The Mechaneer

Chapter 27: Petra

‘Petra Jaric’ stood at the back of the Errant Magpie's sleekly sterile bridge, imperiously watching four men in black flight suits orchestrate the ship's entrance into compressed space. If the young noblewoman felt the least bit uncomfortable at traveling on a ship full of criminals, or anything but haughtily pleased by said criminals' lusty glances, she betrayed no sign. She was the picture of oblivious arrogance.

Chloe Hughes, of course, was absolutely terrified.

Between the dark screens and flight suits and the oversaturated white lights bathing the bridge, the Magpie and its crew gave a reasonable impression of their ship's avian namesake. The whole environment was a study in sharp contrasts, white walls and lights, black suits and shadows.

Also like magpies, the crew were thieves – or worse.

"Are you comfortable with compression jumps, Miss Jaric?" Stephan Kronid asked.

Chloe hadn't noticed the Syndicate man's approach. She never did. "I'll be fine, Mr. Kronid," she said. "It's very good of you to ask." Which was almost like thanks, but not quite.

It seemed in-character.

Chloe didn't know what bothered her most. The coldness between her and Rudy, the Magpie's crew of likely rogues, the ease with which she seemed to slip into the petty, petulant role of Petra Jaric, or simply being aboard a compression-capable ship other than the Mother Goose.

She felt like she was running away from her obligation to her parents, even though she knew the battlecruiser offered her only hope of helping them.

"You seem troubled," Stephan said. "Did you and Mr. Brent have a fight?"

"I'm fine," Chloe repeated. She turned to face the Syndicate man.

He was exceedingly tall, coffee-and-cream dark and rail thin, made more so by the way his black flight suit seemed to meld into the overbright light, with an acquiline nose, deepset, heavily shadowed dark eyes, a sharp jaw and a ponytail of thin, straight black hair. He was handsome, she supposed, and extremely menacing even when he was doing nothing more than standing there smiling his too-white smile.

Petra, Chloe decided, would not deign to notice such details. She filed them away but flashed a thin smile rather than following her instinct to step back. "How long until we enter the compression tunnel?"

"A few more minutes," Stephan said. "My men must compute both a legal trajectory to give the traffic managers and an actual one that avoids the usual transport lanes."

"Of course," Chloe said. She pretended to pretend to understand. She actually did, but Petra wouldn't. The Feds, like the Empire before them, managed space traffic to prevent two compression tunnels from intersecting. Technically, a very talented pilot could steer a very nimble ship safely through intersecting tunnels, but only the wildest thrill seeker wanted to try. Criminal and military ships routinely ignored safe channels, as the Errant Magpie was about to.

Another thing to worry about. She wished she were as ignorant of the danger as she pretended to be.

Rudy said Stephan would double-cross them for sure once they got to the battlecruiser and Chloe either showed the Syndicate man how to activate its remains or failed to do so. Until then, though, Rudy said, Stephan would bide his time and count his marks.

Rudy also said he could take the Magpie's four crewmen, an ursid among them, in a fight.

Chloe wanted very badly to believe him.

"Your attachment to your father is admirable," Stephan was saying. Chloe realized she had let her mind wander and hadn't been paying attention to either the Syndicate man or her cover. Stephan assuredly noticed her distraction, but either canniness or politeness prevented him from saying so. "I take it your current familial arrangements don't suit?"

"Mother remarried," Chloe said, "for money rather than either position or love. It's all very well to be able to buy respect, but my stepfather does not deserve it."

Stephan chuckled. "Does position matter so much to you… Petra?"

The way he said the name cut short her response. Chloe tried to identify the undercurrent. Did he hate nobs? Many people in the Federated Stars did. Or did he know who she was?

Or was he just testing her to see if he could get away with using her persona’s first name?

"It is all I have left, Mr. Kronid," she said. Petra, in Chloe's mind, genuinely felt the loss of station, even though she'd been a young child when it happened. She slumped and gave a little sigh. "I don't expect people to bow and scrape, of course, but one wants to at least be acknowledged.

"Is that," she added plaintively, "so much to ask?"

"I'm sure you don't have any trouble being acknowledged, Petra," Stephan said.

Chloe suppressed a sigh of relief. Using the name again settled the matter. He was simply trying it out and appreciating the closeness of a first-name basis.

I should use that closeness to my advantage, Chloe thought.

Just thinking it made her feel dirty.

Yet, she already saw ways. Petra, who had gravitated toward a petty thug like Rudy's alter-ego, Ollie Brent, because he was rough and handsome and dangerous – mostly dangerous – would find the idea of being a powerful gangster's girl exhilarating. Anything to offend her resented mother. Anything to liven up her drab, shallow life.

“I… really should be going, Ste… Mr. Kronid,” “Petra” said. She must maintain the illusion of propriety. For the second time in as many minutes, Chloe found herself pretending to pretend what she actually felt. She felt smothered by the layers of bluffs.

"Of course," Stephan said. He stepped aside to permit her to leave the bridge and swept a long arm toward the door. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you waiting."

"You're very generous," she said. She forced a smile, quickly, then swept from the bridge, doing her best to portray a troubled young woman contemplating a terrible mistake and prepared, even excited, to make it.

She strode down the Errant Magpie's long, white hallways to the room she and Rudy shared. The door, programmed to respond to her touch as soon as they came aboard, slid open when she pressed her hand to it.

The lights were off inside. Only a small screen, still silently portraying the flow of Wellachan waves, illuminated the room. Chloe's eyes took a moment to adjust as she stepped in and let the door slide shut behind her.

She knew where Rudy was long before she could see him, though. Sprawled on the gel couch on one side of the room, eyes closed, snoring.

He'd slept on a lot of couches, lately. First at the hotel on Wellach, where he'd refused to get a suite with two beds, supposedly to keep up his reputation, but she figured he'd had at least some hope of sharing the one. Now on the Magpie, because their cover demanded they give the appearance of sleeping together.

Chloe sank to the bed and buried her face in her hands.

"Rudy," she whispered, too quietly to wake him. "I'm so sorry. You're right, you're completely right. I owe you knowledge and power for the risks you took and the things you lost. And more than that, because you were a friend to me when I needed one the most."

He thought she was angry with him, she knew. She had been, at first, and shocked at the harshness of his words. She didn't blame him, though. Couldn't.

She didn't know why those words choked in her throat when he could actually hear her. Somehow, it never came out right, or at all.

She peeked through spread fingers.

Rudy's chest rose and fell in rhythm to his snores, peaceful as a baby. He was so much easier to talk to when he didn't come back with a smart remark at every sentence. So much more likable.

Lovable, even.

"I can't figure you out, Rudy," Chloe said. "Who are you, really? Who's your Chloe Hughes, and who's your Petra Jaric? A smartass punk who doesn't care about anything or anyone? A ruthless Oligarch who tallies up every service rendered and penny loaned and expects payment with interest?"

She leaned closer. Her voice lowered to the point she almost couldn't hear it. "The nice guy you sometimes seem to be underneath it all – even if you'd never admit it?"

Or, she reminded herself, the nice guy you sometimes pretend to be.

Principle, she thought, don't let that person be the fake, because –

Because Jack and Ellie Hughes were so, so right to warn their daughter about guys like Rudy.