Biggs took the butt of his rifle to the radio console, smashing it to bits. “Just in case you two flyboys try to send out a mayday.”
A pair of headphones dangled on a cord from the ceiling. Biggs grabbed those and crushed them under his boot heel. Likewise, he snatched away the captain’s helmet equipped with com and tossed it to Choko. Choko grinned and kicked it out the door and down the aisle like a soccer ball. Regers ducked back, grimacing as it rolled by him.
The captain squawked: “You can’t navigate this craft without a radio.”
Biggs clipped him with the rifle. “The fuck you can’t. Think we’re playing games here, flyboy? Which one of you dies first, you or your co-navigator bitch?”
“Easy fella,” said the captain, pushing forth palms, “no need to get violent.”
“Don’t ‘easy fella’ me, you jackshit.” Biggs blasted his leg.
The man howled. “You bloody bastard!” He rocked, clutching his shattered shin.
Regers winced. His plan suddenly seemed less viable.
Choko, alerted by some movement in the hall, came charging out, rifle raised. He caught Regers, back flat to the wall.
“Hey, fuckface, where are you going? I thought Gila was supposed to be watching you?”
Regers raised hands to shoulder level. “Sorry, man. Just had to go to the bathroom. Guess I got lost.”
“Yeah, my ass you got lost. Just like you lost your E1? How about it, you ready to die?” Choko jabbed the gun at Regers’ chest.
“How about nothing,” said Regers. “You’re better off keeping us all alive as hostages in case things go sour. Why slaughter everybody?” He motioned to the groaning man in the pilot cabin. “Your captain’s going to bleed out in a matter of minutes.”
“Boo hoo. What makes you so smart?” Huh?” He jammed the muzzle in Regers’ face.
Regers turned his head away. He knew that to rile this animal up or show fear would only kindle his wrath and spur more violence. Give him a reason to make an example as Biggs had the captain, then he would in a heartbeat. Biggs came out, scowling, his gun raised.
Choko pointed at Regers. “Here’s the same wanker who was firing at Zoral and his goons.”
“Yeah, I remember him,” said Biggs. The leader’s lips curled in interest. “I could get to like this man. He doesn’t piss his pants, like these other jackshits. What’s your name?”
“Regers.”
The gang leader squinted at him, took a deep breath. He gazed at the place just past his accomplice as if weighing the fate of worlds while Choko licked his lips, no doubt familiar with his boss’s volatile moods.
“Take a close look at this Regers, Choko. A professional rogue’s my guess. Maybe paramilitary. Eyes cold as an eel. Someone who can turn on his own sister, or slit his own mother’s eyeballs if he has to. Ain’t I right, Regers?”
Regers shrugged, the faintest curl of a sneer on his lips. Better these scum create their own illusion of him.
Biggs laughed. He slapped Regers on the back. “Welcome to the gang, Regers. If you can hack it, you’re in. We could use a man like you. As you see, we’re undermanned. I happen to be a good judge of talent.”
“You can’t be serious, Biggs?” Choko groaned. “This fucking pipsqueak? If I blow too hard he’ll fall over.”
Biggs stared in mild amusement. “I’d like to see that. No pipsqueak here from where I’m standing.”
Choko rubbed his chin, maybe a bit too hastily. “If he’s going to be one of the brothers, let’s initiate him.” A sarcastic grin passed over the thug’s jowly face. He pulled a wad of brown-white pellets from his greasy jacket. “You need to try some bam, Regers. Loosen up your tight ass. You’re a bit stiff. Not a full-fledged brother till you’re nice and loose, like me and Flip.”
“I’m about as loose as I need to be,” Regers said.
Biggs waved his gun. “He said, try some, Regers.” He made a head motion to Choko.
Choko leered and thrust the pellets in Regers’ face. Regers stuck up an elbow, deflecting the arm, while Choko tickled Regers’ ear with his gun muzzle. “Help you work better, you dipshit vrego.”
“Back the fuck off,” grunted Regers. “I don’t need you feeding me pablum.” He grabbed at the pellets and downed them in one gulp. “Next one touches me ends up with a knee up his ass.”
Biggs only laughed.
“Tough man,” sneered Choko. His barrel swept up, fingers heavy on the trigger.
Biggs restrained Choko and lanced him a warning glare. “Dial it back, Chok. You’re too hair-triggered. This man is part of our outfit now. He’ll remain so, till he messes up. In which case, he gets a one way ticket to the sharks. We clear?”
Choko growled, a low, sullen sound. Regers’ eyes dimmed as the narcotic went to work.
Biggs nodded in satisfaction. “See, when Choko says, vrego, he means the non-freyas who live and breed like Balden Boys.”
The drone of a boat engine drifted across the waves. Biggs’s head turned, his grin disappearing. “Get Regers back to the passenger area with the others. We can use his muscle. Grab a stick or something, Regers, and watch over the hostages. Fucking Flip’s a useless twit.”
“You heard the man,” Choko grunted.
Two ships bore down on them from south-south-east. They looked like coast guard cutters, sweeping in fast off the port bow.
Choko snarled, “We can RPG them down, Biggs.”
Biggs held back Choko’s arm. “Save the RPGs. There’ll be an air strike before long.”
“So what we gonna do?”
Biggs motioned. He brought forth the mysterious rectangular cargo from the passenger area out on the port deck and reached to peel off the tape. The wind whipped back his unruly black hair. Regers stared in
