The Travels of Scout Shannon Books 1-3

Chapter 13

13

Scout woke from a nap she hadn’t realized she had been taking to a soft, tinkling, chiming sound. She sat up too quickly, nearly doubled over from the sudden stab of pain in her chest from the movement, and knocked the thankfully empty coffee mug to the rover floor, where it clattered loudly.

The chiming continued with no particular pattern. Scout got to her feet and saw the dogs both sitting up on the bunk, heads tipped as they too puzzled over what they were hearing. Scout retrieved the mug from the floor and set it on the counter in the kitchenette near the sink.

Two thoughts struck her in the same moment. The first: Was the rover moving? The second: The chiming sound was the collection of sporks in the sink gently striking against each other. Scout put a hand in the sink and pushed them all away from each other until they quieted, then turned to look toward the cockpit.

It did feel like they were moving, albeit over very smooth ground. She couldn’t hear the engines, but there was a gentle rocking back and forth of the rover under her feet.

Scout ran to the top of the cockpit steps to look out the panoramic window. She was still in the rebels’ hideaway, parked next to the two armored jeeps.

Then the dogs started barking, suddenly and with great urgency. Scout went back down the stairs and heard a soft tapping at the rover door. She touched a hand to her pants pocket, felt the data disks still snuggled down in the depths, quite hidden, then punched the control to open the door.

Joelle looked up at her almost sheepishly. Her tactical vest was gone, replaced by a ridiculously soft-looking cardigan of a brilliant ruby red that actually looked quite nice on her. More than nice—it muted the effects of her cargo pants and combat boots and made her look thoroughly feminine, and younger.

That, and the basket in her arms, discreetly covered by a clean white tea towel. She was a fairy-tale character on her way to Grandma’s house.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d wake you,” Joelle said, timing her words to the gaps in the barking.

“Hush, dogs,” Scout said, rubbing a hand over her still-crusty hair. She was sure she looked terrible; she really needed a wash. “No worries. I was awake.”

“I brought you some breakfast before you leave,” Joelle said, holding up the basket. “Can I come in?”

“I suppose,” Scout said, extending a hand to help Joelle step inside. The moment she was in view, both dogs jumped down from the bunk to paw at her. She tried to pet their squirming forms and remembered both of their names, but it was clear she didn’t share her brother’s excessive love of dogs.

“Okay, down, you two,” Scout said, grabbing collars to drag dogs back from jumping all over their guest.

Joelle gave a smile of thanks. She set her basket on the middle of the dining table and pulled back the tea towel. “Do you drink coffee?” she asked with a friendly smile.

“On occasion,” Scout said. “Say, did you feel the ground shaking just a moment ago?”

“Ground shaking?” Joelle repeated. The smile never left her lips but her eyes found reasons not to meet Scout’s. “No, I don’t think so.”

“It was shaking the whole rover. Not as bad as—” She stopped herself from saying “as yesterday,” although she couldn’t say why she refrained.

At any rate, Joelle didn’t seem to be really listening anyway as she poured out two tiny cups of coffee from a cylindrical decanter that had been wrapped in more tea towels to keep it warm. She looked up at Scout standing uncertainly near the door and invited her to sit with a gesture.

“If it’s dawn, we should be probably be going,” Scout said.

“There’s time yet. Let the dogs run a bit before you coop them back up in here and have some coffee with me. I brought chocolate croissants,” Joelle said, the last bit in a singsong voice. She held up a crescent-shaped, dark brown pastry, wiggling it back and forth.

It smelled incredible. Scout relented, shooing the dogs outside and sliding into the seat across from Joelle. She picked up the tiny cup in front of her and looked at it dubiously.

“It’s called a demitasse,” Joelle told her. “It’s small because the coffee I put in it is quite intense. Try it.” Scout took a little sip. The caffeine rushed through her, instantly making her heart race. Joelle smiled. “These are my mom’s things, the cups and the French press. She had been very particular about her coffee. She died before I was old enough to appreciate it myself, but I remember her making it when I was little. I always watched her. I think I’ve remembered all her little tricks correctly. It’s good, right?”

“Yes,” Scout said, taking another sip. “Very strong.”

“The chocolate croissant recipe is hers as well. Things out here weren’t so militaristic when she was still with us,” Joelle said almost wistfully.

“That was before the Space Farers dropped rocks on us,” Scout said.

“Yes, it was,” Joelle agreed, looking down at her coffee. Scout’s hands under the table clenched into fists. The desire to reach a hand across, to lend comfort, was strong. But she knew Joelle had been sent here specifically to win her over. And she was nearly succeeding even though Scout knew what she was doing. Scout clenched her fists tighter, driving her nails into the flesh of her palms.

Just a little bit longer. Then she’d be free.

Joelle came out of her reverie and looked around the rover, taking in the overflowing crates of electronic parts stashed everywhere. “This isn’t what I expected it to look like in here,” she said.

“It’s just a rover, nothing special,” Scout said, then reached for another sip of coffee. The coffee had strings attached, but the rush of caffeine was worth the price.

“No, I mean, it doesn’t look like you. I would think your home would be a bit more . . . ordered.”

“Well, it’s not really my home. It’s only mine temporarily,” she said, then immediately regretted it. She was giving Joelle information. She shouldn’t be doing that. Granted it was information Tucker already knew, but still. She had to be more careful.

She tore the croissant in front of her in half and stuffed one of the halves in her mouth. That should keep her quiet for a minute.

The croissant was still warm from the oven. She looked at the end of the half still in her hand. All those flaky layers wrapped around a dark ooze of chocolate: this wasn’t the sort of thing one made in a hurry. Joelle likely hadn’t slept a wink since talking with her father.

“This could be really cool if you did it up nice,” Joelle said, still looking around the rover. “Put some curtains over the bunks for privacy, paint the walls a softer color. Some pillows on these benches—”

“Like I said, this is only temporary for me,” Scout said. She hoped that was still true. “The only stuff here that is really mine is in those saddlebags.” She pointed over her shoulder to the floor near the bunks where she had left the twin bags from her bike. The bike was in storage over the rear treads of the rover, but she had brought her bags inside to have access to her own things.

Joelle looked like she was casting about for the next chipper thing to say, but Scout didn’t want to hear it. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit.” Scout felt a stab of guilt at the sudden look of hurt in Joelle’s eyes and had to bite down on her tongue to keep from apologizing. “I’m guessing you’re trying to determine if I’m a security risk before you let me go. I’m sorry if I sound angry, but I was coerced into coming here in the first place and promised that I would be allowed to leave again when I wanted. Being lied to tends to make me angry.”

“Tucker stretched the truth,” Joelle said.

“Yes, but not just Tucker, am I right?” Scout persisted. “You guys are a team, and he’s not that big of a loose cannon, is he?”

Joelle was shredding the croissant in her fingers, letting it crumble to pieces on the little plate edged with silver. Probably also her mother’s. Scout reminded herself to stay angry.

“You’re not being entirely honest either,” Joelle said, dusting the last of the crumbs from her hands and giving Scout one of her more usual stern looks. Scout instantly felt more comfortable. Joelle was back to being herself.

“About what?” Scout asked.

“You know more than you’re saying,” Joelle said.

“About what?” Scout asked again. “I know nothing about you people or your organization, and I’ve tried very hard not to notice things since I got here.”

“But you do know things,” Joelle persisted. “Ken, motormouth that he is, blabbed about the girl assassins the Space Farers have been sending into prominent Planet Dweller residences. Nearly no one on the surface knows about that. Barely any Space Farers know about that, only the ones in certain upper circles of their command structure. And yet you knew about that.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Scout said vaguely.

“No, you know more than that,” Joelle said, nearly making Scout squirm under the intensity of her gaze. “When Ken said that one of those agents had infiltrated the governor’s home, you said ‘not anymore.’ What did you mean by that? Because to my ears, that sounds like you have some pretty specific knowledge. And if you were telling the truth, you know more than we do.”

“I don’t remember saying that,” Scout said honestly.

“You did. At dinner, you said just that.”

Scout ducked her head to block out those intense eyes and played back her memories from the night before. Oh. Yes, she had said that. Joelle gave a triumphant smile as Scout failed to keep her face neutral at the memory.

“I do deliveries between cities and towns all over this part of the planet,” Scout said. “I hear lots of things in lots of places. Honestly, I don’t remember where I hear everything. There are rumors everywhere.”

“I don’t believe you heard such an incredibly specific, timely, and correct rumor,” Joelle said.

“How do you know it’s correct?” Scout countered. Joelle frowned. Scout bit her lip to prevent her own triumphant smile from emerging. She didn’t know, not for sure. At least, not that the girl assassins were dead now.

“What happened to you during the storm?” Joelle asked. Scout couldn’t read her tone. Her eyes were as hard as ever, but there was empathy in her voice, like she knew it had been bad and was truly trying to help. Scout bit her lip even harder.

“I’m not talking about that,” Scout said. “I won’t.”

“You talked about it to Tucker,” Joelle said.

“Not really.”

“You did,” Joelle said. Then, to Scout’s surprise, she heaved a sigh. “Listen—”

“Knock, knock,” Tucker said from the open doorway. “Are you two having a breakfast party without me?”

“Not really a party, no,” Scout said. “But there’s food if you want some.”

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Tucker said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. He gave Scout a grin she had no desire to return, then looked to Joelle. Joelle was slumped back in her seat, arms crossed as she stared at the remains of her croissant. “Joelle? Malcolm was looking for you. I think he needs a thing or something?”

“Is that so,” Joelle said, her voice completely flat. But she got to her feet, brushing past Tucker as she jumped down and he climbed into the rover. She turned to shoot him an inscrutable look before wrapping the cardigan more snugly around her and disappearing from view.

Tucker turned to Scout with a shrug. “She gets moods. Especially when she breaks out her mother’s stuff. Although I do like that color on her. Can I sit?”

Scout waved a hand he took for an affirmative and he sat across from her. He looked into the empty demitasse Joelle had left behind and wiped the rim clean with the end of his shirt before filling it from the decanter.

“Was she giving you the first degree?” he asked as he peeked inside the basket and fetched one of the remaining croissants.

“I guess. But why?”

Tucker, mouth full of pastry, just shrugged. “She likes to be very sure,” he said around chewing.

“You promised me I could go,” she reminded him.

“I know. That’s still going to happen,” he said, but she just scoffed and tried not to let him see how hard she blinked her eyes. “It is.” He reached across the table to catch one of her hands and give it a squeeze.

She let him, but she kind of hated herself for it. This wasn’t the time to start getting feelings or attachments. Especially not with this guy who may or may not be lying to her.

“I just want to go,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

“Not just from here, from this entire world,” Scout said. “I’m done with being here. I haven’t had a place here since my family died. I’ve just been waiting. And I’m so sick of waiting.”

Some strange emotion rippled over Tucker’s face but was gone too quickly for Scout to identify it. It was like he tucked it away before pushing forward again with his benign charm.

“I made a promise,” he said. He was probably going to say more, but Scout didn’t want to hear it. No more empty reassurances. She pulled her hand out of his very nicely warm grasp and tucked it back under the table with the other.

“Why were you at McFarlane’s hut yesterday?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he responded, but he had stuffed another bite of croissant into his mouth with suspicious haste.

“There was a reason. You must have left here the moment the storm passed to get there in time. Why the hurry?”

“He owed us something,” he said vaguely. “I was going to fetch it.”

“For Malcolm?” He blinked, his face perhaps too carefully blank, and she let it go. “There was nothing of any value in his hut,” she pointed out instead.

“Yes, I noticed that,” Tucker said with nicely contained sarcasm. “Not only did he stiff us, he was never going to deliver in the first place. I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

“I am,” Scout said. “He had crimes to be held accountable for.”

“More than you know,” Tucker said.

“More than you know,” Scout countered angrily. “A galactic marshal was here specifically to find him and bring him back to justice. He destroyed the lives of people all over the galaxy, not just this miserable heat sink of a planet.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be glib,” Tucker said. “I knew he wasn’t from around here. I used to like to be the one Malcolm sent to negotiate deals with him. If McFarlane wasn’t drinking and was in a reasonably good mood, I could get him to tell me stories of other worlds. Hell, maybe he made them all up, I don’t know, but I loved those stories. I’d love to see for myself which ones are true.”

Scout swallowed once or twice and got her emotions back under control. “Tucker, what did you negotiate with him for?”

“I’m sorry. If it were just me, I’d tell you, but I can’t tell other people’s secrets. Especially if it might put them in danger. I just can’t.”

Scout nodded. He sounded sincere, but then he always sounded sincere.

“You look like you have one more question,” he said mildly.

Scout swallowed. There was really only one question that mattered. “Will you swear to me that you had nothing to do with McFarlane being dead?”

Tucker had a mouthful of croissant, so it took a moment for him to answer. When he did, he leaned forward to grasp her hand again and hit her with the full intensity of those gray eyes.

“Scout Shannon, I solemnly swear to you, I never set foot inside Farlane McFarlane’s hut until the moment I found you there.”

“So you didn’t kill him?”

“Considering I’m the one who found you with a gun in your hand standing over his dead body, and you keep telling me all the bad things he’s done all over the galaxy, I find it odd I’m not the one peppering you with questions and accusations. I guess it’s because I trust you.”

Scout scowled. “I didn’t draw the gun until you startled me.”

“If you say so.” Tucker shrugged and reached for the last croissant.

“I should go find my dogs,” she said, getting up from the table.

“The last I saw, they were patrolling the storage warehouse with Reggie. I’ll show you.”

Scout hopped out of the rover and turned to wait as Tucker chugged down the last of his coffee and jumped down after her. He brushed back the lock of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead, then thrust his hands into his pockets. It was barely dawn and the air was still cold. Then he nudged Scout’s arm with his elbow to indicate that she should follow him.

“Do you truly want to leave this place?” Scout asked as she fell in step beside him.

“Malcolm and the others have been like a family to me,” Tucker said, and Scout nodded. The stomach-clenching feeling of disappointment surprised her. Had she really thought he’d leave with her? After just a day? “But they’re not my family, not really,” Tucker went on. “I would do anything to keep them safe, but I don’t think I’ll ever really feel like I belong here. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Scout said. “I think I do.”

She had put her freezing hands into her own pockets, fingertips brushing the data disks. That was what she had to keep safe. But it wasn’t really connecting her to anything, not in a belonging sort of way. No one had entrusted these things to her. They had just sort of fallen into her lap.

She took her hands back out of her pockets and caught the sleeve of Tucker’s shirt, bringing them both to a halt. He turned to look at her and Scout stumbled over her words in the sudden realization of how close they were standing to each other. She wanted to take half a step back. It would certainly be easier to talk to him if she did; he was a full head taller than she was.

But she also didn’t want to step away.

“Listen,” she said, and he leaned in closer, his eyes intent on hers.

Then the canyon around them began to echo with the grinding metallic groan of the gate unlatching and swinging open. Scout thought at first that it was Joelle, finally releasing her, if a moment or too sooner than Scout would have liked.

Then Scout realized what she had failed to notice earlier when she had looked out the rover window to determine if she was moving or not. The motorcycles hadn’t been in their place between the rover and the two jeeps.

Someone had gotten them outside in the early morning hours without making a sound, when Scout had been certain she wasn’t even sleeping. And now they were back, the two of them on either side of some sort of yoke, towing a wheeled platform.

And on the platform was a town car. It was covered in red dust after spending several days out in the elements, but it was recognizably luxurious under that coating. Few owned such fine vehicles. Really only the governor of the colonies of Amatheon, perhaps one or two of the mayors of the larger cities.

But Scout didn’t have to speculate about the ownership or even wonder how such a rare vehicle had ended up so far from where the upper class lived and played. She recognized the town car straight away, although she had only seen it once before. It had belonged to Ruth, the governor’s daughter. She had gotten stranded in it just before the storm.

She had been driving it out to the hills to meet with the rebels. These rebels.