by Cheree Alsop
Vrogites were known as the Coalition’s bankers. Like the Belanites of the currency world, Vrogites had the inability to lie about money; thus, the Coalition hired them to take care of financial concerns on Titus and beyond. Gage turned his attention to the crowd behind the man. Sure enough, a gray-furred Ventican and a green-scaled Guareth made their way through the crowd with just enough haste to stand out from the masses.
The Vrogite ducked down a side hall. Gage watched the two others do the same. The Vrogite glanced back, saw them in the lessening rush, and his metallic eyes widened. Gage changed his course and took the hallway as well.
“Where are you going?” he heard Sienna call above the chaos.
He ignored her and pressed on, his gaze on the two men in front of him.
The Ventican pulled a stun rod from his pack. The Guareth took off his gloves. Gage saw his pointed fingernails change from green to poisonous red. Gaulded rules dictated that Guareths wear gloves at all times to avoid accidentally killing someone with their lethal touch. Adrenaline filled Gage’s veins in the anticipation of a fight.
The Vrogite cut down another hall. When Gage paused near the mouth, he saw the Vrogite’s mistake. The hallway was empty. A glance at the wall showed a single camera. Given the enormity of Gaulded Five Fifty-three, Gage doubted security kept a very close eye on such a little-traveled path. Even if they did, it would take them some time to traverse the crowded walkways to reach it.
A bright white skinned Icandian appeared at the end of the hallway. The Vrogite’s footsteps slowed. The Icandian smiled, showing pointed black teeth. She drew two knives from the sleeves of her white robes.
The Vrogite stopped and glanced back. His head swiveled from looking behind him to in front. He backed up to the wall halfway between and held up three of his long-fingered hands, his fourth clutching the package on the inside of his robes to his chest.
“I-it’s very urgent that I get to Titus,” he said.
The Ventican chuckled and pressed the button on the stun rod. It cracked to life, yellow sparks showering from the top. “It’s urgent that we speak to you first,” he said. He licked his lips.
The Guareth held up one hand and wiggled his fingers. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
The Vrogite shook his head. “We can’t do it a-at all,” he stammered. “I-I have to get back. I’m expected.”
“You’re expected to hand over the purse,” the Icandian said. When the Vrogite’s face paled, her toothy smile deepened. “You really don’t have much of a choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Gage said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
The Guareth’s reptilian eyes narrowed. “I think you’re lost, Human.”
That brought the ghost of a smile to Gage’s lips. “You know, I get mistaken for a Human a lot. But that’s where you seal your fate.”
He slipped the knife from his sheath and threw it underhand in one smooth motion. It hit the Icandian’s hand before she could send one of her knives at the Vrogite. She dropped both blades and grabbed her hand with a snarl.
Gage drew his gun with practiced ease and was about to pull the trigger when the Ventican’s stun rod hit his hand. His gun dropped and his left arm fell useless to his side.
“Great,” Gage muttered. “Everyone chooses the hard way.”
He scooped up the stun rod in his right hand and ran toward the Ventican. Gage fainted to the left. As soon as the Ventican shifted his weight to his right foot to intercept him, Gage spun with the speed granted by his Foundling heritage, slipped around the gray-furred man, and nailed him with the stun rod to the back. The Ventican fell to the ground writhing in electrified pain.
Gage knocked the reaching Guareth’s hands away and shoved the Vrogite back toward the wall. The Icandian managed to pull the blade from her hand just as Gage reached her. He knocked her attempt to stab him in the eye aside and slammed his forehead against hers. Before she could recover, he grabbed her wrist, ducked under her arm, and flipped her to the ground. He stilled her with a quick fist to the back of the neck.
Gage picked up the knife and turned. His left arm flopped uselessly with the motion. If it wasn’t a life or death situation, it would have been hilarious; as it was, Gage figured not having the use of one hand gave the Guareth at least a fighting chance.
The Guareth’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right when you say you’re not a normal Human. So what are you?” His tongue flicked out between his teeth.
“I was raised by a Damaclan mother,” Gage said. He ducked just in time to avoid a swipe of the Guareth’s fingernails. “My father is a Commandant of the Day Merchant Fleet.” He blocked another of the Guareth’s attempts to scratch his face. “And I happen to be part Foundling.”
The Guareth’s last swipe fell short in his surprise. Gage dropped to one knee, spun, and knocked the Guareth onto his back. Gage was there in the space of a heartbeat with his knife pressed to the man’s green scaled throat.
With his periphery, Gage saw the Guareth raise a fingernailed hand.
“You could try it, but we’d both die,” Gage said, his tone amiable. “Or you can bow out, go home, and live to fight another day. The choice is yours.”
The Guareth looked for a moment as though he would rather take them both down, but then he lowered his gaze and nodded.
Gage backed off slowly, his knife raised in case the man tried anything.
To his surprise, the Guareth actually did bow when he got back to his feet. “Fighting you has been an honor,” he said. “If you’re ever in need of a worthy opponent, put word in at Gameltris that the Foundling is trying to reach Vex.”
“I’ll do that,” Gage replied.
The Guareth bowed again and left the way the Icandian had come.
Gage spotted Sienna at the mouth of the hallway. Her eyes were wide and she looked disturbed by what she had seen.
Gage turned his attention to the Vrogite. “We need to get you out of here,” he told the man.
The Vrogite nodded quickly. “Y-yes, thank you. I-I don’t know how to repay you.”
Gage eyed the money purse the Vrogite clutched beneath his robes. “Yes, you do.”
The Vrogite’s eyes widened when he realized what Gage meant. “I can’t. It’s not my money!”
“It’s the Coalition’s money, isn’t it?” Gage replied.
The Vrogite’s exact honesty about money also applied to questions directly related to it. Gage was counting on the man’s reply.
The Vrogite’s hands shook as they held the money purse tightly. “Y-yes, it’s the Coalition’s money,” he finally stammered. “So y-you don’t want to mess with them.”
Gage’s blade lashed out.
The Vrogite gave a squeak of shock and stared down as if he expected to see all of his fingers amputated. Instead, a thin line ran from just beneath the money purse and across deep enough to severe only the first layer of the man’s silken robes and not any skin beneath. Gage reached out and grasped the edge of the money purse. With a simple pull, he removed the object the three mercenaries had fought for.
“Thank you for the Coalition’s contribution to Gage Metis’ pirate fund,” Gage said.
“B-but,” the Vrogite protested.
Gage gave him his rogue’s smile. “Look at it this way. Those three would have killed you. I, on the other hand, saved your life at the cost of the Coalition.” He winked. “We both came out ahead.”
He turned on his heel before the Vrogite could say anything else and walked back up the hallway toward Sienna. The open-mouthed look of shock she gave him when he passed her would have made him laugh except for the light of sheer disapproval on her face.
She hurried to catch up with him through the crowd that shoved past without any care for those they shouldered by.
“You shouldn’t have done that!” she said when she was within earshot.
“Save a man’s life?” Gage asked over his shoulder without slowing. He
shook his arm, grateful the feeling was returning but not thrilled at the Banthan spikes and needles sensation that ran from his shoulder down to his fingers.
“Steal his money,” she replied.
“It’s not his money,” Gage pointed out. “It’s the Coalition’s.” He gave her a lopsided half-smile and said, “Scratch that. It’s my money now.”
“For your pirate fund,” she said without bothering to hide her disgust at the thought.
“Pirates need funding,” Gage replied, egging her on. “Pirating is a very costly business. I don’t think anyone appreciates the expenses that come with looting, pillaging, and, well, pirating. It requires quite the large cash flow to keep something like that running.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Sienna said, her loathing clear.
He turned down a hallway marked ‘Tavern’ in the common tongue followed by fifteen other languages.
“Where are you going now?” Sienna demanded.
“To get a drink,” Gage told her.
“Are you going to drown your conscience away in Gaulded ale?” she asked. “That’s a nasty habit.”
Gage chuckled, feeling extremely pleased about the money he now carried inside his vest. “If I could, I would have done so long ago,” he replied.
She stormed away back up the hall. A group of Talastans and even a Calypsan got out of the way of the angry woman. Gage couldn’t blame them. He had upset her enough in the past few days since his crash landing on Corian to know exactly what expression showed on her face. He wished luck to anyone who got in her way within the next several minutes. It wouldn’t be pretty.
He sat at one of the small round tables and slid a tin slug across the well-worn wooden tabletop. A moment later, a Dossthian set a pint down with one of her delicate, hollow-boned hands. Her velvet gray wings were held tight against her back to avoid brushing any of the tables.
“Anything else I can get you, love?” she asked.
“Any chance you have any mooncao pie?” he replied, giving her his most charming smile. “I know it’s a long shot.”
She beamed at him, her velvet cheeks glowing. “A cacao lover, huh? You’re a man after my own heart. Let me go check with Cook.”
“You have my humble gratitude,” Gage replied.
She gave him a wink. “It’s not every day here I meet a man of my own tastes.”
He watched her walk away, admiring her long white-blonde hair brushing against her gray wings before he turned back to his drink.
There were legends behind the making of Gaulded ale. Some say the mead was grown using oil from the abandoned ships and random metal pieces that had been welded together to create the manmade chunks of floating debris that served at neutral trading posts for anyone in the Macrocosm. All Gage knew was that it warmed his stomach, slowed the adrenaline that rushed through his body from the fight, and helped him not care so much about Sienna’s judgmental ways and the fact that taking her could possibly have compromised his crew’s safety at any Gaulded.
“You sure they’re going to find you here?”
Gage closed his eyes for a moment with the wishful thought that if he didn’t look at her, she would go away. The sound of the chair across from him being pulled out made it clear his wish wasn’t granted. Perhaps nearly dying on Corian along with escaping under the nose of the Coalition as well as his brother had used up any luck he had accrued.
“They’ll always look here,” Gage replied. “They’re pirates. A pub is like home to our kind of riffraff.”
“I want to say I’m sorry.”
That brought Gage’s head up. He looked at her, though with a bit less of the scrutiny he would have used if his thoughts weren’t dampened by the ale.
“I shouldn’t have judged you like that. It wasn’t fair.”
“It may have been accurate,” Gage acceded.
Sienna smiled. “You’re much more agreeable when you’re drinking.”
“And you are also much more agreeable when I’m drinking,” Gage replied.
Sienna reached for his pint. Gage’s initial reaction was to pull his drink away. That made Sienna laugh; Gage smiled at the sound.
“I just want to try it,” she said. “I need to know what it takes to make the great Gage Metis let down his walls.”
Gage allowed her to take the pint. He watched with interest as she lifted it to her mouth and swallowed. He thought she was just going to take a sip; but she went with a gulp instead. If he had known she planned to drink that much, he would have warned her.
Sienna sputtered, spitting ale across the table. With a horrified expression, she looked around for a napkin to wipe her mouth, and not finding one, she settled for the back of her sleeve, something Gage had never thought he would see. She slid the pint back in front of him.
Gage chuckled and admitted, “It’s a bit strong.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had truly laughed. He picked up the pint and took a deep swig.
Tears showed in Sienna’s eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. “My…word,” she gasped. “What’s…in that?”
“You don’t want to know,” the Dossthian waitress said as she slid a plate in front of Gage.
He stared at the slice of mooncao; his mouth began to water at the sight of it.
“What is that?” Sienna asked.
Gage and the waitress exchanged a knowing look. “This happens to be the finest pie across the span of the Macrocosm,” Gage explained. He picked up the three-pronged fork and gathered a bit of the cacao filling on it. “Believe me when I say I’ve tried my fair share of desserts. This one tops them all.” He winked at the waitress and she blushed. “You are a doll to have gone to this trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” she replied. Her smile deepened. “It may have been Cook’s own personal pie, but he owed me a favor for the shifts I fill in.”
“I’ll bet he can never say no to someone as gorgeous as you,” Gage told her.
She giggled, then put a hand over her mouth as if embarrassed that the sound had come out. “I’ll, uh, come check on you as soon as you’ve had a chance to relax a bit.”
“Thank you,” Gage replied.
Sienna kicked him under the table as the waitress walked away.
“Ouch!” Gage exclaimed. “What was that for?”
“For the way you were ogling her,” Sienna replied.
“What about not judging me?” Gage shot back.
“That’s different,” she said. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“She doesn’t seem to think so,” Gage pointed out.
Sienna followed his gaze to the waitress who smiled at him from the door to the kitchen. The Dossthian waved before she disappeared inside. When Sienna turned to find Gage smiling in return, she glowered at him. “You really are too much, Gage Metis.”
“Hey. I didn’t ask you to come along,” Gage told her.
“All I wanted to do was escape my wedding,” Sienna said. “I didn’t realize I’d end up halfway across the Macrocosm in a seedy hole of a Gaulded with you as company.”
Gage glanced around to see other tavern occupants looking in their direction.
“You may want to keep the insults about this fine establishment to a dull roar,” he advised. “Some people like seedy.”
She rolled her eyes. “You belong here.”
Gage nodded. “I’m glad you see it now.”
He put a forkful of mooncao in his mouth. The cacao flavors melted on his tongue. He was amazed. The pie was nearly as good as Grandmother Metis made it. He took another bite just to be sure and had to fight back a smile at the simple enjoyment of such good pie. Who knew such a thing could be found in the far reaches of the Macrocosm? Sienna was going to have to stop selling seedy places short.
Aware of how annoyed she was, Gage gave a dramatic sigh and said, “I can’t remember the last time I actually had a piece of Mooncao pie. This is incredible.”
He took another bite, aware that she watched the forkful all the
way to his mouth. A twinge of conscience needled him. He grimaced; he thought he had destroyed his conscience long ago. With a great deal of effort, he met Sienna’s gaze and said, “Would you like to try a bite?”
“If it’s as good as you’re pretending it is, sure,” she replied.
Gage gave her a straight look. “Mooncao pie is no pretending matter. Here, try it.”
He handed over the fork. Skepticism filled her face when she stabbed a small sample and eyed it before bringing it to her mouth. But when she put it on her tongue, a smile ran across her lips and made her green eyes sparkle. “This is really good,” she admitted with surprise.
Gage pushed the plate toward her. “You have it. You must be hungry. I doubt they feed a bride well before a wedding.”
“The dress is always one size too small,” she replied. She shook her head. “But I can’t take your pie.”
“Take it,” Gage told her. “I’ll order some stew. Seedy places like this always have stew.” He winked at her. “It’s better not to ask what’s in it, though. I learned that the hard way over on Pion Seven.”
“The slave planet?” Sienna asked. She took another bite of the pie. Gage had to force himself not to watch the forkful travel to her mouth.
He nodded. “The Kratos had some hull damage that needed to be repaired. Good thing, too, because my parents stopped the slave trade and it was supposed to be for good, but my chance landing revealed it was still happening on the black market. I got my weapons’ expert out of it.”
“You mean he’s a member of your crew?” she asked, not bothering to hide her astonishment.
Gage nodded. “Klellen; he’s Iridian. When you talk to him, you’d never guess he was on the way to battle at Gameltris for his life. He’s soft-spoken for an Iridian.”
“That was nice of you to give him a job,” Sienna said. As she smashed the remaining crumbs on the plate with her fork, she gave him a look of curiosity. “Why would you do that?”
Gage didn’t know how to answer the question beneath her question. He cleared his throat and motioned for another ale.
Thankfully, Sienna moved on. “So how did you get the Kratos? Wasn’t that your dad’s ship? I’ve heard the stories.”
