Page 104 of Seven Oars
Eze shrugged, nonchalant.“Maybe your Guide can teach him not to call his boss a rancid fuck.”
“I hope he doesn’t have a concussion,” Anske fretted.
Rosamma eyed Galan.
His brain must’ve flipped inside his skull. His eyes probably looked out the back of his head now, for all the effort the Striker had put into that punch.
A mere concussion would be a blessing, she thought, but said nothing to Anske.
Xorris and Nud crowded Fincros, radiating blatant aggression.
He sidestepped them.“Get off my hide. Go do your part.”
Ucai, who’d hung back until this moment, pushed forward.
“We have a chance at them.”
“Not a good chance,” Fincros said.
“Stop being a pussy.”
“They outnumber us!”
“So? Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ucai said with confidence.“Our men are strong. Our station is armored. It’s worth the risk.”
The Striker’s face registered something like frustration, the first time Rosamma had seen him show emotion.
“Worth the risk?” He snapped his fingers.“Wake up, we’re not on Sir-Sar anymore. Reinforcements aren’t coming. We have no backup, no cover, no spotters, and no home base to retreat to.”
Ucai got all veiny and mad.“We needtheircargo!”
“The fuck you say!” Fincros roared.“But we’re in a formersciencespace station, and they’re in a fucking warship!”
The Striker flung his arm out, pointing at the women hovering in front of the door in the passageway.“More’n likely, we’ll lose our cargo and our lives if we engage.”
Ucai bristled.“Do we need to trap you in the chute chamber like we did with Aolis to raid that Xosa box ship?”
“I remember,” the Striker drawled in that distinctive, goosebumps-inducing voice.“The box ship split into five and escaped. And now we’re all wanted because you stupid fucks revealed our existence to the entire Universe. So fuck off with your ideas.”
Ucai’s slanted nostrils flared, sending air whooshing.“I should’ve killed you then.”
“You can try again. But be quick about it.”
Ucai charged.
The air thickened with violence so hot it scorched the skin.
Nud and Xorris joined him, forcing the Striker to fend off all three.
“The boss is under a bit of pressure, isn’t he?” Gro muttered.
Massar moved in on the fight, blade in hand.
A strangled cry lodged in Rosamma’s throat. No, surely she hadn’t meant to warn the Striker. He wasn’t their friend.
But neither was Ucai.
She didn’t have time to think it through.
