by G. J. Koch
“He likes you.”
“Yeah. The story of my life. The one person who actually considers himself my friend? We have nothing in common and he affects me so minimally that I can still read his mind. Not that it’s ever interesting.”
“So, can you still read the rest of my crew?”
“Somewhat. Audrey’s a robot, so not really. Robots have minds, but they’re a lot more regimented than human minds. Again, it’s a specialized telepathic talent that I haven’t worked at. Randolph, yeah, I can still read him. Slinkie….” He concentrated and laughed. “Yeah, I can still read her. Boy, is she mad at you for letting me stick around. And the Governor? Not at all.”
“You like or hate the Governor already?” That was fast, even if the Governor had his peevish persona going strong.
“No. But he’s clearly come across telepaths before. He runs white noise.”
“Pardon me?” The kid was starting to sound like Randolph, using terms I’d either never heard of or that meant something totally different than I thought they should. I hated that.
“White noise. It’s something a person can do to make themselves unreadable. I guess I should teach it to you, if I’m going to be flying with you.” He said it casually, but I could pick up the longing just under the surface.
Great. The kid wanted to stick around, didn’t he? He didn’t just want a ride to Runilio—he wanted a permanent berth. No way. No way in the deepest volcanic pit of Thurge. Absolutely no.
“So, how do I learn this white noise thing? And how the hell could you tell if it was working anyway?”
“Audrey could probably monitor it.”
“Audrey can read my mind?” The horror of this day was never-ending. I tried to concentrate on kissing Slinkie.
“Not so much. She can monitor your brainwaves, and I could tell you if they were flowing right to throw off a telepath.”
In my mind, Slinkie was telling me how to throw off a telepath. That wasn’t romantic or sexy, it was downright odd. Figured I’d better stop the happy thoughts and focus on Tanner and his telepathic blathering.
“Fine. So, what do I do?”
“Easiest way to start is to come up with a song or a phrase, something that you can repeat in your mind over and over again. You get it so ingrained that your mind runs it as background, or white, noise.”
“How long does this take?”
“Usually? A few months at least.”
“So, you could potentially teach the whole crew how to do this?”
“Sure. You’d have to have me around for that time, though. Audrey couldn’t do it alone, because she’s not a telepath.” Still trying to sound casual. Still not succeeding.
“You mean, you won’t tell her what to look for so that you’re not easily expendable.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean.” The kid’s expression had been almost excited and hopeful. Now it went back to that bitter, hurt look. He turned his back on me, which meant his face was in donkey fur. I had to wonder about him a little bit. “I’m going to sleep.”
I was not going to let this get to me. He wasn’t my problem. He was potentially a huge issue, and also potentially useless, since he couldn’t read anyone’s mind that mattered, or would lose his connection when we needed it most.
I lay back on the hay and tried to ignore that Ol’ Temper was a haystack hog. I thought about Saladine. Randolph had been right—I had been a lot happier when he was flying with us. We got into a lot of trouble together, but somehow, we’d always get each other out of it, too. Sometimes I’d save his hide, sometimes he’d save mine.
Until the time I screwed up and cost him his life.
The kid was better off without us. He had a career and some job he had to do for Aviatus. Besides, it’s not like we needed anyone else. We had Audrey as copilot now. Weapons and Security were fine as joined jobs. At least, Slinkie never complained. Much. And no one in their right mind would want to sign on as cabin boy to take care of the Governor’s demands.
“By the way,” Tanner said, back still to me, voice still stiff. “Randolph’s worried that you’re brooding about Saladine. No idea of what went on, since he’s not thinking of that, but for whatever it’s worth, Randolph doesn’t think Saladine’s death was your fault. He thinks it was his.”
Interesting. Not surprising, but still, interesting. A thought occurred. “Check Slinkie, same thing.”
He spoke a few moments later. “Wow, yeah. She’s worrying about you blaming yourself for this guy’s death, too. She blames herself, by the way. Who was he and what happened?”
“He was some guy we ran across and let join up with us. No one wanted to like him. We all did. He was the first person who called me Nap because he realized I like my middle name more than my first name. He nicknamed Slinkie when she wouldn’t give us her real name. He was actually interested in Randolph’s mechanical babbling. He honestly respected the Governor. Saladine was one of those people who made you a better person because he was around you.”
“He sounds great.”
“He was. And we screwed up, collectively, I guess, and he died because of it. But I’m the captain, so, when it comes down to it, no matter who else contributed, it’s my fault he’s dead.”
“Would he see it that way?”
“No idea. Probably not.” Knowing Saladine, not at all. He might have blamed himself, but not anyone else. I tried not to miss him—didn’t do a great job of it. It was easier if I didn’t think about him, but apparently I wasn’t the only one missing him right now.
“Why are you all thinking about him? I mean, you must have been, because when I mentioned him, you didn’t act like it was out of the blue.”
I sighed. “We’re thinking of him because of you.”
“Why? Do I look like him or something?”
A chuckle escaped. “No. Not really at all.”
“Then why?”
I sighed again. “Because, despite all my better instincts, common sense, self-preservation, and any other form of sane thinking, they all know that when we leave this planet, you’re coming with us, and, should we survive to reach Runilio, let alone anywhere else, you’re not getting off-ship.”
CHAPTER 39
Tanner was quiet for a few long seconds. “You’re going to let me stay on as part of your crew?”
“As moronic as that sounds when you say it aloud, yeah. And the others know it, too. The Governor’s probably thinking the same thing, you just can’t read him. Hell, Audrey’s probably thinking it, too.” I was, apparently, the easiest book in the galactic library to read. Saladine had always thought so, at least. It had been something he’d loved to joke about. I hated thinking about him, I really did. Because I still missed him, and I knew the others did, as well.
“Thank you.” Tanner was still facing the donkey, but he sounded a little better.
“Yeah, well, see how you feel about it when we’re running for our lives or captured. You may not be as happy about the decision.” I managed not to add that he might not like it when he was dead because of my error—didn’t feel like wallowing in the guilt and, besides, at least until we finished off or escaped from the pirate armada, the kid knew what he was getting into.
We lay there, just us and the animals, and I tried not to worry. Worrying wasn’t worth much, according to Great-Aunt Clara. Actions counted, but worry was interest paid on something you’d never collect. Of course, Great-Aunt Clara was usually full of it, so who knew if this was good advice or just senile prattling?
Somehow I managed to fall asleep. I knew this because you have to be asleep to be awakened by something. In this case, by a donkey snout shoved into my face. “Gak!”
“I hate the country.” Tanner sounded as repulsed as I was.
“You get the donkey wake up call too?”
“Yeah. I think we’re on their breakfast.”
I looked around. Yep, there were a lot of donkeys eyeing us in a way that said either they wanted the hay or had turned
carnivorous during the night. We scrambled to our feet and the donkeys dived in.
Randolph and his pack were still happily snoozing. I had Tanner wake him up while I got the Governor. I figured, if anyone was going to get bitten, better anyone other than me.
The dogs barking helped me rouse the Governor, and then the four of us followed the dogs to the house. Jabbob was already up, feeding chickens and other fowls. I didn’t look too closely. We were invited in for breakfast and found Slinkie and Audrey already up. Slinkie looked like she hadn’t slept well and Audrey looked shiny and reflective. There were some advantages to her no-skin look.
“He asked me to make breakfast,” Slinkie hissed at me as we came in.
This was bad news. Slinkie couldn’t cook. And she didn’t like to have it suggested that she should know how to cook, either.
“I’ll do it,” Tanner said. “He won’t mind. I’ll tell him I wanted to.” She looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you willing to do that?” “I’m hungry.” He grinned at her. “No other reason. Other than that I know you aren’t lying about the cooking thing.” He busied himself with getting food made and seemed to ignore the icy glare Slinkie shot at him.
I chose to take advantage of the lull and get washed up. Slinkie was worried about Tanner, I could see that in her eyes. So, whatever he had on her was big. But not life-threatening, because he was still alive and she hadn’t asked me to kill him. She hadn’t even fought about him coming along all that much.
Breakfast was ample and filling and, I had to admit, delicious. “You’re a good cook,” I said, mouth full of wheat cake.
“Yeah, I like it, too. I’d wanted to be a chef when I was little.” Tanner slid an omelet onto my plate. It was perfect to behold. I checked everyone else’s plates—all food perfectly made and arranged.
Audrey even had a plate and was eating. She gave me a gleaming smile. “Randolph ensured I could do all things humans can.” Randolph turned bright red and busied himself with his perfectly browned fried potatoes. Slinkie and the Governor both coughed.
I didn’t want to take the conversation where I knew it was headed, particularly since Jabbob looked confused. “So, Jabbob, is there anything we can help you with before we leave? By way of thanking you for your hospitality?”
He beamed at me. “Thank you for offering. I knew Tan only associated with nice people.” I steeled myself for the rest of his reply. I hadn’t discussed this with the crew, or even Tanner. Great-Aunt Clara had drilled certain things into me, and thanking your host and offering to help out was one of those things. It usually paid off.
Jabbob turned back to his breakfast, munching happily.
Everyone else looked at me. I looked back. “Ah, Jabbob? I missed what we could help with. Sorry.”
He looked up from his food, surprise printed on his face. “Nothing. It’s just polite of you to offer. But my farm’s set up for just me, and I don’t really like others trying to help—takes more time to teach you how to do things right than to do it myself.” Back to his breakfast.
The rest of us went back to ours, too. I had to chalk another one up to Great-Aunt Clara. This now put her at twenty-one helpful things against about three thousand unhelpful ones. At this rate, if I lived to be a million years old, she might even out on my balance sheet.
We finished up, helped Jabbob clean up, then left. None of us wanted to push our luck. Tanner, in particular, seemed ready for us to leave, and since he’d originally suggested we hide out at the farm until evening, I decided not to question. I’d had my fill of simple country living. Jabbob loaded us up with snacks for the road and waved to us as we lumbered off in our tankfloater, dogs and donkeys milling about.
“He’s honestly a nice, simple person, isn’t he? I didn’t think there were any of those in existence.”
Tanner let out his breath. “Yeah. Thank you for asking what you could do to help, though.”
“Just common courtesy.”
“Yeah. But I’d forgotten to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
Tanner coughed. “Um, if you hadn’t offered?”
“Yeah?” I got a bad feeling about what he was going to say.
“Well, let’s just say that his dogs would have removed any evidence of our being there and let it go at that.”
I pondered this. “The only nice, decent guy we can trust on this whole damned planet is a simpleminded nut job, that about right?”
“Yeah. Welcome to what my life’s been like.”
“Kid, maybe you’re right. You might like it better on the Sixty-Nine , pirate armada or no pirate armada.”
“It couldn’t be worse, believe me.” He shifted in his seat. “So, um, what job are you going to give me? Janitorial?”
Apparently the rest of the crew were sitting close enough to hear us, because we all answered as one. “Chief Galley Chef.”
Tanner looked shocked, pleased and like he didn’t believe us. “Really?”
“Really. Everyone gets to be a chief on the Sixty-Nine, isn’t that nice and democratic?”
He snorted. “Yeah. A lot of chiefs. One captain.”
“Well, yeah. Democracy only goes so far, after all.” No farther than my seat, but then, I wasn’t considered the best pilot in the galaxy because I asked for input.
“No complaints. That’s how it is in a kitchen, too.”
Amazing. I’d managed to find the only telepathic spy in the galaxy who really wanted to manifest his destiny with a saucepan. I could find a stray misfit any time, anywhere. It was a skill, really. I tried to congratulate myself on it while we bumped back towards Spaceport City. Didn’t succeed all that well.
CHAPTER 40
“So, Alexander, what is our plan? You do have a plan, don’t you?” The Governor was in full-on quaver mode.
“Somewhat. Look, how is it you’re all clustered around the back of my head? The back of this tank isn’t set up for this level of chumminess.”
“Audrey moved the firearms and explosives so I could sit more comfortably.” The Governor got a lot of smug into that sentence. I considered avoiding the huge pothole in the road. Decided against it. The muttering and grumbling from the rear made me happy with my choice.
“How nice. Did Audrey move them to ensure we wouldn’t all blow up? Since, you know, they were set up to prevent our dying in a dramatic and yet stupid fashion.”
“The explosives are really touchy,” Tanner added. He didn’t sound like he was kidding. “Try to avoid the potholes. I mean it.”
“I have taken all due precautions, Captain. You can drive through the potholes securely. The others grew tired of my repeating your conversation.”
I let that one sit for a few moments. “Ah, Audrey? Am I right in thinking that you repeated everything Tanner and I talked about yesterday on our way out to Jabbob’s?”
“Yes, Captain. Security Chief Slinkie was worried that you might be bambooz—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Slinkie hissed.
“Don’t speak to Audrey that way!” Randolph hissed right back.
“Tell her to shut up!”
“You don’t speak to her like that!”
“Children, this scene is making me tired.”
“Randolph, you’re tiring the Governor. You and Weapons Chief Slinkie should relax. I understand she didn’t want me to share that she thinks New Chief Galley Chef Tanner is a jerk.”
“Shut up, Audrey! Really! I mean it!”
“He’d probably rather just be called Tanner, Audrey, honey.”
“Miss Slinkie, I must remind you that he’s been useful. And, adding someone who can cook will be a relief in more ways than one.”
“Are you saying that you don’t like my cooking?”
“No, the Governor’s saying that you can’t cook. There’s nothing to like, your cooking is that bad. Now, apologize to Audrey.”
“Over my cold talons! Let’s see you cook something edible.”
“I think that�
�s why Nap hired Tanner on. He’s more pleasant than you, even if he is a telepath. At least he doesn’t insult Audrey.”
“Great Feathered Lord, I didn’t insult Audrey! Look at her! She’s not insulted.”
“I cannot actually show displeasure. Randolph didn’t program that in. Yet.”
“Oh. Ah. Gee. I didn’t think of that. I can do that, right away.”
“Add in the ability to change my vocal expressions. I know my constant cheerfulness bothers the Captain, and, honestly, it’s starting to bother me, too.”
“On that, I think we all agree.” Slinkie was at a new level in sarcastic tonality. I was almost impressed, only I figured I’d have that tone sent towards me in the near future.
“Yes, I must admit that while Miss Audrey’s voice is lovely, a change in its demeanor, from time to time, would be pleasant.”
“That’s the Governor’s way of saying fix her voice or we all smother you in your sleep, Randolph.”
“Got it. You’re just jealous because Audrey’s perfect.”
“I’m perfect, too!”
Tanner and I exchanged a glance. “Not too late to change your mind.”
He shook his head. “It’s still better than Herion Military. Trust me.”
“Wow.” I leaned my head back a bit. “Slink? You’re perfect to me. Everyone else? Could we stop sounding like us for a few minutes so that we can impress the new guy with what a swell time we all have together and how, despite our differences, we function as a well-oiled machine?”
“Oh, Nap, shut up!” Slinkie and Randolph got that one out in unison.
“See? Well-oiled machine.”
“Alexander, the plan? What is it?”
I sighed. “We’re going to cruise around Spaceport City, see what’s going on, try not to get captured or arrested, then Slinkie and I are going to keep our appointments at the Crazy Bear, backed by the entire team. Then we’re going to take our money and fly off to be captured by Lucky Pierre and his French Ticklers. I, personally, can’t wait.”
“Excuse me?” Tanner sounded incredulous. “Who are we going to be captured by?” We brought him up to speed on the pirate armada. When we were done, he sat there, doing a good impression of someone trying to decide whether to look stunned or horrified. “Lucky Pierre? And the French Tickler Armada? And we’re all supposed to be afraid of them?”