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

and remained viable for a century or more. When the right male came along, she allowed him to add sperm to the shell, where it penetrated and within weeks a new baby Tragi broke out.

That seemed like such a civilized solution to a lot of problems.

The lone female human caught my eye, scooped up her bowl, and invited herself to sit at my table. Her long brown hair hung to her waist and must have needed attention daily, far more time than I could spare. She said, speaking as if the words were bullets flying out the barrel of a machine gun, “I’m Trish. You don’t mind if I sit with you, I hope. I hate eating alone, don’t you? I didn’t catch your name. You’re Kath, right?”

“Kat,” I gave her the extended version, letting the K drag out a bit. There was no reason to do that but me trying to show off. I instantly felt ashamed.

She echoed it perfectly as the steward returned and hustled to my table. I wanted to eat a meal, but when I spoke, the words were, “Ice cream. No yellow.”

Trish said, “You are a hero to me. Well, to me and every other passenger on the ship. We’ve heard all about you.”

“We are just trying to get to our ship,” I offered lamely.

“Not them. You.”

Had the secret of me being an empath leaked out? No, I didn’t think so but there was no other reason for the passengers to think of me as a hero and she had had my name wrong. I said cautiously, “How so?”

“You are so young and so smart. Your companion, Bill, says you are the brains behind the overthrow of the mutineers and the reason we all still live.”

“Bill said that?” It sounded like something he’d say. What bothered me was when had he said it? There hadn’t been time. And she was very pretty.

“We met him here, earlier. He was shy at first. We talked and eventually pulled the story from him.”

Trish was trying to manipulate me. Bill had probably been here, and she had probably accosted him in the same manner as she was doing to me. What information she had obtained had come from that brief conversation. I knew Bill. He talked when needed. Even with me, he never carried his end of the conversation.

That meant the story she thought she knew was one entirely from her mind with a few facts obtained from Bill strewn in like so much straw in a windstorm. It was there, but so was much else.

Our journey might take longer than the passengers expected because of the ship following us and having them on our side wouldn’t hurt. I gave her a weak smile and said, “We all do our part, Trish.”

She beamed at me for using her name. Anything I said would be repeated, exaggerated, and turned into an intimate revelation of us sharing our innermost secrets. Despite our economic differences, I’d met women like her. I said, “What do you perform for a living? Space travel is expensive.”

“I volunteer to chair fundraisers for the underprivileged, along with gathering and distributing clothing for them. Not giving them clothing personally because I certainly have no idea what they wear. It keeps me terribly busy.”

“I see.” And I did. What she did for her position was having the right parents. In that manner, I hadn’t met anyone like her. My ice cream arrived, with little red and brown balls of cold excellence. I thanked the steward and gathered some of each color on the tip of my spoon.

She continued speaking, often answering her questions, sometimes even right. I never corrected her. The chatter continued and I mumbled with a mouthful of ice cream, “Bert, do something.”

A ping sounded on the speaker right over my head. “Kat, please report to the bridge.”

With my bowl of dessert in hand, I excused myself.

Trish was telling me to hurry because they probably needed me for something important. I did as she said and hurried from the room. In the passageway, I said, “Thanks, Bert.”

The speaker near me said, “My ears were hurting from trying to follow that conversation. May I assume that from now on, if that creature corners you with her unceasing chatter, I should order you away?”

“You’re my best friend,” I said as I reached the closed door to the bridge. It opened as I reached it, meaning Bert must have announced my arrival.

Inside, I quietly perched on the edge of a chair and watched Fang and Stone. Each was a master at what they did. Fang respectfully deferred to Stone as the captain, however, it was clear he was more proficient in some avenues of their work.

A small construct sat beside him. Occasionally an orifice silently opened, and an insect flew out, only to be captured by the tongue of Fang. I was quick enough to notice that not all were the same species. I’d once seen a box of treats in a store like that. Each had been different.

They were discussing the ship following us again. Two points kept appearing in their conversation. First, the ship was deceptive in that it followed at extreme range in normal space and only Bert’s tweaking of the sensing equipment allowed them to occasionally spot it as it closed the distance to check on them at each nexus. Second, they expected the ship to be overtaken when we left the wormhole system.

The ship could follow us as we changed wormholes, which I gathered was not normal. But we had to emerge at some time, and when we did, the other ship would strike. The captain believed it wanted something in our cargo, and also the cargo in her ship, the Guardia.

She didn’t want them to have it.

I half-listened as they each suggested plans the other