Page 8 of Tempting Cargo
Before I could ask the obvious question, she carried on. “It’s not the same ship, by the way. I already checked. TheDawnis an LX76 freighter, but theCrown of the Voidis a cruiser class vessel.”
“And she suffered damage in the Zerish system? What were they doing out there?”
“I don’t have any more details, Cap. It was only all over the channel because it’s so unusual for a new Orithian trading vessel to turn up. Want me to ask around?”
“Aye. But quietly. They know you’re on an Orithian ship. Don’t give out more information than we gain.”
“I can be subtle, Captain. I can be as careful as I would be reconnecting the primary wires on the communications matrix. Which is absolutely not something I’ve had to do recently because I dropped a fuel cell down that gap I keep warning you about. Just theoretically, you understand. As anallegory, that’s the level of delicate I can be.” Her left eye twitched as she swigged her ale.
“I’d rather you were delicate in a practical, not theoretical, manner, Muzati. And, noted,” I said. She’d mentioned that damn gap a number of times. “Spec up the new module you’ve been yammering on about. I’ll see if we can afford the upgrade within our operating budget.”
My engineer flung her arms around me, nearly knocking the drinks over. “Thanks, Cap. You’re the best.”
I didn’t know about that. But my crew were, at least.
CHAPTER FOUR
Fucking kri'ith
Garrison
HAVING LESS THANa week to find where the hell to go in a whole damn galaxy? It was enough to make anyone grumpy.
I should have been happy. As of this morning, we were citizens with full legal rights, the ID chips implanted under our wrists and our details recorded on Allied Galaxy systems. But we had to leave—now I’d gotten used to the food, to some of the more unusual customs, to the bartender’s hospitality.
It sucked, but there was nothing for us here.
The keppli ale’s cool bitterness smoothed some of the rough edges, so I sank into my seat, taking another sip as the cantina door slid open.
Fucking kri’ith.
Three of them openly stared as they strode past, mugs of ale sloshing, the air rippling in their massive wake. I couldn’t help but peer at the two females. We’d only seen kri’ith men before, and what appeared grotesque on them was… slightly less monstrous.
Without meaning to, my gaze settled on the broader of the two. I ignored the cocky way she walked, and my eyes didn’t linger on her obscenely muscled thighs. Much.
Maybe I was just staring at the way her blue leather tunic clung to her breasts, though the fleshy purple spines on her scalp swayed almost hypnotically, trailing past her shoulders like locs or braids. From under deep brow ridges, her dark, glittering eyes met mine, daring me to keep looking even as she bared her teeth in that almost skeletal grin.
I scrubbed at the goosebumps on my arms. Fucking kri’ith. While these newcomers didn’t give the same pirate vibe as the group who’d arrived yesterday, they were still kri’ith, and not to be trusted.
As I glanced back at the probably-pirates sitting near the door, Rayna entered the cantina, made a beeline for them, and my eyes narrowed. Even though she was hard to get along with, I didn’t want her getting into trouble, but, frankly, I was running out of energy to watch out for everyone. At least Zerena’s arm was almost better. I added Galactic medical tech to my very short list of good things about the galaxy.
Without meaning to, everyone had paired up—not as couples, but after too many hours bickering over a destination we could all agree on, we were going to go our separate ways. Apart from Ellie, who was staying here, and me, still undecided. And whatever the fuck Rayna was doing now.
I didn’t like it. Only thirteen humans in the Allied Galaxy, and we were splitting up? We should be sticking together, not drifting off into odd corners of space in ones or twos. But I couldn’t begrudge anyone wanting to make the most of things in whatever way they thought best. Maybe we’d be able to meet up sometimes. Till then, there were always comms.
The mood was gloomy as we reviewed travel options. There was no such thing as public transport, apart from a weeklyslow shuttle between various space stations; the done thing was to haggle with ships passing through your destination. Making casual credits from being a galactic taxi might have been normal to these folk, but it was a fucking terrifying idea as passengers, especially ones so new to the wider galaxy.
Since we’d gotten our ID chips, choice had been limited. A shaa vessel had turned us down, leaving the kri’ith pirates—fuck right off—and now this second group. There’d been a stream of travellers passing through last week, mostly tall, aloof shaa and pleasant nebaru. It was just typical it had gone dry now we needed them.
I wanted to hold out for whoever else came by, with a last resort being the commercial transport to a more populated and busy station. Once there, we’d have to hope we could find another ride.
It wasn’t a popular option.
Roth drained his drink. “I’m going to speak to them.” He didn’t have to say who. He’d made it very clear he wanted to get off here ASAP and was happy to talk to anyone who came through.
“We’ve not had the best of luck with kri’ith,” I said.
He shot me a dark look. “We’ve got to get a ride off here, G, so I’m going to ask. Foolish not to.”
