Chapter 36
Varik darted backto the engineer’s station on the deck of the Harlan Johnson. Thankfully, the small ship allowed for him to skip from station to station. More of the crew remained on Arbortriz than he’d calculated, including some who had previously claimed loyalty to him. Let them rot on that flowery little fuck fest of a planet. Wait until those idiots realized it was a female dominated society, and they’d be expected to act subservient. They’d be begging him to come back and pick them up. As if he would return for traitors.
At least Jarn was still with him, along with a couple maintenance tech types and the junior comm tech. Maybe a few others. Didn’t matter.
“We’re at the entrance to the bridge, Var— I mean, Captain.” Jarn shifted in his chair, his face reddening. Varik would spank him for the slip later.
“Make the announcement, Karnek.”
The comm tech instructed the crew to prepare. Everything should already be locked down, they’d had plenty of warning.
“Proceed,” Varik told Jarn. He clicked his safety harness into place. He’d never bothered on The Treasure. The ship was so rugged it was designed for bridge crossings, but as the first ER trip on the Harlan, Varik wasn’t sure what to expect. Didn’t matter what happened. As long as the ship stayed in one piece, it should put them at Kolben just in time to meet The Treasure. Or possibly a few cycles ahead.
The stretching sensation struck, pulling Varik into his safety straps, crushing his balls. He gripped the arms of his chair in an attempt to shift away from the pain, but unable to move. The entire ship vibrated violently. A panel from the ceiling crashed down, centimeters from where he sat. For the first time, he second guessed his plan.
With a shudder, they lurched out of the bridge. Varik shifted up in his chair and released the painful harness. “Crew check, Karnek,” Varik barked out as he massaged his aching balls.
“That was intense.” Jarn rubbed his shoulder, his face ghostly pale.
“Check your nav systems. See how far we are from Kolben.” Varik didn’t have time to coddle his lover. “Karnek, get a galactic time stamp.” If they’d lost time going through the bridge, Varik would end someone. As he waited for confirmation that the ship was in one piece and when they would arrive, he ran system checks. A blown temperature sensor near the engines. Could be loss of structural shielding. He glanced at the panel on the floor. Not an unreasonable assumption.
“Karnek?”
The comm tech replied with the time stamp that confirmed they’d lost no time. Perfect. “Contact Kolben. Ask for emergency port access. We have damaged shielding.”
The reports would support his assumption. The emergency authorization would get him on the planet in time to retake The Treasure. Although with the limited crew, it would be a challenge to fly her. He could get the engines going, with Jarn’s help. But Jarn wasn’t an experience navigator. And Karnek couldn’t be at two stations at once assuming he had any engineering experience. Fuck.
Varik would figure out the logistics once he had his ship back.
The tracker on The Treasure wasn’t pinging, but there was no where else they could go this far out. As it was, they’d need more fuel. If fact, so did he. It would be much easier to fuel the Harlan, than The Treasure. Much easier to fly with his existing crew.
“We have permission for a three-cycle repair stop, Captain.” Karnek interrupted Varik’s spiraling plans.
Three cycles should be plenty. The Treasure should arrive shortly. Then it was just a matter of taking Cyra out of the equation. Except, did he want to staff The Treasure? Spend all his time grasping at transport contracts, shaving his fees down to the bare minimum? Technically, he had a ship. The Harlan was in need of some repairs, and the grant organization might come looking for it. Or not. Twalley had the ship before he received the influx of credits. Who owned the Harlan Johnson?
Varik laughed. He did, for the time being. And perhaps he could make that permanent. A black market galactic identification chip, some paint on the freshly replaced panels, and the ship would no longer be the Harlan Johnson. Or he could rig a transfer of ownership predated to Twalley’s death. He had options. And none of them required repossessing The Treasure.
But just because he’d changed his mind about what he wanted didn’t mean he was giving his ship to Cyra. She didn’t deserve it. Didn’t earn it.
“Prepare for entry,” Jarn announced over the ship’s speakers.
Varik settled into the captain’s chair. First, he’d fix the Harlan, then he’d figure out how to freeze Cyra out of her theft of The Treasure.