Page 74 of Mongrels United
“But…that’s not hidden at all,” Grady pointed out. “People walk through that forest all the time. The Gray House is in there, too. I mean, yes, it makes sense logically that he was going there for his supply, but practically-speaking, I don’t see how it would work.”
“We need to search the forest,” Nash said.
Her fear leapt. “Not without Jack’s best squad around us, and not before you’re healed. They nearly killed you, Nash.” And she looked away quickly as her eyes prickled with hot, hard tears.
Nash picked up her hand. “Not until I heal,” he said gently. “But then…”
“Then we’ll end this,” Grady agreed, looking down at their joined hands, because she didn’t—couldn’t—look directly at him right now. “Maybe,” she tacked on. “We don’t know what’s in there.” And she suddenly didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Talking meant making plans, and making plans meant she couldn’t put off the moment when Nash would risk himself once more.
She focused on the screen on the far wall of the room. The emitter was in the ceiling, one of the very old-style emitters which required constant refocusing to keep the molecules coherent. It needed refocusing now, for the images on the screen were fuzzy.
The screen was running the arena feed, showing tonight’s game. Kailash’s game, that Luus and his partner were at.
“It’s already the first intermission,” she murmured, for the tank was empty. As usual, many of the seats were also empty, but as she watched, she realized that the intermission had nearly ended, for people were streaming back to their seats. And the seats were steadily filling. “Why, there must be nearly a full house.”
Nash made a sound in his throat. “That will fatten the ticket split. I can’t remember ever seeing the stands that full.”
“Me, either,” Grady admitted. “Although I really only started watching tankball a little last year.”
They watched the first drop of the ball and the opening play of the second period. It was silent, because of the privacy cone around them, but they could guess well enough the level of noise as the game continued, for the audience was waving its arms and everyone seemed to be shouting.
The first sequence finished and the feed switched to a different lens, this one at the far end of the tank, facing toward the nominal “top” end.
Siran Carpenter and Carita Pemberton were settling into the front row seats. As the lens focused on Siran, he lifted a hand in a friendly wave toward the audience. Were they clapping? Cheering? Worse, were they booing him? Grady suddenly wanted to be able to hear, but she didn’t want to disturb Nash. He likely had a headache and noise would make him uncomfortable.
“Thecaptainis at the game,” Nash muttered.
“I know,” Grady said in agreement. “It’s record-breaking news.”
“Did you know he would be there?” Nash asked.
“I had no idea.” She chewed her lip. “Maybe he considers watching the game a personal affair and beyond my need to know. Only, he’s in the captain’s box.”
“Maybe he thought he could slip in unnoticed, but they wouldn’t let him sit in the ordinary seats,” Nash said wisely. “Arena security would insist he sit in the box, which is well guarded. And so would the Tankball Association’s arena manager.”
“It would be just like Siran to try to keep it low key,” Grady admitted. “He’s probably curious about tankball, especially since I told him to go to hell when he suggested I shouldn’t go to games because it sent out the wrong message.”
“You did?” Nash grinned. “And now he’s sending out an even stronger message of his own.”
The feed had switched back to the game, so Grady couldn’t measure Siran’s level of discomfort—not that he would let anything show, anyway. “I must find a way to chide him about it, tomorrow.”
Five minutes later, the medic returned with one of the cheapest, simplest shirts that could be printed on any printer, and with orders that Nash go home and sleep and not do anything energetic for at least five days.
While Nash was slowly getting dressed and being prescribed a pain killer, Grady slipped out of the room and found Jackalyn Wescott in one of the other wards, her back to the wall, her arms crossed, as she watched two patients in the nearest bed, and a team of medical staff around them.
Blood was everywhere—on the sheets, the floor and on the coats of the staff.
Grady grimaced. “They couldn’t put up a privacy screen?”
“I wouldn’t let ‘em,” Jack said grimly. “I don’t trust these two to not make a break for it, or try a more permanent escape, unless I can watch every second.” She glanced at Grady. “Hyson didn’t say much, but he did say he thought they might be hooked into the Bellish trade.” She looked sick. “Is that true, Grady? We’ve got fuckingBellishon the ship? That batch Djuro Rim brought us wasn’t an outlier?”
Grady glanced through the door to see if anyone lingered in the corridor outside who might have heard Jack.
Jack winced. “Sorry. I’m just…if this is true, I’m…”
“Angry?” Grady supplied.
“Scared,” Jack said flatly. “I’ve read my history, especially around the security of the ship. B—” She stopped, and said instead, in a much quieter voice, “That shit nearly destroyed theEndurance. For nearly a hundred years, it fucked up everything.”
