I shoot a worried look over at Kaspar, coughing loudly to try and get his attention. My brother, meanwhile, is arguing with the male seated next to him, no doubt looking to start a fight and get that distraction going. We have bigger problems, though, if Lord Straik is in this region. He’s a mesakkah with deep pockets, an army of clones at his disposal, and a massive chip on his shoulder. If he's hanging out in V'tarrian space, he's not doing anything good. "What's he buying weapons for?"
The clingy one pouts, holding her hand out.
With a sigh, I put a credit in her hand.
She pockets it, her smile returning. "I heard he's buying weapons for his private army…because they're going to take over a ship."
"Take over a ship?"
"Find a ship," the other one corrects. "They're looking for some lost ship. Came in here and asked a thousand questions about shipping lanes and such." She rolls her eyes and drinks the last of her ooli brew, then eyes the ordering system. "Can you buy us another round, friend?"
"I think I have to go," I say, and get to my feet.
The females pull me down again, just as Kaspar grabs his barstool and slams it over his neighbor's head.
2
ADIRON
"I can't believe you two keffing idiots," Mathiras rages as we race onto the bridge of the Little Sister, several V'tarrian guards hot on our heels. "What happened to ‘create a diversion to peel off the guards and sneak out’?"
"How are we supposed to sneak when we're the only mesakkah in the entire V'tarrian system?"
"You could have tried a little harder." He pauses to shove Kaspar up the ramp, since our brother seems determined not to leave without finishing the fight.
I automatically grab at Kaspar's shirt and shove him through the Sister's door, something we've gotten down to a science. Most battles end like this—us knowing when to pull out and Kaspar too stubborn to do so. So between Mathiras and myself, we've become experts at hauling Kaspar's ass out of danger.
And they say I am the dumb one.
"We're not done here," Kaspar complains, trying to aim his gun around my horns. "We can take them—"
"You're our navigator now," Mathiras reminds him, easing up the ramp with his back to me as I hover in the doorway. He keeps his eyes on the V'tarrians who are no longer racing for us but for a control panel—no doubt to trap us before we can take off. "Go and keffing navigate! We've got to get out of this place!"
Kaspar growls, then turns and races for the nav panel. Mathiras continues to back up, shooting. The enemy is pinned down behind a crate, but I see someone race ahead and I know it's just a matter of time. In his way, Mathiras is just as bad as Kaspar in never wanting to leave a fight. So I grab him by the collar and haul him backward onto the ship, then slam my hand on the hatch release, the door zooming shut.
Mathiras glares at me, putting his blaster away. "I was coming," he mutters.
"Sure, sure." We both head for the bridge.
"Why do you smell like ooli brew?" Mathiras asks, glancing over at me. "And why are you all wet?"
I just grin. "You said you wanted a distraction. I jumped into the bar fight that Kaspar started. And I might have made the bartender angry."
He sighs.
"And a few barmaids." I pause, considering. "And some cantina girls. And a patron or two."
"I told you to blend," he complains as we move onto the bridge and slide into our seats. "Fighting with everyone in the cantina isn't blending."
"Neither is being blue, but we didn't realize that was a problem until we got there," I point out. "We stood out no matter what." I flip switches at my seat, running checks on the landing gear and initiating the ship's protective shields as the engine fires up, whining as we begin to lift off. "Weapons systems?" I ask, my hand hovering over the next panel.
Mathiras shakes his head, concentrating on his controls. "They're trying to detain, not destroy. I don't think they realized that I hacked their records. It's probably just about the bar fight."
"Then we did good." I grin broadly…and then sniff my clothes. Whew. I do smell bad. Like I rolled around in an ooli's armpit.
Kaspar glances over at the two of us as the Sister lifts off, heading for the rapidly closing gates on the station. "Did you get what we needed, then?"
"Yes and no." Mathiras shakes his head. "I got in, but I couldn't find records of the Buoyant Star. If she came through this system, she never made it here. It narrows things down…but not by much."
I grunt, scratching at my damp, itchy tunic. "So what now?"
Mathiras shoots me a look, as if I'm an idiot for asking. I'm used to that sort of look, though, so it doesn't offend me. "We worry about getting away from the authorities, first. Then we figure out our next steps."
"Nag, nag," I tease, but I double our shields as we zip narrowly out of the gates. Just in case.
A short time later, I'm in the shower, washing off the stink of sour ooli brew and thinking about the Buoyant Star. And Zoey. And Sophie.
Sophie's gonna be so pissed that it's been weeks and weeks since we left her with my buddy Jerrok, and we're still no closer to finding the Buoyant Star and all its fabled riches. She seemed forlorn and unhappy when we left her behind, and after a month of being in Jerrok's company, I can only imagine how mad she is. Jerrok's a trustworthy sort, but he's not exactly friendly. Or clean. Or pleasant. If Sophie doesn't give us a verbal lashing that scours years off our lives, I'll be surprised. I should send her a comm, but I can't exactly give away our position in space. We're currently hiding the Little Sister on the dark side of one of V'tarr's far-flung moons. Once the coast is clear, we'll head out again, moving in a different direction as we send out a tracing signal for the Buoyant Star. It's pure luck that we found the records—and the private frequency ID—that the Buoyant Star was using before it disappeared. That means we're the only ones that will be able to pick up a distress signal, no matter how old. And if she's active (for whatever reason) we can just say hello. With the frequency ID, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack, as Zoey would say. Without the frequency ID, it'd be like looking for a needle in an entire field of haystacks. At least we can narrow it down, bit by bit.
The payoff will be worth it…I hope. Because once Zoey finds out we're in the off-limits Slatra system on a treasure hunt, she'll blister our ears with her choice words. She hates it when we risk our necks. Doesn't matter that they're our necks to risk—as our younger sister, Zoey, feels obligated to look out for us, and to tell us when we're being keffing idiots.
Myself, I know hunting for a fabled ship like the Buoyant Star is likely going to end up in failure. The stories passed around cantinas could be all wrong. Maybe it's not filled with riches. Maybe it wasn't abandoned on the edges of space. Maybe it wasn't called the Buoyant Star at all, and it was just a merchant vessel that showed up on station on time, offloaded her cargo, and the stories just grew because people get bored in deep space.