by T. M. Catron
“Got a problem?” Rance asked with as much snark as she could muster.
“You’re so naive, Rance Cooper.”
“And you’re a tiresome know-it-all, Solaris.”
He nodded in infuriating acknowledgment as they climbed the ramp into the cargo bay. Inside, dark metal had been polished until it gleamed like the outside. The floor was spotless—it should have been, considering it hadn’t been used lately. The very air of the ship screamed luxury even down to the smooth door leading to the engine room. Luxury and cleanliness.
At least if they starved, they’d do it in style.
A warm glow shone out from the galley. Harper, upon hearing Rance and Solaris’ voices, peeked her head around the door. Her shock of straight, dark hair stuck up wildly. Her usual bangs fell into her eyes.
Embarrassed that she hadn’t brought dinner, Rance avoided Harper’s eye as she walked into the galley.
But the tiny science officer didn’t heap guilt on them when she saw the captain’s empty hands. “Are we going to take on a job, then, Captain?” she asked.
Harper’s soft voice and warm nature fooled strangers into thinking she was a simple young woman. But she was sharp, and her abilities went far beyond the duties she performed on the Star Streaker. She could have had a job performing advanced hyperspace calculations onboard a Unity ship, or on one of the private runners that ferried nobles from planet to planet. But Harper preferred the quiet life onboard the Streaker and maintaining the ship’s new AI, Deliverance.
Okay, maybe life onboard the Streaker wasn’t that quiet, Rance thought. Only the last two months had been quiet. Ever since they had returned from the disaster on Coru where they’d narrowly avoided some murderous thugs.
“Sorry, Harper,” Rance said. “No supper tonight.”
“Actually,” Harper said. “Abel found some dehydrated rations in his cabin. They are enough to last a week or so if we’re very careful.”
Relieved, Rance nodded at Harper. “I’m glad Abel is willing to share his secret stash with us.”
“I think he forgot about them.”
Sure he did. But Rance was grateful, even though the discovery of the rations only made her feel a tad better. She sank down on the bench at the table and stared ahead, looking down the short, darkened hallway that led to the crew’s quarters on the bottom level. Harper, Abel, and Tally each had a tiny cabin down that corridor.
Maybe Tally should have been Captain, Rance thought in disgust. He’d certainly do a better job than she was doing at the moment.
Solaris walked into the galley wearing his flight suit. He’d changed his face into the one the crew was used to seeing—easy, boyish good looks and a mop of brown hair. That wasn’t his true appearance, either. Rance had never seen the real one. Right now, that irritated her too.
He sat down across from her and stewed, ready to continue the argument if Rance gave him a reason. Harper sensed the tension between them and busied herself with making her favorite herbal tea. After setting a cup in front of each of them, she sat next to Rance and looked at Solaris.
He stared morosely into his cup as if he wished it were something stronger.
“You can’t help that we didn’t get any food, Solaris,” Harper said.
Solaris glanced up, his eyes sharp with criticism. “No, that’s the Captain’s fault.”
Rance rolled her eyes.
Harper frowned and said, “The captain’s not to blame for our current predicament.”
She glared pointedly at him, and Solaris had the grace to look sheepishly back to his tea. Harper was referring to Solaris’ status as a fugitive, the most wanted man in the galaxy. They had risked their necks to hide him.
Feeling vindicated, and particularly grateful to Harper, Rance sipped her tea. It was smooth and fruity and savory all at the same time. Good thing it tasted good because it was supper. They’d make those rations last as long as possible.
Harper had never contradicted Solaris before. If gentle Harper was snapping, Rance knew it was time to move on. They could find another short run in this system, to tie them over until they landed a bigger job. She was about to say something when James’ voice came over the ship’s comm.
“Hey, Captain, hate to interrupt the family meeting, but we have a message from Prometheus.”
“Prometheus? Who do I know on Prometheus?”
Rance’s mind whirled with questions and possibilities as she abandoned her mug on the table and sprinted out of the galley.
She took the stairs two at a time. Down the straight corridor, past her own quarters, then two more tiny cabins—Solaris’ and James’. Then up the ladder into the cramped cockpit.
It overflowed with buttons and screens. Rance’s long legs felt crammed in every time she sat in her seat behind the pilot’s, which was pushed up close to the large window.
The windows were Rance’s favorite part of the ship. One above, one in front. Despite the fact the area was small, Rance loved coming up to stargaze when they weren’t in hyperspace. She’d put up with any situation, as long as she got to return to see the stars after a long day of work.
Today, James had darkened the windows to keep out the glare of the afternoon sun. But they weren’t so dark Rance couldn’t see the yellow sky and look out over the vast expanse of green and purple fields all the way to the river.
“No supper then, huh?” he asked, running a hand through his shaggy red hair.
“Who is it?” Rance asked as she sat in her chair. She sank into the plush seat and propped her feet onto the console in front of her.
“Someone named Moira Finn,” James said, eyeing her dirty boots.
“Moira!”
“Know her?”
“We grew up together on Xanthes. She did the proper thing and got married as soon as she turned eighteen. Wonder how she found me.”
“Maybe through one of our usual contacts? She sent you a video.”
Rance frowned. Moira didn’t associate with the sort of crowd the Star Streaker deemed contacts. If she’d gone to all that trouble, something wasn’t right. An anxious knot formed in Rance’s stomach. If Moira could track her down enough to send a message, Davos could too.
It was undoubtedly time to leave.
Rance glanced out the window, expecting Unity ships to descend on them right then. But the sky was still clear and yellow, so she said, “Play the message, Deliverance.”
Yes, Captain. Playing message from Lady Moira Finn.
Rance had hoped to find a way to get Deliverance to speak audibly. For some reason, it hadn’t been programmed into her code. Harper had been working round the clock to fix it, but even she couldn’t find a way inside to work on it. They’d asked Deliverance herself how to do it, but the AI adamantly refused to help them.
Of course, Rance would inherit an AI that was stubborn.
For now, Deliverance’s words overlaid Moira Finn’s face as it popped up against the backdrop of a sheer, purple curtain made of expensive fabric. Moira had dark, curly hair arranged artfully around high cheekbones and a smooth brow. She had always been classically beautiful, and a life of wealth and ease hadn’t hurt her at all.
Today, though, her beautiful face contrasted sharply with the fear in her eyes. Concerned, Rance leaned forward in her seat and braced herself for bad news about her family. It was the only logical purpose for Moira’s message.
James glanced at the captain’s expression and then moved around to watch over her shoulder. Rance didn’t object. She didn’t have any secrets from James, and Moira couldn’t possibly tell her anything she wouldn’t share with her crew.
“Devri,” Moira began, using Rance’s real name. “I hope this gets to you in time. I’ve gone over and over my options, but I don’t have any, really. I heard you had your own ship—money is no object.”
Moira paused and looked up at something behind the camera. Then she lowered her voice. “My husband is missing.”
She spoke so low Rance had to turn
up the volume to hear.
“He’s been gone eight days. And during that time, strange events have taken place. Things aren’t right on Prometheus. I can’t explain everything, but I need to get off this planet. I don’t know who to trust. A few families have already left, but I’m afraid to ask others to take me with them. No one seems to have heard from Richard or wants to talk about him. I can’t explain, but I think he’s in trouble, if not d-dead.”
Moira’s voice broke. She looked behind the camera again with a wild look in her eyes. Then she leaned close to it, her fine nose pressing against the lens.
She whispered, almost inaudibly, “Come get me.”
Then the video went black.
“Come get her?” James asked. “Is that for real?”
Rance pushed the screen away from her and sat back. “Moira always was a bit dramatic. But this is weird.”
“I’ll say. Is Davos behind it?”
Rance looked up at James. “You think it’s a trap?”
James shrugged. “Don’t know what to think, but yeah, could be. How well do you know Moira?”
“Not very well. Our parents moved in the same circles. I saw her at society balls, that kind of thing. If Davos was trying to lure me to Prometheus, he could have picked a closer friend from my childhood.”
James opened his mouth in mock surprise. “You mean you had friends as a child? You were allowed to have them, being the precious heir to the House of Davos? I’m surprised you weren’t kept in a soft, pillowy room at the top of a windowless tower.”
“Very funny. Yes, I had friends. But I parted ways with many of them when I went to the Flight Academy.”
“Moira was one of them?”
“Yes. She wasn’t a bad sort, just a typical, pampered princess.”
“Like you.”
Rance grinned and looked at her friend. “I was pampered, James, but never typical.”
“So what are we going to do?”
She tapped her fingers against her armrest. “We know we have to leave Ares, anyway. Moira will pay us—she’s good for it. And we just lost our last fifty in the market.”
“Lost?”
“Long story. Ask Solaris. Speaking of—”
Rance pressed a button and called the CO up to the cockpit. As always, when he emerged into the tiny space, Rance was reminded of just how small the cockpit was—Solaris was a good two inches taller than she. He barely fit.
“Alright, CO,” she said. “What do you think about a trip to Prometheus?”
“You mean as a pleasure trip? A family vacation?”
“Ha, ha. I meant on a mission.”
Solaris smiled, his first actual smile in a week. “You mean a mission where we’ll get paid?”
The grin was infectious. Rance smiled back. “Yeah. A friend of mine wants to pay us to get her off Prometheus.”
“What’s wrong on Prometheus?”
James pulled up Moira’s video and played it for Solaris. When it was done, Solaris frowned. “Do you know her well?”
“I agree it’s weird, but we can’t just ignore her.”
“It worries me that something is happening on Prometheus that we don’t know about.”
“James,” Rance said, “Let’s check reports from Prometheus.”
James spent a few moments in his chair, checking for any unusual activity from the Core planet. When he didn’t find anything, he turned around and shook his head.
Rance looked back at Solaris. “If we need to disguise the ship, can you still do that?”
Solaris had been exhausted after the last time he’d had to disguise the Star Streaker.
“I can. Let’s be careful, huh?”
“Always,” Rance said.
“What is that?” Rance asked.
She stood at the top of the stair, looking down into the cargo bay. They were about to leave. Rance was going over her last checklist before takeoff. Harper, James, and Tally were looking at something in Abel’s arms—something furry and squeaking.
They parted, and Abel turned toward the captain, sporting a black eye. A small, furry bundle of ginger fluff sat in his large hands. Strange, high-pitched noises emanated from it.
It was a cappatter.
“No,” she said.
“Aww, boss, they were going to throw it into the river for the lantess.”
James snickered. “Looks like they tried to throw you into the river too.”
“Yeah, well,” Abel said, looking sheepish. “I had to fight them over it. Then they threw the little guy at me and walked off laughing.”
Rance stomped down the stairs, letting her heavy magnetic boots clang on the metal a little louder than necessary. “We are not bringing one of those onboard. They get into everything.”
The little creature squirmed in Abel’s hands. It looked like a fuzzy ball. When she reached Abel, the cappatter opened sad, blue eyes and looked accusingly at Rance.
Then, three little hairless arms shot out from where they’d been hiding in its fur. They reached for Rance, and the cappatter wiggled three little fingers on each tiny hand.
“See, boss? It likes you.”
Rance crossed her arms and glared determinedly at Abel. “No pets.”
“It’s not one of the rules, Captain,” Harper said.
Rance scoffed. “It’s a given rule of space travel! Pets on a spaceship are a nuisance. They get underfoot. They wreak havoc with the cleaning systems. And they distract crews from their work.”
“Nobles travel with them all the time,” Abel said. “I saw them on Triton.”
Rance’s nostrils flared. “How many of them were smugglers—”
“Anonymous transporters,” James added helpfully.
“Anonymous transporters,” she said through gritted teeth.
“We won’t let it be a nuisance, boss,” Abel said. “Promise.”
The cappatter squeaked again, and three more arms appeared. Then, it hopped out of Abel’s hands onto Rance’s shoulder like some sort of round, hairy spider.
The critter was light, its fur soft and silky. It nuzzled Rance’s ear, tickling her earlobe. She refused to look at it.
“We’ll keep it with us,” Harper said. “You won’t even know it’s here.”
The cappatter rubbed a smooth, hairless hand over Rance’s cheek, petting her. She swatted its hand away. “No. Cappatters are pets for children.”
Tally sniffed. “Well then, it’ll be right at home,” he said, looking pointedly at James.
Abel’s eyes glazed over with a dreamy, nostalgic look. “I had one as a kid. It was blue, not ginger. Used to sleep with me every night—until my older brother stole it and gave it to his girlfriend. My dad wouldn’t buy me another one. He said I was too old for another pet.”
The cappatter wrapped four of its six arms around Rance’s head as far as they would go. They squeezed her while one little hand grabbed her nose. Its hand was hot and smelled like warm cinnamon.
“No,” she said again, this time with a little less enthusiasm.
“Didn’t you ever have a pet, boss?”
Rance gripped the creature with both hands, trying to pry it off her face. “My father didn’t allow them. He said pets made nobles weak.”
“But you’re not a noblewoman anymore,” Harper said. “And, you aren’t like your father.”
Rance sighed. “That’s a dirty trick, Harper. You know I’m not like him.”
Harper grinned and shot James a look that said, got her.
Rance finally managed to tug the creature off her shoulder and held it up to look at. It wriggled, trying to get back to her face.
“Hold still, fur ball.”
It obeyed, training its soft eyes on her again, holding her attention. With its blue eyes and ginger hair, it almost looked like—
Rance burst out laughing, and the cappatter squeaked happily.
“It looks like Solaris!” she said. She laughed harder, bringing the CO out of engineering.
Sola
ris walked over to the group, grinning, anticipating a good joke. “What looks like—no.”
Then, he sneezed violently.
The cappatter squealed in fright.
James grabbed it from Rance and held it close. “You scared it, Solaris! Don’t do that!”
Solaris sniffed and said, “I’m allergic to those things.”
“I guess that settles it then,” Rance said, with the tiniest twinge of regret. She squashed it down. “We can’t keep it.”
“Oh no, Captain,” Harper said. “I’m sure I can come up with something to alleviate his allergies. That’s not a problem.”
Solaris turned his own pleading eyes on Rance. “Please no,” he said.
But now that Rance had made the connection between the cappatter and Solaris, she couldn’t get the resemblance out of her mind.
“Harper says she can help. And the thugs were going to throw it in the river.”
Harper, Abel, and James let out whoops of joy. The cappatter squeaked happily again. Tally scowled at all of them with his large, green eyes, like the crew members were out of their minds.
“Keep it out of the engine room,” he ordered Abel. “I don’t want to find hair everywhere.”
Then he turned and stalked over to the fold-out crash chairs in the hold. Everything was ready for the Streaker to leave.
“What are you going to name it, Abel?” James asked as the cappatter nuzzled his hands.
“Henry.”
Solaris snorted.
Abel glared at him and took Henry away from James. “It’s the name I had for the one when I was a kid. Hey, little Henry.”
Henry blinked at Abel and then wound its arms through his fingers.
The sight of Abel’s wide, powerful, tattooed frame cradling the fluffy ginger ball was more than Rance could handle. She stifled a snicker. Then she accidentally caught Solaris’ eye, and they both had to hurry upstairs to the cockpit before they burst out laughing.
“I didn’t have the heart to tease him about it,” Rance said when she’d calmed down.
James followed them to the cockpit, and they all strapped into their seats.
Before they could complete take-off procedures, Henry found them. He climbed the ladder, scuttled across the floor, and wrapped himself around Solaris’ leg.
