Free Trial and Temptation (Mandrake Company) by Ruby Lionsdrake Page A

drills twice a week and to the firing range once a week.”
    “There’s a firing range on the ship?”
    “It gets set up in the cargo bay.”
    “There’s already a gym in the cargo bay. It’s quite the multipurpose room.”
    “Yes. Oddly, there’s rarely cargo in the cargo bay.” Thatcher smiled at her in a way that made her wonder if he’d been trying to make a joke.
    She smiled back, on the off chance it would please him.
    “As to my own fighting experience,” Thatcher said, “my mother enrolled me in boxing, wrestling, and martial arts when I was five, and I kept up the martial arts even after I left for the academy when I was fifteen.”
    Val didn’t point out that the usual minimum age for the academy was twenty, which had to include a four-year university degree or some form of apprenticeship that was its equivalent. Most people were closer to twenty-two when they entered, though brainy types who had no interest in business often headed for the army at an early age, since it was another potential path into the elite social classes.
    “So she already knew by the time you were five that you’d be getting beaten up a lot if you couldn’t defend yourself?” Val grinned, imagining his mother trying to figure out a way to keep her precocious child from being picked on by bullies.
    “She said it was so I would get exercise. I had a tendency toward indoor hobbies.”
    Her grin widened. “And you believed her?”
    “For… most of my youth.”
    They reached the bank of lifts, and a light blinked to let them know one was on its way. A couple of janitors ambled up, leading sweeping and floor-polishing robots. When the doors opened, everyone headed for the lift. It would have been big enough for all, but Val did a subtle body-block to keep the janitors from entering with them—she and Thatcher didn’t need any witnesses if they were going to roam around on floors where kidnapped admirals might be lurking. One grunted a protest, but she gave him her most winning look-at-my-charms smile, and he sighed and waved for another lift.
    “Are your parents still alive?” Val asked after the doors closed.
    “Hm?” Thatcher had his map out again and was studying it thoughtfully.
    “Your mother and father?” She supposed she should focus on the mission, too, but he hadn’t asked for further input from her.
    “Yes, they’re alive. They still live on Paradise. I haven’t visited often since leaving the fleet. They do not approve of my new career choice.”
    Val tried to decide if there was any pain in his voice. She could imagine that it would have been difficult for parents to go from having a star military officer who’d been one of the youngest instructors ever at the academy to having a mercenary for a son. Thatcher had sounded matter-of-fact though. Maybe he had come to terms with any familial disappointment that existed. Val couldn’t imagine not visiting her parents often… if they were still alive. Years had passed since Grenavine fell, but she still felt the loss. It was part of why she was trying so hard to help her brother, even if he hadn’t asked her to, even if he had never tried as hard as she to keep the bond between them alive.
    “You are prepared?” Thatcher’s hand was pressed against the sensor that kept the doors shut and didn’t let anyone call the lift back.
    Val blushed, hoping he hadn’t asked twice as she stood there, lost in thought. “I’m ready.”
    The doors slid open, and Thatcher led the way into a tunnel with rounded walls. Unlike the open concourse above, the gray, windowless passage had a stark, utilitarian feel. No vendors hawking cinnamon cakes down here. Not that there would have been anyone to sell them to. Judging by the emptiness in both directions, Sub-basement Six didn’t get a lot of visitors.
    Old parallel scars marked the floors where mine tracks must have once run. Those scars made her imagine an installation where every aurum was hoarded, human workers