“I thank you, again,” she said to her Yu’Nyun counterpart. “For your assistance, and for your company.”
“We most eager to begin,” came the response. Foreign words spoken by the alien who faced her, but interpreted to her right-hand side by the pad in another alien’s hands.
“As am I,” Talis said. “On that note, and due to the presence of our mutual acquaintance, Captain Hankirk, I suggest we avoid any unnecessary delay. Would you be amenable to meeting at the agreed location early tomorrow morning?”
“Most reasonable, Talis Captain. Wise and reasonable.”
Normally she’d shake hands with a business partner, but a glance at the skeletal fingers obscured beneath the long veil, and Talis awkwardly decided a small bow was more appropriate. The aliens, in a single synchronous movement, touched the notches at the base of their throats, then their foreheads, and turned to leave.
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard anyone call you ‘reasonable,’ Captain.”
Talis looked up at Sophie, who had recovered from her shock. She leaned one elbow on the railing of the ship, looking down as she stubbed her cigarette against the metal disk sewn into her leather wrist band. She was still wearing her finery from before, though she had shed the weight of the shoulder holsters. No, Sophie certainly hadn’t called her reasonable lately. But the girl was grinning. Hadn’t meant anything by it, just the usual smuggler’s gibe. Talis took a breath through her nose and tried to let her nerves settle.
“Oh, I am most reasonable,” she assured Sophie, hefting up the box which had, as she predicted, soaked through at the bottom. “Now take this gods-rotted heavy thing before I reason I ought not to share.”
Dug met them on deck, and Sophie unloaded the box into his arms. She eagerly cleared a space on one of the engine houses, pushing aside a coil of line so he could put it down, then ran off to get plates and utensils.
“We’ll eat in the galley,” Talis called to Sophie before she could disappear below. “Got news. Don’t want to share it with everyone on the docks. Where’s Tisker? Sleeping?”
Sophie came up short of the access below and her demeanor shifted. Her hand went to the leather pouch on her waist as if to fetch another cigarette from the brass case inside, but only fiddled with the flap instead. She was headed to the lower decks, after all. “Oh, he, uh… had a personal errand to run. Said he’d be back by dinner, Captain, but it’s a bit early yet.”
Talis eyed her. Sophie was a better liar than that.
“We accepted a delivery,” Dug said, “only a short while before you returned.”
Talis turned her head to Dug. In her peripheral she saw Sophie use the distraction to make her escape.
“Tea and herbs from Zeela’s House of Antiquities?” she asked, and enjoyed the way his eyes narrowed at her. He only liked when she was unpredictable in combat.
“Yes, Captain. What is it really? Herbs don’t weigh that much, or clink when their carton is shifted.” He reached out and plucked something out of her hair, holding it up between them. A dead sackbug, which she must have picked up in her chase after the pickpocket.
Talis grinned at him. She shouldn’t be grinning. Dug certainly wasn’t grinning.
Between Hankirk, the aliens, and the route ahead, there was so little to smile about. Little, but enough to fill that crate from Zeela and put some of the raucous voices in her mind to rest. She couldn’t help it. It had been a long day, and at the start of it, things hadn’t looked like they’d work out half so well as they had.
“You procured a new contract?”
“It’s a longer answer than ‘Yes,’ my friend. Where’s the delivery? I’ll need to verify the contents. Then you’ll see what I’ve procured.”
She clapped him on the shoulder. He stood firm, in her way. Polite. Deferential. Her best friend, dearest advisor, and very concerned first mate.
“Come on, Dug.” She screwed up her face in a feigned pout. “At least hear what I have to say before you decide to mutiny.”
“Aye, Captain.”
It wasn’t always easy to tell when he was joking. She pushed him playfully toward the hatch that led below, following behind. Tried not to let his hesitation color her mood. She already felt guilty enough, dropping the news that she’d taken a contract like this. Contracts were a captain’s prerogative and she owed no explanation. But this was the Yu’Nyun. This, even more, was Dug’s own goddess.
“Where is Tisker really, Dug?”
Dug’s shoulders tensed. He’d washed off the gold dust, but in the still air of the docking bay, had not bothered to put his shirt back on. Talis could see the muscles ripple under his bare skin and the scars on his back shift with the motion.
“Right here, Cap. No worries.”
Talis jumped, and was thankful she managed to control the yelp that had threatened to burst from her throat. She turned toward the sound of Tisker’s voice and saw him heading down the access behind them, one hand on the railing installed over the steps. His other arm was tucked around an odd-shaped parcel wrapped in old newsprint. From the lean in his shoulder, it was heavy for its size.
“Good,” Talis said. “I don’t think Sophie was going to hold dinner for you.”
She let her gaze slide up from the mystery object to his face, so he’d know she was asking. “Anyone out there give you trouble?”
But Tisker’s nostrils flared and his chin rose to follow the scent of food coming out of the galley. “Is that what I think it is?”
Their feast was laid out on the drop-leaf table in the galley, and Sophie’d turned on only half the cabin lighting. The cramped dining compartment was warm and cozy and smelled amazing. The trays of food sat unwrapped with a serving
