“Because the boss loves firrits, is why,” said Edgar the maintenance man. “Keep working. Everybody can have a pet firrit here. Maybe you’ll get one too.”
Marty shook his head and exhaled a sad breath. “Sure need those nightly plunges in the shallow lake nearby.”
Turns out Kragen’s mini refinery did everything under the sun…and the old-fashioned, conventional way, heating crucibles of mineral with fire then jolts of electricity getting it to proper ionization level. Used loaders and cranes to lift the smelt to a cooling bin before it was cut up into bite-sized crystals then cleaned.
Thetis still had these shops and factories going, though as Deidra pointed out, they pumped out nowhere near the volume of Sharki’s operation.
I kept Deidra out of harm’s way and under tight watch, a spare tool hid in my back pocket in case anybody got too frisky. That brazen swagger of hers with loose-hipped stride was mighty tempting. Coupled with her full lips, tall bearing and ash blond locks trailing past shoulders was enough to put most men over the edge. Not that she couldn’t handle herself. We ate in the mess hall off Malley’s yard. Mostly cheap fare, looking like some sort of boiled swamp scallops and white stringy vegetable. But the food was included so I couldn’t complain. Marty ate heaping double helpings while Deidra seemed to eat like a bird. All in all, Kragen was a fair host who organized entertainment for us in the evenings, like homegrown comedy hour, dress up night, beer-drinking races, and such, all to the drunken jeers of the slave help. Marty turned out to be a hoot, dressing up like a spinster and giving his ham-handed version of her violent acts with a tire iron when accosted by the rowdy yardhands in an improvised skit.
By day, Kragen worked us hard and Marty was ready to murder someone. “From riches to rags,” he griped. “We should be getting that shipment to buyers and be laughing it up.”
“But we aren’t, are we? So quit your grousing and keep looking to better days. We have the chance to be rich men.”
“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it, Rusco.”
Deidra took a more relaxed stance and did her work without complaining. At night time Marty, Deidra and I camped out in Goliath, spared us having to sleep in the communal barracks. Good thing too. Deidra’s good looks and figure would have been a magnet for trouble.
After hours the third day she approached me after the other workers had hit the barracks, those crude tin lodgings much like an army provides its soldiers, located behind the equipment service yard.
“Still haven’t forgiven you, Rusco, for locking me in that closet-crib. That was unnecessary. Who are you anyways? Can’t put my finger on you. A wise-ass with some smarts and grit, but unpredictable. Vagabond, thief, rogue, take your pick. There’s something not quite right about you and that cross-eyed grin of yours under all that dark, murky, cynical exterior, with a few little idiosyncrasies thrown in that don’t add up.”
I smirked. “Don’t think too long, Deidra. You’ll never figure me out. Nor will I.”
“Clever answer. Why’re you chumming around with that hothead bullet-face, Marty? Seems a bad match. Surely you can do better?”
“Mar’s a little rough around the edges, but a loyal accomplice and one who gets the job done.”
“Yeah, that’s an overstatement.” She shook her head and made a sour face. “Still can’t figure you out.”
“Forget it. You’re in over your head. Concentrate on getting yourself free from Sharki. Until we’re off this planet, you’re just as much shark-bait as me.”
Chapter 4
Three days later, Kragen put a rough hand on my shoulder as I was about to haul a bucket of reagent up the scaffolding to drop in the feeder chute. “Repairs are done, Rusbo. Warp is still screwed but impulse drive is working fine. A fine ship that is—antediluvian as she may be.”
Marty looked up with a growl. “The impulse was working fine before.”
Kragen shrugged. “Just relaying Malley’s words. The bad news—the ship’s clocked up more repair and parts than any of us ever expected. We went ahead with the repairs anyways. Hope you and your pals aren’t in any hurry somewhere?”
My throat felt dry as I drew in a hoarse breath. “How much repair?”
Kragen winced, wiped his chin, “About 10k yols.”
“10k? Get serious!”
“We can amortize the cost over time, relax. Strictly labor. You people seem to be doing a half decent job here.” He pointed and smiled. “That’ll be three of you working nights. Say about three months work? Maybe two and a half, if you work overtime.”
“No fucking way!” Marty bawled. “I’m no roustabout.”
Kragen screwed up his eyes in a fierce scowl. “You know, I don’t like you, bullet-head. Got a dirty mouth. Seems you need a lesson in humility. To show proper respect for the working class.”
Marty reached for the hammer at his feet in the toolbox. “Screw your respect. None of that in this twisted universe, so piss off.”
“Hold on.” I broke up the inevitable fight before it began.
Our heads turned at a sound of a sneering voice. “Hoy!”
Six men coming our way, all swagger and heavily armed.
Kragen stepped back with a grimace. My blood ran cold. The old feet didn’t want to move but I forced them
