Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [96]
For some unfathomable reason, the combination aroused Jo-Jo to the point of obsession. He wrestled constantly with a desire to follow her around the ship, or to do something stupid and heroic so that she would look at him with more interest.
Instead, he avoided her company, and when they were together, he tried to ignore the fact that she only noticed him when he spoke to the others of the places where he had travelled. In those moments, and only those, he earned her full attention.
But it did not stop him fantasising like a hormonal adolescent. And hoping.
So he took refuge in exercise.
The crew fell into a pattern where each attended their tasks for the first part of the shipboard day. Mid-cycle each of them drifted to his or her individual pursuits; and in the evenings they assembled for a meal.
Although Mira Fedor attended the evening gatherings she drank little and seldom contributed to the conversation unless goaded by the mercenary, Rast Randall. The tension between the women, Jo-Jo guessed, was born of their experiences escaping Araldis. He envied their bond, just as he envied the gentle, almost shy glances that the Baronessa bestowed on the scholar, Thales Berniere.
Jo-Jo would have cheerfully vacced the useless prick but that would have deprived the mercenaries of their sport. The three whiled away the hours of boredom playing childish tricks on Thales: locking him in obscure sections of the biozoon, stealing his clothes and spiking his drinks with disinhibitors.
Jo-Jo enjoyed the pranks. He found the mercenaries better diversionary therapy than the cheap wine that Lasper Farr had provided for them—especially Randall.
She was tough, not easily offended, and could laugh at most things.
Most days he joined her on her daily run through the ‘zoon. Inevitably, when the gradients got too steep, or their legs became too fatigued, they fell to a walk and conversation. Rast showed him all the biozoon’s inner chambers, including the scarred lower walls near its intestinal system.
Jo-Jo gave a low whistle when he saw the ugly ridges of discoloured tissue. ‘Even a ‘zoon can bleed to death from those kinds of cuts.’
‘You know Landhurst at Intel station?’
Jo-Jo nodded. ‘By reputation, at least.’
‘She went to him for help. He figured a lone woman in a ‘zoon would be easy pickings.’ Rast laughed. ‘Didn’t figure on her passengers, though.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time Landhurst’s seen an opportunity and stepped outside the rules.’
‘Yeah,’ Randall agreed. ‘But Carnage Farr makes him look giddy and soft.’
Jo-Jo felt a sudden urge to hit something. He’d spent his lifetime avoiding these kinds of involvements. ‘What does Farr want, anyway? Why’s he sending that soft cock Berniere to do business in Extro territory?’
Rast’s eyes narrowed. ‘He wants him to pick up DNA.’
‘What sort of idiot would accept a bio-courier’s job?’
The mercenary threw him a look. ‘Carnage must figure it’s worth it. He’s been keeping the balance between OLOSS and the half-heads since the war. Guess he’s got plenty to gain if neither gets the upper hand. Trade mostly. To both sides.’
Jo-Jo reached to the wall and ran his fingers along a length of raised scar. It was slightly sticky and warm. ‘Beth says much the same. Are you sure he’s keeping things on balance, though? Might be that’s what he wants everyone to think. . .’ He tapered off.
Rast laughed. ‘You’re a paranoid bastard. Waste of time trying to second guess Farr, though.’ Randall walked ahead, bored or uncomfortable with the conversation. Jo-Jo couldn’t decide.
‘You one of his people?’ Jo-Jo wasn’t sure if he’d get a straight answer but it was worth a try. The mercenary seemed direct enough when it suited her.
Rast stopped and turned back to face him. ‘Yes and no. He’s paying me well for this job and I mostly like what he stands for—but I’m not partial to being anyone’s bitch. I like to pick where and when I work