Galaxy's End: Book One LeRoy Clary (dark books to read TXT) 📖

Fang entered the cabin with us as if he were one of our group. I watched to see how and when Captain Stone would throw him out, and how far. Instead, she motioned for him to move to the far corner where he was safe from our clumsy feet.

“Listen up. We have problems,” Stone said.

The cabin went silent. Even the tapping and clacking from Bert’s location ceased.

Hands on hips, she paced two steps in one direction, then returned, the length of the cabin floor, if two steps in any direction can be considered pacing. She spun on us and said, “I sent a coded subspace message to the Guardia. The return gave me no details, but the message had one of three responses. All is well, or not bad and we’re handing any problems, or we’re in deep shit. The latter was to be used only in extreme circumstances.”

“That’s the one they used?” Bert said from the other cabin. “You didn’t make it clear.”

Stone said, “I’ll make it clear now. It was the worst case.”

Bert said, “You’re talking about the sort of trouble where your ship has been confiscated or heavily damaged? Not just a poor business transaction.”

“If someone else took control of my ship, like the government of Roma, there would not have been a return message. No, something is going on at Escobar Habitat, but my First Officer and crew knew the backup plan if one of those things ever happened. Or backup plans. We have more than one. The message tells me my ship is no longer at Escobar Hab.”

For some reason, my eyes went back to Fang. Why was he in here?

And why was I always referring to aliens as male? That was not like me. Not that I care, but both Bert and Fang seem to have male attributes. Or maybe I was just assigning them. Whatever, it didn’t matter. I shifted my attention back to Captain Stone, and yes, I used the title in my thinking because the way she was acting was as a captain, not an upset passenger.

“Where is your ship?” Fang asked.

“One of three alternate places, depending on the type of trouble they encountered.”

“Why did you think to send a subspace message?” Bert asked, appearing at the doorway from under his burrows for the first time since we boarded. His fur was ruffled, almost dull. His face was serious.

Stone turned to him, looking almost surprised as if she had forgotten he was a digger and sometimes appeared at unlikely places and times. I watched the brief interchange.

Bert was upset. Stone was furious. She snapped, “I made a few bets and won a lot of credits. Even if I pushed the limits, there were no laws broken. At most, Roma should have banned me from future betting. Instead, there’s a manhunt for me like few I’ve ever seen.”

“There’s more?” Bert prompted.

“Our new friend Fang, I’ll introduce you all later, was going to drug me and collect the reward. He hinted there was another bounty hunter on board, and that got me wondering about what the hell is going on. Winning a huge amount of money wouldn’t bring the heat we’re getting—and I assure you the amount was not that much.”

“Possibly two others,” Fang said evenly. “Certainly one. Just to be clear.”

Bill and I exchanged one of our private looks. This one meant neither of us knew what was happening. We were completely confused. It seemed there were now five of us, and the others were talking way above our heads. Better to keep quiet and listen.

Bill and I were not going to pull out of a sweet deal like the one we’d fallen into, but we were not going to be stupid either. If there was danger, our usual plan was to run. As if by mutual consent, we turned to Bert. His eyes were half-closed, his attention elsewhere. Inside his shoulder, the small computer was probably working overtime as it connected with whatever ones he’d gathered since boarding the ship. Bert was trying to figure it out too.

Bert didn’t disappoint us. “The Malabar and the Bright are the bounty hunters, right?”

Fang looked surprised as it turned every eyestalk in Bert’s direction. Fang inhaled deeply, probably using another sense to understand Bert, and asked, “How did you know?”

Bert snorted in the way that meant Fang had asked a stupid question and said, “The Bright was fined for cruelty to a prisoner in its custody on the desert world of Mankins a few years ago. That indicates, or at least, hints it is a bounty hunter or law enforcement. The Malabar bought passage on this ship only a few tenths of time after us. The grav-sled she rode to the spaceport picked her up a few buildings from our old home. She had just paid for another lunar-cycle of rent at her hotel and forfeited it. That means she was somehow notified and chased after us.”

“Enough,” Captain Stone said, proving she was used to giving orders. “Bert, this is bigger than us. I want you to focus on what is happening on Roma that also concerns Escobar Habitat. I’m thinking big. A war? A new alliance with an unknown race? A government takeover? Go find me a hint of what would make my ship break away from Escobar in a panic.”

Bert spun and disappeared into the connecting cabin. We heard him snuggle into the covers.

Stone glowered.

I said pleasantly, “You and Fang seem to be getting along.”

She turned to Fang. “What are your plans for the near future?”

“Eat, drink, make new friends.”

“Want to talk about a job?”

“I’d rather speak of a partnership.”

Stone laughed bitterly.

Fang didn’t.

I looked at Bill, not knowing what to do.

Bert called from the other room, “Pirates.”

CHAPTER