremont but your lieutenant Chat Ubdal. Is in considerable pain, particularly in his limbs
Followed by
Confirmed Claremont is in fact not Claremont but Ubdal. Tricked our scans with contacts and thumb pad and blood replacement in arms. Last serious, may cause permanent damage
Followed by
Ubdal mostly not coherent but says did not plant the bomb and Yes, Sir is fully operational. Moving to intercept and destroy per agreement
Followed by
fucking hell those assholes took your fucking bomb and got it on our fucking ship what the actual fuck
Followed, rather some time later, by
Bomb Ubdal was to plant on Yes, Sir exploded on our ship, causing operational damage. Could not move to intercept and destroy. Captain Wimson unhappy Ubdal’s bomb came onto our ship. Sent Ubdal out the airlock in his medical gurney. Specific message for you from captain: You owe us double for damages and triple for guns now. You pay off damages first. Also says fuck you and your incompetent fucking minions
Point three: Ghreni now didn’t have the weapons he wanted, which annoyed him.
The weapons were part of a shipment authorized by the parliament and the emperox, to help the duke fight his little rebellion. The House of Nohamapetan had been instrumental in helping get the resolution for the weapons passed in parliament; Ghreni had been instrumental in arranging for the weapons to be pirated. That part at least went to plan.
But then Captain Wimson decided to hold on to the weapons, and told Ghreni to pay more to take delivery. This was upsetting to Ghreni, as aside from the principle of the thing, he’d already funded their acquisition out of House of Nohamapetan funds and found himself rather unfortunately illiquid. His plan to fund their reacquisition out of imperial funds hit a snag when the Count of Claremont decided to have ethics, then hit another snag when Marce Claremont’s kidnapping also failed to produce results.
The new plan had been to reacquire Marce Claremont or destroy the Yes, Sir. The former would optimally yield the Count of Claremont’s cooperation; the latter, while far less optimal because it would exacerbate the already-bad blood between the houses of Nohamapetan and Lagos if his hand in it ever came to light, would allow Ghreni to convince the duke to acquire the substantial funds the local Lagos offices would receive from local offices of the House of Aiello, who held the monopoly on insurance. From there he’d skim enough to cover the weapons.
But now the Yes, Sir was gone, and Marce Claremont with it, and the price of the weapons had not only gone up but now there was another debt in front of it he’d have to deal with.
Point four: And while at one point maybe Ghreni could have stiffed the Red Rose on the weapons—they were the ones who reneged on the original deal, that was their risk—there was no way he couldn’t repay the damages to the pirate ship. They’d fucking kill him, and slowly. Neither his noble title nor his proximity to the duke, nor his own security people, would keep them from coming to get him. So he’d at least need to get the money for that, soon.
Ghreni briefly considered trying to track down Vrenna Claremont for her hostage value but then just as quickly dismissed it out of his mind because
Point five: Vrenna Claremont was utterly impossible to find. She’d gone to ground—but not before sending Ghreni a note from her personal address, which read, in its entirety: