Chapter 16 #2
This. This was how Torian had fallen for Amelia in the first place.
Once they stepped out of “professional colleagues” and into “maybe friends or more,” conversation with Amelia had been so, so easy.
Every exchange held weight, every smile hinted at deeper feelings.
Torian used to recall their conversations and laugh at how right they all felt.
At least, up until the moment they weren’t.
“Well, since you already know us, I guess we’ll just leave. Wouldn’t want to confuse another potential … friend.” Amelia was still teasing.
Torian pressed the button on the console, attempting to steer this conversation back into safer territory, but then Moss interrupted: “Do not let them leave. We need a tow.”
Because she’d had her finger on the radio, Moss’s words accidentally transmitted. Immediately, Amelia’s body language shifted from casual to alert, and she craned her neck to see better into Torian’s flight deck.
“Who was that? Tell me you didn’t put a crew on that tiny-ass ship.”
Moss had been fine with revealing its existence to the officials on Rhymarra, but for some reason, Torian hesitated here.
She told herself it was because Amelia’s crew were smugglers by trade, and now the Destitute was in a vulnerable position.
She told herself that if someone overheard and decided to use Moss to profit, even behind Amelia’s back, there’d be little Torian could do to prevent it.
The reality was that Torian suddenly felt like she was going behind Amelia’s back, making friends and moving on—even though Torian hadn’t been able to move on, not in six months, and suddenly she was panicked thinking that Moss might ruin any potential shot she had.
It was so stupid, but Torian still spluttered, “That’s my … uh … ship AI. Came with the vessel.” And then she released the radio’s transmission button.
Just in time, too. Moss said curtly, “I am not an AI. I am life support.”
Torian forced a laugh. “I know, Moss. But it’ll take a bit longer to explain to her what you really are. Can we wait to have that discussion?”
Moss paused. “My data suggests Captain Amelia Perrosk is a past romantic partner.”
That made Torian’s entire body go hot. In a brief, unbidden moment, she remembered the week before the Accident, the blissful time between when they’d kissed and when everything fell apart.
The moments where Amelia and Torian would meet in the hallway, and instead of sidestepping, Amelia’s fingers would gently graze Torian’s arm.
The moments where Amelia smiled, and it felt like Torian’s whole world was on fire, because that smile was for her and no one else.
Then, the moment where Amelia chose Torian as her personal security, and delegated the more senior security team to guard outside.
The moment it all went to hell.
It was six months ago, and Torian still felt humiliated. She grimaced, wiping away the memory. “I already told you, nothing happened between us.”
Amelia chose that moment to reply: “Okay. We’re close to Colony 4. Can your ship withstand a tow?”
Thank the Heavens Torian’s ship was still on mute, because immediately after, Moss replied, “I analyzed various video evidence, alongside your tone and mannerisms in Amelia’s presence, and confirmed a seventy-three percent likelihood of romance.”
Analyzing video evidence? It must mean the conversation she’d had with Amelia outside the Destitute—shit, that felt like eons ago.
Torian winced. “Let’s talk about this later?
” She waited to ensure Moss would be silent before pressing the button again.
“Yeah, Amelia. We’re fine for a tow; the ship is well-built. ”
“Except for the fact that you’re dead in space right now.” Amelia sounded amused.
Moss, meanwhile, replied curtly, “Based on her vital signs, Torian is clearly not dead in space. Frankly, I resent that remark.”
Torian hadn’t pressed the button again, but that transmission went through anyway. Clearly, Moss had used its newfound power over the Destitute to hijack the radio. She glared at the ceiling.
Amelia, meanwhile, snorted. “Deepest apologies.”
“Accepted,” Moss replied.
Through the window of her flight deck, Amelia’s shoulders shook with laughter.
She turned away to talk to someone out of sight—probably Opula—and then came back on the radio.
“Torian, we’re going to attach in a minute.
Trip to Colony 4 should take about two hours.
And then, I’d like a debrief on how, exactly, you wound up in this situation. ” A pause. “Alone, if possible.”
It probably meant nothing. Torian’s heart skipped anyway.
Moss noticed, because for an organic computer, it was nosy as fuck. “As a reminder, Torian, my last owner left me for a romantic partner. I will not be pleased if you do the same.” Thankfully, that was not over the radio this time.
Torian massaged her forehead. “Dutch didn’t leave you for—ugh. Never mind. I’m not romantically involved with Amelia. She just wants to talk.” Frankly, Torian did too; it had only been a few days, but Torian didn’t feel like the same person she’d been on Amelia’s starship.
It might be nice to show her new side to Amelia.
And, if she was being honest, Torian wanted to know why Amelia had been so certain that Rhymarra wouldn’t spare her a second glance—or a first attempt at those exams.
“Scrap?”
Fuck. Torian fumbled with the button. “Y-yes! All good. We’ll talk on Colony 4.”
“Mhmm.” Now Amelia sounded suspicious, but she said, “See you in a bit.”
Torian cut off the radio. Amelia stepped away from the window, and Torian seized the moment to flee for some semblance of privacy.
The living area was still a chaotic mess; if she’d be entertaining Amelia in a few hours, she really needed to put these strewn parts of the Destitute back where they belonged.
“Okay, Moss. What did you mean, ‘various video evidence’?” Torian crossed her arms. “Clarify that for me, please.”
“I am an organic computer. In addition to accessing your physiological state, I was able to access several video files on Colony 13 to analyze. These files were essential to gauging your competency as a pilot and friend.”
Torian tried not to feel offended by that. She failed miserably. “You needed to watch videos of me to know if I was trustworthy?”
“Correct. In human relationships, trust is built over time. I did not have time; I could not risk you taking me to a junkyard or something worse. Therefore, I researched, and was able to ascertain with high statistical likelihood that you were a loyal person and would not abandon me.”
Torian pinched her brow, clenching her eyes shut. She couldn’t really fault Moss for that. It was an invasion of privacy, but on Colony 13, privacy was a privilege. There were cameras everywhere on that space station, which was why Moss watching her through the Destitute’s cameras hadn’t fazed her.
And she supposed Moss watching those videos was better than some mystery official on Colony 13.
“How much of my life did you see?” she asked.
“I will send my entire archive of videos to your holopad, if that is something you wish.” Moss paused. “I did not mean to intrude. I felt I had no other choice. And … I am sorry.”
Well. Torian hadn’t heard those words from Moss before, so that actually felt like a win. She offered a wry smile at the cameras. “It’s okay. I appreciate you telling me. Maybe just don’t go peeking into my life from now on.”
“This is an agreeable request. Moving forward, I will ask you for insight instead of seeking answers in video archives.” Moss paused. “What is ‘scrap’?”
There was no way Torian could explain how a condescending job title had somehow become a fond nickname between two women who definitely weren’t dating. “Please, Moss. You’re killing me.”
“Incorrect. I keep you breathing.”
“Killing me emotionally.”
“Ah.” Moss considered that, then said, “I will restrain from future distressing commentary.”
“Thank you.”
“In other concerns, my records show that forced proximity often leads to romantic partnership. However, despite our proximity, I am not interested in romance. Please confirm.”
Torian buried her head in her hands.
It was going to be a long day.