Page 14 of Savage Union

I pressed the button which was keyed exclusively to my thumbprint and the lift door slid open.

We stepped inside the round lift, with Gurflug taking up most of the space, and I pressed the top button—the bridge was in the very topmost section of the Illyrian.

“What’s on the other floors?” the boy asked, nodding at the buttons lined up in a neat row.

“Well, first we have the cargo hold,” I told him. What Ididn’tsay was that the cargo hold was only used for boring, legitimate cargo which we used as a cover in case of Imperium inspectors. Our real cargo was generally stored beneath the removable steel plates of the cargo hold floor. Like many smuggling ships, The Illyrian had a false bottom which was cleverly concealed in the belly of the ship.

“And the next floor?” the boy asked.

“That’s the ship’s engines,” I told him. “As well as the quarters of our chief engineer and his assistant. They need to stay close to the engines in case of an emergency.”

Since he was listening attentively while Gurflug stared into space, I continued talking.

“The next level is the crew’s quarters, the kitchen and the galley, as well as the mess hall and the communal shower,” I told him.

“Er…communal shower?” he asked, swallowing so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Yes, is that a problem, boy?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“It’s not a problem for me,” Gurflug stated, proving that he had been listening after all. “Galafruxians don’t take showers—it’s bad for our skin to wash off our natural coating of dirt and slime.”

The boy made a face but said nothing. I kept my face neutral, but inside I couldn’t help agreeing with him—no wonder the big bastard stunk if he never fucking showered!

“All crew members arerequiredto take showers aboard The Illyrian,” I growled, pinning them both with a look. “Good hygiene is important when we’re all in such close quarters.”

Neither of them looked happy to learn this. Gurflug, presumably didn’t like it because he wanted to keep his slime. I didn’t know why the boy didn’t like the “everybody takes a shower” rule. He looked clean enough and he didn’t stink. Ormaybe he did and I just couldn’t tell it because Gurflug’s stench was so overpowering.

“And here we are at the top level of the ship,” I said, as the lift’s bell dinged softly. “This is where the bridge is, as well as the Captain’s quarters, my ready room, and my private shower. And no, I don’t share those either,” I added, giving them both another look.

The boy nodded meekly and Gurflug just made a grunting sound. Such a fucking charmer, this guy.

We stepped out of the lift directly onto the bridge which was a round room with a vast, rectangular viewscreen directly ahead of us. There were several stations along the perimeter of the room including communications, piloting, and navigation. In the center of the bridge was the command chair, where I typically sat when we flew.

In a pinch, I could man any of the stations—a good Captain has to be able to run his own ship if there’s an emergency or he loses a crew member—so I had a working knowledge of all of them. But navigation was definitely the most difficult.

I could navigate my way around the Imperium Galaxy well enough with the use of Space Gates, but I couldn’t do Cross-Dimensional Navigation to save my fucking life. My brain simply didn’t have the capacity to see the obstacles lurking around the various stable worm holes because of the distortion field thrown by the worm holes’ gravitational fields. Someone who could see past those distortions was a rare and talented individual.

Yorrin, my pilot, was already at his station. As a Talon’teen Monk, he only piloted in order to spread the Gospel of his God, Amok the Lover of All, to the known universe. He accepted no pay for his services and always wore a baggy grayyernbaskin robe and hardened leather sandals on his three-toed feet.

He was the best pilot I had ever had and the only crew member allowed to abstain from wearing the standard uniformof black trousers, black boots, and a fitted black top with long sleeves and a white collar and cuffs. That was because his hairy skin was sensitive and prone to getting rashes if he wore anything butyernbaskin. And if there’s anything that smells worse than an infected rash on a Holbub, which was Yorrin’s species, I don’t know what it is.

Well, maybe Gurflug smelled worse—it was a definite possibility. I side stepped away from the big Galafruxian and took a deep breath of clean air the minute we left the lift. Being cooped up with him was going to be no joke if I gave him the navvie job—he reallywasgoing to have to shower.

“Greetings Captain Turk,” Yorrin said graciously, nodding his shaggy head at me. Some have compared his species—the Holbubs of Forkin Prime—to an animal from Old Earth called a “sloth.” I had looked up a picture once and agreed with the assessment. Yorrin was soft-spoken and calm at all times, which was one reason he was such a good pilot, especially if we got into a sticky situation and had to lose an Imperium tail. He never panicked—he just did his job and did it well.

“Greetings, Yorrin,” I said. “These two are here to apply for the navvie gig,” I added, nodding at Gurflug and the boy.

“Ah yes, greetings, my friends. May the peace of Amok be upon you.” Yorrin nodded his shaggy head at them both calmly. “I thought you only had one candidate to consider, Captain,” he said, rising from the pilot’s station. Moving in his slow, careful way, he came to stand beside me.

“I did, but then this young pup came asking for a trial,” I said, nodding at the boy. “Says he’s got no blind spots,” I added.

Yorrin’s bushy brown eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“No blind spots? That’s impossible,” he said.

“That’s what I was trying to tell your Captain,” Gurflug burbled indignantly. “And yet he insisted on letting this little snot come along.”

I studied the boy to see if he would get angry but he kept his cool.

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