Chapter 27 Lacy
Lacy
Burn dragged Dax toward a table near the back wall. I took a minute to breathe and get my bearings. Competition for spacer cash was fierce. Good food drew them in and good fights kept them coming back. Moya’s Place had the best of both on Rigel Naught.
It had been a few years, but I’d been here before with my dad and his crew. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me, especially since my larger-than-life father tended to draw every eye in the room, but my nerves flared to life anyway.
Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I sought out my companions.
Dax and Burn had reached their friend. A white guy with blond hair, Finn had a hint of shadow on his jaw, circles under his eyes, and a smirk on his lips.
Burn greeted him enthusiastically, but his greeting didn’t seem quite as effusive.
Dax shook hands with Finn then did that hug–back slap combo that men did.
When they separated, Dax turned and searched the crowd for me.
He tilted his head, a concerned smile on his face.
I’d intended my smile to be reassuring, but whatever he saw on my face made him frown deeper.
Crap. Might as well get this over with.
I found that same loose-hipped swagger, the one that said I belonged here and that I’d used to cut through the crowds, and made my way across the much smaller space to Fortuna’s crew.
Every step felt like I was walking a tightrope.
Dax and his comrades were tight and I was obviously the outsider.
But being on Fortuna and now on Rigel Naught felt right.
I’d missed this. Missed ship life and adventure and exploring new ports of call.
Dax’s ship—hell, Dax’s presence —felt more like home than Elegium Station ever had.
Finn had staked out a booth near the back of the bar. It was curved, allowing everyone to sit with their back to the wall. Smart.
“Lacy, Finn.” Dax made the introductions. “Finn, Lacy.”
“Hi, Finn.”
“Hey,” he said in return.
I offered my hand. He took it, but I got the sense he only did so because it was expected.
We dropped hands after two pumps, almost like we’d choreographed it.
“Have a seat.” He gestured toward the booth and indicated all of us.
At first no one moved. Then Burn slid in first. Finn followed, sitting on the outside edge of the booth.
Dax stood silently and I knew he was waiting for me. Hating the thought of being trapped in the middle, I didn’t have much of a choice, unless I wanted to cause problems right off the bat.
I slid across the seat toward Burn.
Dax slid in next to me. The press of his outer thigh against mine was a warm, welcome weight, but it didn’t counter the feeling of being trapped.
“We’re getting the team back together!” Burn’s exclamation was loud enough that nearby tables looked at us.
“She’s not part of the team,” Finn grumbled.
Burn slapped his arm. “She’s temporary crew. Dax said he picked her up on Elegium Station, but I’m still not sure if they’re sleeping together or not.”
My jaw dropped and I tried to melt into the shadows.
“Burn,” Dax said.
“Sorry, Sarge,” Burn said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all.
He just sighed and shook his head. “Burn’s right, though. She’s crew for now. A combination of mechanic and consultant.”
Finn didn’t look like he was buying it. “I’m supposed to be the mechanic.”
His declaration dropped into dead air, as a waitress approached and conversation stopped. “What can I get you folks?”
While everyone else ordered, I studied Finn. While mechanics came in all shapes and sizes, he looked more like a down-on-his-luck spacer than any mechanic I’d ever met. And I’d met a lot of them.
When the waitress looked at me expectantly, I ordered a cider—something crisp and clean, that I’d drink slowly—and fries. “What?” I asked, when everyone stared at me. “They have good fries.”
“You’ve been here before?” Suspicion dripped from Finn’s question.
“A few times with my old crew.”
That drew the waitress’s attention and she studied me closer. Dammit. There was no spark of recognition on her face and that eased some of my tension, but not all. She could just be a damn good card player.
After she left us to get our drinks, the conversation started again.
“You hear anything about cargo?” Dax asked Finn.
“I’ve got a few leads,” he said. “Not sure which is the best.”
“What are they?” I asked when no one made a move to fill the silence.
Finn glared at me then looked at Dax.
“Go ahead.” Dax answered Finn’s silent question. “She’s got more experience with cargo than the rest of us combined.”
Finn’s lips pursed. He didn’t like it, but he followed Dax’s order. “Someone’s got a shipment of pukka berries to be delivered a few planets—”
“No.” I started shaking my head the moment he said “pukka.” “Absolutely not.”
He glared at me for interrupting. “You may have the knowledge, but you’re not the boss.”
What an asshole. “Do you even know what a pukka berry is?”
He shook his head.
I looked at Dax and Burn. They were just as clueless.
“They’re small delicate berries that have a window of three days when they’re perfect to eat. Before that, they’re hard as a rock—”
“Who cares?” Finn interrupted.
I pretended he hadn’t spoken. “Outside that window, they start fermenting and let off a gas that smells like rotten eggs had offspring with a corpse.” I paused and made a face.
I’d only smelled it once, from a distance, and that had been enough.
Elegium Station had charged hazard pay if a ship reeking of pukka berries needed service.
“Once that gas gets into your ship’s vents, you practically have to vent the entire ship to space.
And that only works 80 percent of the time. ”
“You’re lying,” he said.
I shrugged. “Look it up yourself.”
The waitress returned with our drinks, while Finn pulled his comms out of his breast pocket. “Pukka berries,” he said to the AI interface.
I sipped my cider as he scrolled through the results.
Burn moved closer and read over his shoulder.
I’m not sure how many results it took to convince them, but finally Burn said, “Damn, she’s telling the truth.”
“If we can’t haul pukka berries, what kind of cargo should we take?” Even if his tone hadn’t carried his belligerence, his body language did. Arms crossed over his chest, he glared at me.
I sighed on the inside. His type were always a pain in the ass. Especially when they didn’t know something.
“Saber fish. They’re—”
Finn interrupted me again. “You say no to berries but want us to take on fish?” He sneered. “Talk about stinky cargo.”
I took a deep breath. Keeping my cool with Finn was gonna be hard.
“They’re not fish at all. They’re actually spools of highly specialized wire. Not many industries use it.”
This time even Dax stared at me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. Inside I was trying not to laugh. Or cry. Dax and his crew seriously had no clue what they were doing when it came to cargo. What had he planned to pick up on Elegium Station? At this point, I was starting to think I’d saved them a lot of trouble by stealing the ship.
“Saber fish are easy cargo, but there just aren’t that many places you can offload them. We’re pretty close to Raddech, which tends to have a high demand.”
I paused to take a sip of my cider and study them. No one looked that interested in the saber fish. I didn’t blame them, but they’d soon learn that not all cargo was created equally. And some days, they’ll be thankful for any cargo at all.
Time for the big guns. “Big payoffs require big risks. Is that what you’re looking for?”
“Now we’re talking,” Finn said.
Dax and Burn were slower to respond, but she finally said yes. Dax nodded.
“Stupid shooters are probably the biggest bang for your buck here on Rigel Naught.”
“Well, why didn’t you lead with that one?” Finn asked belligerently.
“Stupid shooters?” Dax asked at the same time.
“Because these literally are the biggest bang. The payout is big because stupid shooters are fucking dangerous.” I left it at that, curious what they would ask next.
Burn was the first to break the silence. “What are they then? Bombs?”
I nodded. “Basically.” I shared a little more information.
“Stupid shooters are filled with a specific particle that is attracted to the atmosphere. In 99 percent of space, the particles are completely inert. But once you hit Harrier’s atmosphere, or another planet like it, that changes.
Stupid shooters will rip through the walls of ships to get to the atmosphere. ”
They all stared at me in silence.
“Why the hell would we risk our ship for that? Why would they want them? How the fuck do you transport them?”
There was no way to give them the master class in hauling cargo that they needed, but Dax’s questions were a good start.
“They’re used for mining the planet. Because of their affinity with the upper atmosphere, the miners bury the stupid shooters in the earth.
They break through the rock as they try to reach the upper atmosphere. ”
“That’s . . . crazy,” Burn said. “How do they get them to the planet?”
“Very carefully. There are special boxes designed for stupid shooters. As well as special delivery routes. It’s a very specialized, very dangerous cargo route.”
“You’re serious?” Burn asked.
I nodded. “This isn’t cargo to joke about.”
“How do you know so much about it?” Finn asked.
“I grew up on cargo ships. I learned this at my father’s side.”
Finn was staring at me in dislike again. “Why aren’t you running cargo then?”
“Because I’m a mechanic.”
The waitress arrived with our food, providing a break in the tension.
I bit into a fry, then added ketchup to the side of the pile while I waited for their decision.
I was 90 percent sure that they’d decide on the stupid shooters.
Personally, I thought they should do those and the saber fish.
We could fit both in the cargo hold—and empty space didn’t pay for itself.