Both were uncomfortable notions, but that was parties as far as Eva was concerned. A few hours of being uncomfortable until someone got drunk enough to start causing problems. Usually her, until recently.
But if they caused any trouble here, Vakar could be in for a universe of shit from his bosses on top of whatever else might happen to them, so Eva had to be extra cool. Find the marks, chat them up, move on. Easy, smooth, quiet.
Her nerves were wound tighter than the wire around her hips, despite the calm, steady flow of blood through her mechanical heart.
Around her shoulders, Mala had settled like a furry scarf. Eva had argued with her about staying with Min and the others, but since half the argument had been “Miau” over and over, it had ended in a stalemate. Mala had managed to get into the transport when it arrived to pick them up, and at that point there was no sense leaving her to the whims of a bunch of Watchers, so to the party she came.
More stubborn than Eva, the fool animal.
Eva patted her head where it itched, because of course she would itch where she couldn’t scratch. Her hair was tucked into the tight-fitting skullcap that came with the jumpsuit, a few tendrils already escaping to brush against her forehead despite how carefully Pink had arranged them. Worse, every time she shifted, the huge hoop earrings her mother had given her knocked against her face, making her think she was being constantly attacked by insects. She was about ready to tear them off and fling them into the nearby ocean.
Then Vakar wrapped an arm around her waist, and Eva pressed into him and tried to pretend for a moment that they were just random people at a fancy party, enjoying the low-key chatter and psychic emanations. As if they would ever be invited to a place like this; a grubby cargo-ship captain and a Wraith, mingling with rich elites excited to sprinkle some of their money on the newest idea seed to see what would grow.
This wasn’t how their lives went. Their stories were violent ones, front to back, with no happy end in sight. In the distance, the local star continued its slow progress toward the other side of the planet, slipping silently below the waves as the sky purpled like a bruise.
“So far, this is superior to our previous experience at a similar venue,” Vakar said quietly.
Eva snorted. “I’m still wearing something ridiculous.”
“I will be sure to remove it quickly later.”
Eva bumped him with her hip. “Panadero, watch where you put those claws.” She sighed. “The last time I was here, I was about a hundred kilometers away and kitted out in full tactical gear. It was a lot less pretty. Less peaceful.”
“It is a different form of activity,” Vakar agreed. “But the others here are not gathered in the interests of peace. This is a form of economic entanglement that in many ways works against notions of tranquility and prosperity, leaving aside the questionable features of the technology itself.”
“At least they’re not shooting anyone or setting them on fire,” Eva said.
“Perhaps not. But their choices may lead to similar outcomes, ultimately.” His gray-blue eyes met hers and she looked away.
“I’ve made a lot of shitty choices,” Eva murmured. “Being here is a constant reminder of the worst of them.”
“I have regrets as well,” Vakar said. “While I am not sorry for joining your crew, I did so as a means of escaping from obligations I perceived as anathema to my own desires. I was ashamed to admit this to my family or my commanding officers, and in my cowardice I fled.” His grip on her hip tightened slightly, reflexively.
“Some people would say it took guts to leave instead of staying and doing something you didn’t want to,” Eva said.
Vakar made a rumbling noise, the equivalent of a sigh. “It was fear, primarily. Fear of the responsibility that came with the power granted by my potential position. Fear of making an incorrect choice and being made to live with the consequences of my actions. You helped me overcome that fear, albeit unintentionally.”
Eva shifted to look up at him again. “I did what now?”
He smelled embarrassed, but also more strongly of licorice than before. “You gave me a reason to embrace that power and shoulder that responsibility. Without it, I had no hope that you would be returned to me. With it, I had the chance to find the people who had taken you, to find you. And now I can try to ensure no one else suffers in the same way.”
His connections had been a huge part of why they’d been able to go after The Fridge as aggressively as they had, instead of running off to the fringes of the universe to hide and struggle as a cargo-delivery and passenger operation. But it also meant a life of near-constant danger, for them and the rest of the crew. They were all doing it intentionally, sure, but that didn’t make it easier.
It also didn’t excuse anything she’d done before she and Pink struck out on their own. It didn’t excuse Garilia.
“Yeah, well, look what I did with my choices,” Eva muttered. “This place is one big commwall ad for the consequences of my fuck-ups.”
“And now you are choosing to do better.” Vakar squeezed her hip gently. “It is as you said: you cannot undo what has been done, but you can work to atone.”
Eva scowled. “I said that? Doesn’t sound like me.”
“That is because you often speak before fully considering the ramifications of your words, and so you are unable to recall them at a later point. Even when they are insightful.” His scent told her he was teasing, but she elbowed him anyway, and Mala made a soft chirrup of indignation at the motion.
A robot floated past with a tray of food, pausing when Eva stuck her arm in front of it so she could grab a handful of hors d’oeuvres. These were like little bread pillows filled with sauce, served hot enough to scald the roof of her mouth. She loved them immediately.
As much as she wanted to continue flirting and philosophizing and eating, they had a mission to accomplish. A quick mental command turned on the visualization that would let her see the tag Pink was shooting at her targets. At first, nothing showed up, which either meant that Pink hadn’t been able to find anyone yet, or that Eva was facing the wrong direction.
Before she could continue, a psychic emanation echoed like someone tapping a microphone, relayed by multiple xana standing in different places. Mala growled low in her throat, her body stiffening and her claws digging into Eva’s shoulders. A white-garbed form drifted down from a higher tier to stand at the top of a fake tree, like a platform with a podium made entirely of intertwined branches and broad leaves. Lights were redirected to focus on the figure: Lashra Damaal, in all her awful glory. Her pale fur gleamed as if lit from inside, her dark eyes huge and inscrutable. Her pale-gold harness twinkled as the light caught it—made from interwoven wires of some kind, or chain links, fancy and expensive.
Some people are always more equal than others, Eva thought.
A hush fell over the crowd, who were all focused on the Prime as if she were a religious figure descended from the heavens to gift them with her wisdom. Eva glanced sidelong at a few of the Watchers, and perhaps unsurprisingly, they weren’t so drawn in by the theatrics. They were still observing the guests, silently, unmoving, like statues that might come to life at any moment to deliver swift justice to anyone who stepped out of line.
“Honored guests,” Damaal said, her quiet voice amplified by invisible tech. “Your presence here in celebration of our unprecedented achievements signifies that you possessed the wisdom and foresight to invest in technology that will alter the lives of nearly every being in the universe.” Her psychic tone radiated earnest goodwill and optimism, with an intense layer of sheer power and authority that made Eva’s skin itch.