by Rachel Bach
Rupert sighed. “This from the woman who wouldn’t admit she was injured if she was missing an arm.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fair point, but you’re supposed to be the sensible one here. I’m not going to think less of you if you need a minute after getting shot in the back, okay?” I shook my head and walked over to grab my armor case and his bags. “If you’re injured, just tell me and we’ll deal with it, but don’t try to play it off.”
Rupert smiled at me. “Can I quote that back at you later?”
“You can try,” I said, sliding my shoulder under his.
Rupert chuckled at that, but it still took him all the way to the edge of the hull before he gave in and actually leaned on me. We hobbled together to the ledge where the trash pile gave way to the airfield, but he insisted on making the jump down himself. Once we landed, he let me help him over to the loading deck for one of the big cargo transports. By this point, he was terrifyingly pale, and he didn’t even complain when I sat him down and set my armor case on the step beside him so he could lean on it.
“You stay here, try to get warm, and keep a lookout,” I said, grabbing the black duffel bag full of money. “I’m going to get us a ride.”
For a moment I thought Rupert was going to try and argue, but he just nodded. “Be careful.”
“Always am,” I said cheerfully.
We both knew that was a lie, but I didn’t give Rupert a chance to call me on it before I walked into the snowy night, making my way across the now dark airfield toward the tiny office that was lit up like a lantern on the other side.
I’ve patronized a lot of sketchy establishments in my life, but this had to be some kind of record. The airfield’s “office” turned out to be a modified shipping container half buried in the wall of trash. There was a hole cut in the front to make a window, but it was covered by a sheet of bulletproof glass so thick I couldn’t see the person inside until I was standing right in front of the damn thing.
The woman working the counter looked to be in her midfifties, though she could have been thirty and it was life that made her look old. She was hugely overweight with bright blond dyed hair, lounging behind the window in a recliner like she’d grown there and sucking on a red speeder, the candy-coated mix of nicotine and amphetamines on a stick that spacers used to stay awake for days. She didn’t look up when I approached, too transfixed by the screen in the corner that was playing one of those awful Terran tear-jerker serials, the kind where you know everyone’s going to die but they make you wait five years to see how, to notice she had a customer. I banged on the glass, but all that got me was a rude gesture. Seething, I cranked my suit’s volume to max and yelled into the iced over microphone welded to the tiny counter. “I want to buy a ship!”
That got her attention. The woman’s heavily made up eyes swiveled to me, her exaggerated eyebrows arching up even farther as she popped the speeder out of her mouth and hit the intercom button with one tattooed finger. “You want what?”
“I. Want. To. Buy. A. Ship,” I said, pronouncing each word like I was being paid by the consonant. “Now.”
“Oh, well, we got those,” the woman said, sticking the speeder back in her mouth. “But you’ll have to speak clearer if you want me to understand, Doxie.”
I almost shot the glass. You never called a Paradoxian a Doxie, not if you want to live. Also, my accent was not that thick. But I couldn’t get mad here. One, I had the virus to think about, and two, I really needed that damn ship. So, in a display of control that would have made my mother weep tears of joy, I pried my hand off my gun and lifted my visor so she could see my lips. “Listen, lady,” I said, slow and clear. “I need to buy a ship right now. So what have you got?”
Slowly, like she was doing me a huge personal favor and didn’t intend to let me forget it, the woman turned her chair around and started tapping on a screen bolted to the top of the welded counter. “Hyperdrive or atmospheric?”
“Hyperdrive,” I said, relaxing a bit now that we were getting somewhere.
She punched that in. “How big’s your crew?”
“Two.”
She gave me a cutting look. “We ain’t running a taxi service.”
“I know,” I snapped. “Look, I’m in a hurry and I have money. I will pay you. I just need a ship.”
The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d stepped in it. The woman’s face lit up in a feral grin, making her look like a wolf who’d just spotted a tender lamb. “Well, then, hon, let’s see what we can do for you.”
She touched her screen again, and a semi-transparent grid appeared on the glass between us, displaying three-dimensional images of three ships. “This is what I’ve got right now with hyperdrives that can be flown by two people,” she said, nodding at the slowly spinning projected vessels. “Just say the word and it’s yours.”
Now this was more like it. The three ships on display were all planet hoppers, single-cabin vessels similar to the little stealthers Brenton and Rupert had used, but older, crappier, and with far fewer guns. Still, they were much better than I’d been expecting from an airfield that was literally in the middle of a trash heap, and after a minute of looking, I pointed at the revolving image that seemed to have the fewest patches. “How much for this one?”
“Ten mil.”
“Are you out of your damn mind?” I shouted. “I could get a space yacht for that much!”
“Don’t got no yachts,” the woman said, clicking the red speeder against her back teeth. “You asked for the price, I gave it to you. You don’t like it, go somewhere else.” She paused, leaning back in her chair. “Of course, no one else is selling this time of night, and the starport’s shut down at present. Something about a fugitive hiding out on-planet.” Her flat face spread into that cruel hunter’s smile again. “Say, do you think that fugitive business could have anything to do with those gunshots I heard a few minutes ago? Word on the network is there’s a reward out, so if you’re not buying tonight, I think I’ll just go ahead and drop them a word.”
I gritted my teeth, wishing like hell that I’d let Rupert come along. He was the charming one. He’d probably have had her eating out of his hand after a minute like he did with the nurse. I normally dealt with these kinds of situations by shooting something, but I was pretty sure even Sasha couldn’t get through that much safety glass. Even if she could, I wasn’t about to descend to robbery. So shooting was out, but I couldn’t afford to ignore the woman’s threat. All my big words to the symbiont would mean nothing if those Eyes woke up and we were still trapped here.
“Okay, listen,” I said, opening Rupert’s bag to do a quick count. “I’ve got three million cash on hand. What can you give me for that?”
The woman gave me a look like I was insulting her, which was just insane. Three million Republic Script was a hell of a lot of money. I could have bought myself a decent racer with a brand-new hyperdrive for less back on Paradox. Surely even with the middle-of-the-night-smuggler-planet-suspected-fugitive markup, three million should be able to buy me something.
Finally, the woman rolled her eyes and tapped her long nails against the screen, bringing up a picture of an ugly metal rectangle not much bigger than the shipping crate she was using as an office. If it hadn’t had a hyperdrive coil sticking out the back, I wouldn’t even have recognized it as a ship.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, reaching up to rotate the projected image. Not that it did any good. The thing looked like crap from every angle.
“It’s a Caravaner,” the woman said. “Classic piece of Terran engineering for family traders working the colony circuit. This one here was owned by a little old lady who went around selling fancy soap.”
I glanced at the multiple patched over cannon blast holes in the hull. “Saw a lot of fire for a soap trader.”
“Universe is a dangerous place,” the woman said with a shrug. “Look, Doxie, you asked what I had for three mil, that’s it. She ain’t much to look at, but the
engine works and it ain’t like you’re in a position to say no.”
My hand had started creeping back to my gun before I caught it. I’d had it up to here with this woman, but she had me over a barrel. “Can I see it first?”
“Right around the corner,” she said, jerking her head to my left.
I left the counter, walking as she directed through the snow, which was now so thick I had to use my density scanner to spot the ships before I walked into them. It took me a while to find the Caravaner, mostly because it was even smaller than I’d thought. I couldn’t even go inside because the ship wasn’t rated for armor, but I managed to lean in far enough to see the cabin, which was cleaner than I’d expected. It was also furnished, which was just weird.
I’d heard of Terran traders who lived in their ships exclusively for years, but this vessel actually looked like the inside of a house. The walls had been paneled with plastic done up to look like wood grain, and there were lace curtains on the porthole windows. The floor was smothered in thick, salmon pink carpeting, and the tiny bathroom with its waterless chem shower and toilet had been painted a nauseating shade of tangerine. The main cabin was barely big enough for the foldout bench and table attached to the wall, and I didn’t see a bed at all. I was making a note to ask the woman about that when I looked up and saw it was stowed on the ceiling.
The soap lady must not have sold her soap alone, I thought with a smirk. The double bunk would fill the cabin once I pulled it down. Other than that telling detail, though, it really did look like a little old lady’s parlor. The only parts of the ship that actually looked like a ship were the flight console up front and the hatch by the door that opened into the tiny cargo hold.
“All the comforts of home,” I muttered, leaning back out to go look at the engines.
These at least looked pretty good. I’m no expert on hyperdrives, but it was clean and lacking in obvious patches, which I took as a good sign. The rest of the engine wasn’t quite as nice, but it looked like it would fly, and it wasn’t like I had another choice.
“Pretty, ain’t she?” the woman said when I got back to the window. “Had everything sterilized when she came in. Fluids are topped off and her tank’s full, so you should be ready to go.” She sighed longingly. “Classic old Caravaners like that are so hard to find these days. They stopped making them twenty years ago. Don’t see why.”
I did. “And you want three million for that?”
“Empty out the bag and she’s all yours,” the woman said, nodding to the duffel resting on my shoulder. “I’ll even throw in a prepaid jump clearance. No offense, but the jump gate don’t take cash, and you don’t look like you’ve got another method of payment at the moment.”
I hadn’t even thought about how we would pay the gate fee. If I didn’t know for a fact that this lady was epically ripping me off, I would have been grateful for her forethought. She transferred over our jump clearance to my suit while I dumped the cash from my bag into the metal drop chute welded to the side of her shipping crate office. Once the full three million was in, the woman transferred me the Caravaner’s flight codes.
“She’s all yours,” the woman said, hitting the chute lever to suck all my money straight into her hands. “And if anyone asks, you didn’t buy it from me, and I never saw you. Standard Kessel courtesy.”
I shook my head, marveling at how, for once, the pirate’s code of silence was actually working in my favor. God and king, how things could change. But done was done, so I hefted the now much lighter bag back onto my shoulder and set off to break the news to Rupert that I’d spent all our money on a flying living room.
He was exactly where I’d left him, sitting on the lip of the loader and leaning against my armor case. He’d pulled his scales back, which was a relief, but his eyes were closed and his legs were drawn up defensively in front of him. The snow had blown up around him while I’d been gone, coating his jacket and sticking in his long hair. This combined with his paleness made him look dead, and my chest tightened like a clamp.
Thankfully, he opened his eyes when I got close. “Well?”
“Success,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I bent down to help him up. “Let’s get you somewhere warmer.”
“That sounds lovely,” Rupert said, leaning on me as I grabbed my armor case. I tucked the case under one arm and slid the other around Rupert’s waist to steady him, taking great care to avoid his wound. When I had everything positioned like I wanted, I turned us around, keeping my arm close on Rupert as we started across the snowy field. We’d barely made it three feet before Rupert said, “What’s wrong?”
I looked up at him in surprise, and he gave me a weak smile. “Not that I’m complaining, but you’re holding me very tight.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, relaxing my grip. “I just want to get moving.”
I don’t think Rupert bought that, but I kept us going too fast for him to ask again. It was a cop-out, but helping him hobble over an uneven, snow-covered, dirt landing field on a dark night felt a lot safer than admitting just how badly I’d taken the idea of him being dead. Still, no amount of hustling could stop his reaction when he saw the hunk of junk I’d blown our three million on.
“I know, I know,” I grumbled, opening the door of the Caravaner. “Options were limited, okay? I did my best.”
“You never do anything less,” Rupert said, letting go of me to pull himself up the ship’s tiny ramp. “Actually, I think it looks quite cozy.”
“Cozy” wasn’t the word I’d use, but I’d take it.
Since the Caravaner wasn’t rated for armor, I had to strip out of my suit before I could fit through the door. I did it in record time, too, shoving my filthy suit into her case as fast as I could in my rush to get out of the freezing wind. Even so, I was covered in snow by the time I slammed my case shut and jumped into the Caravaner, sealing the door against the cold.
Though he’d gone up ahead of me, Rupert hadn’t gotten far. He was leaning on the fake wood panel at the top of the little stair, his face tight and pale as he watched me come in. “You have snow in your hair,” he said softly.
“I have snow everywhere,” I replied, teeth chattering. Since I’d been in my suit, I hadn’t actually realized how cold it had gotten when the sun set. Now, shivering in my tank top and bare feet, I was amazed Rupert hadn’t gotten hypothermia out there with only a coat for cover and a wound like that. Though looking at his slightly glassy eyes and paper pale skin, I wasn’t so sure.
I reached up and hit the lever that lowered the double bunk stowed in the ceiling. Rupert jumped when it swung down behind him, but I got a smile out of him when the thing unfolded to its full size, taking up all the room in the main cabin. “Sit down,” I commanded, opening the storage cabinets that lined the back walls. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but since the whole ship was furnished like an old lady’s apartment, I was betting there’d be something useful stowed away. Sure enough, the second cabinet I opened was packed full of blankets and towels. They were threadbare and musty, but I was miles past picky at this point, and I grabbed a handful off the top with glee.
“Here,” I said, tossing them at Rupert. I pulled out a second armful for me, not even bothering to unfold the blanket fully before I wrapped it around my shoulder. Even with the power off, the Caravaner was warmer than the air outside thanks to a day of sitting in the sun, and the snow on my clothes was melting rapidly. Unfortunately, while it was warm enough to melt the snow, the ship was still uncomfortably cold, and now that my clothes were soaked, I was getting the shakes bad.
Since Rupert had seen me naked before, I didn’t even hesitate before peeling off my wet shirt and bra. I hung them from a knob to dry, wrapping the blanket even tighter around my now bare shoulders. This helped enormously, but when I glanced at Rupert, he was just sitting there, staring at me.
“Oh for the love of the king,” I snapped, grabbing a blanket off his pile and throwing it at his head. “Here, wrap up. I�
��ll go get the engines started.”
I didn’t even wait to see if he did it before I crawled across the bunk to the flight console and flopped myself into the pilot’s seat. The ship had come online when I’d used the access code to open it, but the control setup was like nothing I’d ever used before, and it took me a few minutes to figure out how to start the engines so I could turn on the heat. I’d just found the temperature settings when I heard Rupert land in the navigator’s chair beside me.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping,” Rupert said, his breathing labored as he reached over to hit a button on my console. “We need to get in the air quickly.”
“There’s quick and there’s dead,” I said. “You said yourself the Eyes won’t be awake for an hour at least, so we can take five minutes to not freeze and have a look at your back.”
“Normally, that would be correct,” Rupert said. “But you killed an Eye.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“So,” Rupert went on, hitting something that made the whole ship start to shake. “A daughter can feel when an Eye near her dies, and as I told you earlier, what one daughter knows, they all know.” He pushed a knob between us, and the shaking got worse. “Reinforcements are undoubtedly being scrambled as we speak, and I’d like to be gone before they arrive.”
I gaped at him. “And you didn’t tell me this earlier because…?”
“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he said. “You were already going as fast as you could. Now we need to pick up the pace.”
His hands kept working as he spoke, moving over the console like he’d been flying one of these boxes all his life. A few seconds later, the engine beeped, and Rupert reached over to hit the red button at the center of my flight stick. The moment he touched it, we jumped into the air, and I had to scramble to keep up straight as we rocketed into the snowy clouds.
Fortunately, despite the unfamiliar controls, flying was still flying. Once we were in the air, I caught on fast, steadying our ascent until we blasted through the upper atmosphere to enter orbit. “How did you learn to fly one of these antiques so well?” I asked as Rupert cut the thrusters.
