Layth gritted his teeth. He’d said no such thing, but correcting Zion would only encourage the man. “I’m here now. Where’s Hicks?”
“It’s a zoo out there,” he replied, cocking a thumb at the shuttle bay doors. “In addition to the big transit vessels bringing people in for the races, there’s gotta be a couple dozen small traders plying the ship-trade, and more trying to get in line to land. Mira wants Hicks to stay here in case we need to move the Sentinel in a hurry. That means I’m your pilot. Cat lady’s on board, so stow your gear and we’ll hit the Big Black.”
He stepped up into the shuttle with his rucksack clenched in one fist. “She has a name, Zion.”
Sanderson’s smile would have been devastating to anyone vulnerable to the man’s charms. “So do you, Doc. Never stopped me before.”
Inside the shuttle, he found Meja strapped into one of the seats in the pass-through from the cockpit to the cargo hold. Collins was in the cat carrier they’d fashioned, and buckled into the seat across from her, meaning Layth would either have to sit in the cockpit or in the chair beside her. An easy choice. As soon as he’d buckled in, her hand sought his out. Her finger traced nonsense doodles on the skin of his palm.
Heat flushed into him, not all of it from desire, and he flicked his gaze toward the cockpit. Zion was in the chair, running through the preflight. If he’d noticed, he gave no sign.
Layth squeezed her hand in return and whispered, “Sorry I’m late. Hope you weren’t worried.”
She shook her head. “You said you’d be here. I believed you.”
Her faith in him shamed him. At a time when he’d been worried about what the rest of the crew might think, it made him feel like an asshole. He turned to face her, in so much as he could in the five-point harness, and lightly kissed the back of her hand.
Of course, that was the moment Zion was looking back. “Well damn, Doc. All this time I wondered if you had a human heart.” His chuckle was equal parts surprised and impressed. “Unless this is some kind of medical exam I haven’t seen before. Though come to think of it, I saw a movie with a nurse who used his mouth to—”
“Enough, Zion, or I’ll tell Hicks that you sneak by when she’s gone and make big eyes at the cats.” Meja’s voice was sharp.
He glared at her. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me. She’ll hear about every coo and baby-talked syllable.”
Sanderson blanched, while Layth swallowed the laughter trying to sneak out of his throat. He raised an eyebrow only she could see, the unspoken question—did he really?—answered by Meja’s curt nod.
After a few moments of silence, Zion barked out, “We’re good to go, Hicks. Open the doors. And you two get some ear protection on.”
Layth nestled into the chair and slid on a set of protectors. It was impossible to resist smiling at Zion’s change in demeanor. Part of him wanted to kiss Meja. Part of him worried that if he did, he’d never stop.
The shuttle eased out of the Sentinel’s main bay on maneuvering jets, countering the rotation of the arm just enough that they slid free as the arm moved away from them. Zion eased the shuttle out of the path of the swing and brought them up over the main tube of the engine core. The viewscreens at the fore of the cabin acted like windows, with none of the danger that might create. It afforded Layth and Meja a breathtaking view of Burbidge, its gray-green sphere limned in red light from the central sun.
His stomach clenched, and he felt like he was balanced on the edge of an abyss, waiting to fall. He couldn’t decide if it was the reality of returning home, or the realization his time with Meja was growing short. If this went well, she was done. Gone, if not as permanently as Jayme. He swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat and forced himself to speak, to sound disaffected. “So, you’re still sure crashing the pre-race party is how you want to play this?”
She eyed him, and if she had the same reservations he had about the end of their trip, she gave no sign. “The party’s tomorrow. Everyone will be there, including people who won’t go to the pits on race day. It’s the best shot, yes.”
“A target-rich environment,” he muttered. She wasn’t wrong. Acinonyx, one of the big corporate teams, sponsored the event every season, and while not as big as the season-ending bash on Farhope, it was nonetheless one of the biggest parties to hit Burbidge. Given the levels of excess and debauchery rumored to be involved, he entirely expected his brother to be in attendance. Tension pulled his shoulders up, and he consciously lowered them again. “I’ve heard they’re more bacchanal than business.”
Meja quirked an eyebrow at him. “What aren’t you saying?”
He tried to parse his thoughts, aware she was waiting for an answer from him. “Let me try to put it into words?” At her nod, he puzzled through his emotional response. What if someone tried to come onto her at the party? What if she said yes? He shook his head. The last few days had convinced him that was unlikely, but they also hadn’t talked about the possibility of this thing between them being longer than right now. “I’m afraid of letting you go,” he said at last. “But I’m also nervous about being with you and seeing my family.”
“Because you’re embarrassed by your sexy, brilliant geneticist girlfriend?” she teased.
“Hardly.” He turned his head away to watch Collins. “I’m ashamed of them. That you’ll meet them and see me for who I was.” His heart and brain both latched onto the way she’d said girlfriend, and warmth suffused through him.
She looked him up and down, and Layth couldn’t decide what her assessment might have been, but there was no question that she’d made a judgment. Before she could announce it, Zion called back from the cockpit. “Okay, kids. We’re hitting atmosphere. Things will get loud.”
And two heartbeats later, they did.
“You’re sure Collins will be all right?” Meja glanced at her omni again, making sure no new messages had arrived in the thirty seconds since she’d last checked. It was still blank. She forced herself to go back to shopping for a dress for the party.
“Zion’s many things,” Layth said from his position in a nearby overstuffed chair, “but he’s not about to sacrifice a paycheck. He’ll keep Collins safe.”
That wasn’t reassuring. Layth’s default response whenever he was concerned was to invoke the almighty credit, as though the Sentinel’s crew only existed to make money despite all the evidence she had to the contrary. He’d been acting odd since the trip to Burbidge had started. She couldn’t decide what had made him retreat back behind his walls, but the sense she’d lost ground with him through no fault of her own set her teeth on edge.
She picked up the next dress and held it up in front of herself in the mirror. It was, she had to admit, fetching. Backless and made from seafoam Diarran silk, the dress was styled in a loose, flowing cut that had been popular last season, but wasn’t so out of mode that it would look gauche. Or so she hoped. She tapped her omni against the entrance to the dressing area and waited while it unlocked, then swept inside to change. She risked a peek back toward Layth, who looked up and smiled at her. It didn’t loosen the tension around his eyes, and she let the door click shut.