Local Star Aimee Ogden (the lemonade war series txt) đ
- Author: Aimee Ogden
Book online «Local Star Aimee Ogden (the lemonade war series txt) đ». Author Aimee Ogden
Saabe sighed. âIâm not arguing with you. Admiraltyâs had their eye on Casne for a while nowânot like that,â e hastily explained at Trizâs scowl. âCommendations, fast promotions. Iâm afraid theyâll come down hard on her. Make it clear they donât play favorites.â
Triz didnât like the sound of that. âDo you have any idea who could be behind this, though? Or how? Any way the Ceebees couldâve reprogrammed a firing pattern? Taken control of the firing array without Cas noticing? Faked the data?â
Another sigh. âI donât know, Triz, honestly. Have you talked to Lanniq? His wife is Counterintelligence, so he might know some of her tricks. Then again, Iâve barely seen him onhab since the, uh.â Eir face scrunched. âYou know. Arrest thing. Heâs been picking up extra cockpit time.â E and Triz both looked out at the Skimmer outside, which had rejoined its formation. âWe all deal in our own way. No one expected something like that to happenâto any of us, let alone Casne. And pilots always feel more comfortable behind the yoke. You know what that jockey mentalityâs like, right?â
âMentality implies thereâs some cognitive activity going on.â Triz squinted at the fighters as a tight formation made the outsized Arcwing look more like just another little Swarmer. âFrom my firsthand experience with cockpit jocks, thatâs not necessarily the case.â
Saabe snorted. âI know the idea probably doesnât appeal right now, but you could try talking to Kalo. I doubt he knows any more of the geeks in Tactics than I do. But he knows Casne. Itâs worth a shot, isnât it?â
âMaybe,â said Triz, so they could part ways more amicably than if sheâd dropped a flat no.
Trizâs feet ached. This was a new sensation for her: She was used to cricked necks and sore shoulders from crawling in and around Light Craft all day or hunching over a smaller repair project spread out on a table. When she was younger, much younger, sheâd cover half a dozen levels in the Rydoine Hab recycling engines in a single day on her collection routes. But now, just three days of pounding the pathways in the Arcade made her groan. Was she that much fitter then? Or had younger Triz had much more to worry about than sore arches?
In retrospect, taking a break felt like poking a purple bruise to make sure it still hurt. But here she was, in the music-chamber shelter on the Terraria level, body still and head churning. She, Casne, and Nantha liked to come here and relax when they used to be together. Well: Casne and Triz did. Nantha tolerated sitting still for only an hour or two. It was strange to be here without either of them. Before Triz could reconsider, though, an attendant appeared and stooped to set a glass of amber liquid on the low table where Triz had eked out a spot. The birdflute ensemble had seemed like a good bet when she came in here, quiet and peaceful, but maybe she ought to move to the lithogrunge room to drown out the noise in her head. Her fingers closed around the cool glass, and she offered the fob of her other hand for the attendant to scan. âThanks.â
âOf course.â Eir collector chirped to complete the transaction. âJust fob-signal when you need a refill.â
âActually . . .â A new voice brought Trizâs shoulders up to her ears. âIâll have what sheâs having, if you donât mind.â Kalo dropped to the chaise opposite Triz and flung all four limbs out to maximize his sprawl.
The attendant retreated, either to fulfill this request or to be outside the blast radius of the frustration currently trying to vibrate its way out of Triz.
âWhat are you doing?â Triz snapped. âWe donât have the kind of thing where we sit around drinking and swapping war stories together.â They hadnât even done that when they were together togetherâin fact, as she recalled, it was Kaloâs chatter about a harrowing engagement with the Ceebees in clusterward space that had precipitated one of their last fights.
âWhich is a shame, really, because I have got some pretty amazing war stories. But since youâre at a bit of a deficit there, it works out.â
Triz leaned forward, resting her elbows on either side of her glass. The flutist was straining his way through the birdfluteâs highest range, and every single crisp bright tone drove icepicks into her already-brittle temper. âAlready had my share of war stories today. Heard a hell of a one from your Swarmer, actually.â
His crooked smile faded, and his gaze slanted down, toward her hands where they pressed against the cold lacquer of the table. âAre you all right? You look like you got dragged through a minefield behind an X-99.â
âIâm sure Iâll feel better once the view improves.â She wanted to put a fist right in the middle of those gappy teeth of his. âIs there something you need, besides attention?â
âWell, yeah.â He paused while the attendant set another glass of âshine on the table between them. âI know youâve been trying to track down a sniff of why in the seven hells Casne Veling is behind a Justice wall right now. And Iâm a little offended you didnât ask me first.â
Triz considered the glass in front of her. She picked it up and turned it around between her fingers. âI figured if you had anything interesting to say, youâd have said it to half the Hab by now. Did you see something at Hedgehome?â Anger spiked, and her drink sloshed in its glass. âAre you sitting on evidence that could help Casne andâand trying to make me work for it?â
âGods of Issam. You seriously think Iâd hold back something that would get her out of there?â Kalo took a swig and grimaced. âNever let it be said you donât give it your all. Too bad itâs only when it comes to seeing the
Comments (0)