Okay, Ax thought. This could still work out in my favor. He was still in the Race; that was a positive. His new partner certainly seemed like she could hold her own if there were any combat challenges, which meant they could stay in the hunt for a while. More time he could hide in plain sight, and more flesh he could pack around the persona he’d paid to create. Gobby’s thugs and leg-breakers weren’t likely to approach while there were cameras running. At least he hoped.

As for downsides... He looked down at the closed torpedo shell that lay on the tracks in front of him. It had been a tough break—Darryn required a methane-rich atmosphere to breathe, and with the rest of the crew on board being oxygen breathers, he’d worn an atmo-tank. The hose had been severed by debris in the chaos of the pirates’ first volley, and that had been it. Had he been able to get free and find a replacement hose, he’d have been fine, but debris had pinned him down.

A lousy, senseless way to die. Ax rested a hand on top of the pod. “I suppose I should say something.”

His new partner shifted from one foot to the other, either relishing the return of gravity or actually uncomfortable with the sentiment being expressed. Or maybe it was a ritualized dance. Ax didn’t know how her people mourned the dead. For that matter, he didn’t know anything about Darryn’s mortuary practices either.

“Do we need to take his remains back for his family to honor?” His comm unit translated clearly, and he noticed that she had reclaimed the unit Darryn had been assigned. Or the ship’s AI issued her a new one. She had also changed out of her armor, wearing a loose shirt and a pair of lounge pants that she’d commandeered from somewhere. Possibly Berniss’s cabin. The softer garments highlighted the curves of her figure better than the armor had, but didn’t do much to diminish her intimidation factor. Especially since she’d kept her belt and its large, ornate blade.

The AI chittered its mouthparts and vibrated its wings together. “While the corporation maintains a file detailing next of kin to be notified in these circumstances, there are not facilities on board the ship to maintain the body for the long trip. Burial at space was accepted as part of the terms of the contract signed by all contestants.”

It was? Ax usually had a better head for contracts than that. How had he missed such a crucial clause when he’d gone through it? It comforted him that she didn’t look any more comfortable with the prospect than he did. Strange, devils were supposed to be good at contracts.

“Yeah, thanks, Algol. That’s honest, if not especially helpful.” Ax took a deep breath and tried to think about what he’d want said at his own funeral, but all he could come up with was Surprise, just kidding! and that didn’t seem appropriate. Still, he had to say something. He cleared his throat, but everyone was still focused on him, including Berniss’s holovid drone. “Darryn, you were a competitor. A true contender, and an honest being.” Ax had no idea about the last part; the man could’ve been a complete liar. Hells, Darryn might not even have been his real name. There was, at least, precedent for competitors who used forged identities.

Ax tapped the launch button, suddenly uncomfortable that Kayana might recognize the similarity between the funeral in space and the actions he used to destroy her ship. The casket slid forward into the torpedo tube, and the door slid down behind it. The red light to the right of the tube blinked rapidly before it switched to green and a small huff sounded. While he couldn’t see it, gas ejected the torpedo into space, headed toward the nearest star. Ax stepped forward and laid his hand against the tube door. “We are made of star-stuff, buddy. Return to the stars from which you came.”

Kayana nodded. “May the Nine welcome him in the living fires of freedom.” She shifted again and stepped back, eyes cast down. “Sorry, I felt I should say something.”

Ax blinked. “No, it’s okay. That was...nice.” He and Darryn hadn’t spent a lot of time talking religion, but most of the sentients he knew didn’t view an afterlife surrounded by flames as a good thing.

Uncomfortable silence dropped over the armory, and they spent a long time not looking at each other. Still, they had a competition to engage in, and no doubt the AI would report them as thieves if they didn’t make a show of it. The silence felt oppressive, and demanded he break it. “So, about the race.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It seems simplistic. The hideous AI explained everything.”

“Yeah, trusting the computer is the first mistake. It’s not our friend. Any more than Berniss and her collection of drones.” He grinned at the vid-drone where it floated nearby. “No offense.”

The camerawoman’s voice crackled from a speaker on the drone. “None taken. Did you tell her she was scary-hot yet?”

Ax closed his eyes and wondered if he could launch himself after Darryn. The center of a star would be more comfortable than his current location. When he opened his eyes, Kayana’s smirk was not amused. “No seal on the confessional. Thanks, Berniss. I’ll remember that.”

“I’m going to pretend like the translator in this comm unit is faulty,” Kayana said after a long silence. “So, if I shouldn’t trust anyone else on this ship, and I’m smart enough not to trust you, what do you suggest?”

“You wound me,” he replied. “I’ve never been anything but honest. As for my recommendations, I’d say watch the previous two seasons. But since that’s not easy to do, I’ll give you the highlights.”

Ax took a long breath to gather his thoughts and gave her the short version. “The rules are fairly straightforward. Each team picks from a list of available challenges and attempts to complete them. Each of the challenges is worth a certain number of points. You must complete at least three challenges, and the first team to get one hundred points and get back to Primaera before the solstice wins. All the other teams that make it before solstice get a smaller cut of the purse.”

She nodded. “And how many points do we have?”

“None. That’s why they let you join the team. Darryn and I were en route to the first challenge when you... when we were attacked. Lucky for both of us, since the rules state that both members of a team have to go through all the challenges together.” Ax shrugged and waved a hand. “I don’t know, the corporation feels that watching people fall apart under stress is good for the ratings.”

Kayana started toward the armory door. “It’s an effective method of team building. I should select our first challenge.”

Ax watched her leave and found himself admiring the play of fabric across her hips as she walked. Either the Malebranki didn’t believe in underwear, or they had been hard at work developing a special lineless version. Or he realized, all her stuff had been blown up with the rest of the pirate ship, and she was wearing everything she had left. Remorse twinged in the back of his brain, but that didn’t mean her ass was less spectacular.

What the hell was he thinking? Deliberately or no, she’d already killed one member of the crew. He needed to remember that she was the means to an end, a necessary partner that would help him get the biggest score of his life, and ideally, a reasonably intimidating bodyguard if Gobby and her merry band of murderers decided to show up. Nothing more. He certainly wasn’t going to entertain any thoughts of domesticity with Kayana.

No matter how perky her ass might be.

Berniss was waiting for them at the top of the steps, the tight-lipped grimace on her face indicating exactly how thrilled she felt about Ax’s survival. She focused her camera on Kayana’s face. “Ah, the lounge pants fit. I’m glad you—”

Kayana shoved past, lifting the holocam lens out of her way as she walked. Berniss refocused the camera and turned it on Ax instead. “Now that’s taken care of, your team can get moving. There are other teams scoring points even as we speak. Can you tell the audience how that makes you feel?”

For a moment, Ax considered relinquishing another ten percent of his winnings just to have Kayana intimidate the camerawoman further. Instead he plastered on his best go-get-’em smile. “It makes me feel like we need to score! Go Team Corona!” Hopefully, he managed to sound enthusiastic about the process. Or at least livelier than someone who had just left a funeral.

He caught up to Kayana as she was settling down in one of the acceleration couches on the bridge. A bright red chyron graphic scrolled across both viewscreens, announcing that Team Prism had scored twenty points, and that Team Corona had been allowed a substitution, which he knew.

No sooner had Kayana settled into the chair and created a lap, Fluff hopped up into it. She squeaked in surprise and glared at Ax, as though this was somehow his fault.

He shrugged. “Oh yeah. That’s Fluff. He came with the ship.”

“He did not come with the ship,” Berniss said, taking a position inside the bridge doors. “Octiron would not have preloaded the ship with a pet. I assumed you brought him.”

The brown and white piebald mop turned around in Kayana’s lap twice before curling up and settling in. She watched it, hand hovering just outside of actually petting. “What is it?”

“Damned if I know. Hell, I’m not even sure which end’s the head.”

“The one in front when it’s walking, obviously.” She rolled her eyes.

“Mmhmm. Remember which end you saw in front. Then watch. It changes.” Ax lowered himself into the other chair and buckled in out of habit. Plus, he wasn’t entirely certain the AI hadn’t disabled the artificial gravity earlier out of spite. It had come back awfully fast for the system to have been badly damaged. Better to be secure.

Kayana petted the fluffy ball of hair with one hand as she leaned forward to place her other on the scanner. After confirmation, the ship displayed a broad list of planets and challenges. The points were listed to the right of each.

“We only need one hundred points?” she asked. She scrolled to the bottom of the list, where the values were much higher. “Why not start here?”

Ax reached into the display and scrolled back. “Two reasons. First, we still have to complete three challenges, regardless of points. Second, because the higher the point value, the more dangerous it is. Octiron tempts teams in with those high point values. People get dead, and ratings go up. They sell more advertising, et voila. Profit.” He picked a much more modest prize and highlighted it. “I thought we might start here.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “So you’re a coward.”

“I’m pragmatic.” Ax spun the chair to face her and slouched against the console. “You’re the one who talked about effective team building. Why would you throw an untested team into an actual dangerous situation? That’d be a waste of resources or something, right?” He gave her another grin. So far, they hadn’t worked, but there was always a chance she’d buy it eventually.

Besides, the planet he’d picked was practically the other side of Paragon from where Gobby and her goons called home. That was just smart on his part.

“Are you going to challenge every decision I make?” Her fingers drummed on the surface of the console as she watched him.

“I was trying to offer another opinion. Since we’re partners and all.”

She scoffed. “Partners may be a bit of a stretch.” After a few moments, she picked a different planet with a similar point value. “That said, your explanation is not entirely without merit. What about here?”

Ax checked the coordinates. It was closer to Gobby’s stomping grounds than he liked. But it had no outposts, which meant no black market. She wasn’t likely to pay the area much mind as a result. He nodded. “You’re the boss.”

Kayana grinned. “Finally. You understand. Algol, lay in a course for Caldera.”

The AI’s avatar clicked and buzzed in what Ax assumed was an affirmation, and the view on the front display shifted as the ship turned about.

And just like that, Ax was back in the game.