Page 63 of Mongrels United
Rogerson thought it through. “Nope. It didn’t happen like that. I mentioned the shard, because it got us into the whole show with the Skinwalkers. But when they retired, everyone just seemed to forget about the shard, like we’d closed that chapter and moved on.”
Grady thought about Vasanta and her fury-driven belief that the best thing theEndurancecould do was stop right where it was, and find a new planet to live on. She didn’t think everyone had forgotten about the shard at all.
She put her hand under Nash’s arm, to coax him to his feet. “Come on,” she murmured to him. “You need coffee and calories.”
“Like nobody’s business,” Nash replied.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Their first date, which Grady had wanted to dress up for, ended up being a prosaic affair, which Nash knew was his fault. Only he couldn’t seem to get his thoughts together. Every time he tried to focus on anything, including conversation, his thoughts would circle back to the memory of his father and Mihael Rogerson arguing.
When they reached the Esquiline, Grady found the first public printer in the markets, where she printed coffee and a pastry each. Because there were no tables to spare right then, they found a quiet corner away from the stalls and stood to eat and drink, while watching Esquilinos browsing the stalls.
“We’re done for the day,” Grady declared, when she had finished her pastry. “You need to go home and do nothing but relax, Nash.”
He nodded, because that was good advice. “You’re going to check the engine room logs, aren’t you?”
Grady hesitated.
He guessed why. “I would rather know,” he told her.
He could see the caution flooding her. Then she nodded. “If I learn anything, I will tell you.”
He believed her. As far as he knew, Grady had never lied to him. For that reason, among many others, she was unique. The realization made him squirm, for he was not exactly living up to his word at this moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice harsh. “This isn’t the way I wanted this to go.”
Grady smiled at him. “I know.” She rested her hand against his chest. She did it a lot and he never failed to feel a tiny thrill at the simple gesture. “We’ll try again another time.” Her mouth turned up in an impish smile. “Besides, we’ve already been noticed.”
If he’d been himself, he would have picked up on the sideways glances and quick looks they were getting. It was a measure of just how deeply this thing about his father—murder, you mean, my father killed a man—really went.
Nash made himself eat the rest of the pastry, even though it tasted like ash. It would help, especially the sugar in it. When he got home, he’d eat an even larger meal, then sleep, even if he needed medication to do it.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had to sober up and think straight in a hurry.
This time was no different, he told himself firmly. Treat it the same way. A fact that needed to be processed, so he could move on.
Grady took their cups and plates to the recycler and came back to him. “I’d kiss you goodbye,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. Hers were filled with the soft warmth he’d come to know very well. “But under the circumstances…”
Nash let his hand tangle with hers and squeezed her fingers. “Neither of us thinks Rogerson could be wrong. Have you noticed?”
Grady sighed. “They were different times, back then,” she said gently. “There were more murders on theEndurancein that sixty year stretch than there had been in the entire past history of the ship, by a factor of ten or more.”
Nash shook his head. “That doesn’t get him off the hook.”
“No, but that, and the Bellish, explain why he thought he must do it.” She gave his hand another squeeze. “Go home. I must go to the Bridge and make sure they haven’t set fire to the place while my back was turned.”
He found he could give a small smile at her weak joke. “Will you stop by tonight?” And oh, how he had to fight to make it sound like a casual question, meant only to elicit information!
Grady’s smile grew warmer. “Yes, Nash. I’ll stop by tonight.”
* * * * *
Grady did return to see Nash that night, but it was not a night for anything but deep thought.
“The engine room logs were corrupted, around the time your father might have gone there,” she told Nash. “The month’s logs won’t open at all, even though the file size shows there is data in them, and about the right amount, too. I had one of the technical engineers on the Bridge try to recover the data, but nothing will open the file, and he’s good.”
Nash sat back on the hard, upright chair, his arms crossed, his head against the wall behind him. He stretched out his long legs and crossed his ankles. “Interesting…”
“It could just be a coincidence,” Grady pointed out quickly.
