Page 135 of The Sterling Acquisition
“I’m thinking something with explosions,” Orion said thoughtfully. “To keep the Berserkers interested.”
“As long as it’s not that disaster movie you picked last month. I’m still having nightmares about the physics violations.”
Orion laughed, and the sound still did things to Dante’s chest that had nothing to do with bullet wounds. “That’s what made it perfect. Sometimes reality needs a good violation.”
They got up eventually, drawn by the smell of breakfast cooking in the communal kitchen. The collective operated on a loose schedule that somehow managed to get everything done without the rigid efficiency Dante had once thought was necessary for civilization. People contributed what they could, when they could, and somehow it all balanced out.
Breakfast was a cheerful chaos of conversation and planning. Children who’d never known corporate control running between tables. Adults discussing everything from crop rotation to the philosophical implications of Null genetics with equal enthusiasm. Dante learned to appreciate the noise after years of sterile corporate dining facilities.
“Dante!” Lilac dropped into the seat across from him, her scarred hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. “Perfect timing. I need to pick your brain about something.”
“What kind of something?” he asked, though experience had taught him that Lilac’s questions led to interesting projects.
“Security assessment,” she said. “There’s a corporate convoy that’s been making regular runs about forty miles south of here. Same route, same timing, very predictable. The trade committee wants to know if it’s something we should be worried about.”
Dante considered this, falling back into analytical patterns that felt comfortable now rather than restrictive. “What kind of convoy? Personnel transport? Supply chain? Executive travel?”
“Mixed. Corporate security, some kind of specialized transport units, and what looks like VIP vehicles.”
“Probably asset transfer,” Dante said after a moment. “Regular schedule suggests either routine corporate exchange programs orhigh-value asset movement between territories. If it’s the latter, they’d be using predictable routes to minimize exposure to Static Zone variables.”
Orion looked up from his breakfast. “Asset transfer meaning what, exactly?”
“People,” Dante said grimly. “Specialized personnel, test subjects, anything valuable enough to warrant that level of security.”
“Oh, good,” Orion said with acidic sweetness. “More corporate bullshit. I’m sure they’re transporting those ‘assets’ with all the care and consideration they’re famous for.”
“I’m just providing analysis,” Dante said. He knew what Orion was doing. He was still worked up from getting pinned to the bed.
“Analysis that sounds suspiciously like you still think in their terms,” Orion shot back. “Asset transfer. High-value asset movement. They’re people, Dante. Not inventory.”
The criticism hit harder than it should have, probably because there was truth in it.Keep pushing, baby. I’ll make you eat those words.“I know they’re people. That doesn’t change the tactical—”
“The tactical what?” Orion interrupted. “Assessment? Because it sounds like you’re assessing them the same way you used to assess me. Because I used to be what they’re transporting.”
Dante’s hands tightened on his coffee cup. Around them, conversations quieted as people sensed the rising tension. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Orion’s voice was soft now. “High-value asset, worth the security investment, predictable transport protocols—”
Dante was moving before conscious thought caught up, chair scraping back as he rounded the table. Orion saw him coming and scrambled to his feet, but Dante caught him anyway, one hand fisting in his shirt as he backed him against the nearest wall.
“Don’t,” Dante warned, “put words in my mouth that were never there.”
Orion’s pupils dilated. “Then stop talking like them.”
“And you stop looking for reasons to pick fights when you know perfectly well what I meant.”
“Do I?” Orion challenged, tilting his chin up defiantly despite being pinned. “Because sometimes I wonder if you see people or if you just see—”
Dante kissed him, hard and sudden and thoroughly enough to cut off whatever accusation was coming next. Orion made a muffled sound of protest that turned into something else entirely as Dante’s teeth found his lower lip.
“Ahem.”
They broke apart to find Granny Lu watching them with raised eyebrows, her wheelchair positioned strategically to block their exit from the corner they backed themselves into.
“While I appreciate that young love is passionate,” she said dryly, “perhaps you could save the territorial displays for somewhere that isn’t the breakfast table?”
Dante released Orion and stepped back, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “Sorry, Granny Lu.”
