A Bad Deal for the Whole Galaxy

by Alex White

  “Is he?” asked Nilah.

  “No. His eidolon crystals have been suppressed, but he’s okay.”

  They’d been lucky the guards shot Charger first. Those goons could’ve put a flame round into one or both women if they’d wanted. Nilah expected Orna to remain behind with her pet, but the quartermaster picked up her weapon.

  “Let’s finish the mission,” said Orna, gesturing to the pair of double doors. “Prince, do you have eyes on any other guards?”

  “Zipper put down the ones outside,” said Armin. “Looks like the coast is clear.”

  Orna checked her clip and rammed it back in. “Good.”

  They crept to the pair of double doors, flanking either side. Orna removed one of the grenades from her bandolier and twisted it, exposing a flat plate on one side. She fitted it to the entryway and cranked the primer.

  “Breach.”

  They ducked aside as the doors imploded inward like they’d been kicked by a giant. The second the explosion cleared, the pair rushed inside, ready for anything—

  Except the four screaming children in the master bedroom.

  The next few moments came in such rapid succession that Nilah had trouble untangling them in her mind. There was a blond woman in her nightclothes, a double-barreled slinger, the light of scatterburst rounds, and Orna plowing into her space like a freighter coming out of jump.

  And all the while the wailing of children rang out in the night. Nilah checked herself for hits, then her eyes swept over the kids for blood. Were they armed, too? Finding nothing, she bellowed, “Down! Get down!” in an authoritative voice she’d never had before.

  Orna and the other woman scrabbled together across the ground, vicious blows thudding between them. Whoever she was, she held her ground against the quartermaster with surprising stamina—so when Nilah saw an opening, she rushed in and kicked the woman across the face.

  Taking advantage of her stunned adversary, Orna clocked her twice in the jaw and knocked away her double-barreled slinger. It went skidding under the massive four-poster bed, and the quartermaster stood, pointing her weapon down at her bloody opponent.

  Nilah, for all the shame it brought her, kept her slinger trained on the children.

  Able to catch her breath, Nilah swept for targets. The bedroom was a parody of Expansion Era art, with sweeping golden lines folded into inlays of hundreds of different materials. Precious animated fabrics drifted overhead, sweeping through the rafters like phantoms. It was all expensive, but none of it worked together, like every part of the room was supposed to be the centerpiece. Between this and the metal forest, Bill Scar liked his wealth solidly on display in the most ostentatious fashion.

  She transmitted the area-secure signal back to the ship. One of the kids started to cast, and Nilah slapped her hand, fizzling the spell.

  “Don’t help, baby!” the woman cried out at the kids. “It’s okay. Mommy is fine.”

  “Ecaterina,” Orna growled.

  The woman propped herself up on her elbows and wiped the copious blood from her lips. “Orna,” she croaked. “It had to be you.”

  Orna gritted her teeth. “Where’s Bill?”

  “Gone.”

  “Where?”

  “You’re older, but somehow, you’re exactly like I remember,” said Ecaterina.

  “You know, I could’ve called the Clarkesfall Reconciliation Committee, told them I found out where Bill Scar was living, but I thought this needed a personal touch.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  Her lips whitened, and Orna let out a hissing breath through her nose. “I should, shouldn’t I? You stayed with him.”

  Even punch-pink, Nilah could discern a haunted look in Ecaterina’s eyes, like guilt had died in her a long time ago.

  “Of course I did,” said the woman casting a glance to the quartet of children, who all favored her. “I deserved to survive. Deserved to be happy.”

  Dread welled inside Nilah. Her grip relaxed on her slinger, and she realized that she wasn’t afraid of Ecaterina or the children, but of her girlfriend.

  Orna pulled a long-bladed knife from her leg sheath and gestured to the kids, who gasped in unison. “Maybe I ought to take away some of that happiness.”

  Nilah straightened up and put herself between Orna and the kids. “No, you won’t.”

  Those ice-blue eyes she’d always loved went wide, and the quartermaster began to tremble. Her jaw clenched.

  “How old are you?” Orna gestured to the oldest child with a knife. When no answer came, she screamed her question again, and everyone jumped.

  “Twelve,” mumbled the boy, head down, voice muffled by the rug.

  Orna glared at Nilah, shaking her head like she was trying to shake a persistent thought loose. “That’s two years older than I was the first time Bill Scar hauled me into a dusty arena and told me to murder a boy. We refused to kill each other, so he tossed a slinger into the pit with a single round inside. Bill liked to call it ‘youth league.’ This witch”—she gestured to Ecaterina—“was the nurse for the survivors. Patched up my wounds so I’d be ready for the next round.”

  The children wept. They didn’t know. Half of them were too scared to listen.

  “He stole so many kids,” said Orna, her voice breaking. “The fast ones, the stringy ones who had what it took to survive in the wasteland without their parents. So it would only be fair if I took one in return.”

  Nilah kept her slinger pointed at the ground, but her grip was firm and ready. “They don’t deserve to pay his debts.” She looked to Ecaterina. “Listen, you want us to leave. We want the keys to the Masquerade. Protect your children and tell us what we need to know.”

  Ecaterina’s red eyes cast over them, then to the youngsters facedown on the carpet. “The yacht. It’s coded for entry and landing. Bill … likes to throw parties there. He keeps the masks on board.”

  “I remember his ‘parties.’” Orna laughed bitterly. “Is that what he’s doing, out where the law can’t touch him?”

  “I don’t know. He never took me with him.”

  “Where’s the yacht?” asked Nilah.

  “We’ve got a hangar outside,” she replied. “It’s there.” Then, to Orna, she whispered, “I’m not a monster. I thought about turning myself in … or killing myself.”

  The quartermaster’s knife point twitched. “Really? It’s not that hard. I could help you with both of those.”

  “I can’t,” Ecaterina sobbed. “I have to take care of the—”

  “What, you don’t want to leave the kids with Bill?” Orna spat. “I hear he’s good with them.”

  The hostage affected a pleading face. “Stop. I thought about you for years—wondered what became of you and Heidi. Do you ever see her?”

  The quartermaster’s lip curled into a snarl. “No. And if Heidi knows what’s good for her, it’ll stay that way. You think bringing her up is going to change what happens to you?” Her head bobbed on her shoulders as she mocked the woman. “‘I thought about you for years.’ Well, I thought about you, too—what it might feel like to clean out your ears with my slinger.”

  She sat up, her palms out like a beggar. “What else do you want from me?”

  Orna thought on it for a moment, idly twirling her knife with a practiced hand. “Nothing. Lights out.”

  Then she shot Ecaterina point-blank in the forehead with an overloader. The woman collapsed backward, thunking her head against the ground and spasming before going still.

  The children screamed even harder, and Nilah had to hush them, but they were terrified of her, too.

  “What?” shouted Orna. “She’ll wake up in six hours! Nil—Hunter Two, lock these brats in the bathroom so I don’t have to hear their whining.”

  “Okay, darlings, let’s go.” Nilah urged them to their feet and took them to the restroom, which seemed palatial after being cooped up inside the Capricious for so long. White marble extended to a long window, through which Nilah could se
e the sprawling grounds illuminated in floodlight. Trees fluttered and swayed under the engine wash of the Capricious as it landed, bending the arbors to one side. A spotlight lit up on the ship’s keel, brightening the bathroom and prompting another scream from the children.

  She didn’t want to stay in there too long—didn’t want to leave Orna alone with Ecaterina.

  “It’s fine,” Nilah said. “That’s the ship that’s going to take my friend and I out of here. You won’t see us again. Now sit tight.” She pointed to the oldest and said, “You’re in charge.”

  Then she closed the door panel, traced her glyph, and coded a time lock into the circuit.

  Back in the master bedroom, she found Orna standing over Ecaterina, regarding the older woman’s features like she was studying a painting. Her knife remained in her hand. Nilah went to her and gave her a pleading look.

  “Hey, we need to—”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Orna. “The yacht.”

  They rejoined the others in the front courtyard, and Malik checked the downed guards for injuries. He made a few concerned noises, but assured Nilah that they hadn’t committed murder, only assault. Orna got the engine hoist from the ship and trussed up Charger’s paralyzed frame, loading it into the cargo hold.

  Once they’d secured the perimeter, Cordell ordered them to open the hangar.

  Inside, they found an Exarch Systems Sunspray yacht, its archrome finish in brilliant rainbow hues under the hangar lights. Nilah had seen them at her races, even been on a few of them, but had never been able to afford her own. It wasn’t a huge ship, with quarters for five crew, but every element of the interior would be bespoke, tailored to the interests of the customer.

  And most importantly, it had an internal jump drive.

  The captain whistled appreciatively. Boots gaped. The twins circled the ship, looking over every nook and cranny. And Orna let out a long sigh.

  “Let’s not forget how Bill Scar paid for this ship,” she said. “Can we steal it already?”

  The hack went better than expected. Without ever meaning to, Nilah had gotten to be something of an expert in ship security systems. Compared to slicing up the network on the Harrow, the Scarett family yacht was a simple matter. Nilah worked the sections that required finesse, like the ship’s brain, while Orna messed with the power routings to stop the ship from discharging into Nilah’s body. Armin ran simulations and aggregation, quickly identifying the next set of targets.

  With a greeting of musical bells, the ship opened up before them, white leather interiors and cool blue lights beckoning them inside. Its ramp extended, coming to rest before Cordell’s feet, and the captain shook his head with a smile.

  “You looking for an upgrade, Captain?” Nilah asked.

  He scoffed. “I know that’s a joke, Miss Brio. There’s no better ship in the universe than the Capricious.”

  “I’ll captain him,” volunteered Boots.

  “You most certainly will not,” countered Armin. “First mate, first pick.”

  Cordell crossed his arms and nodded his approval. “Too right.” He picked up an empty plastic bottle from a nearby workbench and hurled it against the hull of the yacht, where it harmlessly bounced away. “I hereby recommission this ship the ADF Scuzzbucket. Captain Vandevere, the Scuzzbucket and all his riches are yours—for the duration of the mission. Any cash we make fencing this thing goes straight to the Clarkesfall Reconciliation Committee.”

  “After we’re paid back for the DosSantos dossier,” corrected Nilah.

  “Fair enough,” said Cordell. “Mister and Missus Jan, you’re with me. You Ferriers are on the Capricious, too. The rest of you, take the Scuzzbucket and get him to our shipyard at Harvest. I want to stash our ship someplace safe while we hit the Masquerade.”

  “Yacht piloting?” Aisha nodded at Boots. “Looks like you’re going to earn your commercial pips. When all this wraps up, you can do guided tours.”

  “Zip it, zipperjock,” said Boots.

  “No problem, Pips. When you get done with that bus, I’ll have your fighter waiting for you.”

  “Enough chitchat,” said Cordell. “The constabulary hasn’t caught on to us yet, and I don’t mean to give them cause. I want skids up in ten.”

  Nilah followed Orna and Charger aboard, the trio of them sweeping the interior in case someone hid inside during the assault. In the master quarters, they found their prizes: four animal masks hanging from the walls, gilded lines glimmering with rainbow energies. Even without her mechanist’s mark, Nilah could sense the power of the spells encoded into them.

  “The wolf is mine,” said Orna.

  With everything secured, they spun up the sleek engines and started charging the jump drive. Everything inside the Sunspray was perfectly calibrated, revving up with a performance whine usually reserved for exotic fliers. With a ship like this, they could run blockades, they could jump from world to world like royalty. They could do a lot of good with this marvel.

  They made their way to the bridge, such as it could be called. Without a ton of tactical necessities, the Scuzzbucket’s bridge was little more than a windowed office with two chairs and some flight controls. They pressed in beside Armin, accidentally elbowing him as they passed. She doubted the bridge could comfortably hold any more crew.

  Boots, noting their presence, turned to Armin. “Ready to launch, sir?”

  The man had a strange, wistful gleam in his eye as he said, “Did you know that this is my first commission?”

  “‘Commission’?” Nilah repeated.

  “Yes, Miss Brio,” said Armin. “This is my first official captain’s chair.”

  They scooted to one side to give him more room to appreciate the moment.

  Boots, however, broke the mood by adding, “It’s amazing how far a career can go with a little piracy.”

  Armin sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Miss Elsworth, take us up. Confirm the Capricious is away, then initiate the jump to Harvest.”

  “Aye, Captain Vandevere,” she replied with a grin. “You two might want to go strap in at one of the quarters. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to walk around.”

  The jump was smoother than any Nilah had experienced aboard the Capricious, and she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to fly in a luxury craft. When the all-clear came, she and Orna unstrapped from the crash couch to walk around and maybe raid the ship’s stores.

  Except instead, Orna went to the bed and collapsed face-first onto it.

  Nilah prayed for her to make a joke about how tired she was, or to say anything at all, but she just lay there for long, quiet moments.

  “Babe?” Nilah ventured.

  No answer.

  “I love you,” Nilah added.

  Orna’s ears pricked at the words, and she turned so one cheek was resting on the mattress. She stared at the wall, some unpleasant phrase caught in her throat. Nilah’s stomach churned with the fear that it would be the words, “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

  But Nilah waited all the same, refusing to leave until she knew.

  Orna’s voice was hoarse when she finally spoke. “Why?”

  “Because … you …” Nilah stammered as she tried to shift gears. “You’re talented.”

  “You’re drowning in talented friends. You could have someone sane. Lana seems sane.”

  “You’ve got a right fit body.”

  Orna blew out a breath. “Don’t even get me started on your hordes of hot friends. You … you can’t love me.”

  Her words chilled Nilah’s skin, and she sat down beside Orna. “It’s not about looks, love.”

  Those ice-blue eyes that Nilah treasured began to glaze with tears. “Then you really can’t stay with me, because … because the deeper you go, the worse it gets. One of these days, you’re finally going to understand me, and when you do, you’re going to leave.”

  “What do you think I’m going to see?”

  “That I’m a monster,” she said, her voice cr
acking. “I wanted to kill Ecaterina so badly, right in front of her kids. I’ve killed so many people for less, and—oh, god, when I looked at your face …” Orna’s gaze briefly met hers. “I saw how horrified you were with me.”

  She reached out to stroke Orna’s hair, and the quartermaster flinched. Unlike in the cargo bay, Nilah didn’t pull away.

  “I was horrified, but not with you. I was furious that the galaxy would twist someone so precious to me.” She laid down behind Orna, pushing her arms around the quartermaster and shushing into her ear. “You didn’t kill her. That matters.”

  Her back shook as she replied, “I wanted to, so badly. And when you wanted to rescue Sharp, I just … thought we should cut and run … like a coward.”

  “You’ve been daring so many other times. People say we’re two of a kind.”

  “You’re, like, unflinching and I’m just, you know, selfish, because I can’t stop surviving. I keep trying to live, but every damned day, something pushes me back to the sands. One of these missions, I’m going to do something truly terrible, and you’re going to hate me forever.”

  Nilah tugged on Orna’s shoulder, and she rolled onto her back, tears streaming down her face. She nuzzled into the crook of Orna’s arm, resting her hand on the quartermaster’s belly.

  “What if I’d gone berserk? I wanted blood, Nilah. I might’ve … I might’ve settled for his wife and kids.” She bit her lip and rubbed her reddened eyes. “I’m losing my mind.”

  “You’re never going to go berserk.”

  “You don’t know what I was thinking in—”

  “Hush, babes.” Nilah placed a finger to Orna’s lips. “I do. That’s why I stood up to you. And those thoughts … they aren’t your fault, do you get that? You have every reason to be as angry as you are.”

  Orna rolled to face her, enveloping Nilah in those strong arms. “One of these days, you’re not going to be there to stop me.”

  Nilah drank her in, the scent of sweat and slinger smoke, old rubber and her cheap mechanic’s bodywash, and sighed into her bosom. No one sold perfume like that, but nothing in the galaxy smelled as good as Orna. She held her tightly for a few long seconds, eliminating every centimeter of distance between them.