March slants me a smile. “So . . . you wanna play Pick Five?”
I roll my eyes. “Not really. You’d just read my cards and know what you needed to discard.”
He lays a hand over his heart. “I’m cut, seriously. You’re implying I’d cheat?”
His expression becomes wolfish. “Absolutely. I always get what I want.”
“We have time to kill before we make the jump.” He grins.
“I’d rather play Charm, New Venice rules.”
“I think we better not,” I answer finally. “I don’t want to scare anybody.”
He answers without looking at me. “Body count, you mean?”
I nod, knowing he’ll catch the movement in his peripheral vision.
“That was war. That’s . . . different. And it’s not what I wanted to know.”
“You want to know how many men I’ve personally ended?” he asks then.
“But you had good reason, right?”
Before he can reply, Dina’s voice comes over the comm. “I think we have trouble.”
“When don’t we?” March mutters. “What’s wrong now?”
“Their jumper seems to be having a fit, and we don’t have a doc on board.”
March manages a smile. “Unless
you
want to drive.”
“She’s not ill,” Velith says while I rub my cheek. “She’s in labor.”
“It appears we’re having a baby.”
“I’m not his wife,” Koratati grits out.
“That will only make it harder,” she grunts. “I need to stay upright so gravity will help me.”
“You look like a refugee,” Dina says while laying out the things she’s collected.
“Give her your hand,” Dina instructs.
“You’re doing great,” Dina murmurs. “I’m timing you, and it’s time to push.”
“I think I will go see what they’re playing,” Vel says, and hurries off.