Captain Lind considered me for a beat, tapping her fingers on the tab console. “Fine, you do that, and in the meantime, I’ll interview the two transporters, for good measure. Max and Ewan Orlov?”
I nodded and obtained an advanced tab model from her. It had a small indentation at the bottom, the size of an index finger, which collected DNA and then interfaced directly with the highest-level fleet records.
“Don’t go poking around on that thing,” she scolded. “I’ll be checking the search records after you’ve returned it, and don’t think I won’t jail my own niece for malfeasance.”
Certainly I did not put that past her.
As I left the bridge, relief swooped at my insides—this would get everything sorted out by morning. Elliot and the Orlovs would pass the background check, surely, and I’d have to deal only with my other tormented feelings regarding Elliot, the Valg, and my sister. But then when I actually got to the Sofi and faced the deed of asking my new friends to undergo the procedure, I found my body superheating with shame and dread. I might as well march up to them and say, “Hi, I don’t trust you.” What if they took such great offense that they left?
I hesitated outside the Sofi’s aft entrance, pacing the Scandinavian’s dark loading bay, rehearsing what I might say to make the request sound less accusatory. Evgenia caught me mid-stride as she was exiting the Sofi and I was trying to enter.
“Leo!” she exclaimed, turning a near collision into a hug. Then she pulled me inside and started walking me into the ship, apparently changing her mind about wherever she was going. “I’m assuming you came for something to wear?”
“Uh, no? Why would I need something to wear? Weren’t you going somewhere?”
“Oh, it’s nothing—I was just going to avail myself of something from the med bay. I have a headache. And I meant for the dinner party tonight! I told Carina to tell you that the invitation was open to both of you, anytime. I have more clothes than I could possibly ever wear.”
“We’re not exactly the same size,” I said, but she waved me off and bustled me past the maintenance hold and security bay, into the main artery of the ship, and into her room. Which was usually Carina’s room.
“You’re a bit bustier, wide in the hips, but I’m sure we can find something! Ooh, what’s that?” She finally noticed the DNA tab in my hand.
“Oh, um, it’s for background checks,” I said. “I just got an earful from my aunt for not having you guys submit them before you arrived to rent out the ship. Apparently I’m in breach of protocol.” A pared-down version of the truth came to me in the moment. Evgenia blinked at me, the smile seeming to fall from her face.
“Are you okay?” Suspicion snaked its way up my spine.
“Yes, yes,” she said. “It’s just . . . drunk-and-disorderly conduct wouldn’t preclude us from being here, would it? I, um, may have had a few incidents in the past where I had a little bit too much, and might have stripped naked and run about a ship or two?”
“It happened more than once?”
“Maybe?”
I was relieved that it was something so minor, and also deeply ashamed at myself. That my first thought had been that, of course, they were guilty.
“Here, let me do it now, and then we’ll find the others.” Evgenia offered her index finger while I powered up the tab.
“I’m sorry to spring this on you,” I said as she inserted her finger and the unit drew her blood. “I would actually love your help with a dress, if the offer still stands. I don’t have that many nice dresses.”
“Are you trying to impress someone specific? Eh?” She waggled her eyebrows at me comically. Then the tab unit beeped, and she withdrew her finger. I logged her submission and hit the prompt to sterilize the finger scanner, like Captain Lind had shown me.
“Uh, no, I don’t even know who else is invited to the dinner party.” Was I horribly transparent? That I knew Elliot would be there, and wanted to look my best? Looking good was the best revenge. Hope he enjoyed courting my sister right in front of me.
Evgenia didn’t press any further.
“Well, let’s go find the boys so they can get scanned,” she chirped, and off we went.
Max and Ewan provided their fingers without even a shrug, which lulled me into a false sense of security. Because when we got to Elliot, whom we found reading in the lounge, he did anything but make it easy.
“Why do you need this all of a sudden?” he grilled me.
“Captain Lind insisted. She was reviewing everyone here for the Valg and realized I’d never had you all cleared. She’ll have my head if I don’t get it sorted.”
“It’s not so bad; only hurts a little,” Evgenia chimed in helpfully.
“You’re telling me that every single Valg participant from off-ship had to submit to a background check? Or is it just the rabble?” Elliot growled. And with that, I felt our little truce collapse in on itself. The twenty-four hours in which we were civil to each other had been nice, but now I could see I-want-to-see-you-suffer-a-bit Elliot back in full force.
I stuck to the script. “I’m just going by my aunt’s instructions.”
“And you always do what she says, right?” His eyes burned with accusation. This was about more than just a request for a background check. Elliot expected to get a rise out of me, but he got none. No, I shrugged and countered.
“I don’t know what the big deal is, El. Don’t you want to stay for the rest of the Season, take my sister out on dates? She was so excited when you mutually matched.”
I heard Evgenia gasp but didn’t take my eyes off his. Elliot’s nostrils flared as he exhaled a shock of breath. “Leo—” he said, but whether he intended to argue or explain, I didn’t wait to find out. I cut him off, delivering my sweetest smile and nudging the DNA tab forward, an innocent offering. Finally, he gave his finger over, and I couldn’t help but feel that I had both won and lost something.
Nine
I delivered the DNA tab to Captain Lind as promised, and I returned to the Sofi several hours later to be made over. If Evgenia had a problem with Elliot’s and my sparring, she didn’t show it. I found her as bubbly as ever, and a dress was already laid out for me when Carina and I arrived. It was a vintage 1920s magenta-and-silver beaded-silk drop-waist dress that made me think of The Great Gatsby or an Agatha Christie story. Evgenia clapped twice, ordering me to spin. I was sure I looked like a disco ball crossed with a sugary French confection.
“Where did you get all of these, Evy?” Carina asked, surveying Evgenia’s bursting wardrobe—previously Carina’s wardrobe—her fingers wisping over intricate, lustrous beading and silk skirts. She, of course, had had her pick of Evgenia’s dresses, and looked stunning in a deep-turquoise ruffled-and-tiered evening gown that showed off her tapered waist and slim hips. I was wearing the one and only dress of hers that would fit me.
“Oh, there are plenty of vintage sales on the Lady Liberty, Versailles, and Saint Petersburg,” Evgenia replied breezily. “Whenever someone misspends their digicoin and falls on hard times, the family fashion heirlooms are the first to go. I’ve scored a lot of pieces from private ships merging with better-off ones, too. There are lots of old private ships going out of commission.”