Ghosts in the System

[WretchRoad]

She loved watching him fall apart, from the way his hips stuttered to the sounds he made.

Those moments were honest.

For a long while after, she was weightless in the aftermath, then she dragged her fingers up the center of his spine until they tangled in the hair at the back of his neck just to feel him shiver.

Reality came seeping in. She thought back to what he said about the kinds of women he wanted, why he waited so long for someone. Why she had to be that someone.

She had to wonder, after that, if what she did was part of the job, or a choice she made. He'd made it much more difficult to determine where the line was drawn.

"And we still have a week left..." she mused to herself.

 

[The_gladiator]

“A week, hmm. The things I could do to you.”


He smirked and eased back from her, slow, until he was sitting in his chair again. His eyes never left her—her body, her eyes—taking her in.


“Well. Maybe you wore me out.” Teasing. He looked almost like he could go for round two already.


“Speaking of the week—we’ll arrive at my home in a few hours. In the meantime neither of us ate much. You satisfied one hunger. Perhaps I should satisfy the other and make you dinner.”

 

[WretchRoad]

When he drew away, she closed her legs, tightly, and sat up on the console. For all the dignity in her posture, the flush of her cheeks and chest and the sheen of sweat covering her skin could not be hidden in the wake of their joining.

She expected truths and consequences. She expected him to go back to his ship, to whatever pirates do, but instead he offered her dinner.

Her eyebrows raised. She never got to finish her meal and was more than willing to take up his offer, but that was less important for the moment.

"Wait," she looked out at the stars on the screens and back to him. She was a passable navigator but could not tell where they were going from the patterns alone. "You're already taking me home to meet your folks?"

 

[The_gladiator]

He looked at her like she’d grown another head.


“Of course not. You think I live with my parents? I know I give off a mama’s boy vibe, but damn.”


He pulled his pants up, slow. The lack of haste said he wasn’t angry. Just startled.


“Nah. We’ll get to see my pain-in-the-ass copilot, and my talking trash can who calls himself a mech bot.”


His hand slid idly along her leg. Just feeling her skin.


“Lasagna and cheesecake?” he asked, curious.

 

[WretchRoad]

She watched closely while he half-dressed himself again, not shy about staring.

His touch very nearly kept her from refocusing on the mission. Almost made her forget what she was there to do.

He was a weapons smuggler, she assured herself, no matter what he happened to be hauling at the moment. No matter how well he just fucked her.

And he was taking her back to... his home? His hideout? That kind of information could salve over the minor wound she caused the IGA in their escape.

She didn't give a hint at what she was thinking, just said "Oooh lasagna... like real lasagna or rehydrated space meat and bio-plastic noodles? Either way, I'm starving."

Her legs stayed pinned closed. "And I need another shower."

 

[The_gladiator]

“You think I eat that rehydrated crap if I can help it? Nah. Raf taught me to cook years ago. Cause, and I quote, ‘I ain’t your mama or your wife, bitch. Cook it yourself.’”


He chuckled.


“Take your shower. Find me in the galley afterward.”


A beat. His hand still resting on her leg.


“Keep in mind, too—in case now you’ve gotten what you wanted from me—my home is not on any star charts. I’m a paranoid bastard. And you can’t com out from my base either. Raf’s wife Clara is psycho about her precious cargo.”

 

[WretchRoad]

"Your pillow talk could use work," she quipped.

Her glance fell on his hand, then wandered back up to his eyes. "Are you going to let me up, or is this foreplay leading to another round?"

But she answered for him, slipping down off the console to gather her, or rather Starla's, clothes into a pile in her arms.

She dismissed his warning while internally cursing her luck. No wonder he was so difficult to catch.

"You can tell me all about Raf and why Clara is a psycho over dinner, which I am looking forward to," she assured him as she sauntered out of the cockpit.

 

[The_gladiator]

He laughed. She wasn’t wrong. He was out of practice.


Yes, he watched her ass as she sauntered out. Worth the view.


After that he got to business. Making lasagna was very serious business.


Some time later it was finally coming together when he heard a footstep behind him.


“Ester, hmm. Kind of like Ester Prynne in that old Terran story. What was that called.” He bit his lip a moment. “The Scarlet Letter.”


The irony of the thought made him smirk.


The admission told her he was educated. And not in the normal spacer way.

 

[WretchRoad]

Now that surprised her, impressive for a man who continually kept her on the back foot.

"You know that old book?" She wondered as she came around to his side, intent on seeing, and smelling, what he was making.

She wore the same clothes as before her strip tease, with the exception of a newer pair of underwear.

"It's depressing, and archaic. I can't believe people were that upset about apparent infidelity."

She placed her hand over his hip, not to pull him closer, but to move him to the side so she could stick her finger in the sauce and taste it.

 

[The_gladiator]

“Yes. It was rather awful. But Witherspoon, the headmaster, firmly believed—and I quote—those that do not study history are doomed to repeat it.”


He snorted.


“Thought it was hogwash until I realized that by studying history I got some really good ideas of shit I would never want to do. Can you believe they killed each other over which religious order they followed? There was a comedian on old Earth who called it the ‘my god has a bigger dick than yours’ foreign policy.”


Another snort of a laugh.


“Granted, such blasphemy would probably have had me executed too. Take it all with a grain of salt, I guess.”


She slid her hand along his hip to sneak a bite of the sauce. He clucked his tongue.


“Manhandling me to sneak a bite of the food. Strangely, I’m all right with it.”


He didn’t have to say he liked her touch. That much was obvious.


He set the lasagna into the cooker.


“Well. We’ve got some time for that to cook. Would you like some salad in the meantime?”

 

[WretchRoad]

"I can believe they killed each other over resource wars disguised as divine imperatives." She had put her questions about the raid on the gala on the backburner for then, still convinced the IGA had good reasons, but doubt had crept in. Doubt she didn't want to entertain at the moment.

She popped her finger into her mouth, maintaining eye-contact as she slipped it out, clean.

Then, like nothing had happened, shrugged. "I could go for a salad, sure. It must cost a fortune to keep this ship stocked with fresh food, so only if you can spare it."

Being from Ran, where most of the arable land was taken over by industry and ports, she had a skewed perspective. Personal hydroponics systems could only produce so much. The rest was high-volume nutrient created from waste.

"Then you can tell me where you went to school that you learned about classics from Earth."

 

[The_gladiator]

“Your explanation sounds nicer. At least it has more logic.”


He watched her finger go in and come back out. He didn’t pretend he hadn’t. He spared her a crooked half-smile for it.


He turned to the chiller and started pulling salad greens. The vegetables weren’t exactly the lettuce and spinach of Earth, but some were close enough—alternatives, or terraformed versions.


“It’s not as expensive as you think if you don’t always buy it from the IGA. Locals have better products and better prices. Then again, what do I know. I’m co-owner of one of the wealthiest shipping companies in the galaxy, so I’m not sure I’m the best judge of affordable.”


Not entirely accurate. On the surface he lived frugally. The wealth showed in the simple expensive things. Like the ingredients.


He started chopping, tossing them into a bowl.


“Cheese on the salad?” he asked, as if she hadn’t asked about his education.


“As to where I learned things—that’s not something I usually discuss. Suffice it to say I am educated.”

 

[WretchRoad]

"Suffice to say..." she mocked his accent, but her smile said it was in good nature. "I'm a man of many secrets, with many enemies."

She dropped the accent, "but I would like cheese yes, thank you." Because if produce was a luxury, anything produced by an animal that fed upon it was surely an extravagance.

"It's easy to forget how well off G +B are, with how, well," she gestured widely to him, "how you are."

She slid into a seat at the small table nearby and rested her elbows forward. "Why would you risk your company over this?" she wondered, with no qualms about what made for appropriate dinner conversation.

 

[The_gladiator]

“Because lasagna is definitely worth dying for.”


He smirked. He knew it was a dodge. Whether she would let him get away with it was another question.


He tossed the salad with a creamy-looking dressing, dished it into two bowls, and set one in front of her.


“I have fewer enemies than you’d think. Turns out the guy who moves the stuff around and makes the economy work is actually rather liked. Without people like me, everyone’s profit margins drop and a lot of folks grow cranky.”


He took the seat across from her and began to eat. Slow. Little hurry.

“Because lasagna is definitely worth dying for.”


He smirked. He knew it was a dodge. Whether she would let him get away with it was another question.


He tossed the salad with a creamy-looking dressing, dished it into two bowls, and set one in front of her.


“I have fewer enemies than you’d think. Turns out the guy who moves the stuff around and makes the economy work is actually rather liked. Without people like me, everyone’s profit margins drop and a lot of folks grow cranky.”


He took the seat across from her and began to eat. Slow. Little hurry.

 

[WretchRoad]

"Had a lot fewer enemies," she corrected as she stabbed her fork into a pile of greens. "Making me come doesn't make me forget what happened back there." Her tone was measured, but casual, not betraying any annoyance at his deflection.

She shoved the forkful into her open mouth, chewed quickly before stabbing a few more leaves, then slowed. Swallowed.

"This is really good, better that the catering at the gala. But still, how do you expect to help me out of this mess? I didn't sign up to play accessory to a smuggling operation."

 

[The_gladiator]

“Smuggling’s not a very nice word,” he scolded, playful. “I deliver goods to those in need. However, making me come did not make me forget you’re working for someone meant to spy on me.”


He took a bite of his own salad, as if they weren’t discussing anything heavy, and smiled.


“Glad you like it.”


Then the smile thinned. He looked at her more seriously.


“You realize you’re going to be as wanted as I am now. Fortunate for you, you weren’t there as Ester. You were there as Danica. Danica can become the ghost she already was. And don’t play dumb. I burned more favors than I’d like to admit trying to find out who you truly were. The IGA sent me a fucking cease and desist. You want to tell me what that was all about, while we’re complaining about things we don’t like?”


A beat.


“However. On the topic of your escape—I can get you out of here. Assuming you’re not a damn Reacher, or something worse.”

 

[WretchRoad]

Ester chewed another bite, slow and thoughtful— as though she were savoring it. Her handlers warned she was being investigated from the other side, and they assured her he'd hit nothing but dead ends.

A cease and desist wasn't a dead end, so someone was lying to her.

"You want me to say why the IGA wanted you to stop harassing them over an escort?" It was rhetorical.

Surely he wouldn't have slept with her if he thought she was a reacher, she'd be in the brig already. He was grasping at space dust.

"That's your own damn fault for jumping at shadows."

Her fork scraped against the plate as she pushed a sodden leaf around.

"I already told you I worked for the IGA years ago. Life is complicated, I moved around a lot, and I use alternate names for my professional life." She took the last bite before placing her fork down with a clink, setting the plate aside. "You're going out in the void here for someone you don't trust, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't kill me to tie up loose ends or else you'd have done it already."

 

[The_gladiator]

“So surprise. We both have shit to hide. Merely working for them isn’t itself an explanation. Maybe we both accept that we have secrets and let it go. Either that, or we lay our cards out on the table.”


He was so damn tempted to tell her to back off.


If she happened to work for the IGA, and they came down on him, he would come clean as to who he was and fuck up his brother’s day. Diplomatic immunity would ruin all of theirs. Did they not realize who they were after.


He had no proof she was IGA. She was just as likely one of Gunther’s many enemies. Or working for them.


He leaned back in his chair and laid down his fork when the salad was done.


As if to say: your move.

 

[WretchRoad]

Was it a bluff? That's what she expected. There was no guarantee he would show her his if she showed him hers.

Ester twirled the fork in her fingers, staring at him. He wasn't going to drop it. She chose another angle.

"What if..." she began, chosing each word carefully, "what if I'm someone who could help you?"

She told him to come forward before, to sell out his co-conspirators, but he didn't know who she was.

"You can't be doing this run for yourself, someone wanted those antibiotics. Just tell me who and why. This isn't worth throwing your life and your company away over."

 

[The_gladiator]

“The company is just the bonus. I threw luxury away a long time ago. This is the only thing that is worth it. Saving children from unspeakable horrors the fucking IGA could prevent if they wanted, but would rather turn a blind eye to.”


He stood to clear their plates.


“So how is it you can help me, other than you know what we just did.”


A low blow. They both knew it. They both knew she was far more than that.


“I’m not trying to be an ass. It just seems to come naturally to me, according to my ex-wife. But you seem to have it in your head that I am some sort of weapons smuggler, and you are so desperately misinformed. I have run guns only one time, and it was a special load of clubs. Not energy weapons. Fucking clubs, to Sentari, because someone let the jackrabbit population get out of hand. They are not your fluffy Peter Cottontail bunnies. They’re a fucking menace, and that’s the best way to kill them. But the IGA wouldn’t help them, because one of its founding signatories didn’t agree with the IGA blowing up a jump gate on some far-out system, stranding locals and their own people alike. The residents were told they could suffer with all their farmland being destroyed. So if it is so horrible that I delivered ax handles—which the residents should have already had, but somehow didn’t—then I guess I’m just evil. I mean, I prevented a food shortage. But what do I know.”


His speech was a masterclass in sarcasm and barely restrained irritation as he looked at her expectantly.

 

[WretchRoad]

"I know what a jackrabbit is," she interjected a little too quickly, betraying her annoyance. With him, with herself, with the IGA.

When the jump gate went to pieces along with three years of her life, she was still the coms officer, she still had to relay with planetside every turn and hear the situation on the ground degrade.

But she never wanted to be in coms, especially not orbiting some far-flung desert at the end of the jump line. Her activities at the IGA college assured her she would never ascend to the positions she wanted.

Agreeing to the official story gave her the career she wanted, almost. The escort cover was chosen for her, not by her — a reminder that the Authority still carried a grudge.

But it was hard to separate her dreams from reality, to acknowledge that her goals didn't exist the way she wanted them to. That the kind of order the IGA wanted wasn't the order she wanted to keep.

"I thought you were a weapons smuggler, yeah." She let out a breath as she looked everywhere but at him.

Her eyes came back to meet his. "Tell me you're not, right now. Look me in the eye and promise you've never shipped arms into a warzone and I'll believe you."

 

[The_gladiator]

He met her eyes. Did not look at the cooker. Did not look at the plates in his hands.


The galley was small enough that the look had nowhere to go. Sauce still on the air. The low tick of the cooker behind him. Her fork lying where she had set it, tines up, like she had stopped mid-thought and never quite started again.


“I have never shipped arms into a warzone.”


Flat. No smirk under it. He set the plates in the wash without breaking the look, the clink louder than it needed to be in a room that had gone quiet.


“Clubs to Sentari. That was pest control, and I already told you about it. Antibiotics, yes. Ale when the embargo makes it profitable. I have not put a rifle, a cannon, or a crate of charges into a fight so one side could kill the other faster.”


His hands found the edge of the counter. Not a brace. Just somewhere to put them so they did not gesture the point into something theatrical.


“If your manifests say otherwise, someone built them for you.”


He held the look. Blue, steady, the same inventory he used on a ledger that did not add. This time he let her see he was done adding.


“That’s the promise. Believe it or don’t.”


A beat. The cooker clicked over to a lower heat. He did not use it as an excuse to turn.


“That being said, I can’t speak for Gunther. Or others in the organization.”


The admission sat between them with the smell of cheese and tomatoes. He left it there. Did not dress it up. Did not take it back.

 

[WretchRoad]

She'd seen him at his most honest, in the moment he gave her. This was another one or those moments.

"I believe you." Just like she promised, proving she could keep one in the face of complete dishonesty.

Without glancing away, she held his gaze, steady.

"Thank you." Because she had to say something while the picture she didn't want to see came into focus.

She picked up the fork again, rolling it between her fingers. After a few turns, a hard-won relief settled into her shoulders.

"I wasn't supposed to talk about what happened on Gliese, what I saw before the jumpgate fell." Her words came out whispers, loud enough to hear over the hum of the cooker. "That was the condition. When they gave me the job."

 

[The_gladiator]

He considered her.


Then he took the step closer and laid a hand on her shoulder.


“So they made you a Reacher in exchange for not speaking about their atrocity?”


Half a guess. He was willing to take the leap.


“Do you want to tell me what you saw? Knowing I’m not going to tell them that you spoke on it.”

 

[WretchRoad]

It was hard to say if his touch was supportive, or controlling. She supposed that depended on her answer.

Lying was off the table, not after her house of cards had fallen.

"They told me you were smuggling weapons, showed me footage, documents..." She shook her head. "Then again, the official footage of the crisis on Gliese Gamma was... selective, if not manufactured entirely. Still, I wanted to believe them. I had my reasons."

For the first time since she'd met Becker, she didn't try to regain her footing.

"They said it was an asteroid." She looked up at him. "I was tracking that asteroid, it was never supposed to hit. I watched it change direction."

She paused, letting out a shakey breath.

"After that, nothing went on or off the planet, we couldn't spare the resources, even for the crew who went stir crazy for dry land. One we had to put down before he tried to steal a pod. Another did herself after she was caught hoarding MRE's. Didn't want to live with that shame. Meanwhile, the planet starved, which kicked off a civil war. They were never set up to survive long term, the gate was their lifeline."