Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

09 | The Manipulation of Uncertainty

The slice in Archer's palm provided him nothing but constant, searing pain. The curly-haired woman Denver had introduced as the Avourienne's doctor, Miller, crouched in front of him, examining his hand. She poked at it again, and he gritted his teeth as the hot feeling ran up his arm again.

"I think you'll heal fine without stitches," she decided, brow furrowing as she reached for the kit she'd brought with her. "I'll just wrap it and be out of your way, okay?"

Archer tried not to grimace as she cleaned it. "Thank you," he muttered, glancing to his left, where Silta slouched into the strategy room couch cushions. Her ankles were crossed on the table in front of her, quiet once more. She shifted, letting out a long sigh.

He glanced at her thigh, where a muscle flexed near her knee. He watched it relax, settling back into a harmless state. Genetics, Kingsley, Britter had said.

Genetically speaking, she had the body of a Siren, suited for ocean pressure with dense bones and a solid foundation for muscle. She had wicked speed and a sharp mind, but her punches would still fall short of Archer. She'd been weaker than Shiv, so what about Bardarian, who was surely twice her weight? How would she beat a man like him?

The door tossed open to his right. The doctor didn't look up as Bates sauntered into the room, Bardarian coming in behind him. In seconds, Silta was on her feet.

"Liar," she snapped, coming around the side of the table. Bates stepped in front of her, snarling like a guard dog.

The Captain shook his head and mumbled out a laugh. "Liar, sir," he corrected, glancing over at her as he walked for the desk at the back of the room. "Or Captain works, too."

"You knew there was money out for me," she said, stepping around Bates, that same muscle in her thigh flexing and relaxing. Maybe if they pissed her off enough, Archer would get to see exactly how she'd take down Bardarian.

"I hear things," the Captain said with a shrug. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. "Most rumours are just that."

"Oh?" It was almost sultry, the tone she took with him. "Is that your stance?" She kept coming closer, and Bates kept getting in her way. "Is that why you told Trippy not to let me go alone? Is that why you gave me a team full of duds?"

"Don't be dramatic, darling. I heard the Minnow was fine."

Fine. It was praise, and from a man like Bardarian, it was high praise. Archer focused on the doctor, wrapping his bandage. He shouldn't acknowledge those words had even been said.

"And if I picked Tanner?" Silta queried. With a growl of frustration, she shoved Bates into the wall with a loud thud, and the man stumbled to the floor. Her eyes were back on Bardarian in seconds, tone just as aggressive as before, "You would've had a dead deckhand, and I would've had a two-on-one."

The Captain settled into the chair behind the desk, ignoring his first mate slumped near the wall. He glanced up at her with a sly smile and said, "I've seen you occupy two men just fine." He leaned back.

Her eyes were clear and her words came sharp, but she didn't like his innuendos, didn't like how tactful he was at bringing her down. "Silly you," she said. "Forgot to mention the bounty, isn't that right?"

"Downright foolish," he admitted. "Old age, perhaps; I'm so forgetful these days, you know. Without you there to keep me young."

She nodded slowly, picking apart his act, searching his face. Without you there. Archer glanced from one of them to the other. What were they? A fling? A relationship of convenience? None of it made sense.