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

did, they could have bought one for less than it cost to bribe the crewmen. They also wanted Captain Stone’s ship. The two were somehow connected.

Again, not the ships, but probably what they held in their cargo bays.

Which brought me to a third coincidence. The pirates were focused on two ships. One held Captain Stone and the other was where she normally lived. She was the obvious connection.

I allowed the ideas to shift and take shape. At first, it seemed they might be after Captain Stone, but that didn’t work. She had booked the trip too late for others to find a pair of corruptible crewmen and put them in place so the ship could be captured. Nobody could know she would be on the ship until the day of our departure. The takeover of the Dreamer had been planned long ago.

That took me back to the cargo. Two ships, each with cargo so valuable that ships barricaded a wormhole nexus to protect it. That was a fact.

However, there was a commonality. Both ships had been on Roma at the same time.

That had to be a major item. The only solid connection.

“When were you hired to kill the captain?” I asked as if I was asking if he wished for me to pour him a cup of tea. I returned the favor of him using his empathy on me by doing the same to him. Hopefully, more skillfully and without being detected. I nudged him to work with me. To trust me.

He tried to hide his eyes. Then, he sighed as if realizing it would be easier on him if he answered than if he didn’t. My empathy was working. I saw a subtle shift in his expression as he thought of me as a friend. “Five days before liftoff.”

That confirmed part of my idea. Whatever was happening had been planned long before Bill, Bert, Captain Stone, or I had become involved. I let out a sigh of relief.

Half of the air had been expelled when I realized I was alone in a cabin in a spaceship with an admitted killer. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I blurted out, “You don’t look like a murderer.”

“I’m not. Well, I guess I have to take that back. I am now.”

“You’ve never killed before?”

He hung his head and slowly shook it.

“Why?” I asked. “Why this time?”

He didn’t look up. In barely a whisper, he said in a voice almost inaudible, “My family. My mother and sister are still on Prager Four. I send them almost my entire paycheck, but it is not enough. My sister works three jobs and met a guy. She is pregnant, so she will have to reduce her work hours. Mom is ill and her meds are expensive.”

I saw where the story was going. I felt no sense of compassion or deception.

I grew up on the hard streets of Roma and had heard similar stories, mostly lies, my entire life. Hell, I’d told a few far bigger than his.

Bert’s voice came softly from somewhere above, “Truth, Kat.”

Chance was on his feet, his arms thrown wide, “You’re listening to everything we say? Always?”

“It’s what I do. Hello. My name is Bert.”

“And you know all that about me? Are you one of them? The men who made me do this?”

Bert gave it a few moments before telling him, “No, I am not. However, I will say this one thing and you should listen carefully. My family is on this ship and we may be in a position to offer help for you, but only if you help us. I am speaking for myself, not the others.”

I was not shocked at Bert offering to trade help for information. It was a good offer. However, I was stunned at the statement about Bert having his family on this ship. Either he had little digger kittens hidden away or he was talking about me. And Bill, of course. Maybe even Stone and Fang.

Family. Such a strange word. So non-linear. Family can be defined in many ways and yes, I considered Bert closer than others with blood-family. He was not even the same race—and we’d never discussed it—but he was right. We were family.

Chance said, “You’d help me? How?”

Bert said, “We’re in the deep-dark of hyperspace, within a wormhole. We have little allegiance to anyone not aboard this ship, therefore, what we hear or do not hear, may not be repeated at the end of the voyage. We are not required to contact any police agency. We do have that option, but it is not a requirement. I’m tending to repeat myself. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You might let me go?” he whined pathetically.

“And more. We may be in a position to financially help your family. No promises.”

“But if I tell you all I know you won’t turn me in?”

“I’ll confirm it with our captain, but for now you can assume it to be true.”

I couldn’t help myself. I scowled at Chance. “One lie, one untruth or misleading fact, and I will take you to the next police force and testify against you.”

He sat up and looked at me with fear in his posture and eyes. Yes, there was fear, but also a glimmer of hope. I gave him a mental nudge, just a little touch to help him make the right choice. He said, “I do not know much.”

That was probably the most truthful thing he could say. Our new enemies wouldn’t confide in a man like him; one they knew would tell the enemy all he could to save himself. He was a tool they would discard as soon as they had the ship.

However, he was not a random selection, either. He was an empath. From Prager Four. That made him different than all others on Roma, except for me.