Chapter 13
“Who’s making rest-meal tonight,”Cyra asked Veda. “I want to keep up the tradition of at least one shared meal a cycle.”
“It’s a good tradition even if the food leaves something to be desired.”
Cyra shrugged off the embarrassment. “Captain Auvi instructed me in many areas but culinary skills wasn’t one of them.”
Veda wrinkled her face and shrugged. “I can mix up a treatment to solve the worst Bagwas worms infection, but that doesn’t translate to cooking dinner.”
“Maybe Blaize or Rhysa could give it a shot tonight. We could rotate turns if all of us suck equally.” Cyra found them on the bridge.
“I don’t cook.” Rhysa crossed her arms.
“Well, I’m no chef.” Blaize whipped her gaze from Rhysa to Veda to Cyra. “I can tune our engines consumption of mass fuel, but that doesn’t mean I’m an expert with other consumption.”
“Veda and I have already taken our turns. Shared last-meal is tradition on The Treasure. One we’re not giving up.” Cyra puffed out her chest in her best captain pose.
“Flip for it?” Blaize asked pulling out a flight token, probably from her school days. “Faces you cook, ships I will.”
Rhysa glared at the disc. “Captain Cyra can flip it.”
Blaize handed over the token and Cyra flipped it a couple of time to make sure it wasn’t weighted. “Okay, this is for the kitchen duty. Whoever loses cooks and the other is on clean up.”
“Fine, but faces you cook and ships I will.” Rhysa said.
Cyra flipped the disc. “Ships.”
“Shit.” Rhysa glared at Blaize before stomping toward the corridor.
“And Blaize is cooking tomorrow.” Cyra called out behind her.
“Shit.” Blaize dropped into the engineer’s station chair. “Do we have noodles?”
“Is Dez joining us for last meal?” Cyra asked Veda. He wasn’t technically part of the crew, but she’d barely seen him at all. Not that it mattered. It didn’t at all. Except that she was the captain.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted. I’ve been brining him trays, but I’m a little concerned. He’s not eating much.” Veda glanced toward the door that led to the crew quarters.
Great. Another problem. “Let m know if he doesn’t eat tonight and I’ll deal with it.”
“Thanks, Cyr,” Veda replied.
Rhysa hadn’t lied. She was a terrible cook in a crew of terrible cooks. If she hadn’t choked down her own cooking, Cyra would have sworn she’d done a worse job on purpose. With her gut churning, Cyra left the galley and retreated to her water chamber. If she lost the ship, she’d never have the luxury again. Good food would be nice, but the saltwater gel-pool was everything. Especially when she had to deal with her only two crew members being completely at odds with each other. But they were amazing at their jobs. Blaize’s improvements to the systems were effective in cutting their drag, and the speed they were able to maintain was phenomenal. Rhysa had routed a super efficient path, and within another cycle, they would be nearing Morgual. The cycle was nearing the end when she finally pulled herself from the tank. She caught herself heading toward her old quarters before she recalled that she occupied the Captain’s quarters. The ship and the crew and the cargo were her responsibility. But for the first time since Auvi died, Cyra finally slept without waking in a nightmare.
“I’ve contacted the spaceport.” Cyra announced after arriving on the bridge the next day-cycle. “We should have approval to land by the time we get there.”
“Why are you contacting them so early?” Veda asked. She sat in one of the stations no longer assigned to a crew member. She probably didn’t like hanging out alone in the back of the ship, closer to the cargo bay. Couldn’t fault her for that.
“Bio-hazard deliveries require advanced notice. Granted it’s for one of the pharmaceutical factories, but we still need additional approvals. I also had to contact the buyer to initiate the process from his end to receive those damn creepy crawlies. Technically, we are at the outside edge of our delivery date.”
“Any chance they won’t approve it or the customer won’t accept delivery?” Rhysa asked.
“I don’t expect any issues.” Cyra hadn’t considered that the customer might not take delivery. If that happened they were screwed. She wouldn’t have funds to leave Cassan a second time, and she’d have a cargo full of deadly spiders that would want to eat, something or someone.
“They have to take delivery. They contracted this shipment. What reason could they possibly have to decline a shipment? Can they even do that?” Blaize asked.
“Until the spiders are off the ship and the credits are in our account, I suppose they can do whatever they want. They didn’t negotiate the contract with me. They contracted Captain Auvi. I’m counting on their need for these bugs making them honor what could be argued is a null and void contract.”
“You could’ve mentioned that part before we left Cassan,” Rhysa said.
The back of Cyra’s neck prickled. “I hadn’t actually considered it until I started requesting all the authorizations.”
“It’ll work,” Veda said quietly.
Cyra silently thanked her best friend for always believing in her. Next order of business. “Did Dez eat?”
Veda tilted her head. “Not much.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Veda supplied the room number he’d selected. Cyra noted it was the smallest crew quarters available. Used in the past for the low-level maintenance crew, it had a double bunk and not much else if she remembered correctly. She’d stayed in one when she’d first come aboard.
“Dez?” Cyra knocked on the door. It slid open, and she took a step back. Shirtless, Dez was even more mouthwatering than fully clothed Dez. Cyra blinked away the inappropriate impulses. “Veda says you aren’t eating. Are you sick?”
“Surprisingly no. I should be from eating the trays of substance you call food.” He crossed his arms and his muscles bulged. Dark lines traced the edges making them stand out even more.
Cyra crossed her arms. “You have to eat. The meals are balanced with protein, carbs, all the nutrients.”
“Processed in an approved warehouse and machined into packages. I can taste every wrapper, every box the garbage you call food was transported in before it reached this ship and sadly my plate.”
Heat lit Cyra’s cheeks. “I’m sorry we don’t have a chef, your highness, but might I remind you, you’re not a passenger. You’re cargo. Cargo I have to deliver in some semblance of health. So you will eat. If I have to put you in a medical coma and put a tube down your throat.”
Dez puffed up, his yellow gaze burned into her like lasers. “Fine, Captain. But may I make use of the remaining capsaicin oil?”
“The what?” Cyra hadn’t expected him use such a calm tone as angry as he clearly was.
“The oil I used to repel the spiders—no one else seems to appreciate it. It will help me to swallow the muck you call food.”
And there he went, reminding her of how he’d saved her ship. “Of course you can use that if you like it. Can you also please join us in the galley? I’m sorry about the cargo comment. It was uncalled for.”
“It was accurate. And yes, I’ll join you.” Dez relaxed his stance. “Anything else?”
“We’ll be landing on Morgual soon.”
Dez nodded. An electric silence sparked between them. Neither making the move to fully retreat. Cyra opened her mouth to say something to fill the void, inexplicably unable to walk away.
“If there’s nothing else?”
Cyra shook her head.
The door closed between them and Cyra felt it low in her belly. She chided herself all the way back to the deck. Dez was cargo, and she had to eliminate any attraction she might hold for the male. Cargo. If she repeated it often enough to herself, she might remember the next time she saw him.
“We have all the authorizations to land,” Cyra told Blaize and Rhysa the next cycle.
“Have we heard from the buyer?” Rhysa asked from her seat on the bridge as she refined the landing plans to route to the assigned dock.
“He’s hedging, but we have the spiders.” And no way to get rid of them. “It’s not like he’s going to get another shipment anytime soon. We’re one of the few transporters that caries biologics in this region. Not many ships are even equipped for live cargo.” Acid swirled in Cyra’s gut as she repeated all the reasons the customer had to accept the order more to refocus herself than appease the crew. “The environmental systems, lock downs, redundant life support systems, food delivery systems. Captain Auvi put his investment money there. The ship may not have the latest greatest in terms of engines and navigation, at least it didn’t, but we do have the best cargo support systems.”
“What’s the plan if the customer doesn’t pay.” Rhysa’s pink gaze bored into Cyra.
“First, I’ll try to wait him out, but we have a short window for that to work. The spiders will be starving.” And Cyra so didn’t want to buy spider food or to even know what they ate. “He may be trying to bluff. If that doesn’t work, I’ll post them for sale and see if we have any takers on-planet.”
“Good. If he sees a posting for his cargo, that may be the fire he needs to finish the deal.” Rhysa turned back to her screen.
The landing went perfectly. Cyra couldn’t have asked for more technically skilled partners—they did the work of a crew of ten easily. The Treasure was docked in the high security area of the port. Veda would stay on board with Dez while Cyra met with the buyer. Blaize and Rhysa were taking on the task of finding more fuel and food.
Cyra arrived at the satellite office of the pharmaceutical company. The air was thick with the tang of chemicals and char. The landscaping had a distinct brownish-gray tinge. Cyra couldn’t wait to get off the planet, but first she had to get the contract paid, the spiders delivered, and hopefully another contract secured. No pressure.
She waited in the utilitarian lobby. Pale gray floors, high windows, and bare white walls with framed images of happy beings in sunny locations clearly benefitting from better living through chemistry. And clearly not on this planet.
A male stomped toward her. Hairless, with mottled greenish-skin that had a rubbery appearance. His eyes were big and slightly to the outside of his head. She’d have to ask Veda what planet he was from. Maybe he was a native, but she hadn’t seen anyone like him at the docks. He didn’t greet her, just came to a stop and stared.
“Habarek? I’m Captain Cyra Maejzur of The Treasure. I have your delivery.”
“Captain Cyra? Where’s Captain Auvi or Varik?” The buyer was looking over her shoulder as if a male would suddenly appear so that he would have someone with whom he could conduct business. As if she hadn’t explained the situation prior to their arrival.
“As I explained, Captain Auvi is deceased. I was his designated heir. Your shipment is in perfect condition and ready for delivery. I just need the payment and delivery instructions.”
“I’ll have to review the contract. It appeared that the delivery wouldn’t arrive, so we dropped our original storage location. And I need to verify our payments to this point.”
“Of course. We will be on-planet for the next few cycles. If you elect not to receive the shipment in the next twenty hours, we’ll be posting the cargo for sale as our contract allows. There will be no refund of credits paid to this point.”
“Are you threatening me little girl?”
Cyra’s knees went weak at his authoritarian tone. She stiffened. “It’s Captain Maejzur, and no, I’m not threatening you. I’ve reviewed our contract and I’m just reminding you of the provisions within.”
Habarek grunted. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I look forward to concluding our business.” So much. She couldn’t get on the other side of that contract fast enough.
Cyra was shaking but she wouldn’t let the bastard see it. He probably knew the contract as well or better than she did, testing to see what he could get away with. One thing she hadn’t considered was that there may have been more than one partial payment. She’d review the records with Veda and send the asshole a final invoice so that if he did pay, they’d get all the credits that were owed. And she absolutely had to secure another contract, immediately.
Cyra went to the bar near the dock to start networking. She could check cyber site postings, but Captain Auvi always got his best contracts by word of mouth. Anyone could post a job, but talking to someone in person was much more likely to seal the deal. With any luck, she’d also get some gossip on her client and his likelihood of stiffing her on the payment. What would she do with the damn spiders if he reneged and another buyer couldn’t be found?
Let them out in the lobby of that damn building.
Tempting, but the potential for innocents to be hurt would stop her from doing anything so bold.
The tiny bar was squeezed in between manufacturing warehouses. The door looked like salvage from an old ship, but she recognized the name from stories Auvi had told. Crain’s. If this was the right place. Not like the name was that unique. The inside was dark, and she paused to let her eyes adjust. The occupants varied from workers clearly coming off a shift of gritty labor to lifelong drinkers, with a smattering of more sophisticated types engaging in mid-cycle meetings away from their businesses.
Not the only female, but still a bit out of place, she sat at the bar and ordered a house cocktail. Auvi had told her that bartenders liked it when you trusted their mixing skills and were willing to pay a little extra for a nicer drink. It also gave her something to break the ice and talk to them with. This bartender was an odd-looking creature, four arms, an ovoid head that supported thick tendrils of not quite orange…hair? She wasn’t sure if it was male or female. Didn’t matter. This being would be her new friend by the time she finished her drink.
“What do you wish to drink?” The voice told her no more than the appearance. Gray, somewhat oily looking skin and large dark eyes.
“Do you have a special, house cocktail? Something that I can only get here?” Cyra leaned forward and smiled.
“Do you have any allergies?”
“Um, no, not that I know of.” That was an odd question.
A few moments later a layered drink of purple, iridescent blue and a white foam was placed in front of her.
“Wow. This is beautiful. What’s in it?”
“Taste it and I’ll tell you.”
Cyra sipped from the special straw that had a small hole at each layer, resulting in a perfectly mixed mouthful. “Oh my god, that’s good.” It reminded her of her home planet, tropical and fruity, with a hint of an ocean breeze.
“I call it the Auvi. There was a captain who used to come in here sometimes when he had a shipment. He was an odd specimen, like me. Only he was…”
“A fleshy being with dark blue circles rimmed in brown all over his body. His eyes matched his marking, and he had multiple appendages he could use as arms or legs.”
“You know him?” the bartender asked with a gasp.
“I did.” A pang of loss ricocheted through her. “He passed away and left me his ship. I’m Cyra, Captain Cyra.”
“You’re Cyra? He told me about you.” Their hand wrapped around hers, cool and smooth. “I am so sorry he’s gone. He loved you.”
“I loved him too.” She sniffed back her tears. “I miss him more than I can say.”
“He was very good to me. I feel your loss. But what are you doing on Morgual?”
“Dropping one of the last shipments Captain Auvi contracted.”
“If I can help you in any way while you’re here, let me know. It would be an honor to help his ward. I’m Gorga, by the way.”
“Gorga, it’s a pleasure to know you.” And it was. She’d dreaded introducing herself to a stranger, but once again, Auvi had taken care of her without even trying. It made the next request much simpler. “There is one thing I could use your help with.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m looking of another transport job.”
“Hmm.” Gorga wiped the bar top and moved away, checking on the other customers at the bar. Slowly they worked their way back. “There’s an auction happening today. One of the big muckity-muck factory owners died. I assume you transport the same things as Auvi.”
“I do.”
“There are supposed to be some biologics that are going to be on the block. Not every buyer will be on-planet.”
Cyra’s heart raced. Could it be that easy? “Here’s my comm connection.” She held out her device for the data transmission. Gorga held theirs up, and a ping signaled success. “I would appreciate anything you could send my way.”
“You got it, Cyra. Let me know if you want another one of those.” They pointed at the drink before moving away again.
Cyra still didn’t know what was in the drink, but she finished it in honor of Auvi who she missed terribly. He seemed to be taking care of her, even in death.
The next cycle, Cyra’s phone chimed at breakfast. The buyer—he offered to pay less than ten percent of the balance due. A balance that was woefully low. Auvi had received payments that were more than half of the entire contract. “I can’t believe this.”
“What?” Veda asked, setting her spoon in her bowl.
Cyra held out her comm. “The buyer is trying to short us big time.”
“We barely have any income from this contract as it is.” Rhysa had reviewed the documents with the others and been upset.
Not as upset as Blaize when she realized who had the contract money—Varik. “Don’t respond. It’s the best tactic. At least that’s what they taught us in contract negotiation class. I took all the notes, but I was never very good at that part. But my professor said the best way to get someone to recognize an unreasonable offer is to remain quiet, especially if you have something they want. And we do the spiders.”
Veda chuckled. “You didn’t do well during that class?”
Blaize turned bright red. “Just that test. I did better with the written part, but the professor said I gave up too easily. I don’t like being greedy.”
“It’s not greed. At least not on our part. We did the damn job. He should pay us. I’d be happy to talk to him.” Rhysa’s pink eyes flared almost as red as Blaize’s cheeks.
Cyra’s phone pinged again. Gorga from the bar. “I think I’ll let the buyer wait. Let’s see if Blaize’s professor was right.” Cyra dropped her spoon in the muck that was supposed to be grain cereal and stood. “I have to make a call.”