Metal Swarm - Kevin J. Anderson [91]
He circled Golgen before landing at one of the larger skymines, a facility managed by a man named Boris Goff, who tried to hire Patrick as a courier. 'Your ship is small, but it could still carry a profitable haul,' Goff said. Each of the cloud facilities was looking for independent transport ships to carry ekti to market; apparently, distribution was their main bottleneck. But Patrick had a different goal for now.
'I'm looking for clan Kellum.' When he stepped away from the landed Gypsy, the winds were cold and carried a bitter smell. The tight knot in his stomach was due half to anticipation of seeing Zhett again and half to terror over how she might react. He clung to love and hope, determined to make amends, to make her see who he really was and how he had changed. He wanted to show her that he was sorry, that he would accept whatever punishment he deserved and somehow prove himself worthy of her.
Goff frowned. 'What do you need Kellum for? I can beat any offer they'd make.'
You can't offer someone like Zhett, Patrick thought. 'I've worked for Del Kellum previously.'
'And that's a good thing?' Goff gave up and pointed toward a distant drifting facility. 'That's his, over there.'
That was all Patrick needed. He practically jumped back into his ship, his pulse racing, and flew directly to the other skymine. Dozens of scenarios played in his imagination, and he rehearsed his words - his apology, his confession, his plea for forgiveness.
He landed on one of the skydecks, transmitting only the new name of his ship and volunteering no further information. He didn't want to forewarn Zhett. As far as he knew, she might try to shoot him.
Stepping out of his craft in his nondescript uniform, he surveyed the eager Roamers who came to greet him. Thankfully, he recognized none of them from his days as a prisoner. 'Is Zhett Kellum here?'
This is Kellum's skymine, isn't it?'
Two people emerged from the command deck of the giant skymine. He could never forget Del's barrel chest and his grey-streaked dark beard. Mostly though, he was riveted by Zhett. She had never looked more beautiful, as far as he was concerned. He felt butterflies take flight in his stomach.
Kellum froze, gazing at him. 'By damn!'
Patrick could see from her expression that Zhett knew very well who he was. He wanted to say he was sorry, to overwhelm her with apologies of all variety and colours, to soothe any hurt feelings and erase the distance between them. There were so many words clamouring to get out of his mouth that for a moment they tangled together, and he couldn't say anything at all. He raised his hand. 'I've been looking for you. I'm sorry. There's so much to explain---'
'You've got a lot of nerve!'
Patrick did not cringe in the face of her disdain. He had been prepared for this. 'Go ahead. I deserve every awful thing you want to say.'
'Yes, you do. But I wouldn't bother with the effort.' Zhett stormed back to the control deck, not looking back.
'Wait - give me a chance! Please?' But she didn't turn around. Patrick stood near the Gypsy, feeling helpless. The tentative hope inside him sputtered like a fire doused with water. He hadn't actually thought beyond this point, and his heart contracted painfully as he watched Zhett walk away. He stared after her, recalling every conversation they had ever had.
Not exactly the way he had imagined the events would play out, but Patrick vowed to stay, hoping that Zhett would eventually change her mind.
Fifty-four
Admiral Sheila Willis
At the Chairman's orders, ten well-armed Manta cruisers flew toward Theroc, spoiling for a fight. The crew, full of cocky bravado, were eager to make their mark. Willis could sense it. The soldiers had been trounced by hydrogues, defied by colonists, and tricked by their own Soldier compies, not to mention upstaged by the Ildiran Solar Navy and a bunch of verdani