Dark Beyond the Stars

by Patrice Fitzgerald

  Tremblay and Langlade shared a confused look. This was something new; normally the dockmaster waved everyone in without question, without delay. The request to enter always seemed merely a formality.

  Tremblay pressed a blue button on the array and whispered to Langlade, even though with the conversation muted, there was no way the dockmaster could hear them. “What in the hellhole is that all about?”

  Langlade shook his head slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. “I don’t know. First I’ve heard of it.”

  “What do you want me to tell him?”

  “Tell him we’re here for maintenance.”

  Tremblay pressed the blue button again and leaned in. “Dockmaster, this is the Kinsblade 3 again. We’re here for regular maintenance. Got some hull damage to attend to and some filtration issues.”

  Langlade nodded his approval at the detail. All of it was true, so if someone wanted to verify, it wouldn’t cause them any problems. Hell, he could have recited a list a mile long of things this ship needed. It was the least maintained of his fleet, a dog of a DS he’d thought of selling off more than once in the past few years.

  The dockmaster said nothing in response to Tremblay’s statement, so Langlade leaned in. “Dockmaster, this is Captain Langlade. Care to explain why we’re being interrogated and held outside?”

  Tremblay slammed the button down to mute the channel. “What’d you say that for? Now they’re gonna shut us out, and I’m gonna miss my date!”

  Langlade glared at him. “Get out of my chair.”

  Tremblay looked confused. “What?”

  “You heard me. Get up. Get out of here.” He gestured with his chin at the door leading off the flightdeck.

  Tremblay had the nerve to laugh. “What? And leave you to pilot the ship into the bay yourself? You sure you wanna do that?”

  Langlade grabbed Tremblay by the front of his rotten, stinking flightsuit and yanked him out of the chair, tossing him to the floor like he weighed nothing. Tremblay skidded across the smooth surface a full meter before coming to a stop on his side.

  He slowly got to his feet, Langlade glaring at him the entire time. “Fine. You want me gone, I’ll go. Just don’t come crying to me when you scrape the side of your ship and need to find someone to fix it for nothin’.”

  Langlade turned his back on Tremblay, staring out the clearpanel that faced the bay currently closed to him. He had to either ignore the man or shoot him in the face, and the ship was already dirty enough; the last thing he needed to be doing was getting rid of a stinking corpse.

  A voice finally came over the comm unit, blocking out Langlade’s feelings of anger and remorse. As angry as he was, he knew how much he needed Tremblay in that seat. Luckily, no one but Langlade could stand the sight or smell of the guy, so he didn’t worry that Tremblay would leave his employ on this trip. He made a mental note to throw Tremblay a couple extra credits, to help him pay for that poor whore who was going to share her bunk with him tonight.

  “Been some changes around here lately,” the dockmaster said. “What’s your water level like?”

  Langlade’s eyebrows pulled together. He couldn’t think of a single reason why they’d ask that question. Were they offering water at the station now? “We’re low, but not so much I’m worrying.”

  “You’ll need to register your levels. Have your onboard connect in and send the data once you’re fully docked.”

  Langlade opened his mouth to ask why, but then thought better of it. He preferred to get this kind of information from a more reliable source: bar patrons. They knew the real reasons for the OSG’s role in their lives, and he never believed the propaganda spread by dockmasters and a station’s magnoscreens.

  “Will do. Permission to enter?”

  “Granted.” The large bay doors slowly opened.

  Langlade sat down, taking over the controls that would guide his ship inside.

  * * *

  Langlade left the ship in the care of Tremblay and his other crewmembers and made his way over to the saloon owned by the infamous Gervais. The guy had made a name for himself in the beginning as a first-rate smuggler and later as a sharp businessman. Then he’d met Shadira, and his roaming, marauding, trading days were over. He put down roots out here in the badlands and opened up his bar—or his saloon, as he was calling it now. He was one of those guys who liked to pretend the Old Earth ways were still possible out here in the Dark, two hundred or so odd Earthyears after the last human had been annihilated on that planet.

  The door to the saloon was nondescript, like many of the others that lined the halls and corridors of the station. Anyone who wanted to operate on the sly didn’t advertise what they were all about to just anyone passing by. You had to know someone on the inside, or be a privy listener to the black channels, to find out that places like this even existed. And this one had lasted longer than most—at least three years now. Langlade had last been here almost a year ago and had only left when three different men tried to kill him on the same night. He sighed and smiled at the memory; some people were just sore losers. He couldn’t help it if he had a special touch at the givit table. He came, he played, he conquered. It was a gift he never tired of enjoying at the expense of others.

  Pushing open the door, he inhaled and grinned. The smell of old ale mixed with smoke plant and body stink never failed to get to him. To Langlade, it meant adrenaline, chance, winning, and credits to spend on whatever he wanted. And he was feeling especially lucky tonight.

  The first person to approach him was a woman, of course. It was always that way. They were flies to honey, and he was just sweet enough to keep them interested, just dangerous enough to get them taking their clothes off. He wondered which of the beauties here tonight would be sharing his bunk later. When he saw the other men standing around, he had a pretty good feeling that he’d have his choice of ladies. He’d been told enough times of his handsome, sexy features to no longer doubt the compliments. Almost to his fortieth year now, he knew he was like a fine wine—getting better with age. The scars that had claimed sections of his face were just icing on the cake.

  One of his crewmembers came up to him, a young ginger by the name of Gus. Langlade frowned at him, angry to see him here and not locked in the engine room where he should have been.

  “Hey, Captain, how’s it hangin’?”

  “Why are you here and not on the ship where you belong?”

  Gus took a slug of his ale. “Just getting some parts.” He gestured at the bar with his mug. “Got a guy over there with a filter rasp. We’re going to need that if you want to be able to take a shower later.” He winked at his boss, like he had a right to do it.

  Langlade grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him close. “Get your ass back to the ship now.”

  “Hey, hey, all right, I gotcha.” Gus threw the last of his ale back, let out a long belch, and slid the mug onto a nearby table. When he spoke, his voice was warped from the cold drink. “But just so you know, there’s a table over there with a seriously tasty pot.”

  Langlade loosened his hold on the man. “What are you talking about?”

  Gus casually yanked his arm free of his captain’s grip and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, belching again before responding. “Givit table. Over there behind that wall. There’s a chick in there.”

  Langlade’s eyebrow went up. “A chick?”

  “You know.” Gus leaned in and whispered loudly. “A girl.”

  Langlade closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly as he quietly tried to convince himself not to kill this kid. The only thing keeping the boy alive so far was the fact that he was a genius with electronics. The Kinsblade 3 was still afloat only because of him and his twin brother.

  “What girl?” Langlade finally asked, glaring at this crewmember who should have been locked in the engine room. Langlade was going to have a word with Tremblay about who was letting Gus and Tam out, so that that person could be dealt with harshly
.

  “I heard her name is Cass, but don’t quote me on that. I caught a glimpse of her, and daaaaamn, she’s hot.”

  “You said she’s at the table?”

  “Yeah. Word on the dock is she’s the real deal. She’ll make you put your credits where your mouth is. Bullshit walks.”

  “What’s her ante? Gencredits?”

  Gus grinned. “Nope.” He looked like he had a really good secret. Even his face was flushed with it.

  “Foodcredits?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Guess again.”

  Langlade grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. “I don’t like playing guessing games.”

  “Okay! Okay!” Gus’s voice came out like a squeak. “It’s her innocence!”

  Langlade loosened his hold a fraction, not sure he understood. “What?”

  Gus held Langlade’s wrist, his face turning bright red. “Can’t… breathe…”

  Langlade let his arm drop.

  Gus pulled out his shirt and made theatrical adjustments to his collar and hair before finally speaking again. “I said, she’s put her innocence up for her ante. Her woman’s shield. Her virginity.” He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t put it any clearer than that, Captain.”

  Langlade was having a hard time computing what he was hearing. “She’s a virgin? How old is she?”

  Gun leaned in, his eyebrows wiggling. “Old enough to know better, if you know what I mean.”

  Langlade grabbed him by the flightsuit at the shoulder and turned him round, shoving him toward the door. “Go.”

  “But I just got here!”

  Langlade lifted his leg and booted the engineer in the ass. “Get! Before I shoot you in the face.”

  “Fine, I’m going, I’m going.” Gus spared a second to scowl before going out the door. He made it slam behind him, but Langlade wasn’t one bit sorry about cutting his crewmember’s fun short. The idiot had hours of work to get done on the ship’s systems, and he wasn’t getting anything accomplished here drinking ale. Those ginger twins were almost more trouble than they were worth. Langlade decided then and there to try and find replacements while he was here, hoping his reputation would make that an easy task.

  He moved to the bar and ordered an ale. When the bartender served it up, Langlade leaned in, dropping a couple extra credits on the bar as he spoke. “I hear there’s a decent ante going off at the givit tables.”

  The man nodded, making a sad effort at wiping down a bar that would never be clean. “You heard true.”

  “Someone’s shield is on the line, eh?”

  The man nodded.

  “You know who she is?”

  He shook his head.

  “Where she’s from?”

  Another negative response.

  “She OSG?”

  The man shrugged. “Don’t think so. Looks more like a grounded drifter to me.”

  Langlade tapped the bar. “Thanks, friend.” He dragged the ale with him and took a sip as he walked around to the back room.

  * * *

  Langlade stood on the outskirts of the game first, sizing up his opponent. She was small, dressed in a black, skintight flightsuit. A dagger rested on the table next to her; leather straps and a holder told him she normally wore it on her thigh. She showed no fear, even though Langlade knew for a fact that the man across the table from her was a murderer. He liked to torture his victims before he did the deed, too. Rumor was he had a friend in high places, which is how he’d escaped being floated for so long. It was pretty much common knowledge that as long as criminals remained out here in the badlands, they were pretty much left alone. The OSG wasn’t big enough to police every last centimeter of the universe, so they left some sections of it to govern themselves—the small matter of Langlade having to report his water stores to the dockmaster notwithstanding.

  He heard mumbling behind him and shamelessly listened in. “She’s offered it up again! Can you believe it? No way she doesn’t know that’s Crier. He wins and she can say goodbye not just to her shield but her lifeblood too. The guy’s a savage.”

  Langlade nodded just slightly, agreeing with everything said, even though he wasn’t the intended recipient of the message. This girl had to be crazy. What would make her risk so much for so little? He could see the ante offered up by the madman in front of him. It looked like a promissory note for… engine parts? He wondered if she had a ship for these future parts. It was unlikely, considering her age. She could be a crewmember somewhere, but then Gus should have known more about her. The ginger tended to get around and had never learned to shut his yap. He was a walking gossip machine.

  The girl reached over and pulled a card from Crier’s hand, nothing in her expression telling anyone whether she was happy or worried about the givit she’d just claimed. The dealer looked to Crier. “Reveal.”

  Crier laid down his hand. It wasn’t bad, a pair with a ten high. Langlade felt his pulse speeding up. He wanted the girl to win, even though she was a child and a stranger. It was stupid and reckless to give a flying shit crystal what happened to her, because out here on the edge of nowhere, caring got people killed. But care he did, because she reminded him of someone he missed sorely.

  She put her cards down, and he felt himself breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Three of a kind, my friend. Sorry, but you lose.” She reached over to take Crier’s promissory note off the table, but was stopped when the man’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

  Everyone froze but Langlade. He went for the guy’s back.

  But he wasn’t as quick on the draw as the girl was.

  One second she was being yanked from her chair toward her captor, and the next she was holding a dagger to his neck. A drop of blood was already dripping down Crier’s collar by the time Langlade reached the man’s chair.

  “Take your fucking hands off me, shitbag.” The girl’s face was inches from her opponent’s, but she wasn’t flinching.

  The cruel man smiled. “I don’t even have my hands on you yet, doll. But I’ll get ’em there, you can bet on that.”

  “I already bet on it, and I won. You lost. Now fuck off and don’t show your face around here again tonight, or I’ll cut your balls off and stuff ’em down your throat.” She gave him a slightly deeper cut before easing the knife away.

  Langlade felt his blood quicken and something inside him burst. The hand he’d been about to use against the man in her defense patted him on the back instead. “You heard the girl, Crier. Time for you to get up from the table and leave the real playing to the real players.”

  The girl’s knife slowly pulled away as she sat back down on her chair. Her eyes lifted to acknowledge Langlade’s presence. “And you are?”

  As Crier began to stand, Langlade pushed him to the side, sending him to the floor next to the table. Langlade pulled his weapon from its holster and simultaneously held the man off at gunpoint while reaching for the girl in greeting. “Langlade’s the name, and givit is my game.”

  A sly grin revealed itself as she took his hand in a strong grip. “Nice to meet you, Langlade of the Kinsblade fleet. Have a seat. I think you might have something that I want. You ready to ante up?”

  He took the chair offered and set his mug down beside him. The crowd pushed in, spilling ale and other liquids on the edges of the table. “Oh yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  Langlade tried not to sweat, but it was difficult to stay cool when the crowd of onlookers pressed in on the table. The air circulation in the room was nonexistent. The dealer twice yelled at the strangers surrounding them to back off; the third time he lost his patience and doused them with a full mug of ale. “Give them some space!” he growled. His bluster was all for show, though—this guy was having a ball, thoroughly in his element as the dealer in a game with a pot so valuable people would be talking about it for years.

  To the players, the dealer said, “Flaming dwarf stars, we’ve never had a game this hot before.” H
e winked at the girl, but she said nothing back. Her face was a mask, unreadable and serious—as well it should have been, because her ante was like none Langlade had ever seen before or even dreamed of. Now he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t sought a bet like this before.

  “I want your ship.”

  When she’d first said it, he’d laughed, thinking her joking. But when she said it again, and gestured at the table with a nod of her head, he knew she wasn’t. That’s when the sweat started trickling down his back. The onlookers were four deep now, almost suffocating in their eagerness to see someone go down. The front row heard everything they said at the table and repeated it for the ones behind. Even though there was no comm system in this place, Langlade knew that his every word was being transmitted and remembered, and would be repeated for years to come to anyone who would listen. This was either going to be really good for business or really bad, but one thing was clear: he couldn’t walk away a coward.

  He shrugged. “Fine. I have the Kinsblade 3 here at the dock. I’ll ante her.” Just hearing the words come out of his own mouth made a slice of pain go through his chest, just as if he’d taken out a knife and plunged it in there himself. She was the third of his fleet and the worst off among them, but she still held a special place in his heart. It was on this ship that he’d found and lost the love of his life.

  “Fine.” The girl gestured to the note on the table. “That’s the right to my woman’s shield there. Put your ship’s papers with it so everyone can see you intend to ante the ownership.”

  She might have been young, but she obviously knew what she was doing. He’d seen games go sideways before when one of the players claimed not to have anted what the other said he had. It was always the loser doing that, and even though he knew he was going to win, he didn’t bother trying to argue the point with her. She’d learn soon enough that his paper being on the table wouldn’t matter.

  He pulled his document holder from his inner pocket at his chest and found the one she’d asked for. Flipping it out onto the table like it hardly mattered, he smiled, first at her and then at the dealer. “Let’s get started, then, shall we? I have a virgin to deflower.” He winked at the girl and felt a spark of pleasure run through him when her complexion paled a little. He wasn’t much for the inexperienced, but he decided then that he was going to enjoy this one. Hell, he might even keep her around a while. She seemed smart enough. Maybe she knew how to do a good trade, and if she warmed his bunk too, that’d be a decent bonus.