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Casey meets Dev's parents. The scene that's been a long time coming happens. But first! Smut :D

I have been wanting to write this story for a while, and I hope it works. This is a Casey and Dev story, so you obviously know most of what you're getting into already, but... well. Anyway, I like writing this couple a lot, so they get a little more character building. If you haven't read any of their other stories, the opening scene should clue you in fairly quick. If you have, I hope you like this! Thanks to Luperkaios for acting as jackal consultant on important troubledog matters.

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

---

"Partners," by Rob Baird

"Twelve credits per kilo," the voice said.

Casey twisted in her chair, giving her engineer a questioning look. "That wasn't what we agreed on, right?"

Devin shook his head. The contract was three tons of perunite--neatly divided into ten-kilogram cylinders, separated and cushioned so they didn't accidentally react with one another--at four hundred credits for each cylinder.

Casey growled and switched the radio on. "Our contract is for forty credits," she said. "We agreed that with your sponsor back on Xameni."

"I am altering the deal," the voice answered.

It was possible, of course, that Casey wouldn't want to escalate things. But Devin knew better; the coyote's paw was already on the console for the power management system.

"If twelve credits isn't sufficient," the voice continued--they'd never actually met the speaker; everything had been brokered--"then perhaps you should consider the alternative."

The proximity-warning alarm went off. "Damn it. Seven ships just dropped out of hyperspace, Case. Their weapons are hot."

"The alternative?" Casey snarled into the radio. "The alternative is you fuck off." She closed the channel and punched the freighter's throttle forward, twisting them away from the incoming warships. "Shields, Devvy."

"Already up. Contact in twenty seconds."

"What are we up against?"

He skimmed the data their sensors were throwing at him as quickly as he could. "The configuration isn't familiar, but the power signature says... particle beams, maybe?"

"Fuckin' New Families." She had one paw on the ship's control column; the other tapped busily at the navigation computer. "I need... two minutes for the plot?"

"And maybe thirty seconds to charge the drive?"

"Yeah. Thirty'll do it."

Distracted by her calculations, she started her evasive maneuver too late to miss the first shot. "Aft shields are holding, but that's definitely particle weaponry. Three to four hundred terawatts."

"Military grade bullshit," Casey hissed. "Fine--let's do this." Finished inputting data into the astrogation computer, she turned her attention elsewhere. There was a quick staccato of electric guitar. Just let me hear--"some of that rock an' roll music! Any old way--Devin!"

The ship had taken another impact; the lights dimmed. "Shields at seventy percent. They're fast, Casey. Must be Xameni interceptors? They'll do thirty gee in a straight line."

"So what you're saying is--" the Long Tall Sally twisted hard, and Devin saw simultaneously a hull-overstress alert and that a beam salvo had missed them by only six hundred meters. "We gotta play hard to get?"

"Sure."

Gotta be rock an' roll music, if you wanna dance with me. Casey's teeth were bared dangerously. "Gimme full power to the port deflector. Comin' around."

"Ready." Despite the inertial compensators, gravity tugged Devin hard against his harness straps. For a few seconds he couldn't breathe--then they were aligned on their new course, with the interceptors off their left side and closing fast.

They got off a few snap shots; only one hit, and at close range it savaged even the reinforced deflector shields. But Casey was happy with the results--gave an exulting howl. "'Interceptors'! Ha! Fuck these bastards, coyote--don't even know how to use their damn ships."

"The deflectors are starting to oversaturate, jackal. And I remind you that perunite doesn't much like being jostled, so, y'know... be careful..." Uh huh, she muttered; the Long Tall Sally was already circling again, staying inside the interceptors' turning radius--mostly. They figured out what was going on and backed off, getting enough distance to re-engage at their leisure. "Rerouting emergency power to the port shields..."

"Forward."

"What?"

--all shook up. And started playin' that--"rock and roll music," Casey sang out. "Goddamn, I love this song!" The freighter's nose was now pointed directly at the interceptors. The interceptors were turning to face them. And the jackal was grinning. "Forward shields, Devvy."

He shook his head and did as she asked. "Putting 'em on double-front, but we're gonna be in trouble if they hit us anywhere else."

It would have to be rock and roll music, the radio insisted, if you wanna dance with me. "They won't. We're at twenty klicks per second closure. They get... one shot? There it is."

"Forward shields at thirty percent. I think they'll get two."

"Nah. One. Lightspeed in thirty."

So keep rockin' that piano. "Casey..."

"Twenty."

"Those weapons are gonna--"

A burst of acceleration knocked the breath from him. She'd bypassed the thruster safeties; every last micronewton from the Luxodyne Electras was at work shoving the Long Tall Sally forward.

If the other ships managed to fire again, the angles were impossible for their gunnery crews. Nothing hit them before the Sally jumped into hyperspace. Casey switched the radio off and leaned backwards until she could look at her companion. "Damage report, Dev?"

"Surprisingly alright. The main deflector coupling is overheated and I think we lost one of the transfer busses. But that's it. All the same, maybe we ought not do this again? What do you think?"

"You want me to say you were right, coyote?"

"Because I told you the odds were good the New Families were just setting up an ambush? Because I specifically said: 'hey, jackal, I heard from Satari Kai that the whole Tevanista caper pissed off Bellen Obas something fierce?' And you specifically said: 'fuck Satari Kai'? And I specifically said--"

Casey unstrapped herself from the pilot's seat, got to her feet, and padded back to put her nose on Devin's. Her teeth clicked. "I remember that. You regret Tevanista, Dev?"

"No."

"So we can afford to tangle now and then. Right? We got out okay."

"Yeah. You're a good pilot, Case, fine. But--"

"But what?"

"I'm just saying: you could stand to get shot at less. You know?"

"Speak for yourself."

"Speaking for myself, as a coyote, as your engineer--the one who has to fix this--myself says myself would be happier with less gunfire. Because--" She bit his muzzle. "That doesn't solve everything, Case."

"Rr mrn," she answered, and let him go. "For instance: what the hell are we going to do with three tons of perunite? Got any asteroids you want blown up?"

"Not at the moment, no, sorry. We could try selling in the Rali-An-Mei."

She pushed herself back, leaning on the bulkhead; grimacing. "Fuck. Barnard? Neshoba?"

"Neshoba or Kelovar," he said, nodding. "The mining companies out there could use the perunite and, well. Let's face it: ain't exactly the nicest part of the Confederation. Plus, my man Parker's always up to make some cash."

The two had, indeed, met on Port Neshoba several years earlier, in the course of Casey electing to steal a starship. The jackal considered his suggestion for a few more seconds before shaking her head. "No. You're right, they'd want the ore, but we can't be the only one trying to dump shit like that out there. Let's stay in Edra. Karaj has a free port, right? There'll be somebody interested."

New Karaj, one of the more populous planets in the otherwise-unremarkable Edra sector, was indeed home to a few 'free' spaceports--ones where the Terran Confederation didn't have permanent inspection teams. It helped smooth out trade in the border regions.

He let her adjust their course and went to inspect the rest of the ship, system by system. That was the downside of Casey being a 'good pilot.' Which she was--perhaps the best he'd ever seen--but it led her to gamble in ways that left Dev cleaning up the pieces.

This time, there hadn't been many pieces to pick up, but the job still took him a few hours. By the time he was finished with his rounds, Casey had retired to their cabin. He found her in their bunk, eyes closed--but she got up at once, meeting him with a grin. "Well? How angry are you?"

"It'll be okay. If we land somewhere with a workshop, I want to open up the forward compartment and double-check the deflector coupling. Some of the readings are..." He rocked his paw. "But still within tolerances."

"Oh. Shame," Casey said. "Nothing else?"

"What--you want me to be angry?"

She stepped closer to him, tilting her head up until their noses met. "Of course not, coyote. You understand our job can be dangerous..."

"You want me to be angry." He rolled his eyes, deepened his voice to a growl. "Want to me say: god damn it, Case. You pull a stunt like that again, I'm gonna--"

"Gonna what?" she cut him off, showing teeth. "Quit? No you're not."

Devin slid his arms around her. "Pushin' your luck, jackal..."

He felt her paws circle him in return, working down his back. "You couldn't quit me, Devin. We both know that."

"Do we?"

"Yeah." One of her paws wandered, pausing at his crotch for a lingering squeeze. "Yeah, we do. Watch what happens: get on the damn bed, coyote."

"Make me."

She ducked free and gave him a push. And, of course, he let her. Casey shrugged off the loose robe she'd been wearing, and pounced into the bunk next to him--then she grabbed his arms, and as she swung them over his head he caught a brief glimpse of something in her paw.

Probably the something that, a moment later, clamped down around his wrists: one of the flexible metal strips he kept around for holding bits of the ship in place when Casey was doing something to dislodge them. He furrowed his brow: "Where'd you get that?"

"You have 'em on your belt. Just had to get you distracted. And keep you from... repaying the favor." Her finger slid over his pants, more firmly than strictly necessary to open them up. He felt his belt release, too. "Sometimes it is nice to be in control."

When she tugged on his pants, though, Dev arched up to help her remove them--no point in being difficult. And the quicker he was able to get out of his clothes, the quicker they could get to what they both wanted.

But her plans proved to be more complicated: she straddled his chest, and then bent forward. He couldn't see what she was doing--all he could see was the jackal's rear, and her waving tail, which struck his muzzle when he tried to sit up. "Patience," Casey drawled.

Then he felt soft, wet warmth brush the tip of his cock. Then nothing. Then the warmth again: a long, lingering drag as the full length of the jackal's tongue bathed him. She repeated the movement, even more slowly, and Devin's breath caught with the intensity of the touch.

Then it stopped. She froze, her breath washing him, until he growled and opened his mouth to speak. Casey ran her claw the wrong way up his thigh. "Patience, coyote," she lilted. "Count to five in your head."

"Jackal..."

"Make it ten, then."

One... two... three... four... five... fuck, she was so close to him, he could almost feel it. It wouldn't take much--surely it had been ten seconds already, hadn't it? Hadn't it been--

"Good boy," she whispered, rippling heat over his cock, and then she pushed her muzzle down. He gasped at the warmth of it, and when she sucked hard on him, pulling back, he couldn't help his tense groan. "Yeah? That good, coyote?"

Before he could answer she took his cock back into her mouth, suckling on him as she bobbed gently. Her tail raised, revealing the silky, sand-colored fur of her thighs, and the bare lips of her pussy, and with her brush lifted he could catch her scent--hints of it, anyway, enticing and subtle.

Her pace widened--he could see the extent of it in the way her ears rose and fell as she worked his shaft into her wet maw. A quick, take-no-prisoners tempo: swift and deliberate, coaxing the pleasure throbbing in her pinned coyote's body. It also kept her from breathing: Casey was panting hard when she lifted herself away. "Asked you a question, didn't I?"

"Yes. Fuck, it's good. Fuck, that's good, jackal, that's--" She stuffed him into her muzzle again and his breath choked off in a groan. For a glorious few seconds she stayed put, curling her tongue over him in a swirling, fluid rhythm. His cock twitched; the pressure deepened for a moment when she swallowed.

Then she resumed her purposeful, hungry strokes. The next twitching pulse of his precum took only a few heartbeats. His knot was swelling, too. He would have to hold himself back, the coyote realized, and just as quickly decided there was no point. Let her have it.

She wasn't slowing down, after all. The wet, heavy slurps as she drove herself onto him were a slick, lewd constant--and surely she could sense the growing tension. Hear his breath going uneven, feel him tighten under her, the quick, telling throbs coming faster--just a little more and...

Casey sat up. She took a few seconds to steady her breath and looked over her shoulder. Her tongue lolled; then she sucked it back in, with a wink and a final lick to her lips. "You're a lot of fun, coyote."

"Casey..."

"I know you're close, Devvy." She patted his wet shaft gently, and when he shuddered from the touch of her paw the jackal snickered. "Mm-hm. So, about the deflector coupling..."

He growled, and tugged his paws to test the restraint. She hadn't been playing around; there was no slack to the metal. "Jackal. I need you to--"

Casey shifted, twisting around carefully--meticulously avoiding touching his stiff, aching erection. Facing him, she bent down to lock eyes with the coyote. "Listen while you explain the deflector?"

"Not... quite."

"Who's in charge?" She lapped his nose. "Remind me."

"You are. Apparently."

"So." She slid herself back slowly, tentatively, pausing just as his cock touched her. "Tell me about this coupling."

Be easier to show you, he thought. But she was having fun. "The power readings are..." Her hips swiveled, working the coyote against her, and he grunted as his shaft prodded between the jackal's smooth lips. "Acceptable--but--worse than before."

"I see." She teased him again, with another circling grind. This time, though, his tip caught: nestled into slick wetness, and nudged deeper as the resistance vanished before Casey could stop herself. She bit her lip, steadied her breath, and kept him just barely inside her. "So is it the coupling itself, or, uh... or the insulation housing around it?"

"I don't know."

"Guess?"

"I don't. Know."

"Guess," she repeated, and settled fractionally lower. "First thing that comes to your mind, coyote."

"First thing? You need to stop teasing me."

"It's fun," she countered. "But alright." She slipped off him--though despite the act he saw her eyes flicker when he slid free--and knelt down next to him on the bed. "Happier now?"

"God, you're a bitch."

She stretched herself out, kissing him on the nose. "You don't mean that."

"Want to bet?"

Her eyes danced. "That's more like it." The jackal reached out her arm, over his head. The constriction at his wrists released. "So if the housing is cracked, do you--rrf!"

His paw was at Casey's shoulder, rolling her over. It caught her by surprise, and her light frame didn't have that much inertia--and in any case she wasn't really fighting, because the moment he had her pinned Casey's eyes flashed. It was what she'd wanted, after all.

Of course.

And of course he was willing to play along, to the extent there was anything conscious in his movements. He settled between her legs, shifting the angle of his grinding thrusts until he found her again and bucked forward--deep and hard, burying himself to the hilt in the warmth of the jackal bitch's cunt with a muzzle-clenched groan from Casey that lingered after his throaty snarl.

"Dev! Oh, fuck!" Her claws gripped his sides, hard.

Harder than he felt was acceptable. He grunted. "Need to cuff you now, Case?"

She shook her head. He pulled back slightly and thrust a second time. More claws. Dev curled his lip and, supporting himself on one elbow, used the other arm to wrench himself free of her grasp and slam her paws down against the mattress.

His nose was against the jackal's; their eyes met as he took her in a rough, quick plunge. Casey squirmed, but he had her held fast. "Sure about that?" More squirming. Another thrust hammered her hips down, and he ground forward to draw her attention to every throbbing inch from his tip to the subtle swell at the base.

Casey's eyes rolled back and the coyote started to fuck her in earnest. Properly fuck her: feral, sharp strokes that drove the jackal full of her growling coyote lover, never leaving her for more than a quarter second before he pumped back into her rocking hips. She moaned his name; he echoed hers in a possessive bark, pace picking up even as the rhythm faltered.

His focus narrowed only to claiming her--though focus was the wrong word; it was more raw need than volition--and his ears slid back. It muffled her high, pleading cries--but not completely. She was a jackal, after all. He heard the pitch rise, heard the yelp break into a gasp when he was all the way inside her, knot less subtle every time.

Good bitch. He might've said it, huffing his claim to her as his cock sank fully into the tight, demanding warmth of her pussy and the tie grew ever more inexorable. Or she might've--he could've missed the 'your' in the panted, growling energy of their coupling.

"Mine," he grunted. Just in case. Just to make it clear. Casey was quivering as she pushed desperately to meet him, the pitch of her voice rising swiftly. In a moment it would break--dropping half an octave, husky and slurred in gratification--but in those last seconds as he rutted into her tense hips, he lowered his muzzle to Casey's ear and reminded her. "My jackal."

She was starting to nod when her back arched; her arms nearly twisted free with the strength of the jolt that ran through her. The groan came a moment later: sated, hoarse, forced through her gritted teeth. She bucked under him--erratically, though Devin was no longer even trying to match her rhythm.

Or any, for that matter. He drove into her, shoving forward even after their bodies met to hold himself deep, to ensure that when her jerking hips tugged him free he was hilted again in an instant. It mattered less and less: as her pleasure-racked shuddering twisted her on his knot he could sense the tightness building around the knot. The coyote was losing control even before he felt himself tying her, but the squeeze as her body clenched on him and the slick flesh grated and pressed snugly from within was the last straw.

As Casey's peak ebbed and she panted for breath beneath him he started to move again. Swift thrusts--clashing, fierce, helpless. He couldn't have slowed down if he'd wanted, couldn't have kept himself from jamming his cock in yet more firmly even though the bitch was already knotted, even though she'd already taken him, even though her breeding was a biological certainty.

His pleasure rose, tearing free in a ragged growl as he plowed into the jackal--just a few more strokes; his cock beginning to throb tellingly, his sac lifting up... she was yelping, stiffening... the satisfaction of release gripped him and he felt her fingers flex, her trapped paws bunching into fists like she was right there with him...

The first jet of his seed splashed into her in a long, heated pulse and a low grunt. He relaxed, then tensed with another reflexive, claiming push, another grunt; another gush of his canine essence. Relax--tense--shove forward to guarantee his mate took every drop of coyote cum deep in her warm, waiting cunt.

He kept a steady, insistent rhythm as he filled the jackal with the load her teasing coaxed from him. Presently she inhaled sharply; her walls tightened, and her legs went snug on his pumping hips. Somewhere after that he slowed, and the urgency drained from his uneven movements.

Somewhere after that he relaxed completely, and so did Casey. Her arms were around him--he'd let her go, apparently; his muscles didn't obey any attempt to pin her again so he had to let the jackal embrace him.

Her teeth gripped his ear lightly. "You were saying about quitting me, Devvy?"

"Well... it'll be a bit now..."

The bite grew firmer. "Uh huh. And after that?"

He grumbled, nosing the side of her neck until she let his ear go and he could straighten up to steal a quick kiss before she was able to stop him. "Depends. How long to Karaj, again?"

Narrowed eyes accented her grin. "Plenty of time."

***

"Kolobar, this is the Long Tall Sally. We've got three tons of perunite ore I'm looking to offload. Any chance you've got spare dock crews who might be able to step in?"

The controller clicked his tongue audibly over the radio. "Can see, I guess. Maybe. The cargo's regulated?"

Casey glanced at Dev; he pulled his headset on. "Yes, sir. I have the countersigned outbound certs from Harraway. Three hundred cylinders in TC422 packaging, stabilized and container-packed."

"Yeah, okay. Well, you're cleared to descend, and I'll transmit the data from the job board. Figure it out, if you want to hire a freelance stevedore."

Casey angled the ship towards the planet's surface and fired the thrusters. "Gotta love that border-sector customer service, eh? Let's see what we have here. No names, of course. Guess that would piss the union off?"

"Yeah. They want to be able to stack the deck--it helps if you can't research your contractors ahead of time. Sort it by certs and equipment and pick whatever works."

"Thanks, Devvy. 'TC/IC 9004 (H/S/E++) GE SAT-9 (4T). Available (PSC6).' Very helpful."

He released his harness and joined her, looking at the entries on the job board. "Means they have 9004 certification; the E++ is their level. That's good. Using a GE Saturn 9 load-suit--that's good, too. Six thousand credits per shift, though? Steep as fuck. Maybe they'll count a half-shift, but... probably not, if they want a premium like that."

"What about this one? TC/IC 9004 (H/S/P/E+++) MS K400 (4T). Available (PSC1.2)? That means twelve hundred per shift? And they're better-trained?"

Devin frowned. "Yes. But. Uh, check the config on the K400." Casey looked at him pointedly; shrugged, turning up her paws. He tapped the box for the exosuit, and more details spilled onto the screen. Worrying details, much as he'd guessed what they would be ahead of time. "Hell. Okay, well. Six grand it is. Take the guy with the Saturn."

"Why? Forty-eight hundred more credits, Devvy."

"It's worth it."

"For what?"

"To not see my mom."

Casey stared. Her eyes flicked from the coyote to the job board and back. "Really? Really... I guess you did mention your mom was a cargo loader, didn't you? Hmm."

"Don't grin like that, jackal."

"I'll grin however I want. You don't like your family?"

"We have a... complicated relationship."

"And now I get to see it first-hand." The jackal's grin was even less innocent than usual. "So. Give me the details, 'yote. What am I getting myself in to?"

"You're sure about this?"

She tapped the 'hire' button on the job board and closed the display. "Very."

"Okay. My mom--Karoline--has load-suit certs and a good reputation. I don't understand how she puts up with my dad. I've never seen Mike do any work that was legal. He's a net-runner--freelancers, generally, but he's worked with the Adra Von, too."

The Adra Von, a criminal family, was native to the Edra sector; the Terran Confederation hadn't had much success in stamping them out. "Hacking?"

"Yeah, and some espionage. A lot of forged paperwork, though. The Adra Von diversified into antiquities about fifteen years ago... they launder a lot of stuff in the sector. Plus he works ports. Makes stuff disappear for the right people. Generally that's what gets him into trouble, and why mom has to move on. Like I said, I don't really know how she puts up with him."

Casey smirked. "And you're your dad's kid, right?"

"Pretty much."

Perhaps it was more complicated than that, a little, but he was definitely closer to his father than to Karoline. Mike taught him how to use META; the young coyote proved to be unusually adept, and his father had been the one to secure him his first few jobs--over his mom's objections.

Because she was the one to nudge him in the direction of honest work. When that hadn't panned out, following from his father's use of aliases, she'd started calling him Madreen--she claimed it meant 'little dog,' in her native language. His father placidly said: I guess it fits.

What he'd told Casey was accurate: he didn't really know how the two put up with each other. But they had. For that matter, he never recalled his mother objecting when it was time to find a new planet.

Perhaps that was changing, too, because they'd been on New Karaj for a while--at least eighteen months, so far as he'd kept up with them. "Find out soon enough," Casey said: they were already beginning their descent.

Kolobar was an equatorial city, on the coast of a cool, placid sea. Everything about it seemed unremarkable. The port was the typical buzz of activity; the approach was typically sedate. Nothing about the buildings, or the starships parked on well-kept loading pads, seemed to indicate anything special about why a coyote might make it their home.

Find out soon enough.

He lowered the ramp; a few breaths later and he could already smell the salt air from the ocean off to their west. Heavy, tramping footsteps approached, and the stout legs of a cargo-loading suit appeared in the sunlight outside the cargo door.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

"Yeah, we're here. Just getting things locked down."

"No prob'," the woman answered. "Welcome to Kolobar. Looks like I'm your stevedore for the afternoon. What've ya got for me? Perunite?"

"Three tons, yep."

"No prob'," she said again. "Who'm I working with?"

Devin sighed. There was no point in postponing the inevitable: he took a deep breath and stepped from the shadows, jumping down from the side of the ramp to land in front of the load-suit. "Hey."

The figure was behind glass, and wearing a helmet; her eyes were visible, though, and he saw them blink rapidly. "Really? Really... Well, fuck, you did mention you were workin' freighters, didn't ya... not that I'd ever see."

"We don't come through this part of the Edra very often."

The suit's cockpit wobbled as its driver nodded. Its right arm lifted: "hold on."

It took a minute for the coyote to shut the suit down and clamber free of it; by that point Casey had joined them. "Casey Carr," Dev introduced her. "Master of the Long Tall Sally."

"That's me," Casey said, extending her paw and leaning forward to read the nametag on the coyote's jumpsuit. "And you're... Karoline C. McGee.?"

Fuck, right, I forgot that. She stopped going by 'Karoline.' How did I forget that? "Ah, yeah. This is my mom. Uh, Karoline Christine, but she goes by--"

Casey's head jerked towards him. "'Goes by'?"

Karoline grinned, taking the jackal's paw and shaking firmly. "Karo. Nice ship, Captain Carr. We don't see many 254s anymore. Is it stock?"

"It used to be. Your son has... ideas."

Karo's grin sharpened. "Why am I not surprised? He's dangerous. What did you do, Madreen?"

"Minor things, mostly. It's all still legal, don't worry. You taught me well."

"You're still not very good at lying." Karo smirked. "Out with it."

Casey seemed to be perceiving a new ally in the elder coyote. It was an outcome he had predicted, though he'd hoped it might've taken more than a dozen words. The jackal's smile was dangerously similar to his mother's. "Something about engines--right, Dev? Go on. You should be proud of your work."

"Replaced the alignment channels with ones from a 354 and upgraded the drive integrator. Also swapped the reactor, and put an auxiliary unit in the forward bay. That comes in handy. For the deflectors, which we need to use fairly often," he added, hoping Karo might take the hint that he was not, in fact, the dangerous one between them.

"What about the relays?" she asked.

"I told you it was legal. The relays have all been upgraded--and I pulled every last damned pentavane, too, for that matter. Sixty percent increase in efficiency."

His mom looked over at Casey. "So: is he a good engineer?"

"He's not bad."

"Well, that'll do. Tell you what, let's get these containers off and stowed away--won't take all that long. And then you'll stay for dinner, right?"

Casey grinned. "We'd love to."

He didn't want to fight, especially not when it seemed likely to be two against one. In any case Karoline was right about the cargo--within half an hour, the perunite containers had been neatly stacked alongside the Long Tall Sally, ready to be carried to the nearest warehouse.

According to the depot's owner, they'd need to wait. And, with this last excuse removed, Karoline shut her loading suit down and led the trio away from the harbor and towards downtown Kolobar, a kilometer away.

The apartment, on the first floor of a new-looking building, struck Dev as uncharacteristically ordinary for his parents. Either his mother had been exerting a calming influence, or his father was beginning to slow down.

Or both--but the figure seated in a comfortable chair, eyes closed and with the lights of a neural link flashing at his head, looked entirely as Dev remembered him, and 'slowing down' seemed immediately unlikely.

"Karo! You brought guests!"

"Take the fuckin' set off," she answered. "Be polite, for God's sake."

"Sure, sure." His father was starting to go grey around the muzzle but, when he unplugged his set and his eyes opened, they were the same clear amber as Devin's own. And then they widened: "oh, look who it is. And another coyote? No, I think not."

"This is Casey. This is my dad, Michael. Mike."

Michael shook his head as he got up from the chair he'd been occupying. "Mike McGee was too conspicuous. I'm using an alias now." He shook Casey's outstretched paw. "Tiberius Solomon."

"Sure to draw less attention," Casey said.

"Like the Long Tall Sally," his dad--Devin did not intend to see his way to calling the man Tiberius Solomon--answered. His eyes glinted. "How's she flying?"

The jackal's ears swiveled back a few degrees. "Well enough..."

"I like that name better. Y'know, I found this weird thing in the Montbrison's records. The paperwork says she was launched in 2730, but there's a work order on her starboard nacelle from 2726. Strange thing is, the referenced hull number is for a ship called the Telphousa. She vanished over New Altun in 2752--probably shot down by the Parthians. If I were you, I'd check the nacelle--might've been a bad swap."

Devin frowned. "Fuck."

His dad laughed heartily, stepping forward and giving the younger coyote a hug. As he did so, he whispered into Dev's ear. "Took care of it for you. I'll explain later."

Devin nodded. "Thanks. Good to see you, dad."

"Oh, same, same. And it's good to finally meet the jackal."

"Wait... I'm 'the jackal'?" Casey asked. "You know about me?"

"Dev said he was working on a ship, and it's been so long that it must be turning out pretty well. Last time he was domesticated more than a few months, he was with this tiger on Neshoba. I didn't like her much. Karo liked her. You liked her, right, Karo?"

Karo shrugged, and admitted that she had, at least, been a good influence on Dev. "But I'm sure Captain Carr is, too. I hope so. He has a little too much... coyote about him, if you don't sand the rough edges off. Do you?"

"De-coyote him?"

Is it all going to be like this? Devin sighed, inwardly. "She's asking how you control me. Diplomatically."

And the jackal laughed. "For a start, I don't do it diplomatically."

"Trust me, I understand."

So: yes, it was going to be like that. But at least, as Casey recounted their past over dinner, she didn't spare the details. We have the record on the Delta Carrolia-Winterhaven run. Devin had cleared his throat: nobody else has flown through the Melkown Rift on purpose. And Casey grinned. But we did. Yes, fine, Devvy--it was my idea. Happy? And you got us out of it.

"Working with your hands is fun, isn't it?"

Before he could answer his mom's question, Mike changed direction: "You're completely out of META? Surely not."

"No. Sometimes things need to be... taken care of."

"I have a new set. MNT3.6, even. Based on the RSU Artika."

His father looked proud of the technology, which wasn't surprising considering he wasn't supposed to have access to it. "Isn't that restricted? Military use only?"

"Is it? I hadn't heard."

"And you know how your father gets bored," Karo added. "But apparently it helps him stay undetected, which has bought a little bit of time. Otherwise, I'm not sure we'd stay."

"Why not?"

"With the focus shifting towards Gemun, bulk traffic has slowed way the fuck down. Which, as you can imagine, is a problem for..." Karo sighed heavily. "Tiberius, here."

Casey cocked her head. "Not enough work?"

"Not enough shipments to cover things up, is more like it," his mother explained, reaching across the table to give her husband's arm a slightly-harder-than-affectionate pat. "I don't want to move on, but..."

"We might take a small... pause," Mike said. "Somewhere in the Nekal, I think? Your mother deserves a vacation, anyway. And besides--it's been too long since we went to Clearwater. You were... eleven, right, Dev?"

"Eleven," he confirmed. "All I really remember is the sun, and how bright and clear it was."

"You complained non-stop, in fact. You told your dad you thought you were going blind, and you hated planets." His mother gave him a teasing smirk. "I guess you still do, now that you're living on a starship. Do you miss Neshoba at all, Madreen?"

"Neshoba? No. Fuck Port Neshoba. I do miss natural gravity, sometimes. New Karaj seems pretty alright, as planets go. I could do this, maybe." He didn't remember hating the sunlight in Clearwater, though given its reputation for cloudlessness it seemed plausible.

"If you wanted to try, we've got the apartment--if we leave, it's yours. Well-furnished place, even; very conveniently located. Have you considered it, Casey?"

"No."

"Don't like the planet? I figured it was your coyote, putting off coming here on purpose."

"Well... it was kind of my fault. He's suggested New Karaj on occasion, but we had other plans. We don't really get into the Edra sector very often."

"I thought that was just him making excuses. At least that means he's not ashamed of us. I had my doubts, after... Annie? We never met that tiger of yours."

"Anja," Dev said softly.

"See? If we'd met her..." Karo trailed off pointedly. "And what about you? Has he met your family yet, Casey?"

"Yes."

"And?" His father looked at Dev expectantly.

It was Casey who answered, though. "My parents and brother are dead, and my sister's a whore. I don't think Dev is close to her. But that's fine."

"Oh."

"Maybe I wasn't supposed to say that? My sister works in hospitality and freelances as an independent contractor for demanding sailors."

Karo blinked, either at the bluntness or the way Casey's voice became abruptly clipped. "Oh."

"Also she does crimes."

The conversation shifted to less provocative topics for another half-hour, until Karo said that she wanted to finish up offloading the Long Tall Sally while there was still light remaining. Casey, who'd grown quiet, went with her; Dev stayed behind, to see what his father had wanted to catch up about.

"Casey seems nice. You picked well."

'Nice,' by his father's standards, was probably fraught, but he took the intended sentiment anyway. "Thanks, dad. I didn't 'pick,' though, really, it... just sort of happened. She wanted a partner for a job that turned out to be... improperly pitched to me."

"Stealing the Sweet Child O' Mine, you mean? What have I always said, Dev? You can't trick a trickster. I think she knew you weren't really qualified--but she took you anyway. Good choice. Nice work with the Telphousa, too. You did the rework yourself?"

"Yeah." Given how big the Terran Confederation was, ships were bound to vanish on occasion. And on many of those occasions, when they showed up again they'd been 'reworked'--given fake documentation; falsified histories. "How'd you find out?"

Karo often did what she could to pass herself off as respectable; the way Mike's eyes flashed, though, were pure and unapologetic coyote. "Intuition."

"Yeah? Tell me more."

"I figured if a fugitive from the Kai Syndicate hooked up with my kid and they bought a ship, and my kid stuck around? It must've been something good, probably a ship without registered codes. Sierra 254? That means blockade-running, so when I heard about a 'mining salvage' claim on New Altun, but none of the buyers were mining companies..."

"You found the Telphousa."

"And her parts registry. I figured that was probably what became the Montbrison. But--intuition," he said again, and flashed another grin. "I pulled Luxodyne's SDICR on the 620 and cross-referenced the serial number list to the parts registry. And wouldn't you know it? In 2726 a customer marked the Telphousa's starboard integration-stabilizer as 'serviced.' But they provided both the TC serial number and Luxodyne's UID, and there was an... odd mismatch. Because that UID is from a ship called the Montbrison, which wasn't launched until four years later."

Dev groaned. "I didn't think about OEM codes."

"Nobody does. Except me. I've done so many reworks I ought to incorporate as a shipyard--I know what to look for. You got unlucky. Most OEMs just use the TCPR] serials as their UIDs, because it makes auditing simpler. But I know that Luxodyne sold the 620s outside the TC."

He groaned again; the sound shifted to a displeased growl. "So some of them didn't have TC Parts Record serials, which meant Luxodyne maintained a database for legal purposes, and when the company went bankrupt that database must've been made part of the public record somewhere... maybe some legal filing..."

"Exactly! But that was the only thing I found, actually. You did a good job, Devin. How's your interface coming along? You still work on it?"

"Still do."

He held out the connector for his META link hardware. "Want to try?"

Devin took the cable, clipping it to the implant on his temple. At once the room vanished as the set established an eight-lane MNT3.6 connection to his brain. He didn't hear this fact, or read it--he was simply aware of it. Pure knowledge, just like what appeared to be a neatly organized study around him.

There was a desk; a book open on it, with a piece of paper tucked between the pages. For sale (Rahapania): 60ct CONTAINER, PEAR, PRESERVED. The pears were waiting in a warehouse in Kolobar. The ledger beneath had been scratched out: someone trying to cover up the shipment's origin.

But in the background, Dev's mind and the software he'd developed had uncovered the truth, which is why he perceived the ledger as struck out, rather than completely erased. Pirates had hijacked the MV Governor Ray Stallman, captured her cargo, and tried to resell it on Derea.

Their forgery, though, was sloppy--not everyone was as skilled as a coyote--and the Dereans discovered it. Rather than keep trying, the pears had been dumped on New Karaj. That, probably, had been what his dad was working on. Or what he wanted me to see, Dev thought. He turned his attention to the book, instead.

It contained a fairly straightforward record of the ships landed at the spaceport and their cargos, though the coyote figured it was likely to be more complex than that. Dev picked a freighter at random, and turned around: sure enough, its name was listed on the spine of a thick volume on the bookshelf.

He pulled the book down carefully. His brain was hard at work synthesizing the data, constructing the words on the page when he opened the tome. He'd never seen anything so dense: the single page described one day on a voyage three years earlier. The shift schedules, the maintenance work, the cargo inspection data...

Stephanie Linstead (appendix 5464) noted power regulator AC32 (appendix 67940) to be within tolerance at 1542. In META there was no reason for the book not to have a hundred thousand pages; he flipped to appendix 67940 and found the complete history of the regulator from its manufacture to its quality certification to its shipment when the freighter was assembled.

He put the book back and disconnected. "Impre... how long was I out?"

His dad's paw was still held out from when Dev had taken the cable. Mike shrugged. "Two seconds? Three?"

"Jesus. MNT3.6 is something else, huh?"

"Eighty times the bandwidth of 3.4--you can really get a lot done. See the bit about the pears?"

Hell with the pears. Eighty times! As he kept chatting, Dev thought about what it might be like to spend some real, quality time in META and that kind of sync level. The thought was admittedly tempting. And out on the frontier, in a place like New Karaj, it would be easy to avoid getting into trouble.

Would Casey go for that? Probably not. Probably not, but then... there was a lot to be said for a regular schedule and not being ambushed by pirates. A lot to be said for waking up to natural sunlight. He could go back to what he was good at, without the risk of being exposed to vacuum...

Something to think about--in the future.

***

For now there was the Long Tall Sally. He let his dad get back to work and walked to the harbor. Karo was nowhere to be found. Casey was sitting in the shadow of the freighter's starboard wing, whose tip served as a landing skid.

She was reclined against the wing, motionless, but her ears flicked at the sound of his footsteps and she opened her eyes, nodding to the coyote. "Hey."

"Hey, Case. Everything taken care of?"

"Yeah. There wasn't much more to do, anyway. Figured I'd stay out, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Wanted to get some sun, I guess."

She'd become subdued over dinner. Something was up, but the jackal could be somewhat mercurial and Devin didn't know what 'something' might've been. He sat next to her. "Picked a weird spot for it. What did you think of my folks?"

Casey snorted; shook her head. "Coyotes. They're okay, I guess. I didn't realize you told them about me."

"Dad has a way of finding things out."

"So I gathered. But your mom, too. What'd you tell her?"

Devin leaned back against the wing, and tried to think if there'd been anything in particular. "I don't remember. Nothing scandalous. Honestly, I probably told her the same thing I tell anyone else who knows me: you're the best pilot I've ever flown with, and the money's decent, so..."

The jackal stayed quiet for an uncharacteristically long time before taking a deep breath. "So I'm 'the jackal,' and you're 'my coyote.' I got the feeling she thinks we're more than just crewmates."

"Probably. I mean... we are. We both know that."

"Do we?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "C'mon. Of course."

"Have you thought about maybe finding a new ship, Devin? Or, hell, you could settle down here, like your mom said. You've got a clean avatar, and you seem to like the surface life. You said you missed it."

"A bit, sure. But not that much. Why are you being weird about this, Case?"

She gave him an odd, sideways glance, then turned her attention back to the horizon. "I'm not being weird, just pragmatic. Maybe it would be best. I guess... there ought to be engineers looking for work here, and ships looking to hire 'em."

"Maybe, I suppose. I'm not that interested."

"You could be."

"Why?"

"Just a suggestion, Dev."

"What's going on? Case. Case," he said, more insistently. "What's going on? At least be honest with me."

"You're calling me a liar?"

"A jackal," he corrected. "But also, I think we've earned honesty from each other, right? What's up. You can be blunt if you have to."

"Sure." Her paw flexed, claws raking along the pads of her palm. "Sure. Okay. Look, I want to be the one who says when somebody leaves me. For once. For once, I want to be in control. So. So maybe it would be best if you found a new ship."

"I don't intend on leaving."

"Sure," she said again. "But you will. I just won't get to pick when."

"Why would I leave?"

"Find someone new? Planet you like? Job you like? It doesn't really matter the cause, Dev. Maybe you'll find a starbase with some really good shepherd's pie. Won't be able to give it up. Catch the cook's eye... settle down, raise some pups; pass on the family business..."

"I don't care that much for shepherd's pie."

She snorted. "Could've fooled me. Looked like you enjoyed your dad's enough."

"It came from a store. Mike can't cook for shit--I was being polite. Coyotes can do that, you know, Case."

"Alright." She went quiet again.

Dev let her stay that way for a minute, until it became clear she wouldn't say anything else. "So you didn't care for dinner, huh?"

"It was fine."

"It wasn't, obviously."

She lowered her ears; shut her eyes tightly for a few seconds. "Dinner was fine. It was the rest of it, if you have to know. All this... this... an apartment, a 'safe' job..." she scowled at the word 'safe.' "Vacation on Clearwater, retirement account, I--fuck, Dev. It would kill me."

"And? That's fine. If that life isn't for you..."

"Might be for you, though, right? Look. If you want to stick around, fine. I won't kick you out. But it was... it was simpler before. It let me put off... I dunno. Thinking about how you were gonna learn you'd gotten what you wanted out of me. It's fine." She shrugged, rocked her head back to hit it lightly against the freighter's wing. Her ears stayed pinned. "Needed to admit it sooner or later."

"Jesus Christ, Case."

"I come by it honestly. Or do you want me to feel sorry for myself and say I've figured out how it works for me?"

"Jesus Christ, Case. Oof." He pursed his lips; sighed. "Casey, you've saved my life a hundred times. I keep letting you do it, don't I? Keep letting you put me in a place where you have to?"

"Sure. I owe you my life just as often, coyote. Not saying we don't work well together. We're a pretty good team."

"More than that. And you know it."

"Satari Kai said that, too. And Singh before him. And every time I got hired as a pilot. I mean... I mean, I knew they were gonna fuck me over, so if you don't want to count that, it's fine. Definitely Kai, though. And Singh. And Elissa Bauer... almost forgot about her. Oh, and the McMillers."

"Who?"

"The last family I lived with."

"Oh." She was fourteen when she'd run away from them, Devin recalled. "I know you've spent... a lot of your life not being able to count on other people, jackal. I wouldn't blame you for being skeptical. But you can count on me, right? I count on you."

"In this context, the circumstances are a bit different, coyote."

"Maybe. Don't be so sure. But the thing is--"

She shifted, peering at him questioningly. "Why 'maybe'?"

"Bit of a story. My point is--"

"I can wait. Not going anywhere."

Guess we're going to have to dredge this up, then. He sighed; hoped she didn't need all the details. "Okay. Remember how when we met, you asked if I knew how to use a DAC turret? I lied to you about how I'd been on a frigate. Parker helped, I think... probably said I'd manned a Zhukov for NSMC."

"I remember the lie, at least, yes. You'd never fired a turret."

"Nope. I've been working in META since I was 16. When I was 20, mom helped me get a load-suit certification. Honestly, we spent so much time moving when I was a kid? I get restless--couldn't stay in one place anyway. So I shopped myself out through the Rali-An-Mei and the Gemun-Kekari."

"Not as a turret captain, though?"

"No. Mostly I worked in the cargo holds... picked up some tinkering skills, too. I was in this cycle where I'd get tired of how hard it was to be... clean... and I'd go back to META until the heat started scaring me and I'd try ships again. Did you ever want that, Case? Honest living?"

She pondered the question, head tilting. "Not really. A lot of shitty people pay taxes, coyote. It doesn't do much to inspire me."

"Same. But I tried. Towards the end of 2799, I signed on to an intersun freighter: the Luke Lane, on the Kelovar to Neshoba run. Nine hundred meters long--the biggest ship I'd ever worked. Run by a real company and everything. Figured I'd take it to Neshoba, at least, and jump. I had... friends there. Contacts? Acquaintances. Like Parker."

"You got lucky, then. Transbarnard freighter, right? They lost her to a hyperdrive failure in that area a couple years later--'01 or '02, maybe. I think there were, like, five survivors."

"It was 2799. November. And there were only two."

Casey looked over, meeting his eyes. Her own, briefly, softened. "Huh."

"The tiger my parents mentioned. Me and her stayed in Port Neshoba--her and... me? I? Fuck it. We stayed in Port Neshoba for about two years. She wanted to start working freighters again, and I... I couldn't. Hyperspace just... messed with me. I couldn't do it. I fucked around on in-system stuff, y'know, Ressik and Kosharkoska and all, but... that was it. Until you jacked that solar cat."

"Huh," she repeated.

"It was worth it, because you said you could get me a new avatar. When you bought the Sally, and we were headed to Amarys, I figured I could make the journey there and then figure out what to do next. Except, uh, I didn't have to 'make it.' I wasn't losing sleep. Wasn't panicking. More than that, I... I didn't want to leave. And I haven't since. Don't plan on it. Do you want me to, Case?"

"No." She set her jaw, staring off at the fading light towards the horizon. "Of course not."

He felt for her paw, and squeezed it. "You might even miss me."

"I might."

"Tell you what, jackal. You said you want to be in control of this relationship, right? So if--hypothetically--you don't feel like ending things here in lovely New Karaj..."

"I don't."

"Then are you still gonna let me be the one to say it first?"

"Would that be taking control? I guess it kinda is."

"I think so."

Her ears flattened further, though. She squeezed back, hard, biting her lip. Then she took a deep breath and turned towards him. "I love you, Dev."

"I love you, too, Casey." The jackal's oversized ears swiveled upright, and she laughed quietly. "What?"

The tension that had built in her shoulders ebbed; she relaxed against the wing. "I guess that wasn't so hard."

"It'll probably get easier. Also, it's a surprise to literally nobody who sees us. I didn't have to tell my mom anything."

Casey laughed again. "I don't have to say it in public, though, right?"

"Nah. Probably not. We have images to keep up."

"True."

He grinned. "Anyway. Somebody hinted there's sixty crates of preserved Rahapan pears looking for a home--the Brotherhood tried to smuggle 'em into Derea and customs found out; they dumped 'em here. I don't know what the problem was... the paperwork my dad showed me looked just fine. With a few tweaks..."

"Going where?"

"Dunno--the label was blank. Isili? Telermun II? Rahapan pears are a delicacy everywhere in the Nekal sector, though."

"Clearwater's in Nekal, right? I've never been. It's supposed to be beautiful."

"We could go. Not like a vacation, of course. But it might take a couple days to line up the next job... there is always work for a pilot with the right skills. Or scruples. Or lack thereof."

"A jackal, you mean?"

He stuck out his tongue. "Maybe. What do you say? Go for it?"

"I love you." She paused: "Oh, hell."

"Yeah?"

She raked her claws down his arm, and leaned against his side. "You're right. It is getting easier."