Page 32 of Rogue Starfighter

“The man who pretends he doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

“I do not pretend. I do not find many things funny.”

“Right.” She took another drink, made the same offended face, and swallowed anyway. Then she reached over to the small table beside her and held out a second mug of the steaming beverage. “Here."

No one had offered me food or beverage that I had not paid for in years. The base fed me because I fought their war. The merchants offered me food and drink because I paid. This was something else, something that made me unable to look her in the eye. I wrapped my hand around the warm mug and stepped back, holding it like it would break in my hand.

"Tell me about your brother.” Damn, she was direct. No careful approach. No opportunity to evade. I remained standing.

Priya glanced at the chair across from her. “You pacing around like you’re about to interrogate me isn’t going to make this easier.”

“I do not pace.”

“You’re doing it now.”

I stopped.

“Sit down, Vesh. Please.”

I had faced Dark Fleet execution teams with less reluctance. I sat. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The base had shifted to its night cycle. The lamps were dim, the air recyclers quiet, the corridors beyond our quarters nearly silent. Priya waited. She was good at that. I wondered if all women learned how to let silence make other people nervous. It worked.

“His name was Tavik,” I said. “He was my first scout partner.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen. He was twenty-two.”

“You were a baby.”

“I was a commissioned officer.”

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

I ignored that. “He was the best pilot in our training class.”

“Better than you?”

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That had to hurt.”

“It was intolerable.”

She smiled into her cup. “Did you not like him?” The question hit harder than it should have. "I know sometimes family can be hard."

“Tavik laughed too loudly, spoke when silence was required, and believed regulations were suggestions written for less talented pilots.” I sighed all the way to my toes. "I loved him, Priya."

“Sounds like he was just like you.”

I stared at her.

“Sorry. Keep going.” She did not look remorseful.

“Before every flight, he struck his fist against the hull and said, All right, beautiful. Don’t kill us.”

“To you?”

“To the ship.”