Orin’s snort was accompanied by the hushed sounds of him removing his heavy greatcoat and tossing it over the pilot’s seat rather than hanging it on the dedicated coat peg as Ari had done upon entering the ship.
“Right. Someone like you is real used to being taken care of, used to having things when you want them, when you need them. There’s none of that past the Verge, professor. Nothing so soft and pretty as yourself out there. Out there, fellas even rougher than me would give a lot for a go at a soft pretty thing like you.”
Ari wrinkled his nose. “What precisely is that supposed to mean? A go?”
Ari’s attention fell to the wide belt loops of Orin’s broadcloth trousers as the pilot hooked his thumbs in them while leaning back to bray with laughter.
“Damn. You are precious, you know that, Red?”
Ari did his utmost to glare menacingly, to little effect. If he was honest with himself, all of these words and endearments were beginning to wear on him. No one had ever said anything remotely like that to Ari before, whether intended mockingly or complimentary. Obviously, none of it was sincere, it was immediately apparent that all of this was some strange affectation or quirk of speech. Perhaps it was common, out here in the harsher colonies. Certainly no one would speak that way back home on Britannia, or any other Core world for that matter.
Still. Hearing such language constantly directed at him was bafflingly impactful. He resolved to give his heart and other interested organs a stern talking-to at the earliest opportunity.
Mr. Stone studied him under his overgrown fringe, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, the heavy waves immediately falling back into place despite his efforts.
Ari dropped his focus on Orin’s hair to find Orin’s regard as steady on his face as a hawk. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, careful and emphatic in a way that held every shred of Aristotle’s attention.
“You sure about this? I wouldn’t blame you if you back out right now, wouldn’t even consider it going back on a deal. Seems like the decent thing to do here is to give you an opportunity to see nothing but my ugly backside as I get the hell off your ship, and you get yourself back to the safety of your little Core world.”
Ari shook his head, chin jutting out in the way that drove Theo up the wall during an argument. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Stone. My brother has need of me, and I will not fail him. I am also not the sort of gentleman who is willing to go back upon his word. I struck a deal with you, and I shall uphold it.”
The smile that spread across Orin’s face at that lit a fire behind his eyes, glowing softly in Ari’s direction.
He nodded decisively, chucking Ari lightly beneath the chin. “You can put that stubborn little thing away, sweetheart. Deal’s a deal. If you’re so surefire set on this, then I’m not stopping you. First things first, let’s get this pretty lady in shape. Anything needs doing before we head out for supplies?”
Ari rubbed his hand over his jaw, soothing the strange tingle of awareness that spread across his face from Orin’s touch.
“I’ve been having a spot of trouble with getting it up to speed. We’ll need to get a ship’s mechanic to look at the engines as soon as possible.”
Orin shook his head before Ari finished speaking. “Nah, no call for that. I can fix her up better than any crooked Verge mechanic you’re gonna find around here. Where’s her access panel?”
Ari led the way into the corridor, hesitating for a moment before bending to release the catch on the maintenance hatch in the floor.
He remained bent, turning to address Mr. Stone, whose head snapped up to Ari’s face guiltily. Ari struggled to remember how to shove words out of his mouth.
“Do. Ahem. Do you have the requisite tools, Mr. Stone? I’m afraid we only have a basic toolkit aboard.”
Orin had already turned away, trotting down the open ramp and tossing his words over his shoulder. “Sure do. I’ll just fetch my things right quick, be back before you miss me.”
Ari shut his mouth against any reply he might have made alluding to whether or not he would miss Mr. Orin Stone.
He settled onto the bench in the main cabin, taking his pad out of his pocket to make an order for sundries, paying the exorbitant fee for same-day delivery from the local ship supply.
Ari was deep into calculations for amounts needed of dehydrated grain when a metallic thud slammed to the floor beside him.
Mr. Stone released the handle of a large metal toolbox that had clearly seen better days, if not decades. It might have been painted red at some point, but any remaining color was now merely an accent to the dented steel case.
Orin straightened, an ancient duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Ari valiantly refrained from noting the way the weight of his luggage caused the muscles in Orin’s arm to strain and bulge dramatically. Excessively, even. Practically obscene.
If one were to notice such things, which Ari didn’t.
He released a shaky breath as Orin strode down the corridor to toss his bag into Theo’s empty room before returning for his toolbox.
“I’ll get right to it, professor. Have her fixed up before you know it.”
Ari continued to refrain from noticing how the even heavier weight of the toolbox had a similarly obscene effect on the muscles of Mr. Stone’s arm and back and…backside.
An obnoxious beeping alert from Ari’s pad notified him that he had attempted to order three thousand pounds of dehydrated grain, which exceeded the available supply. That would have been a very unfortunate purchase considering they only needed three pounds.
The clunk of the toolbox settling into the corridor brought his attention back to the pilot who now stood with his hands on his hips, considering the small opening of the maintenance hatch.
Ari set his pad aside to join him in staring at the narrow access.
“Perhaps it would be best if I were to enter, and you could direct me in the repairs?”
Orin’s lips curved into a broad smirk, glinting eyes sweeping along the length of Ari’s body before peering again into the open panel.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Red. I’ve got a real talent for fitting into tight spaces.”
Ari spun around to hide the ridiculous blush on his face as Orin slowly and painstakingly lowered his bulk into the hatch.
Ari finished up his order, switching over to a program his contacts in the Information Technologies department had assured him would prove useful in fabricating documents to get across the Verge, painfully aware that his brother’s fate rested in his unsteady hands.
And now, the very steady, very large hands of an unknown pilot.
Chapter Three
Sparks flew, lighting up the corridor amidst the sounds of clanging metal and whirring power tools.
Ari stepped carefully around the open floor hatch, pressing flat against the farthest wall in an attempt to avoid singe marks on his clothing.
He’d just reached the laboratory door when the whirring ended abruptly, accompanied by loud and colorful cursing beneath the floor.
He paused, counting a few silent beats before one final clang and a softer yet emphatic continuation of the cursing.
With a longing glance toward his neglected laboratory, Ari doubled back to crouch gingerly near the edge of the open hatch.
“Is everything quite alright?” he inquired, chewing on his lower lip as he awaited a response.