Local Star Aimee Ogden (the lemonade war series txt) đ
- Author: Aimee Ogden
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âReally?â Triz tapped the metal with one fingernail, liking the little ping it made. âShitting stars. What does someone have to do to get the highest one?â
Kalo turned to Casne. âAfraid I havenât got anything for you. You know the Admiralâs insisting on pinning one on you himself, the whole ceremony deal. Dress blacks. Speeches. Drummers, probably.â He cackled. âOh gods! I bet theyâll make you do the Fleet Prayer in front of everyone.â
A strained noise escaped from Casne. âCanât I just do another unplanned space swim instead? It would probably be more fun.â
âHey, Iâm going to have to be there too. Weâll suffer side by side. And speaking of fun.â Kalo jerked a shoulder at the tearoom. âI think youâve got a party waiting for its guest of honor in there.â
âI know!â Casne straightened up from another inspection of Trizâs medal. âWe just keep getting delayed by the worst kinds of people. Are you joining us?â
âMe? Oh, no, Iâll get out of the way. Just let me borrow Triz for a minute, will you?â
Casne raised her eyebrows, but shrugged and stepped away. âAs long as I see you soon.â
Triz pursed her lips. Now she stood alone with Kalo, her back against the tearoom wall and no place to hide except behind a sarcastic comment. âI feel like if youâre going to ask about borrowing me, I should be the first person you put the question to?â
âBut Iâm not borrowing you from yourself. Youâre still here, arenât you? Itâs only Cas that Iâm depriving of your company for my own selfish purposes.â He sidled around beside her, leaning against the hastily painted metal that constituted Miredeâs storefront until proper repairs were finished. She recognized what he was doing: offering an escape route besides the one through him. âYou know how Vivik is sort of a shipping hub? Scooper dumps and big freighters come through here all the time.â
She couldnât quite contain an eye-roll. âWow, Kalo, is it really? Do you think maybe thatâs why I spend so much time neck-deep in Scoopers and lugs in the wrenchworks?â
He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept talking, ignoring her. âApparently thereâs been a little pirate traffic in some of the Outward lanes lately. Fleetâs signing pilots over to operate out of Sidorrey and run escorts where theyâre needed.â
âSidorreyâs not far from here,â Triz observed. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth and turned the S of âSidorreyâ into a sticky âguhâ. Picking off the occasional pirate would be a safer docket than clearing out the remainder of the Ceebee nests pocketed across the Confederated worlds. âIs that what youâreâI mean, is that what you want to do?â
âWhat I want is to keep flying.â Kaloâs fingers drummed on his thigh. âDonât know if theyâll take a recruit whoâs got a history of turning his fighter into a shrapnel collector, and even if they did, it would be half a dozen cycles before the paperwork even gets pushed through. And if the Fleet flushes out another Ceebee cache, Iâd go back in. Thatâs not something I can just walk away from. No one should.â He hastily added, âAnd I wonât put in for it at all if itâs not something youâre interested in. I just thought, things being what they are . . . Iâm not asking you to form a gon with me, or with me and Casne and Nan, or at all. But if you wanted to take a test flight on what it would be like . . .â
Trizâs stomach roiled with confusion. âThat would put you farther from Casne. And if youâre not stationed with a whale, you wonât get to Centerpoint to see Nantha as often, either.â
âThatâs notââ He exhaled noisily. âGods of Issam, do I have to write it down for you? Casne and Nan too, theyâre some of my best friends and I love them dearly. Sometimes Iâm half-sure they even like me. But I wanted, uh. Not just them. A partner. A gon doesnât work when itâs two people and a diagonal line. You know?â
âNo! Why would youââ She felt his arm stiffen against hers. Her mind flicked through a stack of discarded images: the night when Casne introduced them and the stab of relief sheâd felt when he first smiled at her to show off those crooked teeth. Ribbondancing in the nullgrav disco and screaming with laughter like giddy children. Kaloâs greasy boots on the sofa in her rooms, and his stupid hair falling across his stupid face while he slept. Watching that âport footage of dying Fleet ships and their terrible fight afterward. The ugly words sheâd said and never got around to apologizing for. Maybe she was more Quelianâs daughter than either of them had ever managed to believe.
No, she had time.
She would find a way yet. âI mean. I think so. Maybe. Yes.â
His eyebrows curved upward in confusion. âSo . . . I should . . .â
âPut in for the transfer.â She put her hand in his. The same size as Casneâs, but cooler to the touch. Familiar and strange. âYes. Shit. Iâm going to have to get used to seeing your face around, I guess.â
âTalk to the technosurgeon,â he suggested, âthey might be able to get you some anti-nausea drugs thatâll help.â He shoved her shoulder, making her double-step away from the wall. âNow go party before the next shitting tragedy takes a bite out of this Hab.â
She leaned toward him. If she kissed him now, the wave function would collapse, and this would all come apart. âIâll see you later?â
âI know where you live,â he said, and those words held so much weight she couldâve pinned it to her chest in place of her medal and worn it just as proudly.
Trizâs alarm buzzed. âOff,â she said thickly, but of course, sheâd programmed the wallport alarm to answer only to her proffered fob and not her voice, to make
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