“I said turn this ship around!—wait, I’ve a better idea.” He motioned the gun. “Jennings, set a course toward the dragonfly avatar. Use the claw arm to pick it up. We’re going to bring that mechno back to my lab. There’s a goldmine in experimental tech in that hardware. Worth its weight in gold.”
“You’re giving orders now, Dez? Who’s going to pilot it? You? With your fancy ass gun in hand? I don’t think so. Good luck.”
Dez sprayed a line of fire at Regers’ and Deakes’s feet. “Stay back, fools!”
Regers did a little dance. “Horny toads, Dez! Getting frisky?” He gave a dog-eared, crooked smile.
“Tell Vincent and your other dumb thug with the horns to lower their guns and move slowly over to the controls with Jennings where I can see them.”
Regers shook his head, then cast Deakes a sly grin. “Okay, boys…Jiminy, you heard the man.”
Jennings licked his lips. Regers leered in distaste as Jennings set the course to rendezvous with the dragonfly’s avatar. He clacked away on the console to familiarize himself with the ship’s exterior robot arm.
Regers blew air out of his cheeks. “Funny how a gun in hand changes a man, Dez. Makes him think he’s bigger than he is, allows him to take more risks, as if he’s got a bigger cock or something. When deep down inside that man knows he’s either a spineless cur or a fighter. And you ain’t no fighter, Dez. Written all over your face. Simple advice, drop the gun, give up this charade and all will be forgotten. Just warning you.”
“I’m going to teach you a lesson, Regers. Now get over there with Vincent and the others!” The CEO’s veins bulged on his neck, rifle clutched in shaky hands.
A sudden pincer arm poked up from the rubble of shredded Mentera corpses. Dez turned, startled by the movement. He sprang back, a shrill cry in his throat. A gibbering, hissing moan came from the not-yet-dead Mentera. Dez’s gun loosed a spray of fire, killing the Mentera and ricocheting off the weapons rack.
Deakes wasted no time. Slamming forward, he crunched both fists into Dez’s shoulder. Dez sagged, his mouth wide in a shriek of agony. His weapon arm hung limp. Regers moved in, wrenched the E1 from him.
Regers smiled down at Dez. “Sure glad we settled that little episode. Enough bloodshed today already, Dez. Look around you. You think we need to add your worthless hide to the killing ground? A perfectly decent ship all shot to shit with multiple bug corpses putrefying my space and shedding green blood everywhere. Think I’ll elect you number one mop up man to clean up this mess.”
Dez sank lower to the floor, moaning, clutching his side.
“Attaboy, Deakes. You always come through. Now it’s your turn to be learning a lesson, Dez. I told you, Uncle Regers’s gonna take care of us, one big happy family. Why you try to spoil it, Dez, like some A-hole with shit for brains?
“Now, take Jennings for example. He’s the only one I’d put a gun in hand, ’cause I know he doesn’t have it in him to turn on me. Man’s wise enough to know if he did, between Vincent, me and Deakes, he’d end up potato mash.”
Jennings firmed his lip, muttering dark monosyllables.
Dez whimpered on his knees. Regers shook his head without sympathy. He motioned his E1 to the holoview where the Mentera were getting their asses kicked, bombarded by the dragonfly. “Would you look at that. Buggie-boo’s coming through in the end. Ain’t that a pretty sight?”
Jennings shuddered. “Creib would have something different to say.”
“I reckon Creib is on a highway to hell right now, Jiminy, so let’s have some respect for the dead.”
“We could—”
“Bug off, Jiminy. Don’t even mention it, or I’ll blast your teeth out.” He waved his rifle in the man’s face, a baleful gleam in his eye.
“Sure, whatever you say, Regers.”
Regers’ grin turned to ice. “Now get this fucking ship moving.” He slammed his metal fist down on the console. “Dez’s idea’s not a bad one—so we’ll forgive him this time and take his suggestion.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re gonna take that bug armor with us, use it as collateral and hightail it the fuck out of here.”
Deakes stared, starry-eyed. “You crazy?” Ramra and Vincent leaned in with open mouths.
“Move! You heard what I said.”
Jennings caught Regers’ arm. “The alien bug’s dangerous. Look at it. Can’t you see—”
“Screw the bug. If it’s going to fuck with us, we’re going to fuck with it. Make us some money in the meantime. Save us a bunch of piss-assing around in Veglos, working small time cons.”
Deakes shook his head, blood trailing from his cheek. “Too risky, Regers. Can’t condone it.”
“Yeah, well, life’s a risk.” Regers grimaced. “Besides, don’t want that thing getting back in its armor and chasing after us. I’ve seen what their species can do. I remember it well, back on Phebis. Ain’t for the weak of heart.”
“It’s insane, Regers.”
“I’ve heard that too many times.” Regers waved his gun at Dez. “Blame Dezzie here.”
They glared at the scientist who cowered in a tighter ball.
The others stood around, still gaping. Ramra scratched his horned head; suddenly Regers lost his cool. He slammed a boot at the console and stuck the rifle end in Jennings’s ear.
“Hurry it up, lady Jane. We’re not on a sightseeing tour here.” He gave Ramra a shove. “You too, hornhead. Go work nav, stick your finger up your ass, plot us a light drive course or something to Tilas or thereabouts. Once we get our cargo I don’t want to be dicking around plugging in numbers. Quick, while that bug’s distracted.”
Mumbling misgivings, Jennings impulsed toward the place where the armored hulk hovered. He guided the ship
