He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“On my ship, I would appreciate it if you address me as Captain Cass,” she said.
He frowned his disapproval, a look that brought back years of patriarchal memories.
Shit, Cass, she thought. Why’d you do that? Just let him have his way and you can be free! Keep your mouth shut!
“Oh, Bambi,” Hawke said, shaking his head sadly. “We know each other so much better than that.”
She forced a smile. “I apologize. Old habits of command, you know.”
Redbeard’s fingers dug into the tabletop, turning crimson from the effort. The whiskers of his unruly beard quivered, as if he were chewing tobacco-laced gum.
Hawke seemed oblivious to Redbeard’s struggles. The smile returned to his face. He had aged these last few years, she noticed. There were more creases along his forehead, and more gray in his hair. “Of course,” he said gently. “I understand. Speaking of … you know you would be welcomed back into the Federation with open arms.”
The scoff escaped her mouth before she could swallow it back. She attempted to cover it with a cough. “Rear Admiral, you are too kind. But last I checked, the Feds don’t much like deserters.”
Commodore Corvus let out a strangled noise, but both Cass and Hawke ignored her. Now her glare was directed toward Cass.
Kitt’s claws raked across the top of the table, causing the group to pause and look around in confusion. She quickly pulled her arms back and shoved them under the table, out of view.
Hawke cleared his throat and placed his own hands out on the table, palms up. “My dear Bambi … you are too talented to waste. I know that. They know that. An exceptional officer. Oh yes, you would have a place among the ranks again, I can promise you that.”
Commodore Corvus appeared quite flustered at his statement. Her dark skin had developed a rosy complexion across her cheeks.
Cass restrained an amused smile with difficulty. Entertaining the notion of returning to the Federation was almost worth it, just to see the severe woman suffer. Cass shifted in her seat and wrapped her fingers around her tea cup. She dropped her eyes to the steaming liquid within. “I’m sorry, Rear Admiral,” she said quietly. “That’s not an option.”
“But, Bambi, why?” He was almost plaintive. “You know what happened wasn’t your fault! The Federation can’t afford to lose an officer like you … especially not to the likes of these filthy pirates!”
“Pirates!?” Redbeard boomed before Cass could reply.
She looked up to see the big man staring incredulously at Hawke. For a heartbeat her insides froze in terror, thinking Redbeard was about to start a bloodbath. But then she realized his outburst had not been his usual tone of rage and she relaxed. A wave of warmth coursed through her at the sight of his theatrics. Redbeard could be quite the actor, especially when the situation required it.
“Pirates!?” he repeated. “Admiral, ye wound me! Do we look like pirates ta you?”
Hawke sat back in his chair and looked Redbeard up and down. “It’s Rear Admiral. And—umm—if I’m to be perfectly honest—”
“Pffft!” Red interrupted, throwing up his hands. “We ain’t no pirates, Rear Admiral. Just simple folk tryin’ ta make a livin’ in this cruel galaxy, eh? Didn’t you see the critters down in arrrr hold? That’s wha’ we arrrre! Cargo haulers! Transportin’ critters large an’ small wherever they need ta go! That’s us. You need some critters transported, you call us, yes sirree!”
Hawke stared at Redbeard, his brow dancing up, down, and sideways as he absorbed the outburst.
Cass quickly lifted her tea and sipped to hide the grin. If Hawke buys this, I’m giving Red a raise.
The rear admiral tilted his head, studying Redbeard, as the very-much-a-pirate attempted to gently pick up the tiny teacup in one huge hand and slurped noisily.
Then Hawke looked back to her, confusion plain on his face. She could see his desire to believe the ginger giant warring with suspicion. “Cargo haulers,” he said slowly. “Is that so?”
She set her tea down. “Yes, Rear Admiral. That’s right.” Well, it was true enough. For the time being, they were indeed cargo haulers.
“Bullshit,” Commodore Corvus coughed into her fist, causing Rear Admiral Hawke to gasp at her vulgarity, a reaction echoed by the other Feds lined around the room.
Those Feds seated at the table shifted uncomfortably and muttered to each other, staring into their tea.
But the commodore ignored her comrades. Her fierce dark glare raked across the pirates, then landed with finality upon Redbeard. “If you’re really cargo haulers, then why isn’t this ship registered to you? It’s not even your ship, is it?”
Kitt slinked back in her chair, as if she were attempting to hide in plain sight.
Redbeard blubbered. “We, err, bought ‘er fer cash from tha previous owners. But those lazy bastards haven’t sent the forms in to tha DMV, is tha’ it?” His face darkened. “Why, if I get my hands on—”
Cass interrupted, before he could get too deep into the lie. “Red, calm down. I’m sure it’s not their fault. I’ll bet it got lost in the interstellar delivery. I told them to use registered mail, but you never know.”
Redbeard set his beefy hands down on the table with a thud, spilling his tea in the process. “Arrr, Cap’n. Can’t be relyin’ on tha postal service, can we?”
Hawke’s mouth hung wide open, for once with nothing to say. “Uhh, I see.”
Corvus shoved away from the table and stood ramrod tall. “Sir, this is ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re entertaining these outright lies!”
Hawke’s mouth found form at last, and he slowly shook his head. “Commodore Corvus, my dear, please sit down. May I remind you that we are the guests here?”
Spiner stepped around the table and refilled Redbeard’s cup. The giant ignored him, a sneer on his face as he glared at Corvus.
The commodore’s face drained of all color. Her back stiff, she took measured steps back to the table and sat down.
Hawke nodded and returned his gaze to Cass. “There, there, Bambi. I’m sorry to have doubted you. I can understand why you might’ve wanted to leave the service, after what happened…”
Cass swallowed. How long had it been since the incident? She’d made every effort to remove herself from that singular catastrophic moment of failure. Tried to forget, even as the nightmares continued to haunt her.
She sighed and tried to let the tension fall from her body. Now that Hawke had extended her an olive branch, they had a chance at getting out of this whole mess. “Thank you, Rear Admiral. You’re right. It’s been terribly difficult.” A single tear streaked down her right cheek. She’d let it come for show, yes, but she wasn’t pretending. She didn’t need to. The wound was real. “I can’t get their faces out of my head, sir.”
Hawke leaned in, his face grave. “I know what it’s like to have lost those under my command, Bambi. But you know it wasn’t your fault…”
“Sir, if that’s true, then you know it doesn’t matter who was at fault. They were under my command. Their lives were my responsibility … and I let them down. How can I possibly return to a position of command in the Federation Navy again?”
In truth, she hadn’t even asked for this captainship with the pirates. She’d planned to drift anonymously, catch on with a crew somewhere. Instead, she’d ended up with this ragtag bunch, who had quickly decided they’d wanted her as their captain after the incident on Aresh Five. There was little room for argument—they wouldn’t be refused, no matter how little she wanted it.
But then, being a pirate captain was a lot different than commanding a Navy frigate. At least the pirates were mostly autonomous, able to think for themselves in a pinch and not completely reliant upon her orders as Federation troops were.
Corvus stared down into her lap, hands fidgeting, but wisely choosing to remain silent.
Redbeard gazed across the table at his captain, concern and something d
eeper etched across his face.
Hawke sat back slowly in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. “I understand your concerns, Bambi. Your hesitation to return to the force. But I assure you … what happened could not have been prevented. Not by you, nor me, nor anyone else. Your contributions to the Federation far outweigh the unfortunate results of that tragedy. I hope you realize that.”
Cass stared into her tea, but had no reply. Her contributions to the Federation didn’t keep her awake at night. The image of that cruiser breaking into pieces did, the bodies of her crew floating in space. She blinked rapidly before she could lose her composure.
Hawke sighed at her continued silence. “Well. I understand your need for some time away. To get your head right and all that. It’s completely understandable.”
He straightened suddenly, a smile flashing back into place. He snapped his fingers and pointed toward the counter. “Ah! Say, are those pickles over there?”
Redbeard leaned back to peer around Hawke. “Oh, aye, those be pickles, all right. Fancy one, do ye?”
Cass suppressed a frown. Where had those come from? The gas station? She recalled Dillbilly’s accusation of thievery. Was this the bounty? Pickles!?
Hawke was nodding his head with enthusiasm. “I haven’t had a good pickle in a long while. I’d love one!”
For a moment, Cass thought Redbeard was going to get up and retrieve them himself. Instead, he smiled up at Spiner and batted his eyelashes. “Spiner, would ye do us tha’ honors, then?”
Spiner blinked back. “You would like me to serve the pickles?”
“Arrr, if ye don’t mind.”
“Affirmative.”
Hawke clapped his hands. “Now then. We’ll enjoy a final snack together and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Sir?” Corvus lifted her head for the first time since being reproached.
Hawke smiled across the table at Cass, ignoring Corvus’s question. “Like I said, Bambi, I understand your need for some time away. That’s all this is, isn’t it?” He waved a hand toward Redbeard, Kitt, and Spiner. “A mental break to regain your composure. As I said, completely understandable. So, I’ll leave you to it. After this, we’ll be out of your hair, for the time being. But it’s been two years now, Bambi. And … I want you to strongly consider turning yourself in.”
Cass attempted to meet his gaze, smile for smile, but faltered at this unexpected twist.
He continued, ”You are technically a deserter, but if you return yourself within the next week, I will be sure to head the disciplinary tribunal myself, and use my considerable influence to ensure all involved understand the true nature of your absence these last two years.”
He grinned at her, quite pleased with himself at this arrangement. “The most you’ll suffer is a demotion, but I have no doubt you’ll rise again through the ranks in no time.”
He sat straighter, puffing out his chest. “I’ll request that you be reinstated under my command. But of course, if you do not heed my advice here, and do not return to the Federation by the end of the week,” his brilliant smile faded, and he shook his head, “I’m afraid there is little more I can do for you.”
Spiner placed a plate in front of each table occupant, then laid down a single, wet pickle for each.
Cass ignored the unusual snack, staring across the table at Hawke.
He met her gaze for a long moment before being distracted by the arrival of his own pickle.
But still she watched him, contemplating, heart beating too hard against her ribs. Return to the Federation in a week, or else. All that really mattered, of course, was that for now he was letting them go. For one week. One week. One week to be sure she disappeared from his radar forever.
Kitt sniffed at her gleaming, greenish-brown pickle, her mouth peeling open in revulsion. She pushed the plate away.
Redbeard, like the Feds, picked up his pickle with apparent enthusiasm and bit off a large bite with a satisfying crunch. He tilted his head thoughtfully as he chewed. “Hmm,” he said finally. “Not half bad.”
Hawke nodded his agreement, but waited to swallow down his bite before speaking. He leaned back in his chair and patted his belly with both hands. “Mm hmm. I do believe that’s the best pickle I’ve ever had. Even better than the legendary Pleasant Valley Pickle!”
“Oh no!” Harry exclaimed to Node. “They’re eating Dillbilly’s kids!”
Node replied, “Are you referring to the objects currently being referred to as pickles?”
Harry bobbed his head, tail swishing in agitation. “Yes! I don’t know if I want to be a pirate, if it means eating people’s children.”
Node was silent for a moment. “Scanning now … nope, I’m not reading any life signs from the objects. Oh. Oh!” Node’s pixelated face danced in circles.
“What? What is it?” Harry was still saddened. While his friends might not be eating live kids, the fact they were already dead was no less tragic.
“Ha. Hah hah hah hah.”
Harry experienced a sudden flash of heat. “Node! Stop it. This isn’t funny!” He stamped his hoof to accentuate his point.
“What? You still think those are kids?”
“Are you making fun of me?”
Node stopped dancing. “No, Harry. I’m not making fun of you. I’m making fun of everyone else.”
Harry’s ears drooped. “I don’t understand.”
“I ran back over the transcripts of our communications with the gas station proprietor known as Dillbilly, back to when he said he ‘dropped the kids off.’”
“So?”
“It’s a euphemism, Harry.”
“A what?”
“Eu-phe-mism, noun, a mild or indirect word or expression substituted for one considered to be too harsh or blunt when referring to something unpleasant in polite company.”
“Oh. I don’t get it. What’s that have to do with Dillbilly’s kids?”
“Harry.” Node’s pixelated face widened into a grin. “They aren’t eating Dillbilly’s kids.”
“They’re not?”
“No. They’re eating his poop! Hah. Hah hah hah hah!”
Harry blinked, attempting to process through the relief that no children were getting eaten. Oh, wait … poop? As in, shit? Oh! He danced around the holding pen, braying as he got the joke. “Hee-haw! Hee-haw! They’re eating Dillbilly’s shit!”
“Yes! I knew you were smarter than those morons, Harry.”
Harry ignored the backhanded compliment. “Do you think we should tell them?
A little hand appeared under Node’s chin as he paused in thought, then he smiled. “Nah. Too late to stop them, anyway.”
18
Harry pranced out of the holding pen, weaving in and out of the spaces in between the pirates in the hold. With the Feds off the ship, Captain Cass had instructed Kitt to release him. Presumably, he was allowed to talk now.
Spiner and Redbeard flanked Cass as Kitt reactivated the holding pen gate.
“Harry,” the captain said. “Harry.”
Harry tried to put the brakes on. Instead of coming to a clean stop, his hooves slid along the smooth metal floor, clipping Kitt’s legs from the rear.
Kitt unleashed an outraged yowl, and leapt sideways into the air, twisting so that her legs and feet momentarily traded places with her whiskered face and ears. Improbably, right before impact with the ground, her legs swung around and her feet softly absorbed her weight as she landed … right next to a startled Redbeard.
He took an involuntarily step sideways, right into Spiner.
Spiner stumbled forwards, landing squarely in the arms of Captain Cass. Her reflexes were quick, allowing her to catch him and stand him back up without so much as a blink.
“Arrr, Kitt,” Redbeard whined, “you off tha trolley?”
“Hey,” Harry admonished, “no whining during official pirate business!”
Kitt straightened, brushed off her fur, and bared her teeth at Harry.
“Harold!”
Captain Cass’s shout stunned everyone into silence.
Harry stood up, feeling a bit wobbly. And, his host’s feet hurt. He’d have to remember to take it easy on Buddy. He glanced around at the pirates. “Why is everyone staring at me?”
Captain Cass bit her lip and shook her head. “You know what, never mind. I want everyone to give me your eyes and ears, please.”
Buddy’s feet were still protesting, so Harry decided to give him a break. He let his legs fold and returned to the floor, this time with a modicum of grace. He could listen from here just as easily as he could standing.
“Thank you,” said Captain Cass, once everyone was paying attention. “Now, I’m going to make this as clear as I possibly can. You will forget everything that smiling rictus of an asshat said in the commons.” She raked the pirates—even the intern—with a hard, cold stare. “Do you understand? Everything.”
Redbeard gulped. Kitt and Spiner nodded wordless assent.
Harry asked, “Captain, what do we call you now? Cass or Bambi?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” the captain replied. “If you get it wrong, you get to spend the rest of the trip in the holding pen with the rest of the donkeys.”
Harry felt his stomach gurgle as it tightened. He attempted to clear his throat, which sounded more like gagging. Think, Harry, think! She said to forget everything. “So … I guess you’d like to stick with Cass?”
“Bingo. Very good. Now, shut up.”
He thought about replying, but the mean face he was getting at the moment gave him second thoughts. Buddy, when I grow up, I want to be as terrifying and in-charge as her.
Redbeard coughed. “Cap’n, permission to speak?”
Bambi—err, Captain Cass—inclined her head fractionally.
“I don’t trust tha Effin’ Feds. Do you really think they’ll let us be leavin’, easy as tha’?”
“Hawke may be insufferable, but he is an honorable man. He won’t bother us again, not until the window he’s given me is over.”
“If you say so, Cap’n.”
“I do.”
Spiner asked, “Do you intend to turn yourself in, Captain?”
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