Bearly Christmas

by Becca Fanning

  “Can you take credits?” he asked over Delphine trying to make eye contact with him in the hopes of communicating something along the lines of ‘please stop.’

  The woman nodded and Custer handed over his card.

  “What are you doing?” Delphine hissed. “I don’t need that!”

  “But you wanted it,” Custer said amiably as the woman handed the card back and began to wrap the bracelet. “Oh, that won’t be necessary.”

  “As you wish,” she said, handing the bracelet over.

  Custer took it in one hand and held the other out towards Delphine.

  “Your arm, please,” he said.

  Hesitantly, she reached out to him. Gently, he took her arm and slid the gold band over it, her skin strangely warm under the cool metal. It complemented her dark skin, catching the low, artificial lights of the marketplace. Delphine stared. Suddenly, her arm was something beautiful.

  Custer thanked the vendor and tugged her along.

  “So, I say we hit the bar. We still have a little over an hour, which means we have just enough time to stop in, get you a drink, and scrounge for whatever information these people might have.”

  “I defer to your expertise,” Delphine responded. “Custer…”

  “Yes?” Custer asked, sounding far too amused.

  “Why did you do that? You just wasted credits on me.”

  Custer snorted. “I did no such thing.”

  “Then what do you call it? This doesn’t have any use. You can’t fight with it, or eat. It’s just pretty.”

  “It makes you happy, though. That’s not nothing.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said, frustrated. “Happiness isn’t a sustaining force. It’s just as useless as the bracelet.”

  “What’s the point of living if you aren’t ever happy?” Custer asked. “Happiness, and that bracelet, are useful because once you’re done with all the fighting and running, you still have something. One way or another, Delphine, you aren’t going back to work for Mason Corporation, so you may as well give in and learn how to be happy.”

  Delphine’s tongue felt thick and she wasn’t sure she could speak around it. It didn’t matter; she didn’t know what to say to that.

  They arrived at the bar after a few minutes of walking silently, but still hand in hand. It was dingy with neon lights and creaking floors that could barely be heard over the thrumming music. There were a few drunken patrons crammed into a corner playing some card game, the obligatory passed-out drunk leaning on the bar, and several flirting couples. Custer sauntered over to the bar, Delphine at his heels.

  “Hello, there,” he said to the bartender. “Can I please get two Daltorian Sunrises, please?”

  “Coming right up,” the bartender grunted. “Anything else I can get you?”

  “Actually, yes. Do you, perchance, have any information on how any of the smugglers working in the crew of the Rabblerouser could be contacted?”

  “Might. Might not.”

  Custer smiled. “Well, if you could decide which one it is, my friend and I are with the Breakwater crew and we sort of need to talk to them.”

  The bartender stilled. “You ain’t with the Breakwater crew. They don’t trade in this part of the system anymore.”

  “I assure you, I am.”

  “Prove it, then.” The man folded his arms and glared, although it came across as more of a belligerent squint.

  “You couldn’t afford the property damage of him proving it,” Delphine said softly. The bartender looked from her, unnervingly still, to Custer, who certainly looked like a maniac. He squinted a bit harder, then sighed.

  “Alright, you didn’t hear this from me, but they’re running blasters for Dunin at the moment.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir. Now, about our drinks,” Custer said, his smile relaxing into something less nightmarish.

  “Coming right up, your highness,” the bartender muttered.

  Delphine leaned towards Custer. “Is it always that easy?”

  “Sometimes, sometimes not. The Rabblerouser’s crew lost a lot of respect when they lost Lytos, so at the moment it’s smarter to bet on us than them. Our reputation precedes us, which is a tricky thing in our line of work. At the moment, it benefits us. Hopefully when that changes we’ll be able to overpower whatever comes after us.”

  The bartender set their drinks in front of them. The glasses were simple, orange and pink and yellow liquids layered inside. Delphine looked at one curiously as Custer picked one up and took a long sip.

  “When they were teaching us about information gathering,” she told him, “they said one of the easiest ways to get information was to get the person drunk. They made sure we knew not to get men colorful drinks, though. They said it would make them angry.”

  Custer snorted. “I turn into a bear, I’m an apparently notorious smuggler, and I’ve killed more people than some of these backwater shits have seen in their lives. If they want to start shit with me because of what color my drink is, it’s on their head. Try it, it’s good.”

  She did, and was pleasantly surprised to note that she agreed. It was tangy and a bit sweet, the sharp taste of the alcohol almost nonexistent, though she suspected there was more in the drink than the taste implied.

  “What is this called?” she asked.

  “Daltorian sunrise. As opposed to a Q’rren Sunrise, which is straight whiskey on account of the fact that there’s a huge dust cloud surrounding the planet that’s too thick for its sun’s light to get through, or a Fenian Sunrise, which is drinking until you’re intoxicated enough to forget you’re on Fenos.”

  Delphine hummed, taking another sip. “We were told to not order anything with a high alcohol content because while we don’t get intoxicated easily, it’s an unnecessary risk. This is, of course, only if you absolutely have to drink on an assignment.”

  “When all of this blows over,” Custer told her very matter-of-factly, “I am taking you on the bar crawl to end all bar crawls.”

  And just like that, her good mood evaporated. The bracelet suddenly felt heavy and her mouth tasted bitter as her blood ran cold. Custer noticed immediately.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop thinking,” he told her, suddenly serious. He leaned towards her. “I already told you, I won’t let anything happen to you. And whether it looks like it or not, the others are on board. The captain’s the patron saint of hopeless cases. No one’s going to make you go back to Mason Co., and turning you out on your own would be just as bad. We’ll get through this.”

  “Custer,” she said quietly, looking straight at the bar, “I’m evidence. I could, at any time, go to any law enforcement agency with the right jurisdiction and tell them that Mason is making illegal splices for violent use. All I would need to do is let them run a few tests on me. They can’t risk that. It’s why Coleson didn’t want me on this. He knew my upbringing would be an issue eventually.”

  “Yeah, well, Coleson’s going to die ugly,” Custer said, “and we’ve made evidence disappear before. This is just going to be a new version of an old trick.” He took her hand slowly, curling his fingers around hers. “Trust me.”

  She wanted to, more than anything else, but now the fears were swirling in her head. Her mind wouldn’t calm down and her frustration at her lack of control only made everything worse.

  “Hey, look at me a sec,” Custer said softly. Delphine hesitated, then obeyed. He opened his mouth to continue, but before he could the door to the bar burst opened.

  Delphine whipped around, her hopes that it was just an aggressive local or a clumsy drunk evaporated as she took in the blasters at their hips. There were four of them, their eyes scanning the patrons before quickly locking onto Custer and Delphine. They definitely weren’t Mason’s, which was a relief, but that hardly meant they weren’t dangerous.

  “Heard you been asking questions,” one said. Delphine turned and noticed the bartender was mysteriously absent. Around them, people not-so-subtlety tried to get out of the
door.

  “Might have been,” Custer said calmly, reaching for his blaster. “I don’t suppose you’re here to answer them.”

  “Boy, you need to learn to mind your own business,” the man growled.

  Custer’s face split into a wide, sharp grin. “Or else what?”

  The other men, almost definitely mercs, took that as their cue to start shooting. Anyone who hadn’t gotten out yet rushed for the exit, several of them screaming and stumbling on their way out. Custer and Delphine both ducked out of the way and the bolt smashed through Custer’s glass, splashing glass and the remaining drink onto the counter. They dove apart, Custer drawing his blaster and firing at the man who’d shot. Three of the mercs went for Custer, the remaining man heading for Delphine. It made sense. As far as they knew, Delphine was just some unknown woman hanging off of their actual target. She almost felt bad for the poor bastard.

  He sauntered towards her with a smirk. “Now, I won’t hurt you if I don’t have to, but—”

  Delphine lashed out at him as soon as he was in range. She felt her nails harden and grow longer as she rushed forward, grabbing her would-be attacker around the middle and driving him into the wall several feet behind him. He grunted on impact and Delphine pulled back and struck him in the jaw, not letting him get his breath back. He crumpled but was still conscious, going to his knees and waving his hands woozily as he tried to stand. Delphine let him flail for a moment, then kicked him in the head.

  Behind her, there was a strange ripping sound followed by a shout. She spun around to come to Custer’s aid and stopped short.

  He’d apparently decided that taking on three mercenaries in his human form was too much work because there, in the middle of a dingy bar on Saltos, was a huge, honey-colored bear swiping angrily at three very unhappy men. He caught one in the jaw with his massive paw and he dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, blood splashing across the floor. The other two got smart and quickly got out of his range, one in front of him and one directly behind him. Custer turned to keep them both in his line of sight, but they had the advantage on maneuverability. He thrashed, roaring and swinging his paws in wide arcs, and then charged forward when he failed to connect. The merc in front of him ended up pinned with his blaster sideways in Custer’s muzzle, keeping him from biting down. The second man took the opportunity to aim at the back of Custer’s skull.

  Delphine realized abruptly that this was her chance. She knew, one way or the other, Mason Corporation would see her dead. It was inevitable. But this was an opportunity to get away from the Breakwater crew, or better yet, catch them unawares while they didn’t think of her as a threat. She could tell them that Custer was delayed somehow and, before they realized what was happening, finish her job. She would still die, but she could do so erasing the stain on her impeccable record. She could prove that one good thing—one functional, successful thing—came out of her cluster.

  The thought didn’t have time to fully form before she moved forward. She didn’t want to be functional, she thought as she barreled into the mercenary, her bracelet seeming to radiate warmth that spread up her arm and gathered in her chest. She wanted to be happy and, if that was out of her reach, then she at least wanted to prove that for the last small bit of her life, she had been someone who helped her friends.

  The struggle was short. He hadn’t noticed her until it was too late, and she had her claws dug into his shoulder and ribs before he could move. He grunted in pain and tried to buck her off, but she was stronger. She slammed her forehead into his and he recoiled, dazed. Taking advantage of his surprise, she slammed an elbow into his jaw. Unlike his comrade, he didn’t take the hit well and his eyes fluttered shut immediately. Standing, Delphine turned to see that Custer had managed to get the better of his attacker.

  He made several low noises that Delphine, as a person who did not regularly associate with bears, had no way of interpreting. She raised an eyebrow and waited. Custer got the hint and shifted back. It was a jarring thing to see, but surprisingly not as jarring as having a naked Custer standing in front of her. The bar, suddenly, was very hot.

  “I said,” he told her, “we need to get back to the ship. We got our information, anyways, and I think the bar is out of service at the moment. Oh, wait a sec.”

  He dashed behind the bar and grabbed a blue glass bottle, then headed towards the door.

  “Okay, now let’s go,” he called over his shoulder.

  “What are you forgetting?” she asked just before he stepped outside. Custer paused, then looked down.

  “Huh,” he said. “Yeah, it would be really weird to get arrested for public indecency after the afternoon we’ve had. Also, Leo would kill me.”

  “I think our options are you running to the ship naked, me trying to explain why I have a bear with a mechanical paw, or we steal one of the mercenary’s pants,” Delphine said calmly as she failed to pull her eyes away from the angles and planes of Custer’s body. She managed to pull her gaze up to an acceptable height right before he turned around.

  “Stealing pants it is,” he said, walking towards where one of Delphine’s victims lay. She turned to give him a modicum of privacy as he divested the merc of his clothing.

  The realization of what she had done swept over her but, to her surprise, she didn’t feel panic or fear. Instead, a warm, light feeling spread through her and a smile stole over her face. She had made her decision. This man was important to her, and she would keep him safe for as long as she could. Dying, it seemed, was a much less intimidating concept when she had something worth dying for.

  “Alright, off we go,” Custer said, picking the bottle up and recovering his multitool from where he’d tossed it before shifting.

  They walked back out into the cool air, people passing by on their way to anywhere. Either no one knew or no one cared about what had happened in the bar. The stroll back to the ship was quiet, Delphine still putting the pieces of her new life in order and Custer uncharacteristically silent. They stood closer together than normal, the heat of Custer’s body prickling along Delphine’s arm. She was a little surprised to notice that she was smiling.

  “Have fun?” Annie smirked as they walked into the cargo bay.

  “Actually, we got attacked by mercenaries,” Custer said happily. “But we got the information. Are the others back?”

  “Hyde is, Zosha and Rick aren’t,” Annie said. “Who sent the mercenaries?”

  “They weren’t Mason,” Delphine responded.

  “The bartender who told me how to contact the Rabblerouser tipped them off that someone was snooping around,” Custer added. “They must have still had friends in the area from when they worked out of here. He didn’t seem like a ‘play both sides’ kind of man, so I’m honestly a little surprised.”

  Annie snorted. “Go get cleaned up. Delphine, you can use the shower in Leo and my cabin.”

  “Yeah, don’t do that, we all know how much sex they have in there. Zosha and Rick seem the types to keep it to the bed and, on special occasions, the wall, so if you want to try theirs they probably won’t mind.”

  Delphine nodded to Annie and followed Custer towards the crew’s rooms.

  “Alright, this is Rick and Zosha’s room,” Custer said, pressing buttons on the pad next to the door. “Now, Rick thinks me, Hyde, and Dom don’t know the code, so I’d appreciate it if you let him think you broke in through nefarious means if he asks.”

  “Will do,” Delphine said. She stepped inside, awkwardly avoiding the evidence of other people’s lives as she made her way to the bathroom. It was small and clean, with an unused towel hanging by the shower. Delphine sighed as she stripped off her sweaty clothing and stepped into the stall, activating the sonics. She grabbed one of the bottles of body wash and squeezed some into her palm, rubbing her hands together. The tingling feeling of the sonics and the sensation of the fruity-smelling soap she lathered over her body erasing the strain of the day was amazing. She massaged her shoulder, soothing the
aches, and rolled her neck. If she had ever felt this peaceful before she couldn’t remember it. Hurtling towards her death was the most comfortable she’d ever been.