Page 47 of Jarran

“No, I am not,” Evie said firmly. “Jarran’s true identity has resurfaced. I’ve observed the neurological recovery firsthand. He is Jarran Bando. The brother you lost is standing in front of you. Not Pella Rin.”

For a moment, Taron’s gaze moved from her to Jarran. His brother wanted to believe it. Then he shook his head.

“I was tricked by Pella Rin once.” His voice was rough with so much pain. “I followed him into the worst tericycles of my life because I believed my brother was still in there somewhere. I can never know if what you’re telling me is true, or if this is another performance.” He looked at Evie. “Don’t be fooled by him the way I was. He is very convincing.”

He turned and walked back toward his shuttle. He didn’t look back.

Jarran watched him go. His brother’s sharp edges hadn’t been there when they were boys. Jarran stood in the docking bay and felt the weight of silence settle over him. He wanted to call after him, to argue, to convince him. But he knew the look on his brother’s face, and pushing harder wouldn’t open the door. It would lock it.

Evie’s hand curled around his. “Let’s go back to the room,” she said.

He nodded and followed her there. Once inside, Jarran sank to the floor with his back against the wall. He drew his knees up, his forearms resting across them, and bowed his head. He went still. But the inside of his head was not still. It was a rolling boil of regrets.

Evie sat beside him and put her arms around him. She didn’t speak. She waited.

“I expected that,” he said finally. His voice was quiet and flat. “He has every reason not to believe me. Pella Rin was a very good manipulator. Taron can never know for certain that I’m not doing it again.”

“Jarran.”

“I’m glad I got to see him.” He lifted his head. “I’m glad I got to apologize. At least I was able to say that, before they take me away.”

TWENTY

Two hours later, Evie was back in the docking bay.

After processing his reunion with Taron, Jarran had stood up, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and said, “We need credits.”

So here they were. Jarran had his head inside one of the small supply compartments on the shuttle’s port side, pulling out whatever might be useful. The muscles in his back shifted under his shirt as he worked. Evie took the items he handed her and put them on a seat.

“This one’s worth something.” He passed her a rectangular box with chunky latches. “Plasma burn medkit. Any vendor here would pay well for one.”

“How well?”

“Enough for our food and lodging.” He disconnected another panel and pulled out a mean-looking blaster. “This is enough to charge the power core to full capacity.”

Evie set the latched box on the stack of components they’d already pulled. A stimulant injector, two ration pouches, and a case of things that looked like computer parts. Jarran stuck the blaster in the back of his pants without comment.

He backed out of the small space behind the ship’s seats and straightened up, rolling his shoulders. The bruise on his jaw from Durik’s ship had faded to a yellowish smudge. She watched him survey the pile and felt a wave of frustration so sharp it made her teeth hurt. He was selling stuff from a stolen shuttle while he waited for the authorities to come arrest him. He was organizing his own surrender. She wanted to shake him.

“Jarran.” She sat down on a cargo crate. “Who else knows we’re here?”

He looked at her. “You mean besides Taron?”

“Yeah. Besides the brother who’s probably sitting in his ship just outside this station pretending we don’t exist.”

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “He likely told the Virilian authorities.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “And they likely told the Baylans, who would very much like to reacquire me.”

“So the Virilian and Baylan governments know where we are.”

“Probably.” He shrugged. “I’d prefer the Baylans arrive first. If I can surrender to them, I can present my intelligence directly. They’re fair. They’ll listen.”

“And if it’s the Virilians?”

“Then it’s the Virilians.” His voice was steady. “I’ll face whatever comes.”

Evie looked at him. The words were right there, stuck in the back of her throat. Three words. Small ones. She’d thought them last night while they were making love, and this morning at breakfast. She thought them now, watching him calmly prepare for a cage.

She didn’t say them. If she said, I love you, now, it would sound like begging. Like a last argument against a decision he’d already made, and it would make their parting worse than it had to be. He wasn’t going to change his mind, and she respected that, even though it was eating her alive.