A "well done cluster fuck" in pilot speak.
This story takes place on July 12th, 2689. It's primarily about Glyse McKenzie and Whitney Antares and setting up their eventual romance.
David looked at the response from Walker and smirked. He was glad, in a detached way, that Whitney had found someone like Walker to watch out for her. Her mother had been such a hot mess since his died, someone needed to keep an eye out for the poor girl. He liked Whitney; growing up she’d been a fun companion, and she was always a delight to talk to; he took special pleasure in picking on her, offset by winding her up like a top and letting her go for hours on the strangest topics. She was on the rare list of people he maintained contact with because he enjoyed them, not because of what he had to gain.
His sister, on the other hand, saw her in a completely different light. Which is the whole point of this exercise.
Glyse was always his rock, the one person who grounded him in what it meant to be human. In how to feel. But, for nine years she’d run away from Whitney for reasons he’d never been able to understand, and frankly, enough was enough. Growing up, she had worked hard to impress Whitney, and it had seemed to David to work more often than not. Now that Glyse was struggling with her own issues, she needed that simple adoration that Whitney could give. I mean, they’re both probably going to be happy about this, so it’s a win-win, right?
He looked down at his watch. His sister would be arriving soon. She was dead-heading it here from the Academy for what was supposed to be some sibling bonding on the capital world. That would happen, but first, she was going to fix things up with a childhood friend. Afterwards, he’d buy her a crate of wine and watch one of those stupid war dramas she always got mad over, as her reward for doing the hard thing.
And anyway, he thought to himself, Calysto is one of the only places you can get one of those paper journals Whitney loves so much, without spending a small fortune or waiting six months. And it’d hardly be fair to make her face Whitney without one.
—
Glyse hadn’t stopped cursing under her breath for the last thirty minutes. Her heart was in throat and she’d rather face down the entire Terran Navy than see her old childhood friend. But she knew David was actually running an op against her and any attempt to flee would be met with unexpected resistance from whatever sources he’d gathered for this. Sometimes she hated being the daughter of a career spook whose son was at least as good as their father was. She wasn’t bad, but as an off duty League Officer she also wasn’t about to start a fight on Freedom Station in the heart of the capital system. That damned asshole won this round, and from that smug tone of his when he told me what he’d set up, he knew it from moment one.
What was probably the worst thing he’d done in the series of reasons why she was going to kill him this month was giving her a full half a day to get ready and go shopping for the right apology gift. Five years ago when she’d almost reached out, she’d known the right gift and even got it; a very rare, very old piece of broken tech from her Uncle Kashk. She’d asked him for something special, and he’d given her a several thousand year old holographic projector/recorder he swore was Lyndri in origin. He’d said most would never believe its origins so it wasn’t worth much, but to someone who loves technology or history, it should have meaning. Glyse figured Whitney would love taking it apart and figuring out either how to fix it, or build her own. And who wouldn’t love a holographic picture frame? The projectors the military used were still highly expensive and no one sold anything this compact or useful… if it worked. Whitney would have loved it…
And it had sat on Glyse’s shelf for the last five years, never making its way to its intended target. I don’t want to know how the hell David —a damned civilian— managed to get it from my bunk on the Archigos… but I’m tempted to file a report. That wasn’t really the problem. Instead, it was the fact that Whitney wasn’t a scrawny 14 year old crawling through engineering hatches anymore. Now she was a 19 year old who’d been away from the Institute a whole year… Glyse had no idea what that Whitney would want!
She’d taken the shotgun approach. She’d picked up a new journal, since that’d been their thing. It was leather bound, with a diagram etched into it in actual platinum. The shop had an option to get any design on the cover you wanted, so she’d contacted Rhea and gotten the Chilkoot’s engine diagram on one side, and the Archigos’ on the other. The diagram was so small if you didn’t know what you were looking at, it just looked like an abstract design, but Whitney would know exactly what she was looking at. Assuming she’s still the same person she’d always been.
The final thing she’d grabbed was some flowers. She’d poorly tried to explain the situation to the florist when asking what she should get, and somehow she’d ended up with a dozen orange ‘designer’ roses, the same color as her hair. Apparently, they’d live for up to a month in some water, and if you vacuum desiccated them, they’d keep their colors. Glyse had no idea why people would want to keep flowers after they’d withered and died, but maybe Whitney did?
Well, it hardly matters, because it’s time. Glyse took a deep breath and headed for the little cafe David had told her Whitney would be at. She’d been sitting on a bench in the station’s promenade since she’d finished her shopping, and somehow the white dress she’d bought at way too high a price was managing to still look perfect when she stood up. It has a slit up the right side that almost went up to her hip and while the whole thing made her uncomfortable, she took a deep breath and practiced the lessons her mother had taught her. From the looks she was getting, she was sure the woman with the bright red hair and supermodel figure was turning every head in the station’s shopping district. Good. I hope you’re enjoying this, David. Because if you’re making me do this, I’m going to own this fucking thing.
The thought occurred to her that Walker d'Ardenne was probably watching alongside her brother. She didn’t like that thought, exactly; d’Ardenne was a bit too like her brother for her to be entirely comfortable with him, and she knew he might appreciate her little spectacle in a way her brother most certainly wouldn’t. She didn’t hate him, exactly; rather, he’d once bested her at her own game, on her own turf, and she’d never forgiven him for it. Well, I guess it’s better to just forget about him. As her mother had always told her, ‘if you can’t control a distraction, pretend it doesn’t exist.’ It was much easier said than done, but she’d try anyway.
The cafe was more restaurant than cafe, though she realized that probably wouldn’t hurt the situation any. It seemed like a more upscale place than she would have picked if this had been her money, but she didn’t normally even spend time in this part of the station so this had to be either David or d’Ardenne’s pick. Well, at least I have the dress for it. She walked right past the Host’s podium like she owned the place and was pleased when no one even tried to stop her. Damn, maybe I need to dress like this more often.
The next problem was finding Whitney. It’d been almost nine years since Glyse had seen her. Oh, she’d looked up a recent photo, but by ‘looked up’, she really meant ‘used her father’s access to pull a recent image from security cameras’. The image was fine, but not the best when hoping to spot someone; especially when they were covered in engine grease and wearing the same damn jumpsuit all freelancer engineers seemed to wear. At least, she didn’t think it would be, but it turned out this little ‘meet cute’ had been arranged by two psychopaths with a penchant for details.
Sitting at a corner table, angled just so that Glyse could see her in profile was Whitney, looking vaguely unsure of her surroundings. She had blonde hair —a much more natural looking color than Glyse’s— but the same piercing green eyes that had made her mother practically a force of nature without saying a word. She wore a pair of jeans and a light blue blouse that looked incredibly cute on her. What struck Glyse most, however, was just how much of an adult Whitney looked like. Gone was the awkward, lanky ten year old she’d known and instead was this young woman who suddenly felt far closer to her own age than not. They were still eight years apart (though for Sooni that wasn’t even a gap worth mentioning), but it suddenly felt so small of a gap. Glyse wasn’t dealing with a girl anymore. The person sitting there was a woman, someone who’d started to come into her own, even if it was in an awkward, very Whitney way.
A small smile crept onto her face. Looks like we’ve both grown up since we last talked. Here’s hoping she sees the changes in me, too.
Glyse took a deep breath, before walking over, shopping bag swinging from her left hand. She headed straight for Whitney’s table. This is it. Time to punch through or bail out. Coming up beside Whitney, the awkward girl seemed to instinctively look away from her, hoping that whatever this crazy woman in the fancy dress wanted, it didn’t have to do with her. Glyse smiled to herself; she’d with the same thing if the roles were reversed.
Placing her hand lightly on Whitney’s shoulders, she leaned forward and said, “Whit? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
There was a look of shock and confusion at first, and then Glyse could see the confusion fading into recognition. It was there, as her expression changed through a whirlwind of emotions, the story of how Whitney had felt these nine years. And, it was about as bad as she worried it might have been. But, after a moment, the woman’s face seemed to land on something close to ‘pleasant surprise’ with a side of ‘embarrassed’. Glyse could work with that.
“Wha—Glyse?” Whitney made a move like she was going to stand, then stopped and just looked even more awkward.
In an attempt to relieve them both of the embarrassment of not knowing what to do, Glyse quickly moved to the seat across from her and sat down. Almost immediately a waiter was standing there, asking her if she wanted anything to drink.
“Uh, fuck it. Irish Coffee. Two shots of espresso, double whiskey.” Glyse looked at Whitney. “You want anything? Don’t worry, you’re not paying, so run the tab as large as you want.”
Whitney seemed even more flustered by the whiplash of the question and settled on just shaking her head. “No, thank you.”
Glyse turned to the waiter. “Bring her some water, at least. And, no offense, but we’re going to be a while before we decide to order; we’ll flag you down when we’re ready.” Glyse gave him a curt smile that said ‘bring us our drinks then leave us the fuck alone’ as politely as she could manage. The waiter, to his credit, returned the smile in a way that seemed to say, ‘Understood’.
Turning back to the matter at hand, Glyse looked at Whitney. It seemed like they were now in a contest of who was going to speak first. Fuck it, neither of us deserve this limbo. Might as well.
“First, I need to give a disclaimer. My brother and your captain are devious, meddling assholes who I’d like to shove out an airlock. But… their cold withered hearts are in the right place, and despite how much this is not how I’d normally do this, someone had to kick my ass, and I know David did it with love. d’Ardenne, who knows, but he seems to have a fondness for you, which means I can’t hate him… as much as I might want to.” Glyse sighed, before looking up at Whitney, catching her eyes. “I fucked up, Whit. I’ve been a horrible friend all because you showed me kindness at a moment I needed it. You did everything right, and I decided to keep being the freighter-wreck of a person I am and punish you for it. That was cruel and stupid, and it never should have taken me this long to say it.”
Awkward though she might be, the girl had a titanium core, deep down. Glyse knew that having Rhea for a mother couldn’t have been easy and this wasn’t the first time someone who supposedly cared for her had stepped out. She’d always, for better or worse, had to rely on herself at the end of the day, and that had made her strong, even if she didn’t show it normally. Glyse could see the thoughts clicking into place, watching her parsing through everything in the rambling mess of words Glyse had just said, sorting it, processing it, all faster than Glyse could ever hope to. This girl —no, woman— was brilliant and strong, in all the ways Glyse found herself lacking.
“I, uh.” She paused, closing her eyes. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that. I always wondered what I did wrong. David would tell me it wasn’t me, but that never made sense. You still talked to him and Mom, so why not me? It had to be me, nothing else made sense.” She opened her eyes and gave an awkward smile. “I still don’t understand, but if even you’re saying it wasn’t me, I have to believe it, right?”
Glyse shook her head. “You don’t have to believe anything. But, maybe I can explain better.” Glyse reached down into the bag she’d brought with her. “I, uh… brought gifts. To say I’m sorry. But I didn’t know what to get… so they’re kinda all over the place.” She pulled out the leather journal and handed it to Whitney. “Pretty sure you’ll recognize what’s on the front and back covers. Inside, I wrote the first entry… tried to explain better on paper. Sorry my handwriting is crap; I almost never do it.”
Whitney took it from Glyse’s hands like it was a precious artifact. “A journal?” She ran her hand over the leather cover, racing the lines of the platinum diagram. “Oh my god, this is the Chilkoot’s sublight engines! Or, well, one of them. Oh, wow, you have all my modifications on there! It’s too low resolution to see everything, but that’s the upgraded ion pump, and the graviton assist, oh and you even have the plasma charge conduit! I can’t believe how much detail you got on here…” Her eyes were wide as she continued to trace the fine details worked into the leather. “Did you know that my engine mods make the Chilkoot 39% more efficient, making its power to mass ratio closer to that of a—”
“Whit. Flip it over.”
Whitney blushed, and tilted her head down. Clearly she was used to being told to stop talking; Glyse didn’t mean that, but she also knew they’d be there for the next week if she let Whitney go off on her technobabble. It had always annoyed Glyse in the past… though oddly it seemed cute more than annoying this time?
“S-sorry.” She flipped it over and if her eyes could get any bigger, they would have. “This!” She looked up at Glyse in surprise. “Wait, how? Are these the original specs? Those are classified. All Mom ever let me see is the civilian refit specs. I mean, if you know where to look, you can get the diagrams for the production model, but… these are the Archgos’ original engines, aren’t they? Testbed 1, right?” She was practically vibrating out of her chair.
“They’re the specs of what’s currently installed on the Archie. Rumor is, she never got the production run of anything, and even now, twenty five years later, those overbuilt, hand-modified engines are what keeps her in the skies. I can’t tell you whether or not those engine diagrams are different from the production ones, and I certainly would never give state secrets to an independent operator like yourself…” Glyse grinned. “But it’s not like your mom doesn’t have her own copy of these that my dad gave her. But let’s just consider this a secret between us.”
Whitney looked like she was going to burst. “The detail… I wish I could see more. Or that it had labels. Wait, each engine has four ion pumps? I thought the two on the production units were overkill. No, wait, this suggests they operate in tandem; you can turn this pair off, or that pair off, but you can never just run one? Why? Wouldn’t that be super inefficient? Oh, wait… this is a… ion recycler? That would let you capture any ions that didn’t get properly accelerated, allowing you to have a near zero total loss! That’s a brilliant solution… but only because you made this problem by putting tandem ion pumps in the first place. No wonder they never saw production! Oh, this plasma burn chamber looks different too—”
Glyse put her hand on top of the book gently. “Whit, I knew you’d get excited by all this. But if you can pause the technical analysis till later? I’m kinda dying of anxiety over here; I really need you to read the message I left.”
“Oh, you’re right. Sorry.” Whitney seemed even more embarrassed she had to be chided a second time.
“No, it’s fine. Just… order of operations, you know?”
Whitney’s head came up at that. “Order of operations?”
Glyse smiled. “Geeking out at the diagrams is fine… hell, even good since it makes me feel like I did the right thing getting ‘em. But I’m also still in the middle of my apology. So, if you read the note first and geek out second, I won’t be so anxious, and everything will go smoother. Kinda like how you have to bolt the engine access panel on a Xiphos in a specific pattern?”
Whitney nodded her head. “Right. Yeah, ok.” She opened the book and started reading the inside passage.
June 12th, 2689
I’m going to see you today. First time since my mother died and we had that night… You know, it’s all a blur. I just remember getting your note and knowing I needed to see you. I boosted one of Dad’s shuttles and flew myself all the way out to CNK. Saw you, gave you a big hug and then we went off to your room. You were a kid, I was a teenager who thought herself a woman… yet that night you were more of an adult than I was. I cried as you sat on my lap and comforted me. You distracted me, and we talked about our moms and stupid silly shit. You let me be a girl who’d just lost her mother, and the only real tie she had to her home. No one else did.
And that’s the problem. I’d never cried like that in front of anyone, except my mom. Everyone wanted me to be something else… heir to my mom’s legacy. Leader of… it doesn’t matter. (I’ve refused so many times.) Support for my dad and brother as they hunted down the bastard who did this, and I had to try to keep them from burning the galaxy in retribution. Emotional support for your mom as she drunkenly confessed all her feelings for my mom… things I still wish I didn’t know about the two of them, because I naively thought my mom would never hurt Dad like that…
I guess the point, Whit, is that I felt like the world was bearing down on me, pulling me in a thousand directions and no one was going to let me be a girl who’d lost the cornerstone of her world. Till you. You gave me that precious gift… and might’ve saved me. I don’t know what stupid thing I would have done.
So why leave?
I don’t have a good reason, just a reason. You’d seen a side of me that no one else ever has, or probably ever will. And it terrified me. I’d spent so long wanting you to look up to me… being broken like that in front of this kid? Somehow, I was terrified you’d judge me. Or seen something in me you hated. Were disgusted by. I know, I know. It’s stupid, you’re not like that, and really, you were a kid. You just wanted to help me, nothing more.
Well, you’re no longer a kid. And neither am I. Time I stopped acting like one.
I’m sorry, Whitney. So very, very sorry. I stepped out of your life for bullshit reasons, and I probably don’t deserve you letting me back in… but I want to be in your life again. You’ve become someone awesome from what I hear, and I want to get to know this woman… this peer. Equal footing this time, not me trying to impress you, or show off.
I’m sorry… will you be my friend again?
I hope you say yes.
Glyse
Whitney read the passage several times. Glyse wasn’t sure if that was a good sign, or not, but finally she looked up with tears in her eyes.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll be your friend again. I never wanted to stop being your friend. I missed you a lot, you know. Yes, it hurt when you stopped talking to me, and yeah, I wish I’d known why. Honestly, I still don’t entirely understand. But I accept you felt that way. And none of it means I don’t want to still be your friend.”
Reaching out, Glyse grabbed her hand. Whitney flinched a little and blushed, but Glyse didn’t much care, in the moment. She squeezed it, letting her own tears show. “Thanks. It… means more than I thought it would. I… Whitney, you deserve the universe, dammit. And if all my skills and all my connections mean a damn, you’ll have it.” Glyse’s words came out with a force and conviction in between her tears.
Whitney was crying too, though less so. “I don’t really know what that means. But ok.”
The waiter came over with their drinks, set them down, and left quickly. Both women practically dove for their glasses, Glyse downing a third of the irish coffee instantly, while Whitney more hid behind than drank her glass of water. There was silence for several seconds before Glyse shook her head and chuckled.
“You know, I tried to do this a couple of times on my own, over the years. Each time I’d get too anxious and scared. Thought you had to hate me, after so long.” She reached into the shopping bag. “So, one of the times, I got this from Dad’s NorAellian Ambassador friend. I asked him for some cool, broken tech I could give you as a gift. This is what he gave me.”
She reached out and set an old, beat up looking metal rectangle on the table between them. It looked ancient, like something that belonged in a museum. On its bottom were two contact points that looked like charging studs, while on the top were three small translucent spheres, each with a gold ring around them. One of the spheres was cracked, showing some inner circuitry. Circumscribing the triangle they formed was a pale oval of some type of plastic. On the side was an activation button with a small indentation that looks like it was designed for fingers too slim for a human’s.
Whitney turned it over in her hands reverently. “What is it?”
Glyse grinned, knowing now that it had also been the right call. “He said it’s an ancient piece of Lyndri tech. Three thousand years old. It’s a portable holographic display and recorder. He also said no one would believe me; enough of these have been declared as fakes and confiscated by the Lyndri that you can’t really sell it for money. But Dad trusts Kashk with his life, and Kashk’s mate would be able to get her hands on something like this… I dunno if it’s true or not. But it’s old, broken, and pretty cool. Even if you can’t get it going, maybe you can learn enough from it to make a holographic picture frame, or something like that. I don’t know.”
Whitney was already halfway around the table before Glyse realized what was happening. The slender woman wrapped her arms around the fighter pilot and squeezed with an almost unpleasant amount of strength. “Thank you! This is wonderful! I want to take it apart right now!” Glyse could feel more tears falling onto her shoulder, and smiled, returning the hug.
“Order of operations, Whit. But please, let me know if you get it working. Or if you can confirm Kashk’s story.”
“Yes, I will! Thank you!” She returned to her seat, turning the device over in her hands, clearly dissecting it in her mind. She wiped the tears away, smiling in a way that tugged oddly at Glyse’s heart. Dammit, I’d do anything for that smile. She deserves everything.
Both women took a few minutes to compose themselves, afterwhich Glyse fidgeted with her now empty mug of irish coffee. “I, uh, have one more gift… but I’m not sure if it’s as… appropriate as the others… maybe this isn’t the right time for these.”
Whitney looked confused. “Appropriate? I don’t understand.”
Glyse reached into the bag and pulled out the dozen, bright orange-red roses, and handed them to Whitney, whose face was even more red than the flowers. She was sputtering and unable to form complete words, looking wide-eyed at the flowers like they were some sort of alien creature.
“I know, over the top right? In my defense, I was freaking out and wandering the shopping district, and I saw a flower place. The lady there told me these would be perfect for saying ‘I'm sorry’, though. They live for a month or more in water, and you can dry them out so they keep their colors. Not sure why you’d want to keep dead plants, but the whole flower thing seems weird to me in general. But, yeah, that’s the last gift.” Glyse smiled reassuringly at her. “And hey, my mom always told me that pretty girls deserve flowers. So, if you don’t want to think of them as ‘sorry flowers’, you’ve got another option.”
Somehow, Whitney’s face got even redder. Glyse didn’t understand why; it’s not like she’d just proposed or confessed her undying love, or something. They were just flowers, right? And what girl didn’t like being called pretty? She was, after all. It wasn’t weird to say that… was it?
“Whit… are you ok? Did… did I do something wrong? Are the flowers not good?”
Whitney shook her head and protectively pulled the flowers closer to her. After a few false starts, she managed to get some words out. “The flowers…” She swallowed and started again. “The flowers are fine. Good. The flowers are good.” She caught Glyse’s eyes and then looked away again, blushing even more. “They, um, they look like you. Like your hair.”
Glyse decided whatever this reaction was, she didn’t need to understand it, and probably never would. “Yeah, uh, they matched them to my hair color. Not what I would have picked but the woman assured me that this was the best way to make up to my ‘special someone’. And, I mean, you are special to me, Whit. I might not get a lot, but I know that. I just… I was worried they were a bit much. And after you liked the other gifts, I thought flowers were the wrong call, you know? Normally, you give them to someone you’re dating, right?” Glyse laughed nervously, all while wondering why she was nervous. There was no reason… right? What the hell is wrong with me? Why was she reacting this way?
After a few minutes, Whitney seemed to have composed herself a little more. “Thank you for the flowers, Glyse. I didn’t expect you to, um.” She trailed off as she blushed again. “It means a lot to me. But, I don’t really know anything about, uh, ‘receiving flowers’.” Whitney was looking into her eyes, as if she was hoping Glyse understood what she was saying.
The fighter pilot frowned. “This isn’t really about flowers, is it?” She sighed, she’d expected this. “Listen. You and I have very different lives, and they’re busy ones. You and your crew are only here a few days, and I’ve gotta catch a flight back by the end of the week. This whole thing was just a smash and grab for me.” She paused, watching Whitney’s growing confusion. “The point is, Whit, the ball’s now in your court. I get it’ll take time for you to sort through your emotions, and you might decide you never want to see me again. If that happens, it sucks, but it’s fine. But we also don’t have to see each other for a while. We can just write or call. Start slow, you know? Building friendship takes a while, and I’ve got a lot of trust to re-earn. So, look. If you want to see me one more time before you ship out, let me know. Otherwise, when you’re feeling more comfortable, you call me. No pressure, just when you’re ready, if you’re ever ready. Ok?”
Whitney nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She sighed, pursing her lips together into an expression Glyse seemed to remember meant concentration. “I know what I felt that night. My friend was hurting, and I wanted to make it better. I hurt too, but that didn’t matter to me. Later, when you wouldn’t take my calls or write to me, I know what I felt then, too. Hurt, scared I’d done something wrong, afraid that I’d lose more people, like David or Mom. Even Aunty Liz, though I never really saw her regularly anyway. But people leave me. Things move forward, and time, uh, well, keeps happening, I guess. I would think about you and be sad sometimes, but I’d accepted it.” She paused, looking at one of the roses intently, turning the flower around in the bouquet, as if studying it. “And now, today. Today I feel light. Happy. Aunt Nyana would say ‘giddy’, though I’m not sure I knew what that meant before now.” She looked at Glyse, smiling. “I’m so happy to have my friend back. And these gifts?” There was a faint blush to her cheeks as their eyes met. “These gifts are some of the most wonderful things I’ve ever received.” Her green eyes stared into the pilot’s orange ones. “The flowers are wonderful. I love them and will cherish receiving them. But Glyse, please forgive me.” She looked away, her cheeks growing red again. “I don’t know how they make me feel. Happy. Special. Overwhelmed. Uh, terrified and unsure? I just don’t know what any of that adds up to. I, um, feel like I should have a better response for you, but, um.” She gave a sheepish shrug. “It’s a lot all at once.”
Glyse held up her hand. “You don’t need to. I just.. Did some things, you know? Things you deserve. Feel whatever you feel. There’s no pressure Whit. Don’t try to break it down and turn it into one of your mom’s puzzles… just sit with it.” She shrugged. “That’s what I tell David to do sometimes, when he doesn’t know how to feel something. You aren’t required to ‘solve’ emotions. Just to feel them, as they come.”
Whitney nodded, but kept looking down at the roses. “No one’s ever given me roses before. I’ve studied relationships and mom’s made sure I’ve received instruction. This is just new—”
“Eww. No. Nope. I don’t want to know what creepy ways Rhea would think her daughter had to learn about sex. I don’t know where you were going with that, but it’s not relevant. It’s just flowers, Whit. People are given flowers all the time.”
Whitney just nodded, and said nothing, her cheeks still burning.
Glyse shook her head. “I think if we keep on this topic, you’re going to melt into a puddle, Whit. If you don’t absolutely hate my guts—”
“I don’t!” The slender woman’s reaction was swift, and assertive, before she quickly looked away, her embarrassment somehow growing.
Glyse reached across the table and with some effort, took Whitney’s hand in hers. “Then, let’s just forget the flowers for now. And the rest of the gifts. Let’s order food, I’ll shut up, and you can tell me about all your adventure’s I’ve missed. And the Chilkoot. I don’t have my dad’s eyes for ships, but I still know a grav vein from an ion exhaust. And she looks like one helluva job. Rhea said it’s mostly your work. If you don’t mind me drinking while you talk, I’ll order us some wine and you can just go off till they kick us out. Sound like a plan?”
Whitney nodded emphatically.
—
“I wasn’t expecting the flowers.” Reaching for his drink, d’Ardenne kept his expression neutral, except for the small smile creeping into the corners of his mouth.
David regarded Walker for a moment before shaking his head. “My sister is a dumbass. Even I know what it means when you give a woman flowers.” David sighed. “What are the chances Whitney thinks Glyse just asked her out?”
“Oh, I think that’s a solid bet, judging by the blushing.”
David was quiet for a moment as he stared into his drink. It was pomegranate and mango, in some sort of carbonated water. No alcohol; he wanted to make sure he kept a clear head while watching. Old habits; you don’t drink on an op. You pretend to drink, if you have to, but sobriety’s a damn useful weapon.
A thought occurred to the spymaster’s son. “Is it really a bad thing, though? Glyse has been lonely as long as I can remember, and most of the time things end when she’s pushed to do things she’s not into. Somehow I don’t think that’s a problem with Whitney.”
“Not intentionally, certainly.” d’Ardenne agreed. “She’s also new to all this. Lines, rules, hell social norms? She’s got very little clue. We both know your sister’s a touch… volatile, and if she reacts poorly to this, she’s going to have a whole crew of upsettingly competent people annoyed at her.”
David leaned back. “As much fun as a McKenzie vs d’Ardenne rematch might be, I probably shouldn’t be encouraging it.” He looked at the other man for several more seconds before chuckling. “Actually, Whitney’s inexperience might just work out in everyone’s favor. Glyse only wants the romance and the halting looks with a bit of hand holding. You mention a bedroom in a context other than actually sleeping and her point defenses go up. She’ll shove the whole relationship out the airlock to avoid explaining she doesn’t get that stuff. But Whitney isn’t going to push for it. Not unless her mother’s put some weird idea in her head… but that can be handled. Honestly, with a little bit of work, I think this could be good.”
It was d’Ardenne’s turn to lean back and look at David. “I appreciate your position, David. You want your sister to be happy, and given her preferences, Whitney is a safe choice. But, see it from my chair? I don’t have a problem with your sister —Even if her pride’s still wounded from our last encounter. But she’s a volatile, aggressive woman who, by your own admission, has a history of ending relationships rather than communicating. Start with friendship and see where they want it to go.”
David’s eyes glanced over to the two women. Whitney was talking very animatedly, and Glyse was just listening, soaking in whatever it was, and watching Whitney in a way David wasn’t sure he’d seen before. There’s more there than friendship here already. And it’ll never work long term if she doesn’t have some help.
“Tell me you’ve seen her happier.”
“Happier? Maybe a few times. But I’ll grant you, I’ve only seen her this happy when she’s elbow deep in the engines of the Chilkoot. But don’t try to sell me on the beauty of romance; I know you too well. Whitney’s a big girl and can make her own decisions without either of us, so if you want my involvement, convince me.”
So we’ve moved into the negotiating phase. Fair enough. “There’s the obvious benefit to you and the Chilkoot: if it means protecting Whitney or the people she cares about, Glyse’d take on the entire Terran Fleet with nothing but an EVA suit and a handgun. And she’s good enough to pull it off.”
d’Ardenne nodded his head. “Having the League’s Top Ace in my back pocket isn’t something to sneeze at. But I’m sure I can get something close to that now with a call.”
“Not without owing me or my dad. And now that we’ve had this conversation, that price goes up.”
The thief gave David a shrewd look. “Being a thug is beneath your talents, you know. But point taken.”
The sound of Glyse laughing made both men look over. Whatever Whitney had said was apparently very funny. For her part, the engineer was smiling and blushing a bit more; clearly she’d intended to make a joke, but didn’t expect such a large reaction.
d’Ardenne frowned slightly. “I think they’re making your point better than you are.”
Davis shrugged. “You’re probably right. Look, near as I can tell, this is going this way no matter what we do. Might as well try to make it the best thing it can be, and we both get what we want: the people we’re fond of are happy, and we get some nice knock-on benefits.”
There was silence for a moment before the thief leaned forward. “You’ve got a cold way of looking at the world, my friend.”
David leaned forward too. “It’s why we get along so well.”
“Indeed.” The thief grinned. “Though, if we’re going to do this, let’s make it interesting? Care for a friendly wager?”
David couldn’t hide his amused smirk. “That actually kind of sounds like fun. What are we betting on, exactly?”
“Your girl is clueless when it comes to romance, and mine’s a sheltered child with no prior experience. I think the most interesting bet here is when they realize they’ve been dating this whole time.”
David held up his hand. “Years, probably. But it’s too easy to manipulate, and you should know I’d cheat to win. What about betting on who realizes it first? Because as smart as Whitney is, it’s going to be Glyse, hands down. She understands emotions too well. She’ll see the signs.”
Walker d’Ardenne gave David a smile he reserved for marks he was about to bleed dry. “And that, my friend, is where you’re more wrong than you know. Give me a few minutes to make a phone call, I think I need to pull someone else into our little betting pool if we’re doing this. I have the perfect stakes in mind, but I’ll need a backer on this one.”
David knew that look was dangerous. He knew d’Ardenne thought he had some inside knowledge or strategy that would let him win and win big. But David knew his sister, and the woman who’d helped him navigate the minefield that was his emotional landscape could surely realize she’d fallen for an old childhood friend. Right?
“Go make your call. If you think you can throw me off with that winning grin, d’Ardenne, you’re losing your touch.”
“I’d never think so low of you. Then again, I also never thought I’d see you blinded by affection, but here we are.” The thief stood before pausing. “If our waitress comes back, order me another.”
David just nodded his head. Let him feel smug and confident. We’ll see who wins.