The old man gave a withering grimace. “Billy and I’ll stay on here, I think.”
“Good choice. But I tend to agree with your rejection of the shipwreck plan. Wren, as much as I like your idea, I’ll have to downvote it. Let’s stick to plan A.”
She shrugged, gave a surly scowl. “All the same to me, Rusco. Go for it.”
“On another note, Starrunner’s due for an overhaul. New stabilizers, Barenium seals, whatever. You contribute your share and we’re all fine. I’ve facilitated your escape and I’ll put in for the bulk of repairs. After that we share in the spoils.”
TK blinked and growled, “I can live with that, Rusco, but I’d rather you pay me hard yols for the repairs I do, and give me a garage, diagnostic equipment and tools.”
I smiled. “See, there’s the rub, TK.” I put my arm around his shoulders. “Things like hangar space and tools, cost money.”
“Why not dump this silly crate and buy a whole new kit?” grunted Wren.
I stared at her for a moment. “How do you figure that? You think quality spacecraft are just lying about, waiting to be plucked from trees?”
“Steal one.”
“Something unethical about that,” I said, in my most deadpan voice.
TK snorted.
These rubes didn’t appreciate a good joke. “I need to take a nap, sleep off these wounds. Knock yourself out, the bridge is yours.
“Wait!” cried TK. “Let’s talk more about these heists. If you’re serious, why not start on Vasel or Perseus? Lot of trade up there, or at least was, when I was touring.”
“Perseus is a high draw,” I admitted. “I’ve heard ripe business goes on up there. Some money to milk at least.”
“Another place comes to mind is Skguron.”
“With Skgurian raiders coming up your ass out of every nook and cranny in hyperspace. I think not.”
“Scrap it then. Perseus, it is.”
“We’ll talk about it more later.” I yawned. “Plenty of water in the dispenser and dry food in the paks, and some more cheap gin under the bulkhead, if you need a kick.”
“Thanks, dads,” said Wren with unveiled sarcasm. “That’s a great package, the dry meal included.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said, tipping my head in salute.
Exhaustion had more than taken its toll. After showing Wren and TK to their quarters in the spare cabins, I thought to hit my bunk. But first I locked the controls on autopilot for Beleron, with only a key code that I knew. Didn’t trust them farther than I could spit. Yet.
I flopped down on my hard foam, locking the door tightly by remote. I caught some restless sleep, but awoke in a cold sweat some hours later, feeling the gnarling pain in my knee, a gnawing ache which was like a saw penetrating to the bone.
I descended to the hold, checking things over, sauntered back up the service hall where I saw the bridge lights on. Wren had already retired, but as I approached, I caught TK snooping by the controls, rummaging for something. He seemed to be fiddling with the auxiliary panel. It looked as if he were searching for booze, but on second glance, he pretended to tie his boot lace. Then I got suspicious with his head snapping up like that with a stupid grin, fingers tapping some keystrokes into the data console.
“Says here packed Barenium will hold up 50% longer, Jet, if it’s nazolene-pressed vs raw-treated. You know what era your Barenium’s from?”
“Not rightly, TK. Wasn’t given the proper maintenance papers by the lowlifes I snatched the ship from.”
“I can imagine that. Well, seems as if we should make some effort to track those papers down, shouldn’t we? I was searching for them in the utility cabinets below when you startled me—”
“They aren’t there.” I curled up my lip. It might have been a legitimate story but I thought not. TK was slier than he looked. Seemed he had pulled up some info on the free data stream via holo net. Kits which included diagrams, well-marked-up color-coded map, step-by-step instructions with two young, vivacious birdies giving a servicing tutorial on the finer points of Barenium and handling fresh product in vacuum sealed canisters. Nice girls. Pretty looking, but it looked much like a cute trick to sidestep me, and a feint to cover his real intentions.
“Bridge is off limits while I’m not here,” I muttered in a cold voice.
“I thought you said to make ourselves—”
“I said no bridge access. New rules.” I’d have to make a point of moving that strongbox with the phaso to a more secure location. The last hungry look I saw on the old man’s face had that wild, eager edge that stuck in my mind. The phaso was already hidden well in the forward bulkhead, but one could never be too sure.
* * *
We skipped Beleron and docked at Zanzadeer, known for its mech shops and abundant ship parts. Also gambling houses, party houseboats, rave depots, plenty to placate the varied vices of humankind: sex sports, needle games, you name it, they had it. I opted to kill two birds with one stone, repairs and profit. Not the best place to dock for a leisurely layover. Lots of mishaps reported on Zanzadeer: missing bodies, child abductions, random blast attacks, but we couldn’t be choosy with Starrunner acting up as she was.
The repairs were complex, items that even TK couldn’t fix, despite his protestations to the contrary. Without a proper garage, his skills were limited. But he said he’d look over the mechanics’ work after they were done to check for shoddy service. I nodded, muting my skepticism of honest-dealers. Meanwhile, we needed funds. I was sadly lacking,
