Chapter 10
The fuelers,suppliers of all things that made space travel possible, resided in the grimy bowels of the station. Cyra craved her water tank as she tiptoed through the passageways, accosted by the loud machinery used to fabricate engine parts and other ship internals.
Veda held part of her ever present scarf over the lower part of her face. “That smell is something else.”
She must have yelled because Cyra heard her clearly and agreed. Burnt chemicals and ozone, along with sweat and other biologicals she didn’t care to think about too hard.
Veda pointed to a sign farther up on the right. Gareth’s Galaxy Garage. If they didn’t get the exotic mass fuel rods there, Cyra wasn’t sure where to try next. The clerk at the last stop said this was the only fueler who would offer any kind of credit, but that it would cost them in the long run.
It wasn’t like she had a choice. They had to load the ship to capacity with EMF rods if they were going to get to Morgual, deliver the spiders, and make it back to Cassan without using an ER Bridge. If they had to jump, there was the potential they would miss the delivery deadline anyway. Despite the work that had been done over hundreds of galactic years to stabilize bridge travel, there was always the possibility time would shift.
Cyra entered the shop. A once-blue counter with a thick protective clear barrier, three tattered chairs, and a beverage maker that burped the occasional wisp of smoke, filled the cramped space. Veda lingered near the door, scarf still clutched to her nose and mouth even though the smell wasn’t nearly as bad inside the shop. Cyra cleared her throat and approached the glass barrier between the customer area and a cluttered office space.
A giant of a man rose and stepped forward. Hair covered every visible surface, even his snubbed nose, and his muscles had clusters of muscles layered on top. “Can I help you? Directions?”
His bass voice was soft, coaxing. Cyra dropped her shoulders and blew out a reluctant breath. Last chance. “I’m not lost. In fact, I was directed here. I need…I need help.”
The giant glanced around her, looking for what she didn’t know.
“I need fuel for my ship. I was told to ask for Gareth.”
“That’s me.” His brow wrinkled. “You have a ship, but you don’t have a fuel supplier?”
“It’s a recent acquisition. I’m told you’ll work on credit.”
He stepped back and crossed his arms. “Maybe.”
“That went better than I expected.” Veda trotted behind Cyra.
She should slow her steps for her friend, but couldn’t suppress her urgency to get back to her ship and as far away from Gareth as possible. Yes, they had fuel. On credit. But only half of what they needed and at twice the price once the cost of the credit was calculated. At least he hadn’t asked for sexual favors like some of the fuelers had once they found out who she was. Varik had truly gassed the atmosphere around her, and gossip traveled through Cassan faster than light speed. Everyone loved a dirty story, especially if it was at least partially true.
She sighed and slowed her stride. It wasn’t Veda’s fault she was in this situation. “Hungry?”
“Starved.” Veda puffed out between panting breaths.
They’d missed standard meal time, but they should be able to find something on the way back to the ship. Which only highlighted her next problem. Food. If she purchased raw preserved ingredients, her minimal credits would go a lot farther. But they might starve because their cooking would be inedible. If they bought synth stuff to generate and reheat, they would eat, but not for long. Maybe they could learn to cook or learn not to taste. They stopped at one of the many shopping-district stands—nooks in the wall—for a bowl of noodles.
“I’m buying.” Veda pushed Cyra aside with a well-placed hip bump and tapped her embedded GID over the payment scanner.
Cyra closed her eyes and sighed. “Thanks.”
“You know, you offered Blaize a partnership, but not me. There something you’re not telling me?”
“What?” Cyra gaped at her stiff backed friend who stared at the food-stall vendor as he slid their portions into biodegradable bowls.
Veda took the food and led them to a narrow bench in a cluster of mostly empty seating. “Are you planning to replace me? I know I’ve been a junior medic as long as you’ve known me, but that was because we had Doc. He’s been training me all this time.” Veda jutted her chin out. “I can do the job.”
Cyra touched her friend’s shoulder. “I could never—would never—replace you. It didn’t occur to me you wanted to be a partner or even that you weren’t. I can’t imagine doing this without you.”
Veda stared at her for a long moment then nodded. “Good. Then you’ll let me pay for the food for our trip and you’ll give me the same contract you’re giving Blaize. But without the provision for the single trip. I want our partnership in writing. I don’t want anyone to question my position on this ship.”
“Done. And you know I would never let anyone get away with questioning your skills or your importance.”
Veda pulled the lid from her dish and wrapped the steaming noodles around her chopsticks. “Things happen. I only want it in writing to make sure what happened with you and Captain Auvi doesn’t happen to me.”
“I’m glad you said something. It was an oversight, an assumption, on my part. I need you. Besides the food, I need you to speak up when I’m making a mistake. I need you to keep being my dearest, most honest friend, as well as my partner on The Treasure.” Cyra pressed her lips together to keep from gushing about how important Veda was to her. She’d messed up not recognizing that she’d offered Blaize, who was a stranger, something she hadn’t offered Veda.
“Of course.” Veda nodded and stuffed the bundle of noodles in her mouth as if they hadn’t just been on the precipice of a ruined friendship all because Cyra wasn’t thinking.
Cyra ate. Grateful that she’d kept her friend and at least had fuel to deliver the spiders. And food for the trip. If they could find a navigator in the next cycle, they just might be able to save The Treasure and form a working transport business.
Cyra and Veda met Doc on the dock as he was leaving.
“We got provisions. Not that you care much about that,” Veda told him with a teasing tone.
“I care, I just won’t be joining you for many more meals. You know I’ll miss you.” Doc patted Veda’s shoulder.
“I know.” Veda’s sadness dripped from her words.
“I’ll do my best to take care of you before I go.” Doc gave Veda’s shoulder a quick squeeze before turning to Cyra. “I think your new engineer will be amazing. She’s been in the accelerator for most of the day. She’s cursed Varik’s name loudly and with great creativity several times.”
“I’m not surprised,” Cyra told him.
“I’m off to find a navigator. I planted some seeds earlier today and checked in with the bartenders I primed last night. Nothing’s dropped yet, but I have every faith the right one is waiting for us.”
“I’ll go with you.” Cyra handed a small bag of food stuffs to Veda. The rest would be delivered.
“I hope you’re right, Doc,” Veda said. “Will you be back for end-meal?”
He winced before he could mask it, “Ah, no. I’ll—we’ll eat out.”
“Lucky,” Veda huffed and went into the ship.
“Maybe Blaize can cook?” Cyra called over her shoulder as she followed Doc back into the station.
They weren’t getting lucky at all They’d been to two bars, a restaurant, and an exotics strip club that Doc had been referred to—an experience Cyra never wanted to repeat. There were no navigators on the entire space station. She was convinced. They hadn’t shared which ship they were trying to staff. She’d denied being the captain, but word was already out.
They were running out of time. Doc was leaving, fees were wracking up, and those spiders would be starving before they were delivered if they didn’t leave soon. Cyra strengthened her resolve as she entered the next bar. She would find a navigator inside. No matter what. She took a seat at the bar next to Doc, looking over the crowd.
Groups of males hung out in packs, playing various table games and drinking heavily. Same as the last places.
Doc nudged her and tilted his head to the far corner.
Cyra spun a quarter turn and peered into the shadows. A lone female sat at a table in the corner. Head down, she had streaks of stark white in her dark hair.
“If she’s from the planet I think she is, we’ve hit the jackpot.”
Cyra wasn’t sure what Doc was talking about.
“Can you see her skin?” Doc squinted.
“To dark.”
The woman must have felt their gaze on her. She lifted her chin and locked onto them with vivid pink eyes. Doc picked up his drink, moving faster than he had all night. Cyra grabbed her own glass and followed him over to the woman. Her skin was pale yellow with a golden warmth, and the clingy V-necked magenta top she wore made her pink eyes even more striking.
Doc held out his hand. “I’m Doc.”
“What’s up, Doc?”
Doc chuckled “I see you studied ancient media.”
She blasted a full-smile up at him. “I’m Rhysa.” She turned her gaze to Cyra. “And you are?”
Should she answer Captain Maejzur? No. Even though Rhysa was a female, she might still be judgy. “Cyra.”
Rhysa smiled just as big and flirtatiously. “Have a seat.” Rhysa pushed two chairs back from the table. “You two are the only people in several attempts to offer even the hope of a decent conversation. Plus, you’re both pretty attractive.” She waggled her eyebrows at them.
Doc sat, shaking his head. A wry smile teased his lips. “I’m not looking for a date. We’re looking for a navigator.”
“I’ve been known to do some navigation on occasion. What’s the occasion?” Rhysa leaned forward, put her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her folded hands. The tip of her tongue grazed her lips and her pink gaze bored into Cyra.
“Our crew’s had some turnover,” Doc replied. “There’s an opening.”
“Tell me about the current crew, are you the captain?”
“No.” Doc gestured to Cyra. “She is. I’m the about to be the former medical officer. My protégé, Veda, is taking over my position on The Treasure.”
“Oh, The Treasure.” Rhysa sat up, the corners of her lips tilted up, and focused on Cyra as if Doc had disappeared. “I’ve heard of you. Word is you’re into tentacle sex.”
“Uh?” Cyra had no idea how to respond.
“Tell me.” Rhysa closed the space between them, close enough to kiss. “Is it as good as they say? I’ve never had the chance to find out.” She batted her eyes. “But I would be all over trying it.” Rhysa glanced under the table. A frown wrinkled her forehead when she rose.
“That was the previous captain.” Doc said flatly. “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, Captain Maejzur is a good captain. She just needs a crew capable of making the next delivery.”
Cyra appreciated Doc defending her, but she would have to learn to address these rumors herself and quickly.
“So it’s short term?” Rhysa asked.
“Not necessarily.” Cyra rubbed her hands along her legs. Why was it so much more difficult to deal with Rhysa than Blaize? Probably because Blaize already knew what Varik was capable of and still wanted in. “I’m willing to sign you on a trial basis. See if it works for us.”
“Who else is on the ship?”
“The engineer. Blaize Dreheer?” Cyra added a questioning tone to the statement, wondering if Rhysa knew her.
“It’s all females?”
“So far, yes.”
“Who else are you hiring?”
“Just a navigator. Possibly a communications specialist. For now.” If they could find one willing. Their conversation didn’t seem promising.
“You’re in luck. I’m from Blaque Poll.”
Cyra looked to Doc unsure of the significance. Doc gave a slight nod. Apparently he’d guessed her origins correctly based on her looks.
“We’re only the best navigators in…well…anywhere.”
“I’ve heard that,” Doc said. “Are you looking for a job?”
“I’ve never worked on a ship that didn’t have males.”
Dez’s name sat on the tip of Cyra’s tongue. But he wasn’t crew. He was cargo. And he was off-limits. “Is that a problem?”
Rhysa grinned at Cyra, heat in her pink eyes. “Might be a benefit in the short term.”
“Why aren’t you contracted now? You should be in demand.” Cyra couldn’t figure the female out. If she was the best, why was she talking to them?
“I got kicked off my last ship for initiating an orgy.”
Wow. Given a hundred guesses as to why Rhysa was unemployed, Cyra wasn’t sure she could’ve figured it out.
“You like to have sex with your fellow crew members?” Doc asked but made it sound like a statement.
Rhysa shrugged. “I liked it with them. I didn’t like the captain. He was pissed I turned him down for a private session.”
“That won’t be a problem between us. I won’t be asking.” Cyra wasn’t convinced she should hire Rhysa. There were already enough crazy rumors.
“Don’t get offended if I offer. I won’t be offended if you decline.”
Cyra gaped then closed her mouth. She took a sip of her drink. There had to be a way to turn the conversation. “I should probably explain our financial situation to you before you agree.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I can’t pay you until we deliver our current cargo.”
Rhysa leaned back again and tilted her head. She narrowed her eyes. Cyra would have felt less pressure if she’d been shoved under a microscope in a biology class. Finally Rhysa said, “It’s not like I’m going shopping between here and there. I assume you’ll be returning to the station after the delivery.”
“That’s the plan. For now. It depends on if we can pick up another shipment once we deliver the current cargo.” She should feel bad omitting the details of Morgual and the spiders, but she couldn’t afford too much conscience. “That would be the goal.”
“Just put in my contract that if you terminate my services, you have to keep me until you can drop me back here at Cassan.”
“Done.”
Rhysa shifted forward and stared at Cyra hard enough to see beneath her blue skin. After a long moment, Rhysa softened, and gave Cyra a slight nod. “So, when are we leaving? I have some things I need to bring over.”
“Well, that’s up to our engineer, Blaize. Also we’re waiting on fuel and food deliveries. But we could be leaving within 10 hours or by the next cycle latest.” They had to or Cyra might as well jettison the spiders herself and try for a job at the strip club.
“I’ll be ready. Have my contract when I get there.” Rhysa drained her drink.
“Done.” Doc stood. “Rhysa, is there any other name you want on the contract?
“Yeah, Tanguey.”
Cyra stood. She’d either just negotiated the best hire in history or made the worst decision of her life.