But, alas…it no longer fits. So to assuage my bitter loss, I’ll post the best part of it here. If you don’t know Eve, it loses much of its awesome, but hopefully enough remains.
“Naturally you would prefer to be the target,” the spook went on, “since you are, shall we say, much more able to…cope with the situation. But preferences seldom are.”
And there it was again, the little hint that somebody knew more than she did, and might be induced to share. Like hell.
“It must be as obvious to you as it was to me,” he said when she’d spent a good long time not asking, “that Goldberg was filming both of you. The target and the protector, the goal and the obstacle to be overcome in reaching it.”
“I saw a target, and an unknown who happened to show up near her. A goal and a possible obstacle.”
“You must allow that my interpretation is as likely to be correct as yours.”
“No, I mustn’t.”
Spooky sighed. “Colonel Borkla promised that you would be obstinate. I believe he used the term recalcitrant as well. Frankly put, Captain, you might do well to consider that if you insist on standing alone, if you will not take help or even advice, you may well be destroyed.”
Goody goody, just what she’d always wanted, help and advice from a spook. Marcori continued to be and look unimpressed. Assad sighed.
“Very well, Captain. If you should change your mind, I am at your disposal. I would not care to see you die.”
“You’re too kind.” In your dreams, spook-boy. Rowln had taught her a lot of important things, and right at the top was never, ever—if you liked your pieces attached—trust a spook. They only cared how you were useful, and if your glorious death was it, well, then, they’d be first drunk at the wake.
Spook-boy stood, gut instinct made Marcori grab for her sidearm. Assad slammed her head to her board, twisted her arm behind her. She had her hand on the pistol—
“Bear in mind, Captain,” the spook snarled in her ear, “if I did want you dead, you would be. So give me a little credit.”
Dumbass. Did he not know where her other hand was? Or did he think he could break her neck before she shot him? Options—play dead or pull the weapon and shoot him. Through her jacket, damn it…neither. Marcori shoved the pistol back and spun the chair, driving her elbow into his diaphragm. Assad staggered back.
“You wanna play, spook-boy? Let’s play.”
Ooh, fun scene! *mourns its loss, even though it makes the book better*
*hug*
It’ll still happen–but I don’t get to show it. Ben will find out when Eve shows up in sickbay all beat up and grinning. (Assad won’t put himself in Ben’s hands, though. XD )