“How much does the job pay?”
“Whatever the profits are on a haul, we split five ways. One for each of us and one part for the upkeep of the Loshad. It varies month to month, but you’ll make enough scrilla to survive pretty comfortably. We all pitch in a little for the food, water, and air and we do fairly well. You’ll have your own quarters. You can eat with us or by yourself, whatever you want.”
“What does the position on ship entail?”
“Helping to identify the purpose of Mudar tech we find that we don’t recognize. Monitoring our shipboard computer and making adjustments and repairs when needed. She runs well, but you never know. And I guess pitching in for whatever we need doing. We kind of keep it flexible around here. For example, Beryl not only patches us up, but she’s good on comms and keeping our ship supplied too. We’ll train you on everything you need to know, though.”
She nodded thoughtfully and he carried on. “If you’re interested, why not try it for a run? If you decide it’s not for you, we can drop you back by Omicron or Jaleeth or wherever, no hard feelings.”
She thought a second, then replied, “That sounds great. I’ll do my best for you, captain.” She held out her hand and Ty shook it. “Any tips you can give me for getting along with Hal, so I don’t end up like the last guy?”
“I think you’re doing great so far. I mean, the fact that you threw up on him, and he still brought you back to the ship says a lot.” He smiled at her in a teasing way.
She blushed again. “Don’t remind me,” she groaned.
Just then Hal entered the room, shuffling past them to the coffee maker. Ty spoke as Hal found a mug, dumped five heaped spoons of sugar into it and filled it with coffee. “Hey, Vivi’s going to be our new tecker. At least for the next run.”
“Five by five, Veevs,” Hal murmured as he made his way to the table beside Ty. He propped his head on his left hand, still half asleep.
“Thanks again for saving me the other night. I owe you,” Vivi said.
“Nah.” Hal took another sip of coffee, “You don’t owe me. Beatdowns are free for crewmembers, see? Just lemme know whose ass you want kicked, and I got it handled.” He took another slug, then glanced at Ty. “Are you putting her in the quarters near mine?”
“Yeah.” Ty said. “That OK?”
“Yeah, I’ll try to keep it down.” Hal nodded as he held out a hand to Vivi. “Welcome to the crew, Veevs.”
FOUR
The next few weeks passed quickly, and Ty was pleased that Vivi seemed to be working out. They did two runs and came back with a couple of halfway decent hauls of allenium and a Mudar sidearm from the ruins of an old human settlement on one of the earlier colonies that had been attacked by the AIs.
They had returned to Omicron, the other large station in the Edge, to resupply and wait for another permit from LanTech to go back out. Ty knew back to back runs were tiring, but he wanted them to build up a reserve again, in case another slow period occurred.
Ty and Hal were in a bar called the Shellback, located on one of the “lower” rays of the star-shaped base. The place attracted a lower-class crowd than the bars Ty was used to meeting contacts in. Astin Fortenot had messaged him with a salvage lead, but he hadn’t shown for their meeting. Fortenot was a friend from TechSolutions, the firm that he’d mentioned to Vivi. Every once in a while, Fortenot had intel that panned out. When it did, Cherise at LanTech usually swung them a permit and they went off to collect the artifacts.
A quad game finished up on the feed behind the bar. Hal had made his way down there to watch the end of it, but his team, the Navs, had lost their championship. He was not going to be happy, Ty thought.
Hal was stopped by a man on his way back to the bar, and the two began to exchange words. Ty watched, vigilant for any trouble. He could tell Hal was getting angry by the glint in his eye. He’d seen it often enough.
The two men were glaring at each other now, almost forehead to forehead. Hal isn’t going to back down from this one. When does he ever? Tyce downed the rest of his whiskey with a sigh, ran a hand through his hair, and got up before Hal got himself killed or, more likely, killed someone else.
Ty was athletic, but not nearly the size of Hal’s opponent. His best chance of breaking up the fight would be to head it off before it got started.
“Halvor.”
There was no response.
“Stand down, Hal,” he repeated, hoping the military tone would break his best friend out of the adrenaline haze. When it didn’t work, he stepped in front of Hal, trying to meet his gaze. Ty saw with dismay, however, that Hal had already locked on his adversary, his pupils so large that his eyes appeared a fathomless black.
“Sorry, sir,” Hal said in a deceptively calm voice. “Man’s asked to have his head bashed in, and I mean to oblige him.”
“Come on. Throw the first punch, you vat-bred dog!”
Uh-oh, Ty thought. The man yelling at Hal was as large as he was stupid; he was sweaty, drunk, and dirty, with the angular tribal face and neck tattoos popular with spacers that lived on the Edge.
“Look,” Ty said, turning to face Hal’s would-be opponent, but keeping a hand on his friend’s chest, “you really don’t wanna do this.”
The man’s breath turned Ty’s stomach as he leaned in and sealed his fate. “This is none of your business, so… Fuck. Off. Asshole.”
“Just remember, I tried to stop you.” Ty turned back to Hal, patting him on the shoulder and getting out of the way. “OK, bud. Do what you do.”
With a grin, Hal launched himself past Tyce and landed the first punch. The brawler was stunned but recovered himself quickly and the two began pounding each other. Ty glanced at the bartender, who watched with the bored fascination of someone who had seen it all too many times.
A double-fisted blow to the jaw sent Hal sprawling to the floor. But he only grinned back, showing teeth smeared with blood. He leapt from flat on his back to his feet in one move, an action that any prizefighter in the Edge would envy.
Realizing Hal was stronger and more focused than he’d expected, the brawler pulled a blade. He managed two slices across his opponent’s chest before Hal used his longer reach to strike him squarely in the nose. The drunk immediately spewed blood, and the fight was all but over. By the time Halvor was done punching him, the drunk was a crushed heap on the floor.
Hal wiped blood from his split lip. “OK, Cap.” He spat a bloodied globule at his opponent’s feet. “Now I’m done.”
Tyce shook his head and laid down some scrilla on the bar. “For the mess,” he said, wondering if the bartender would call the local authorities or if he would just take the brawler out with the rest of the trash. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had to pay a hefty bribe to keep Hal from landing in Omicron Station’s brig, he thought.
But luckily this time it was the trash. The bartender nodded and gestured to his cook, who dragged the brawler into the back by one leg as the bartender slipped the scrilla into his pocket and returned to pouring a drink.
Vivi looked up from her cup of coffee as she saw Tyce and Hal enter the galley. Blood had run down Hal’s chin, streaking his T-shirt crimson. She put her datapad down and stood up.