Free Trial and Temptation (Mandrake Company) by Ruby Lionsdrake

bar?” Thatcher asked, clearly unaware of her revelations or the fact that she was still holding his arm and probably didn’t need to be at this point.
    Val managed to return her focus to the mission. “I’m not sure it was anything that useful. One of the spacers had heard something about the kidnapping of a military officer, so we’re in the right place at least. And another said Sub-basement Six was unexpectedly closed for maintenance this morning. Is there anything on your list that’s down there?”
    Thatcher stopped and put his back to a wall—nobody was paying much attention to him, but there were doubtlessly spies and pickpockets among the passing travelers. He pulled out his tablet and poked his map and list to life again.
    “Sub-basement Six contains frozen cargo storage—publicly accessible—and environmental systems—private access only. A generator room in the latter section is on my list. Number seventeen.”
    “Shall we make it stop number one?”
    He frowned at the list.
    Val was starting to recognize that slight wrinkle to his brow as less a sign of genuine puzzlement and more his attempt to figure out how to make the craziness of the rest of the world fit into his realm of logic and order. In other words, she was starting to understand him. A scary thought, that. In this case, it was logical to check their lead first, so she could only guess that the order was the problem. Some longing to adhere to a more linear process?
    She licked her finger, as if she were going to erase a charcoal mark on a piece of paper rather than some digital list hanging in the ether, then prodded the number seventeen and swept it to the top of the list, which automatically rearranged itself to put the number one next to the new entry.
    “Better?” she asked, tongue-in-cheek.
    Thatcher snorted softly, but he did appear mollified as he snapped the tablet shut and returned it to his pocket. “Sub-basement Six. There’s a lift back this way.”
    He didn’t offer his arm again as they walked off—the bar had dwindled from sight behind them, so there was no ruse to maintain—and she told herself it would be silly to find that disappointing. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and merely observed the station around her, checking news feeds flickering in store and restaurant windows and making sure none of the people they were passing looked like trouble. She did find herself curious about Thatcher’s fighting prowess, though, especially since he wasn’t saying a word about the skirmish. There had been no beaming with pride after the fact. If anything, the way he had hurried out of there without looking back made her wonder if he had been embarrassed to be caught in that situation. Again, her mind wanted to add, though of course, she couldn’t know for sure.
    The lights of a bank of lifts came into view ahead, and Val decided she had best ask her question soon; they would be busy with work in a few more minutes.
    “Sir, I remember my mandatory combat training in the academy, and it was… sufficient, I suppose you could say, but they knew they were ultimately training us to sit in chairs and that there wouldn’t be many situations where we’d actually have to dodge punches. Were your skills back there—” she waved behind them, “—something you’ve gained from being with Mandrake Company? And will I have to drill that much as a new recruit? Until I can beat up piles of thugs in bars?” That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but she had mostly added the last two questions so he wouldn’t think anything odd of her inquiring about him. She didn’t want to feel like she was resting her chin across her interlinked fingers and sighing up at him while batting her eyelashes and asking, “However did you learn to fight so well?”
    “The captain doesn’t expect the pilots and engineers to be super soldiers,” Thatcher said, “but we are required to come to the evening or morning unarmed-combat