by Natalie Grey
He resolved to speak to her about that—right after he stole this ship. After all, she’d probably be more compliant if faced with the choice between continuing to fly the Gruwa and getting to pilot the Shinigami instead. He’d seen her salivating over those engines.
“On the double,” he snapped to his crew. “We may have company soon. Get the doors open now.”
Wohva gave him an annoyed look but didn’t say anything. She was a very good electrical engineer, and Klafk’tin knew she was worth far more than he paid her. The thing was, without any experience, she couldn’t prove that to the captains of any bigger ships. He should probably raise her salary if they got this ship.
When they got this ship.
It was as good as theirs now. One solitary crew member was hardly going to stand between them and taking it. A bullet, a bribe to the security guard…
Yes, it would be easy enough to accomplish.
“Captain, the doors should be open in a moment.” Wohva put her tools down and turned them off carefully.
Klafk’tin gave an impatient sigh. Now was not the time for safety protocols.
Wohva ignored him. She typed a command into the tiny box she had linked up with the doors and smiled in satisfaction when they slid open. She nodded to Klafk’tin.
“The ship is yours.”
Gar sat up suddenly. I have an idea, he typed. It’s risky, but right now it’s all I can think of if you are certain we shouldn’t expose your presence.
He explained, and Shinigami barely hesitated.
I like it. Get ready.
“Captain.” Wohva and the rest stood back.
Klafk’tin took a moment to admire the hull. A perfect ship, just begging for someone to steal it. With it docked at a station and totally unattended, its weapons were useless. Now he just needed to do one last thing.
“Harrdrack.” He nodded to the surly Shrillexian. “Make sure they don’t have any booby-traps in place.”
He didn’t like Harrdrack much. Like every Shrillexian Klafk’tin had ever met Harrdrack enjoyed fighting, so he had signed on at a reasonable price, but he wasn’t careful and he was prone to disobeying orders.
Now he barely even grunted when he headed up the gangway. He passed Wohva and Klafk’tin and stepped into the interior of the ship.
Or he would have if the doors hadn’t slammed shut with a crunch of bones and a spurt of blood.
Wohva screamed and clapped a hand over her mouth and Klafk’tin looked away in distaste. He had warned Harrdrack that there might be booby-traps, and the male still hadn’t been careful. Had there been a tripwire hidden beneath the doors, perhaps? Or maybe—
“Captain!” It was Tik’ta’s voice.
But she was too late. “Hello,” a smooth voice said from some distance away. Klafk’tin turned, and his jaw dropped open.
A Luvendi? Really?
Gar was praying to every deity he’d ever heard of, including the strange amorphous one Barnabas had mentioned a few times. Underneath the robes, his body was drenched in sweat and both of his hearts were beating erratically and so fast he thought they might burst.
“I see you’re trying to steal my ship.” He tried to speak the way Barnabas did; as if he weren’t afraid of anything. “As you can see, you’ve made a mistake. Nevertheless, given that you’ve paid for it—” he looked at the doors and forced himself not to look too nauseated as he gestured to his communications unit, pretending he had orchestrated the doors snapping shut, “I will give you one chance to walk away.”
For a moment, he had them. They wavered and looked at one another nervously. Gar sighed and pretended to wait patiently. Please let them walk away, please let them walk away…
Then their leader pulled a gun. “I have twenty more crew members.” He grinned nastily. “You probably don’t have that many booby-traps. I’ll get your ship with or without you.”
The crew gave him an incredulous look and Gar’s stomach seemed to drop out of his torso. If they couldn’t get in, they couldn’t get him to the medical Pods. If he got shot now he was going to die.
Barnabas stepped out of the shadows at the other end of the hangar, “You know, that really isn’t the best way to boost your crew’s morale.”
5
Barnabas’ eyes swept the scene. Gar stood strong. Barnabas had to hand it to him; the Luvendi was bluffing very well. He seemed for all the world to be unafraid of the gun pointed at him. If Barnabas hadn’t known better he might have believed that Gar had booby-trapped the Shinigami himself.
But Barnabas did know better, because he knew Shinigami. Smashing someone between the doors when they had let their guard down had her rather distinctive flair.
He was also pleased to note that his choice to come directly back to the shuttle bay rather than speak to Mustafee Boreir had been the correct one. With a name and a window into their data streams, Shinigami could get good information with or without Barnabas talking to the Yofu.
That was, if she didn’t get stolen—as these people were clearly trying to do.
“Who are you?” an alien asked. He was a species Barnabas didn’t recognize, very broad-shouldered but not tall. There was a faint greenish cast to his skin if one looked closely.
“I am Barnabas.”
“That name means nothing to me.” The alien sneered.
“It doesn’t have to,” Barnabas told him. “It’s not the important part of what’s about to happen.”
“Which is?” The alien looked at his crew with a contemptuous smile.
None of them smiled back. They’d all heard him say they were expendable and they clearly weren’t very happy with him right now.
“You should start with an apology to your crew,” Barnabas stated gravely. He linked his hands behind his back and strolled closer.
“For what?”
Barnabas said a silent prayer for patience. This alien really was remarkably dim-witted.
“For saying that you would use them to check for booby-traps,” he explained patiently. “Surely that is not in their job description. It is also a horrendous way to treat one’s crew.”
“It’s their job if I say it’s their job.” The alien scoffed. “I am Klafk’tin, captain of the Gruwa, and my crew does what I tell them to do!”
“I see.” Barnabas glanced at the sullen faces of the crew. None of them looked happy about his words, but none of them were mutinying either. That was disappointing. “We’re still going to start with an apology.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.” Barnabas allowed a hint of command to enter his voice.
“Listen,” Klafk’tin told him, “you humans might think you’re real special, with your Empress and your technology, but you aren’t any better than anyone else.”
“She’s not the Empress anymore, but I quite agree,” Barnabas responded equably. “The measure of a person is in their actions, not in their species. Why, some of the most distinguished members of the former Etheric Empire were Yollin.”
Klafk’tin glared at him. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. What did you think we were talking about?”
“About you backing off and giving me the ship that I rightfully took off your hands!”
“’Rightfully?’” Barnabas frowned. “That doesn’t sound correct. And you still haven’t apologized.”
“I’m not going to! I’m not some Yollin you can just order around!”
“You mean that you’re not someone like your crew, who you feel perfectly justified in ordering around.” Barnabas shook his head. “You have no idea of the concept of power, do you? To you, it simply means that others must do as you say and you do not need to give them anything in return. Would that be correct?”
“Yes.” Klafk’tin glared, then saw the expressions on his crew’s faces. “I give ‘em wages,” he told Barnabas. “There’s lodging.”
“Wages and a place to sleep inside the ship sounds like the bare minimum expected o
f an employer,” Barnabas observed. “You’ve miscalculated, Klafk’tin.”
“Oh? And how’s that?”
“I am not a member of your crew.” Barnabas allowed his voice to deepen as he strode forward. “I do not take orders from you.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged out of it, throwing it neatly over a nearby crate. There was no reason to treat such a fine suit disrespectfully, after all. With his Jean Dukes Specials holstered but now visible, he continued toward Klafk’tin with a dangerous smile. “And you just tried to steal my ship.”
Klafk’tin swiveled to point his gun at Barnabas. “As soon as you’re dead, I did steal your ship.”
Barnabas moved in a blur and there was a crack, a scream, and a clatter as Klafk’tin’s gun fell uselessly to the ground. Barnabas kicked it away as the alien stumbled back clutching his lower arm, which seemed to be useless below the elbow.
Barnabas smiled coldly. “Whatever you are, apparently your elbows lock. Convenient.” He adjusted his cuffs. “This is your last chance, Klafk’tin. Apologize to your crew and step aside so that another and more deserving member of the crew may take your place as captain.”
“Someone shoot him!” Klafk’tin stumbled backward. His face was a shade that, whatever his species, was clearly not healthy. “One of you!”
“They’re not helping you,” Barnabas observed. “Why do you think that is?”
Klafk’tin bared his teeth at Barnabas in a snarl.
HA! Shinigami didn’t try to hide her amusement. You should really snarl back, your teeth are much more impressive.
I prefer to reserve that for special moments. By the way, we’re going to have a talk about what you think is important enough to tell me about.
Noted.
Barnabas stared at Klafk’tin. “No answer? Very well, then. Klafk’tin, you are relieved of your command of the Gruwa. You who were once part of his crew may do as you like. Pick a new captain if you want, but stop taking things that are not yours. Is that clear?”
They nodded, wide-eyed and silent. None of them seemed to know what to say.
“Fine!” Klafk’tin snarled. He stumbled a few steps and grabbed his gun with his working hand. “If none of you will shoot this bastard, I will!”
“I wouldn’t,” Barnabas warned.
Klafk’tin gritted his teeth in concentration and swung his good arm with the pistol shaking at the end of it.
They never saw Barnabas’ hands move, but there was the distinctive crack-boom of a Jean Dukes Special and Klafk’tin’s body was thrown across the shuttle bay into a pile of crates.
Barnabas looked at the body. He looked at the gun. He looked back at the body.
What ammo was I using?
Oh, did I forget to mention? There’s a note from Jean for you in the armory.
You were just waiting to see how long it took me to notice, weren’t you?
I thought it would be a fun surprise. It’s impressive, isn’t it?
Barnabas holstered the weapon and looked around himself. “Are there any questions?”
They shook their heads.
“Who do you think should be put in charge?” he asked.
Everyone looked back to the Gruwa, where an alien was standing on the gangway. From her coloring and build Barnabas guessed she was the same species as Klafk’tin.
To her credit, she had the courage to walk across the bay to the Shinigami. She looked down at Klafk’tin’s body, but apart from a faint tightening of her lips she did not react to his death.
“The crew seems to think you will be in charge after this,” Barnabas told her.
“I probably will.” She swallowed. “I am Tik’ta. Is there any further business you have with us?”
“I assume you heard my instruction to stop stealing ships.”
She nodded. “I did.”
“Would you care to explain why you were here, working with such a captain?”
“Employment is employment, and there’s not enough of it to go around.” She did not sugarcoat her words. “We draw the line at murder—you saw that no one shot at you even when Klafk’tin ordered it—but stealing?” She shrugged. “Still, if you say not to do it again, we won’t. I don’t want to get on your bad side.”
“I’ll take it,” Barnabas remarked drily. “Now go. And spread the word, if ever it comes up, that the Shinigami is well-defended.”
Tik’ta’s lips quirked and for a moment he thought she might argue, but instead she nodded and jerked her head at the crew, who followed her back across the docking bay to the Gruwa. They stopped to pick up Klafk’tin’s body. Barnabas noticed that no one seemed to do any particular grieving over it.
He shook his head and headed up the stairs to the doors.
I don’t suppose you have some way to clean these.
Not really, no.
I’ll call a deck crew, then…and tip them very heavily.
Gar had come to stand next to Barnabas and he stared at the remains of the Shrillexian. “Klafk’tin clearly knew the ship might be booby-trapped,” he commented finally. “He sent the Shrillexian in first on purpose.”
“Yes.” Barnabas headed back down the gangway to get his jacket. “The universe hasn’t lost very much now that he’s dead, I think. Good thinking on your feet back there. If their captain hadn’t been so devoted to taking anything he could and killing anyone who stood in his way you might have won that one.”
Gar’s look was more than a little bit frustrated. “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it?”
“I beg your pardon?” Barnabas’ eyebrows went up in surprise.
“You said you thought I might have won that one. Did it occur to you that if I had lost I would be dead? I’m not as resilient as you are. You can take bullets and keep walking, and you heal almost instantly. You and Shinigami talk about coming up with plans as if no matter what happens we’ll all survive, but I might not. Shinigami, open the doors, please.” Gar lifted his robes up and stepped over the mess on the coaming without looking at it and disappeared without waiting for a reply.
He has a point, you know.
Barnabas made a face. Do you think he should be upgraded? Now, when we still do not entirely understand his motivations?
If you ask me, I don’t think even he understands his motivations. And no. But he’s correct that we shouldn’t be making plans as if he were another Ranger.
Barnabas sighed. Have you called the deck crew?
Yes. Don’t change the subject.
What do you think we should do, then? Barnabas put his suit jacket back on and leaned against one of the crates.
I told you. Start planning as if we only have the two of us for combat.
The one of us for combat.
How many times do I have to mention the flamethrower?
Barnabas pushed himself up and paced around the deck, considering.
Shinigami was correct, and so was Gar. Gar could have died on this mission. In fact, he nearly had died twice. Despite that he had yet to back down, and he hadn’t tried to weasel his way out of anything. In fact…
A thought occurred to Barnabas and he narrowed his eyes.
Shinigami, did Gar tell you at any point that he refused to help you against those people?
No. He told me it was a risk to him, but he accepted it when I said it was important.
Barnabas nodded. Gar had not gone running to Barnabas, nor had he turned tail and fled. He hadn’t tried to make a deal with anyone unsavory, either.
Despite himself, Barnabas smiled. Gar was already miles different from the man he had been when Barnabas first met him, and so far the changes were good. Barnabas was intrigued to see what would happen in the future.
However, he first had to deal with a deck crew that was going to be deeply upset and then a station manager who wasn’t likely to be any happier. It would be hours before he could get back to the bar. Maybe he should ask Gar to handle this part?
Shinigami, is Mustafee Boreir still at the bar?
No, he left not long after you spoke to the guard. The owner of the bar came out to speak to him and he went straight to his ship. They seem to have known you were a threat, but I have no idea how.
Barnabas’ eyes narrowed. Why would the guard immediately assume Barnabas was someone a munitions dealer should run away from rather than treating him as a prospective client?
This definitely required more information.
With a sigh, he buttoned his suit jacket, put on his most winning smile, and waited for the bureaucrats to arrive.
6
Gar appeared in the doorway of the main lounge area a while later. When he saw the chessboard and the holographic projection of Baba Yaga he started to back out of the room at once.
“I’ll come back.”
“It’s quite all right,” Barnabas assured him. “We haven’t started playing yet.”
“Which means Barnabas hasn’t pissed me off just yet.” The holographic projection smiled. By now, Shinigami had begun moving her lips when she spoke.
Unfortunately, she had also started sometimes making her voice come out of every speaker, not just the one on the chair, which had the effect of making the whole thing incredibly unsettling. Shinigami liked to say it was like being a god, mostly because it made Barnabas wince.
Barnabas gave her a look now. “It means Shinigami hasn’t pissed me off,” he corrected and tilted his head at Gar. “What did you want to discuss?”
“I heard from Fedden.” Gar hovered in the doorway, clearly ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. “He gave me the coordinates for a moon called Zahal. It’s in the Adhira system, the first moon around the second planet out. The only problem is…”
“He doesn’t yet know you will arrive on the ship that took out his colleagues?” Barnabas guessed.
“Yes, that.”
“And you’re wondering how we’re going to dock without him figuring it out?”