The recovery lounge was empty now. Of course, all the pilots were back in their quarters, or at the bar, and for the most part all the mechanics and medical technicians had been dismissed. Conlan's orders, probably, and Vincent obliging him. The two of them were eternally in-cahoots.
Camilla waited on the platform where the Camalus would ultimately come to rest. Right now it was still in the open-air dock, being cooled down and rigged up and relieved of its cargo. She could see it through the big garage door that led from the platform: the whole craft was smoking, and a small team bustled around it, looking for safe places to hitch the lifts. All she could see was a portion of the starboard side, and some of the panelling slipped off like citrus rinds.
Vincent had told her. Told her that he'd insisted on flying the thing back on his own. In that wreck, and at the shape he must have been in . . .
She squeezed her nails into her palms and did a little turn around the platform.
What am I going to do with him?
The first thing she heard, before she even picked the little caddy's engine out of the soup of machine noise, was Graham.
Naturally.
". . . to say that it wasn't basically the most mind-blowing thing you've ever done, 'cause it was and I don't want to take away from your achievements or anything, achievements are important when you run this kind of business - but it was really freaking stupid, man. Like, if I weren't a technical pacifist and all, and if you didn't look, you know, like you just pulled a marathon flight in a wrecked airship, I'd definitely consider socking you in the ribs right now."
"Just watch where you're driving."
"What kind of answer is that? Dude, you really must be exhausted."
Conlan was slumped in the back of the jeep, arms spread out across the back of seats and his head slumped forward. His clothes were rumpled. Half the collar of his shirt was still tucked under his flying jacket, and the other was bent up against his neck. She could make observations about his hair, but that was usually a bit of a mess anyway.
The worst thing was his eyes. At some point some lumia flecks must have gotten into the cabin, because they were inflamed and the left one had an unhealthy sheen that needed washing-out. He looked up at her when the dock caddy came to a stop a few feet away, and he managed a smirk.
"Well? You can scold me now, if you want. I probably I owe you that much."
This whole time she had been waiting, she'd been trying to decide how she should respond. There were so many reasons to be infuriated with him, and just as many reasons to be happy.
She settled finally, with giving his arm a little jostle.
"You shouldn't have hung up on me," she told him, with a small smile, "but I'm assuming you thought it was for my own good."
"Yeah, well, he shouldn't assume," Graham put in, turning sideways in the driver's seat. "You pretty much sent everyone into cardiac arrest. You're lucky there weren't any really old people with faint hearts in the lobby, or you might be looking at manslaughter right now, buddy."
Conlan huffed and looked over his shoulder at the still-smoking Camalus. "Don't know if it was even worth it. Most of the money will be absorbed in getting us a new ship."
Camilla teetered forward with an incredulous laugh. "What on Celares are you talking about? A new ship? Conlan, do you know how much that last burst is worth? We could almost buy a new fleet. We could buy the Andrasta! And remodel the whole airstation. Fund your racing career for the next ten seasons!"
He stared at her. ". . . What?"
"We're rolling in dough," Graham said, flipping out of the jeep and strolling off toward the docks.
"It was special grade lumia in that burst," Camilla elaborated. "It must have been sitting there, purifying, for decades. Maybe that snake kept anyone from reach it - I really have no clue, but it's worth triple what you already had in the turbine. We're already talking to Loteara - the Armed Forces Commission's going to purchase the whole lot for 150% the market value."
He continued to stare at her, but she wasn't sure she was the one he was seeing.
"We have enough to claim the Andrasta?" he asked. He leaned forward a little, eyebrows raised.
She giggled. "Yeah. Yes, we do. Definitely."
"So, we also have enough money for a new contractor. A mechanic, for the Andastra?"
She frowned. Maybe he'd taken a blow to the head or something? Sure, it was a lot of money, but Conlan wasn't the type to get this . . . dazed about it. Even if it was the Andastra. And so what if they could afford a new contractor -
Oh.
"We have enough to buy a contract," she said, quietly.
She met Conlan's eyes.
She repeated, so loud that her voice reverberated off the high walls of the lounge: "The fortress has enough money to buy a contract!"
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