Cascade Failure by L. M. Sagas

Author:L. M. Sagas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NASH

Jal’s debrief the next morning was a bit like death by a thousand cuts. Eoan kept their questions gentle. Objective. It turned out, though, there wasn’t really an objective way to describe being plugged full of bullet holes and abandoned to the mercy of your enemy. Nash’s skin crawled, hearing that Jal spent years scrapping abandoned Trust sites for the scavs while life moved on without him.

Kind of made her think Anke hadn’t begged off just to get a head start on the patch.

“We could get in touch with them,” offered Eoan, and the way Jal flinched, Nash would’ve sworn that was the deepest cut of all. “Their information is on record. I could set up a secure comm, if you wanted to send a message.”

“No.”

“No?” Not the response Nash had expected. “The fuck do you mean, no?”

Jal, for his part, looked like he’d sooner fling himself into dead space than answer any more questions. Good job they were up in the bridge; closest air lock was the one by the galley, and Nash figured she and Saint could probably wrestle him back before he made it that far.

Wouldn’t take much, she thought, looking him over. Folded over like he had an anchor around his neck, and still somehow humming with nervous energy. It took a feat of patience bordering on superhuman not to reach over and force his bouncing knee still.

“Wouldn’t be right,” he said. “What would I say? Surprise, I’m back, but I can’t come home right now. How d’you figure that’d go? Not like I can tell them where I am or what I’m doing. Most I can say is it’s dangerous, and I ain’t about to spring this on them just so they can worry ’til I finally make it home. It’d be unkind.”

Fair point, she allowed, but also fucking moronic. “Kind or unkind,” she said, “if you were my brother, I’d want to know.”

“But he’s not.” Saint sighed from his post in the corner, leaning against the wall with his arms folded like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Or maybe, she thought with a glance toward Jal’s weary pile of limbs, like he knew exactly what to do with them, and just wasn’t sure if he should. “It’s his family. Should be his choice when and how they find out.”

Which might’ve been convincing, if his jaw muscles hadn’t knotted up as he said it. Nash half-expected to hear his molars crack. “Shove it,” she told him. “You think I’m right.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

Even Eoan sniffed at that one. Nash hoped that meant they’d call shenanigans—tell Saint he was being a pushover, tell Jal he was being unreasonable. Eoan just sighed, though, in that tinny, airless way of theirs, and said, “If you change your mind, do let me know. I’m sure they would be very glad to hear from you.”

The captain had spoken. “Whatever,” Nash said, kicking her feet up on the edge of the projection table and picking at some imaginary dust on her pants.

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