Rogue Mate, page 6
part #1 of Rogue Star Series
Shenna’s eyes grew wide with alarm before she gasped. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean the station, I meant the cat. I named her Persephone. I thought it was fitting,” she explained.
Oh. My shoulders sagged with relief.
“That makes more sense,” I nodded. “No, I haven’t seen the cat, but I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Thanks!” she called over her shoulder as she continued searching. I proceeded through the compact interior of the ship until I found another room that had been rearranged for us. Inside was the petite girl with dark eyes. I still didn’t know her name.
“Are you settling in okay?” I asked. Her head jerked up as if she didn’t expect anyone to speak to her.
“It’s not bad,” she replied.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Manda,” she replied.
“Good to know you, Manda.” I extended my hand to her. She took it, though she looked uncomfortable. We shook hands and fell into an awkward silence.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I said. She only nodded in response. I quickly moved on. I should’ve paid more attention to my mother when she spoke to other diplomats. Maybe I would’ve developed better conversational skills.
I spotted Maris standing in front of an open panel mounted on the wall. From what I’d heard, she’d wasted no time getting to work on the ship.
Maybe she knew something about the shockwave.
Even if she was a bitch.
I sucked in a deep breath and walked over to Maris.
“Can I have a word?” I asked.
“Which one would you like?” She didn’t look away from the panel she was working on.
“No, I mean can I talk to you about something?” I clarified, counting to ten silently.
“I know what you mean.” She took the slender tool from between her teeth and jabbed it into a cluster of incomprehensible circuits.
“Cut the crap, Stoyer,” I snapped. She paused and looked at me out of the corner of her eye. She let out a single dry chuckle before turning to face me.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I want to know about the shockwave,” I said.
“Simple,” she shrugged. “It’s a burst of pure energy.”
“I know what a shockwave is.” I was becoming annoyed now. I didn’t like Maris toying with me. “I want to know how the one that destroyed Persephone Station, and likely half of Pluto, happened.”
“Now you’re asking the right questions,” she smirked. “I’ve been wondering the same thing, actually.” She went back to tinkering with the panel as she spoke. “Now that I’ve spent a little time talking with the engineers, I’ve gotten a pretty good sense of how this ship operates. Let me tell you one thing right now. This ship does not produce enough energy to create a shockwave that big.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Positive,” she replied. “This ship may be alien, but the numbers don’t lie. In fact, whatever upgraded Flosh drive replacement they use is specifically designed to minimize energy burn-off. I’m telling you, there’s no way this ship generated that shockwave.”
“Then what caused it?” I asked.
“That I can’t tell you,” Maris shrugged. “We’d have to go back to Pluto and Persephone Station for me to get an idea.”
“The moment we re-enter the Terran system, we’ll be hunted down.”
“So you think,” Maris shrugged. “So they’ve told you.”
“Are you willing to risk it?” I insisted, tone sharp. “Willing to risk everyone’s life?”
She didn’t answer.
“And even if you were, how do you think we’re going to get there?”
Dejar
Things had been going fairly well, considering.
Well, considering quite a lot.
We needed a job in order to get enough supplies to feed a double crew, or we were going to be forced to leave the women behind…or some of the men, as several of the women were proving to be quick learners.
Aavat had been quick to note they were cheaper to feed than large Shein bodies, and couldn’t be any harder to supervise. With a little more training, some power suits for the heavy work, maybe we could replace half the crew.
It was…an interesting idea.
I wasn’t quite ready to make that decision, though, and watching the women interact, I wasn’t at all certain he was right about the woman being easier to manage.
In the end, I put out a ping to one of our more…interesting…contacts.
We only knew him as Job, because he was the one you contacted when you needed something quick with good pay, which usually meant it wasn’t the most appealing, or legitimate, of tasks.
While I waited for a response from my message, I had called Kalyn and Aavat into my office.
She looked better, her pale hair brushed smooth, the dark marks under her eyes less prominent.
“How are the men dealing with the change, Aavat?”
“As expected. There have been grumblings, complaints, yelling, screaming, threats of mutiny, and general plans for the utter destruction of everything you hold dear. How do you think they’ve dealt with it?” He was in one of those moods.
With a deep sigh, I gave Aavat a get-your-act-together look and waited.
He matched my stare, then gave in. “There have been some complaints, but the men have handled it accordingly, sir.”
I wasn’t sure what his issue was this morning, but if he kept at it, it would become problematic.
However, before I could discuss it with him, Kalyn intervened. “Is everything alright, Aavat? You seem particularly grumpy this morning.”
“What’s grumpy?” he growled at her. The translators did a reasonable job, but the more we spoke with the women, the more I realized there were still holes in the database, missing concepts.
Someone would have to spend some quality time updating and cross-checking, but that wouldn’t be a priority. Not for a while.
“Well,” she said sweetly. I liked it when she used her sweet voice, wrapping around the words until they were as soft as she was. “It’s how you’re acting right now. You’re combative, you’re cross, and you just generally seem to be in a bad mood.”
He looked at her with what I recognized as his “kout off” glare, but she just continued to look at him with concern.
He backed down.
He actually chuckled.
Huh.
Maybe there were a few things I could learn from Kalyn about dealing with others.
“Fine, I’m grumpy, or whatever you call it,” he said with a wave. He turned back to me and gave me a more appropriate answer. “The men are doing what is needed, but we’re struggling with supplies and it’s creating an issue. At this rate, we’ll be without food in four days.”
That was worse than I had anticipated. “Scro. How are we on fuel?”
“We can’t fold again without draining our fuel cells, otherwise we’re good until recharge.”
“And how much longer for recharge?” Kalyn asked, then bit her lip, as if afraid of the answer.
“Same as the food, four days at our current rate of movement. If we dock, a few hours, but we would have to find someplace where these ones,” he pointed at Kalyn, “wouldn’t stick out and give us away.”
“And,” I started, “since no outpost like that exists, we’d have to leave the women on board, hide them, or disguise them.”
Not the best of ideas, and now that I thought about it, that created a bit of an issue with our eventual meeting with Job.
However, first things first. I turned to Kalyn. “How are the women holding up?”
Kalyn cocked her head to the side. “As well as could be expected, I guess. There are complaints about the rations, but I think it’s more along the lines of still not knowing what they’re eating than the amount they have to eat.”
“I can understand that. I…” I was interrupted by my private comm channel beeping. Clicking on the answer tab, Job’s partially masked face showed up on my screen.
As I pushed another button and sent the image to the viewscreen on the wall, Aavat hustled Kalyn to the side of the room where Job wouldn’t see her.
She moved quickly, but reluctantly. I guess I wasn’t the only one curious about new species.
“Ho, Job.”
“Ho, Dejar. I hear you’re looking for work.” Job’s voice sounded like gravel rubbing together. There was a lot of debate about whether or not his voice was real or the product of a synthesizer.
My vote was for a third option… I didn’t care as long as I got work and didn’t make him angry.
Most people voted for that option.
As for why his face was partially masked, that was, supposedly, due to a factory accident that ruined the right side of his face. Rumor had it that when he didn’t wear the mask, you could see the skull and the remnants of the muscles that worked that side of his face.
I had never seen him without a mask and wasn’t really that curious.
“You are correct, my friend. We were hoping for something under sensor range,” I said.
“I have job for you, but you might not like it.”
Aavat cut in before me. “What does it pay?”
“Ho, Aavat. Still not polite, I see.”
“My apologies, Job. Now, what does it pay?” Aavat always was more to the point, even when he needed to be polite.
Job glanced between the two of us, then looked away. I could hear some keys being tapped and then my computer pinged as a file arrived. “This job pays seventy-five thousand credits.”
Aavat spit out his drink and I nearly choked. “Tha…sev…uh…”
“Do you want job or no?” he asked.
As he wiped his mouth, Aavat choked out a “Yes, yes, we do. We want the job.”
“I need hear from him,” Job pointed at me.
With a quick and enthusiastic nod, I agreed to the job. “Yes, yes, of course. We’ll take the job.” Job nodded and ended the communication.
“Holy mother! That many credits?” Aavat was beside himself. I was, too, to be honest. That much pay meant months of supplies, repairs to the ship, and the whole crew getting double their normal share.
“Is that a lot?”
I had forgotten about Kalyn. “What did you say?”
“Is that a lot of money? That doesn’t seem like a lot of money,” she said. In the shadow of my office, her pale hair, stood out.
“Is that not a lot of money where you come from?” I asked.
“Not really,” she said. “As Commander of Persephone Outpost, my yearly pay was nearly three-hundred-thousand dollars.”
Aavat’s eyes grew large. “Wait, what’s a ‘dollar’?”
The ship’s AI interrupted us. “According to the Dominion conversion chart in my files, that amount of dollars would be the rough equivalent of eight hundred of our credits.”
Aavat snorted. “That’s not even what my cut would be on a small job.”
“Why would you have our currency in a conversion table,” Kalyn frowned, “if contact with our system is prohibited?”
“That is odd,” I wondered, then shrugged. “The central databanks have information from any number of worlds. Most of them broadcast their information out into space for years and years before they were accepted into the Dominion. Probably some overeager archivist compiled it, tagged it, and promptly forgot all about it.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t look convinced.
“Who cares?” Aavat said. “What matters right now is getting this little chore done and getting paid.”
Kalyn pursed her lips, drawing my attention to them. Soft, pink, and when she bit the lower lip while thinking, I had to look away.
“True. And if your contact is paying this much for a job, it’s probably illegal. Right?”
Both Aavat and I nodded.
“Almost certainly illegal, and if it’s not illegal, then it’s desperate. Did he send you the file?” Aavat asked.
“Yes, he did.” I opened the file and displayed it on the viewscreen. We were to pick up a few crates and deliver them to some company facility.
That seemed… easy.
Far too easy.
“We can help.” Kalyn nodded, face stern.
“How?”
“However you need us to. Besides, I suspect that some of the women may have untapped talents. And we need to earn credits, as well.”
Aavat shrugged and smirked.
“If they can help, they should. I have no problem with it. You know what I think.”
“Very well,” I said. I looked at Kalyn and saw her bright blue eyes sparkling. “You and your ladies are in. We’ll work through the logistics and figure out a way for you to help, but most of your crew will have to stay out of sight, at least until we can figure out a plausible explanation for you.”
“Or a reasonable disguise,” Aavat added. I nodded at him as Kalyn smiled. That smile was beautiful.
“We won’t let you down, I promise,” Kalyn said. “So, what are we getting?”
“It doesn’t say, and there are explicit instructions not to look into it. For that price tag, I’ll deliver nearly anything without question.”
Aavat relayed the coordinates for our pickup to Qal, and then we spent the next hour or so discussing how we were going to deal with the shipment, what role the women would play in it, and how long the job would take.
Aavat was calm and businesslike. Kalyn was enthusiastic and more than willing to give ideas and take criticism. I found myself smiling.
We had a job, and we had a new partner.
Kalyn
“I want to know what it is,” Aryn sighed over-dramatically.
We’d been exiled to the small mess hall while Dejar picked up whatever it was he was to deliver.
“The contract didn’t say anything about what they’re shipping?” Lynna asked me for the third time.
“Nothing,” I replied. “In fact, it strongly suggested we don’t try to find out what it is.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Manda said quietly.
“Obviously, it’s something illegal or they wouldn’t be hiding it. Things could get really rough for us if the crew is caught carrying contraband cargo,” Maris said.
“I think you’re forgetting that we’re contraband cargo,” I interjected.
“You’d think they’d want our help pulling off a minor crime,” Aryn mused. “Most of us have experience in that department.”
“Not all of us,” Lynna said defensively.
“Yes, we all know you’re a beacon of goodness amongst us ruffians,” Maris chuckled.
Lynna rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smile.
“Ruffians or not, I want to know what we’re transporting.” Aryn pushed herself off the counter she sat on and made for the door.
“Bad idea.” I slid in front of the door to block her path.
“This could affect us!” she argued. “I thought you were concerned about our safety.” She arched her brow.
“I am, but you’re as subtle as the shockwave that landed us in this position. Sit,” I ordered. “I’ll go see if I can find out what’s on board.”
“I think I have more experience sneaking around than you do,” Aryn shot back.
“Sit down or I’ll find a month’s worth of unpleasant duties to give you,” I warned, but in the back of my mind I filed a note to read Aryn’s file very carefully.
“Yes, ma’am,” Aryn grumbled. She strode back to the counter she’d sat on earlier and hauled herself up.
“I’ll be back soon.” I slowly opened the door to the mess hall, careful not to let it creak. I peeked into the hallway and listened.
When I didn’t hear anything, I cautiously stepped into the corridor and slowly closed the door.
As I stalked through the hallways, I realized just how far I was willing to go to prove to the other women that I was on their side.
I wondered what Dejar would say about this. I’d grown a little addicted to his smiles, his compliments.
His touches, as he guided me around the ship.
I tightened my jaw. Hopefully, I wouldn’t find out what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his disappointment.
I heard voices up ahead, near the loading doors. I pressed myself flat against the wall and slowly crept forward until I saw figures dressed in dark clothing carrying large crates in the direction of the cargo bay. I couldn’t see their features.
Were they Shein, too, or something else entirely?
Dejar leaned against the wall, supervising. I leaned forward, anxious to see more. His eyes snapped to mine, boring into me.
Shit.
His eyes widened, and he made a subtle gesture with his hand as if to ask me what the hell I thought I was doing. I lifted one finger to my mouth and pressed it to my lips.
It occurred to me that he might not know what that gesture meant. One of the dark-clad beings approached Dejar, drawing his attention away from me.
“That’s everything,” he said gruffly. “I trust you will honor the contingencies of the delivery contract.”
I reached up to tap the thin strip stuck behind my ear, thankful that whatever language these creatures used, the translator could handle it.
“Of course,” Dejar replied. The figure nodded and moved to leave, but Dejar stopped him. “You haven’t given me a packing slip or a transfer permit.”
“You’re not getting one,” the figure replied shortly.
“I don’t know how you expect me to deliver to a public port without one,” Dejar protested.
“Figure something out,” the being said before pushing past Dejar.
With impressive speed, Dejar grasped the being by the arm and held him in place. “I need papers if you want your delivery completed.” His voice was calm, but I could see how hard he was gripping the being’s arm.
“If you cannot provide the service requested, I am not opposed to canceling the contract,” the being hissed.
Dejar contemplated for a moment before releasing the being’s arm.
“We’ll handle it,” he growled. “Now get off my ship.” The being snarled before collecting his companions and exiting the ship. When I was certain they’d left, I stepped out from my hiding place.
