"Torin. Craig's dead." Over against the bulkhead, Alia waved her hands as though she thought she needed movement to attract Torin's attention. As if her name and the declaration weren't enough.
"We can't know that."
"They've had him…" Her voice broke. "They've had him for hours."
It had taken roughly four and a half hours for Torin to get back to the Promise. Seven hours spent unconscious. Forty minutes to walk from the medical facilities to Presit's ship. Ninety minutes to get far enough away from the station to fold. Ninety minutes to get from the point where they'd emerged to the salvage station. Thirty-three minutes to gather the salvage operators and their families in the concourse. Torin had been up on the stage in the corner, talking for half an hour. Craig had been with the pirates for sixteen hours. Roughly.
Except…
She'd been used to living her life like time spent in Susumi didn't count-ships emerged seconds after they folded regardless of how long they spent inside. Time in the Corps, time spent being ferried from battle to battle and home again, had probably aged her another five to seven years. Med-op kept records. She'd never checked.
But time in Susumi counted when time in Susumi was spent at the mercy of people who'd already killed three innocents. Torin hung onto the certain knowledge that they'd killed Rogelio Page very slowly. Craig was younger. Stronger.
"He's not dead."
"Torin…"
She wasn't sure who'd said her name, but she thought it was Jenn. Craig had been the next thing to a part of their family and they wanted to mourn. Torin wasn't going to let them.
"Two reasons he's not dead. One…" She resisted the urge to raise a specific finger. They were wasting her time. Craig's time. "The pirates need him alive, and they'll have learned from their handling of Page." Handling. A neutral way of saying tortured to death. Torin squared her shoulders and swept her gaze over the crowd. Craig had been well liked-they were listening, but she needed them to do more than that. "Taking salvage is one thing, but taking the salvage operators is something else entirely. Too much of that will get the Wardens moving and they won't risk it."
"You don't even know it's the same pirates!" shouted a di'Taykan, dark orange hair in constant movement.
"In the Corps, we called those kind of coincidences a reason for artillery."
A woman in the front row shook her head. "You aren't in the Corps now."
"And we don't have artillery," added the man beside her.
Torin stared at him, brow up.
"Much artillery," he amended, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You said there were two reasons." One arm around Kevin's waist, the other across Jenn's shoulders, Pedro stared at her over Alia's head. "What's the second reason?"
Torin met his gaze. "He'll do everything he can to stay alive because he knows I'm coming for him."
"You also said there was an explosion. He probably thinks you're dead."
"He are not being so stupid," Presit snorted, moving forward and answering before Torin could. "I was being with Craig Ryder the last time Torin was being thought dead and even when he are being told she are dead by the Commandant of the Corps, he are not believing it. When he are standing on the glass that are having been a battalion of Confederation Marines, he are still not believing it." She stroked her claws through the silver fringe of her ruff and glanced up at Torin. "As it are happening, he are right."
"And what are being your part in this?" a Katrien perched up on one of the kiosks called out, sounding suspicious. The reporter was a stranger. Even more than Torin.
Presit's ears flicked, the Katrien equivalent of a shrug. "I are being brought in to expose the pirates so the Wardens will be getting the Navy involved. It are being for your benefit."
"Oh, yeah, like you are doing us a favor!"
"I are benefiting you," Presit responded dryly. "It are not the same thing. I are also planning to be benefiting from the story."
"There is no story." Pedro's voice cracked. He swallowed and continued. "Craig is dead-just like Jan and Sirin. Just like Page. If we band together and go after him, if we go after the pirates, more of us will die."
"Let the Navy do their job!" spat a dark-haired woman.
"The Navy has to be called in by the Wardens," Torin snapped.
"So let it!" someone yelled from the back.
"Some of you have military experience…"
"And we got the fuk out, didn't we?" snarled a di'Taykan. Torin had met her at Sirin and Jan's funeral. Kiku; served one contract in the Corps as a comm tech. She'd told a few "war" stories then. When it became obvious Torin wasn't interested, they'd talked together about one of the guys in the band. "You think you can just waltz in here," Kiku continued, "all I'm Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr and I survived a prison planet and I found the little gray aliens, and now we have to march in straight lines and do what you say? Fuk that. We don't fight. We prefer to survive."
"We have families," Pedro added before Torin could respond.
They weren't going to help, she realized. Her business was none of their business.
"You are losing them," Presit murmured as people began to shuffle from the shuttle bay.
"I never had them," Torin admitted, cutting her loses. She didn't have time to convince them of the obvious. She raised her voice until it filled all the empty spaces. "I need to buy a ship. And I need it now."
That got their attention. Every face turned back toward her. To her surprise, the first question was, "Why?"
"The Promise is damaged, and pirates aren't likely to welcome reporters."
"Everyone are playing to a camera," Presit snorted quietly.
"You're going after Craig alone?" Kiku again. When no one laughed with her, she flushed, her hair flattening, but she didn't look away. "You don't even know where the Heart of Stone is, do you?"
"I'll find it."
"Because you're Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr?"
"Because they have Craig." At least some of those in the room who were ex-military had served with combat troops in a time of war. Pulled a trigger and saw a distant body fall. Torin had killed up close and personal. People near the stage backed up as they heard that in her voice.
"How," asked a narrow-eyed woman with three black lines tattooed down the center of her forehead, "are you planning on paying for this ship?"
Given the audience, that was the question Torin had expected to hear first. "I'll cede my military pension."
"How much of it?"
"All of it."
"Oh, yeah. That's just great." A mocking voice rose above the murmur as the man with the ginger mustache who'd confronted her at the funeral moved to the front of the crowd. "You take that ship off to play hero against the pirates, and we'll get sweet fuk all because you'll be dead, and they don't pay pensions to the dead."
"I don't plan on dying."
"No one plans on dying."
"You'd be surprised."
He had his mouth open again, and Torin was seconds from putting her fist in it when Pedro called out. "You can have our small ship."
He didn't mean have as have it to save Craig, he meant have as in he'd take the pension. She could hear it in his voice. "I need a ship with a weapon mounted."
"The Second Star has a recessed BN-344. We use it to cut debris apart."
The BN-344 was the big half sister of the BN-4, the cellular disrupter /tight band laser the Corps carried in those places a projectile weapon would be unwise. Without the cellular disrupter attached, the big laser could also be used as a cutting tool. Her lip curled, but she nodded. His small ship was almost the same base model as the Promise. She could get it from point A to point B. "Deal."
The crowd parted as she jumped off the stage. For a moment she wished they hadn't-laying hands on even one of them would have helped her mood-then she ignored them. Their business wasn't her business. The crowd stayed parted behind her, and she could hear Presit following. The reporter had sharp claws and no compunction about using them.