A series story—a complete story describing the adventures of a recurring character, or set of characters—is a well-loved format in literature, comics, television, and movies. In contrast with the serial story where a larger work is presented in installments, a series story is complete within itself and can be enjoyed as a standalone tale or as part of a larger story arc. In literature, a series can be composed of novels, shorter works, or a combination of both. Novel and short story series stories were very popular in Grand Tradition literature. For the reader, the major appeal of the series is that they have already invested in the main characters and the world they inhabit. That world also becomes richer with each story. The story featured below is a series story from Julie Frost. “Bear Essentials”—another story in this series—appeared in the first Far Orbit anthology. Like “Bear Essentials,” this tale follows the crew of the family-owned freighter, Inquisitive Tamandula, as they transport precious cargo through the dangerous and unpredictable spaceways. This story was first published in the December 2007 issue of Renard’s Menagerie.
Julie Frost lives in Utah with her family, which consists of more pets than people, along with a collection of anteaters and Oaxacan carvings, some of which intersect. Her fiction has appeared in Cosmos, Unlikely Story, Plasma Frequency, Stupefying Stories, and many other venues, and has been a Finalist at Writers of the Future and the Hidden Prize for Prose. Her novel Pack Dynamics, was recently released by WordFire Press. She whines about writing, a lot, at agilebrit.livejournal.com.
“Take us off-world, Mandy.” Captain Russell Fisk sat in the co-pilot’s seat of his interplanetary tramp freighter, the Inquisitive Tamandua. He rested his elbows on the console and his bearded chin in his hands as his twenty-two-year-old daughter began her takeoff sequence.
“We’ve got work? Neat.” She pushed her long brown hair out of her face, then noticed his expression. “Why so grumpy? A job’s good, right?”
He blew out a heavy sigh. “Remember how I said no more live cargo?”
She perked up. “We’re hauling dogs again?”
“Oh, God, no!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I’m not sure this job’ll be easier than that one.”
“Yeah?” The ship shuddered a little when they broke atmo, and Mandy bit her lip as she watched the dials. One needle flicked into the red momentarily before moving back into the safe area, causing her to wince. “What’re we doing?”
Russ closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Transporting dragon eggs.”
“Dra—” She stared. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was. Not only that, but mama and daddy dragon are in the middle of an ugly divorce, a nasty custody battle, and a fiery clan war. And when I say ‘fiery,’ I mean that literally.” The dragons native to Reydhogh could fly, stood about ten feet tall at the shoulders, and their main defense—or offense, depending on one’s perspective—was either breathing fire or spitting acid. Russ didn’t know what the actual mechanism entailed or how they did it without hurting themselves, but it was an indisputable and somewhat scary fact.
“O-kay.” Mandy’s brow furrowed. “Sounds less than safe. We took this job because…?”
He tapped the dial that had gone into the red. “We need it. Bad. Charlie’s been begging for parts for weeks now, and Ss!kct says our medical supplies are way too low for comfort. Thus—” He shrugged. “Dragon eggs.”
* * *
Their client, Morrigan, hovered anxiously as they loaded her clutch of nine mottled green foot-long eggs aboard in a ceramic open-topped nest box. The cargo bay lights dimmed slightly when Charlie Crane, the big blond mechanic, plugged the box into an outlet, and they took a moment to come back up. The dragon’s scales gleamed purple and gold in the glow.
Morrigan expanded her neck frill and watched the temperature gauge on the nest. The green zone, Russ noted, only encompassed five degrees. “Anything special we need to do?” he asked.
“Do not move them,” Morrigan answered. “The temperature must stay between ninety-eight and one hundred and three degrees. Too high for too long, and they will die. Too low, and they will hatch.” Her green, vertically-slitted eyes glittered. “This would be bad. Humans are not equipped to care for dragon young.” She turned her gaze to Ss!kct, the ship’s doctor, who stood off to one side taking notes. “Nor are Pyralis.” Ss!kct didn’t comment, but twitched her antennae and pedipalps in irritation.
Russ didn’t even want to contemplate the dragonets dying and hatching didn’t bear thinking about—but nothing was certain in this business. “What happens if they hatch?”
She bared her teeth. “See to it that they do not. I will board a faster transport and prepare a nursery for them.”
She grasped his wrist, and he stared at the two-inch claws that she carefully wasn’t pricking him with. She could disembowel me with one swipe…
“Do not fail me in this,” she continued. “My husband will stop at nothing to steal our offspring for himself. His clan is ruthless. I have stayed one wingbeat ahead of them, and I do not believe they have followed me this far, but they have resources and contacts in unusual places.” She reached into a pouch attached to an elaborately decorated collar around her neck and withdrew several jewels, giving them to Russ. “However, I am not without my own resources.”
Russ felt his eyes bug out a little at the small fortune she had just put in his hand. He swallowed. “And you want us to meet you on Medoc in four standard days, right?”
“Can you get there that quickly?” She eyed the shabby interior of the Tamandua and flexed her wings. “I would normally use a more… luxurious craft for my eggs, but Ainmire, my husband, would expect me to do such. By choosing you, I hope to throw him off the trail.”
Russ bristled a bit at the insult to his ship. “She’ll get ‘em there, no problem.”
“A bonus awaits the safe completion of your task.”
“Well.” Russ took a deep breath. “We’ll do our best.”
* * *
The day after they headed toward Medoc, Ss!kct poked her head into the cockpit and waved her pedipalps. “Captain?”
Russ cringed. That tone in her voice never, ever boded well. “What?”
“The nest box is malfunctioning.”
He came up out of his chair. “What?”
“The temperature has dropped precipitously.” She skittered after him as he charged down to the cargo hold.
“Dropped.” He skidded to a stop next to the box. Charlie had the side of it open and was lying on his back, buried up to the chest in its guts. By the sound of the swearing, he wasn’t having much success. At least the temperature hadn’t gone the other way. “Can you fix it?” Russ asked.
“It’s blown two resistors and a capacitor, and something else, I don’t know what, is burnt to a crisp,” Charlie said from within the depths of the thing. “I got no parts, boss, and even if I did, I ain’t sure I could fix it before the eggs hatch.”
Russ did some of his own swearing. “Any way you can work around it?”
“Sorry.” Charlie humphed. “It’s busted for good and all.”
Russ tried to think of another solution. “Do we have any other way of keeping the eggs warm? Heaters, hot water bottles?”
“The safe temperature zone is far too narrow for something so chancy as that,” Ss!kct said. “And the dragonets will be very hungry when they hatch. We’ll need to feed them.”
“How long have we got before the eggs crack?” Russ asked.
“Less than a day.”
Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “We anywhere near someplace we can buy baby dragon food? Because it looks like we’re going to have nine passengers we weren’t ready for.”
* * *
The man at the currency exchange suspiciously eyed the jewel that Russ handed him. “Where’d you get this?” A nameplate on his counter read “Charles Austin.”
“Payment from a client,” Russ answered, crossing his arms. “Why?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, and I know where things like this come from.” Austin spun it back across the counter, and Russ caught it before it hit the floor. “Dragon gems are bad news. I don’t deal in them.”
This job was getting better and better. “The client was a dragon, if that makes a difference.”
Austin’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “Really? Let me see that again.” He stuck a loupe in his eye and examined the jewel. “This is quality stuff. I can give you fifteen hundred for it.”
Russ knew that it was worth twice that. He wondered how much he should quibble, and whether this guy had figured out just what a tight spot he was in. Couldn’t hurt to try. He held his hand out. “I’d have to get at least twenty-five hundred out of it.”
He rolled his eyes at the show Austin made of looking at the gem more closely. “Well. I can’t give you that much for it. But I can probably go twenty-one-fifty.”
Russ rubbed at his beard. “That’s awfully low. I think I’ll try my luck further down the road…”
“Twenty-three hundred, then.”
Russ would have settled for twenty-two fifty. “Done.”
He walked out of the exchange after getting paid and met Charlie and Ss!kct outside. Mandy had stayed on the Tamandua to keep an eye on the eggs. “All right, Charlie. What do you need for the ship?”
“Got a list right here, Cap’n.”
“Only get what you absolutely have to have.” Russ handed his mechanic a sheaf of bills. “I expect change back out of that.”
“Awww…”
“No arguing. Go. Meet us back at the ship.” Russ turned to Ss!kct as Charlie headed down the street. “Now, what do we need to keep baby dragons happy for a few days?”
She hesitated. “You aren’t going to like it, sir.”
“What else is new? Out with it.”
She told him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s never easy, is it? Mandy is going to hate this.”
* * *
Russ and Charlie maneuvered an antigrav pallet through the cargo bay door to find the eggs rocking back and forth gently and making chirping noises. Mandy was flapping her hands and pacing back and forth. “It’s about time you got back! Look at them…” Then she saw what was on the pallet and put her fists on her hips. “What is that?”
Russ cringed, but they had to do what they had to do. “Baby dragon food.”
“Live rats? Dad…”
“They normally eat spulogies, which are far more attractive than rats,” Ss!kct pointed out. “But we couldn’t find any of those.”
“But—”
Russ shook his head. “Hey, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve never seen you back away from the table when we had enough money to serve steak.” He raised a hand while Charlie unloaded the crates and crates of rats, along with nine empty wire mesh cages and some fluffy towels. “I know, I don’t like it either, okay? But if we don’t feed them, they die, and then Mama Dragon is going to be unhappy. Do you want to see an unhappy dragon?”
“I suppose not,” Mandy mumbled. “I guess I’ll go get us on our way again.” She fled to the cockpit.
Charlie stared after her. “What’s her problem?”
“Don’t you have work to do?” Russ said.
Charlie brightened considerably. “Oh, yeah.” He took the pallet toward the engine room with a big grin plastered on his face.
“Make sure our gun turret is operational!” Russ hollered after him. He shook his head. “I swear, he’s like a kid in a candy shop when he’s got new parts to play with.” One of the eggs chose that moment to crack, and he twitched. “Ss!kct?”
She picked up a towel with one hand, tossing it to Russ, and snatched two rats out of a crate with two others. “It’ll be hungry and messy when it comes out. I’ll throw it the rats, and you wipe it down while it’s busy eating them. Then we can wrestle it into one of the cages.”
“Wait, what? Wrestle it—?” Russ had visions of fire and acid dancing through his head. He didn’t have time to entertain them. The eggshell burst into fragments, and a little blue dragonet covered in egg slime cheeped at them. It licked its lips and eyed its brethren, still rocking in their shells, in a predatory fashion, but was quickly distracted by Ss!kct hurling a rat at its head. It snatched the flailing rodent out of the air, chomped twice, and swallowed.
Russ moved towards the baby, holding out the towel. It cocked its head to one side; Ss!kct threw it the second rat, and Russ cleaned the goo off it as quickly as he could while the dragonet gulped the rodent down. Picking it up and grasping it around the muzzle so it couldn’t flame, he rushed it over to one of the crates they’d picked up for the dragonets, shoved it in through the door in the top, and slammed and latched it. The baby flapped its ridiculously tiny wings indignantly and glared at him, smoke curling from its nostrils.
His sigh of relief was short-lived. Two more eggs cracked open simultaneously, and the occupants fell upon each other, hissing, clawing, biting, and flaming. The flames were small, but they burned hot. Russ and Ss!kct managed to separate the dragonets and get them each pushed into their own crates, but he was positive he’d lost an eyebrow, singed clean off, in the process.
He swore when three of the eggs shattered at the same time. Apparently, going for each other on sight was a normal thing for baby dragons, because two of them imitated their previously-hatched relatives, although the third leaped toward the rat cage.
They had their hands full getting the combating babies apart. One was spraying acid, the other blowing fire. A droplet of acid burned the back of Russ’s hand as he grabbed the green one, and he cursed through clenched teeth. He didn’t lose his hold, however, and he got it squared away just in time to see the last three eggs hatch. One was a third again larger than any of the others had been, and was deep red and gold. Ss!kct still wrestled with her baby, and the one that’d gone for the rats had pulled several bodily through the bars of the cage, eaten them… and disappeared into one of the smuggling spaces.
“Sir! The big one!” Ss!kct attempted to make the dragonet disengage from her antenna. It was jerking back and forth and growling, trying to tear it off her head. “Ow, you little demon, stop that. Be sure the largest one remains uninjured, Captain.”
“Great…” He lunged for it, but his hands slipped off its egg-slick hide. He snatched up a towel to try for a better grip, and it held off the other two dragonets with… “Fire and acid? This job just keeps getting better and better.” He made a grab, managed to tuck the thing under his arm and wrap his fingers around its nose in time to stop it from setting him on fire, and manhandled it into a cage.
Ss!kct had finally gotten control of her baby, but one of the last ones escaped to who-knew-where while Russ had his back turned putting the big dragonet away. Together, they got the final one behind bars and fed.
The back of Russ’s hand, where the acid had burned him, itched furiously, and his forehead stung where the one baby had flamed him. Staring at the chaos that his cargo hold had become, Russ put his face in his hand, but flinched away from the burn.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” he asked his ship’s doctor.
“Well, sir. It isn’t good.”
* * *
“They what?”
Russ wasn’t schooled in dragon expressions, but he was terribly glad he wasn’t in the same room with Morrigan. He drummed his fingers on the console and looked at the smoke curling out of her nostrils on his screen. “The nest box you provided malfunctioned. We were lucky to be close enough to a place where we could get food for them.”
“Are they healthy?”
He decided to refrain from telling her that two of them were running around loose in the cargo hold and so far evading capture. “They’re fine—clean and fed. Anything special we need to know?”
“You are keeping them separate and feeding live prey?”
“Yeah,” Russ said, without voicing the thought, Even though it’s really disgusting.
“That is well.” She leaned forward slightly. “You have had no contact with Ainmire?”
“Not yet. I had our mechanic make sure the gun’s in good working order, just in case.”
She chuffed out a huff of steam. “You must not fire upon him.”
“No?” Russ crossed his arms. “What if he fires on us?”
“He will not. Our children are aboard.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re sure of that.” For his part, Russ was just as happy to have the one gun that the government allowed them for protection against pirates. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Same rendezvous?”
“Nothing has changed on my end. I still must make their nursery ready.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know if anything changes here.”
“See that you do. This development is, shall we say, not good.” Her eyes glittered. “I will have to have a word with the manufacturer of the nest box.”
Russ tried to reassure her. “We’re doing all right with the babies; they seem fine so far.”
“Thank you. Good day, Captain.” The screen went black.
“Well. That went better than I expected,” Russ said to the empty cockpit.
He got up to go back to the cargo hold and nearly ran into Ss!kct. “Sir?”
“Oh, God, what now?”
“One of them is sneezing.”
* * *
Mandy knelt in front of a cage. Apparently her antipathy toward their diet had been overcome by the—admittedly—irresistible cuteness of the dragonets. A miserable-looking orange baby gazed at her, sniffling, with a string of mucous hanging off its muzzle and its eyes leaking.
“Okay, I don’t know much about diseases, but I do know that a virus takes longer than this to incubate.” Russ glared at his ship’s doctor. “So, what’s the matter with it?”
“It’s either aspiration pneumonia, or an allergic reaction.” Her mandibles clacked. “We were unable to do as a mother dragon does, and suck out any of the egg that they may have inhaled during hatching.”
“Fabulous.”
Mandy scrambled out of the way as the dragonet took a couple of deep, raspy, breaths, then sneezed out a… damp flame? Russ had never thought to see such a thing, and he never wanted to see it again. One of the others, a blue one, followed suit. “Am I going to have an epidemic on my hands? Because that would be bad.”
Ss!kct hesitated. “I’ll need to do a blood draw to see what’s happening with them and determine a course of treatment.”
Russ pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “And I suppose you need help for that.”
She waved her antennae. “My four hands are more useful than your two, but extras never hurt. Why don’t you get it out of the cage while I go get a hypodermic?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left.
“Fine. Mandy? A little help, please?”
“Uh. I… just remembered something in the cockpit I need to check on.” She fled, leaving him with a wary dragonet and no helpers.
He stared after her, but she was gone, so he opened the door in the top of the cage and tried to coax the baby towards him. It backed away, hissing, as he reached in. Smoke curled from its nostrils, and its mouth opened.
Then its eyes crossed, and it sneezed again, burning the hairs off the back of his hand. Before it could recover its composure and build up another flame, he grabbed it and dragged it out of the cage. It flapped its stubby wings and screeched indignantly, but he had a good hold on it.
He was getting it pinned under his arm when Ss!kct came back in holding a hypo and a disinfecting pad. “Hold its mouth closed,” she said, grabbing a wing and stretching it, looking for a good vein.
Big bubbles of snot blew out of its nostrils, and it scrabbled its claws against him, but it couldn’t flame, and that was his main concern. Ss!kct used two of her hands to hold the wing steady, a third to swab the disinfectant on, and the fourth to draw blood from a big fat vein she found. “Okay, sir.”
He hastily shoved it into the cage, where it sneezed once more, then plumped down on its haunches and sulked. The poor little thing really did look miserable, and Russ found himself feeling somewhat sympathetic.
Mandy rushed into the room. “I’ve been doing some research and—”
The baby dragon interrupted her with a sneeze.
And exploded.
* * *
Russ called an emergency meeting immediately in the crew lounge. “You’ve been doing research?” he asked Mandy.
“Apparently, when the babies hatch, the mother dragon sticks their heads in her mouth and sucks out any of the egg goo they might have inhaled, because otherwise they can get—”
“Aspiration pneumonia,” finished Ss!kct. She input something into her handheld medical lexicon. “That answers that question. I’ll get them started on a course of antibiotics.”
Russ picked a piece of dragonet off his pants, grimacing, and held it up. “What about… this?”
“Goes back to the suction thing. If they get aspiration pneumonia, then the snot has to be sucked out every once in a while, otherwise gases build up inside and they go boom. Something to do with the physiology of the flaming and acid mechanisms.”
“Well, we’re kind of short on mother dragons right now. Are they all going to explode?”
“I can rig somethin’ up, Cap’n,” Charlie said. “Won’t be perfect, but might do.”
Ss!kct looked at the readout on her monitor and waved her pedipalps. “Um. How artistic are any of us?”
Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I want to know?”
“They won’t stick their heads into just anything. It has to look like the mother dragon,” Ss!kct said, tapping her screen. “And… it needs to be done very soon. Otherwise we might lose more of them.”
“Great. Okay. Charlie, get to work on a vacuum thing. Mandy, paint a dragon face on it. Ss!kct, work up a treatment protocol. I’m…” He sighed. “…going to go sit in the cockpit and worry about what I’m going to tell Morrigan.”
* * *
Russ sat in the co-pilot’s chair with his boots on the console, leaning back in the seat with his face in his hands, his fingers massaging his forehead. The comm beeped at him. “Oh, hell.” He supposed he was going to have to talk to their client sooner or later, but why couldn’t it be later? Like… ten years from now? Yeah, that would be ideal.
He hit the button, but the dragon looking back at him wasn’t Morrigan. It gave the impression, even on the small screen, that it was larger than she was, and it was a deep maroon and black rather than her purple and gold. “Captain Fisk? My name is Ainmire, and I would speak with you about your… cargo.” Its—his, Russ thought—voice was a melodic bass.
“I don’t have business with you,” Russ said carefully, checking his instruments to see exactly where Ainmire’s signal came from. Too close for comfort.
“My wife is not well, Captain.” Ainmire sighed and drummed his claws on the counter in front of him. “Her actions have no good reason, and I do not mind telling you that I am heartbroken that she has taken this course.” His neck frill flexed. “I love her and miss her. Very much.”
“Then maybe you should tell her that.” Russ hit the inter-ship comm. “Mandy, you wanna come up here, please?”
“Morrigan has ceased listening to me. She is under the delusion that I wish to harm her and our children.”
“I’ve heard your clan wars can get ugly,” Russ said as Mandy entered the cockpit. He pointed at the screen and mimed “evasive maneuvers” at her.
“They can indeed,” Ainmire answered. “But the current war has nothing to do with us. I left my clan to marry her, and do not regret it.” His frustration was palpable. “I have no desire to return to them and wish nothing more than to live out my life surrounded by Morrigan and our young.”
Russ shook his head in sympathy. “The way I see it, I’m not the one you need to convince of that. I feel for you; I know pregnant females can be irrational—” Mandy kicked his ankle. “But Morrigan’s the one who hired us to do the job.”
“She will contact you before you meet?” At Russ’s nod, Ainmire continued, “Please tell her that I miss her.” His head dropped slightly. “I will trouble you no further.” The screen went black.
“What does he think I am, a marriage counselor?” Russ asked.
“His ship is still tailing us, Dad. What do you want me to do?”
“Keep an eye on him, I guess.” Russ shrugged. “If they do anything hostile, I suppose we get hostile back. How’s the snot puppet project coming?”
Mandy cringed. “Another one blew up before we could get the vacuum pump working right, but they haven’t all come down with the sniffles. The two that we can’t catch still seem healthy, and so does the big one.” She grimaced. “They’re all eating good. And the loose ones aren’t fighting with each other. So far.”
“That’s something, anyhow.” He got up. “You okay here?” She nodded, and he said, “I’ll go down and see what sort of mess we’ve got. I’m half-relieved it was Ainmire and not Morrigan on the horn that time.”
She gave him a rueful grin. “Me, too, honestly. I’m not looking forward to telling her that two of the babies blew up.”
“I’ll try to put us all in flameproof suits when we have to give her the news.” He ruffled her hair. “Telling her from several miles away over a comm link would be even better.”
Russ wondered if there was any possible way of arranging that… and not meeting Morrigan afterwards.
He doubted it.
* * *
Russ came down to the cargo hold in time for a feeding session. Charlie dangled a struggling rat by its tail over an open cage door. The green baby inside sat up and begged, flapping its little wings with smoke curling out of its nostrils. Charlie dropped the rodent, and the dragonet snatched it out of the air, chomped a few times, swallowed—and sat up and begged again.
Charlie grinned at Russ. “Ain’t it the cutest damn thing? Can we keep one?” At Russ’s wild glare, he held up his hands defensively. “Just kiddin’.”
“Why don’t you show me how the snot puppet works?”
“Oh, sure.”
The contraption looked like an insane shop vacuum gone terribly, terribly wrong. Mandy had used surgical gloves and tongue depressors to make the head and neck frills, and had somehow molded a face onto the end of the hose using cotton and bandages for the contours and wrapping it in more surgical gloves. The whole thing from the frills to the nose was painted to look like Morrigan, and was apparently a close enough likeness to fool the dragonets.
Two crates sat next to the snot puppet; a miserable-looking purple baby crouched in the bottom of one crate, and the other held an equally sad blue one. They both perked up when Charlie turned the machine on. The blue baby didn’t even hesitate to stick its head in and blow, and a glob of mucus was sucked into the hopper with a wet and smoky “gloop.” The baby rubbed its head on Charlie’s hand before sitting back on its haunches, appearing distinctly happier and glancing back and forth between Charlie and the rat cage with a hopeful air.
“All right, all right,” the mechanic said good-naturedly. “Let me take care of your sister first.”
Russ lifted the eyebrow left to him after the hatching fiasco. “Sister?”
“Purple one’s a little smaller and slimmer. Looks like a girl to me.” Charlie shrugged and performed the same vacuuming operation with the other dragonet.
Russ followed him over to the rat cage, and they scooped out a pair of the rodents each. “They getting any healthier?”
“A little, I think.”
Ss!kct chose that moment to enter the cargo bay. She peered at the sick babies and wrote something on her clipboard. “They’re much better, sir. They should be completely well in another day or so.”
“Well, that’s something, anyway. If we—”
The ship shuddered, and alarms blared. Charlie dropped his rats on the floor and raced off toward the engine room. Russ swore, passed his own rats to Ss!kct, and headed to the cockpit. “What now?” he asked Mandy as he slid into the co-pilot’s chair.
“They’re shooting at us!” she squeaked. She slapped a control on the console, and one red light stopped blinking, but it stayed lit.
“Who’s shooting at us? Ainmire?” Russ hit a couple of buttons himself. One light changed from red to amber, but another kept blinking stubbornly.
“I don’t think it’s him.”
Russ swore again as the ship bounced. “Charlie! Get to the gun turret and see if you can make whoever’s doing this cut it out.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
Russ grabbed the communicator and sent out a call on the general band. “This is the Inquisitive Tamandua. Would whoever’s shooting at us please knock it the hell off?”
A dragon face appeared on the comm screen, but it wasn’t Ainmire or Morrigan. It seemed to be displeased, if the small flames coming from its nostrils were any indication. “I am Murchadh, Chief of the Clan Deceapóg.”
“Great to meet you; we’ll do lunch. Now why the hell are you shooting at me?” Russ asked.
Bright orange eyes narrowed in the silver and black face. “The eggs you carry are an abomination of miscegenation. We require that you release them into space to prevent their polluted blood from contaminating our Clan lines.”
Russ leaned back and crossed his arms. “And if I refuse?”
“Then, Captain Fisk, we shall blow your little ship into its component parts.”
Russ stared him down. “Well, Murchadh, there’s just one little problem with your demand. The eggs aren’t eggs anymore. They’ve hatched.”
Hissing, the Clan Chief recoiled as if Russ had slapped him, a gout of fire shooting from his nostrils. “They’ve what? How did this happen?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business. You aren’t my client, and I don’t answer to you.”
Murchadh’s neck frill flexed. “Nevertheless. The bloodlines must not be contaminated.” He bared his teeth. “Space them, Captain.”
“You getting all this, Charlie?” Russ asked over the open ship intercom.
“Yessir.” Charlie didn’t sound happy.
“Then you know what we’re up against.” Russ glared at Murchadh and decided not to hide his intentions. “Fire at will.”
“Yessir!”
“Mandy, get us the hell out of here.” Russ hit another button on the panel. “Ainmire? You out there?”
Ainmire’s voice was strained. “Yes, Captain Fisk. I have been following the conversation with some anxiety.”
“Got any weaponry on that boat of yours?”
“I do.”
“Suggest you use it. I’ve only got one gun, and I don’t know what they’re armed with.” The ship shuddered as Charlie opened fire on the other vessel.
“He is my Clan Chief. I cannot—”
Russ pounded his fist once on the console. “You’d better, if you want to save your babies. Might get you back in Morrigan’s good graces, too. I thought you burned your Clan bridges anyway.”
“My children…” Now his tone was anguished. “It is a strong taboo, to attempt to kill one’s leader…”
“He’s your former leader, and how about a taboo against killing babies? You got one of those?” Russ decided that, since the cat was out of the bag anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to tell Ainmire about the dragonets. “The big one is maroon and gold, Ainmire. Looks just like you and Morrigan.”
“Very well.” Russ could almost hear Ainmire’s spine stiffening. “Make your escape, Captain. I hope to see you again, soon.”
“Ainmire!” Murchadh roared. “How dare you!”
As the two dragons traded insults (“Witless barbarian!” “Tainted degenerate!”) over the open comm, Russ looked at Mandy. She clenched her lower lip between her teeth and jinked the ship back and forth as randomly as she could. The engine indicator was hovering at the red-line mark. “You’re doing fine, Mandy,” he said.
She shot him a grateful glance. “Thanks.”
“Charlie?”
“The two dragon ships is shootin’ at each other, Cap’n, and pretty much leavin’ us out of it. I think we might be able to hightail it outa here without them noticing. Much.”
“All right. Get down to the engine room and see if you can fix what got broke and coax some more power out of our little anteater.”
“Aye, Cap.”
“I’ll go see how the babies are weathering the ride, Mandy. Maybe quit the dodging and weaving—just point us toward Medoc’s coordinates and hit max power. More if you think she’ll take it.”
Her concentration didn’t waver. “Okay.”
Russ stopped in the kitchen and grabbed himself something to drink. This job was turning out to be a whole lot more stressful than he’d expected, and he sat down for a few minutes to decompress, rubbing the spot on his forehead where his eyebrow was missing and shaking his head wearily back and forth.
After finishing his drink, he headed down to the cargo hold to find Ss!kct crouched in front of one of the smuggling spaces holding a rat in one hand and a towel in two others. “What’re you—”
Not turning around, she held up her fourth hand to stop him. “Trying to coax this baby out. Come on… just a little farther…” Her voice was a bad attempt at a musical sing-song.
A blur of motion turned out to be the other loose dragonet, which seemingly came out of nowhere, snatched the rat from Ss!kct’s hand, and disappeared into some hiding place or other. Russ blinked, and Ss!kct sighed and stood up. “We really need to catch them, sir.”
“Won’t argue with you. Maybe a trap?”
She pondered, waving her pedipalps. “We’d have to put the rest of the rats out of reach somehow.”
“That’s easy enough. Get together with Charlie after he’s done with the engine and figure something out.” Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “The last thing we need is baby dragons running around loose setting things on fire.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Dad?” Mandy’s voice over the intercom had that squeaky high pitch to it again.
Russ raced to the cockpit. “What now? More dragon trouble?”
Mandy waved her hand at the screen. An officious-looking government agent looked back at them, her hair pulled into a tight bun that did nothing to flatter a face that might have been attractive under other circumstances. “Captain Fisk?”
“That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“I’m Commodore Janeth Landers, commanding the Federal Cruiser Beartooth. And I’ve been contacted by Kierwyn of the dragon Clan Colquhoun. He tells me that you’re transporting eggs without authorization.”
“Not this again,” Russ muttered. “I’ve got the mother’s authorization,” he informed Landers. “That should be all the permission I need.”
A midnight-blue dragon with a white neck frill shoved Landers aside. “Morrigan does not have our permission for this foolish enterprise,” he said. Acid dripped from his bared teeth, and Russ assumed that this was Kierwyn.
“I’m betting she didn’t have permission to marry Ainmire either,” Russ shot back. “Seems to me she severed her ties with your Clan, and what she does from here on out is none of your damned business.”
“Fleeing one’s Clan is not so easy as that,” Kierwyn said. “We do not recognize her marriage to the Outlander, and we shall bring her back into our fold forthwith. In the meantime, we demand that you turn the eggs over to us.”
Russ was getting almighty tired of everyone making demands on him. “Look, Morrigan hired me. If you want the eggs, you’ll have to take it up with her. I’m just the delivery wagon.” He leaned forward. “And I’d be a pretty poor delivery wagon if I didn’t get my cargo where it was contracted to go, wouldn’t I?”
“Captain Fisk!” Landers didn’t exactly push her way back onto the viewscreen, but she was… firm about taking control of the conversation back. “Are you trying to precipitate an interplanetary incident?”
“No, ma’am,” Russ said wearily. “Just trying to do what I was hired to do by a client who, seemingly, just wants to be left alone.” He hit the “hold” button. “Mandy, see if you can contact Morrigan on another channel, let her know that this job is getting really damned complicated.” She nodded tensely and put a set of headphones on, and he let go of the button to find an irate Commodore looking back at him.
“Captain Fisk, I would hate to make this an official order,” Landers said, with narrowed eyes. “But I will do so if you refuse to comply voluntarily.”
“Kind of defeats the whole purpose of ‘voluntarily,’ doesn’t it?” He lifted a hand to forestall an explosion. “I understand your position, Commodore, I really do. But you don’t seem to understand mine.”
“Dad? I’ve got Morrigan,” Mandy said.
“Excuse me a moment, Commodore. I need to discuss things with my client.” He pushed the “hold” button again, interrupting her sputtering “Don’t you dare—” and took the headphones from Mandy.
“From the tone of your youngling’s voice, Captain, I assume that you have experienced more complications in the transport of my offspring,” Morrigan said.
“Complications. Now, there’s a word.” Russ breathed heavily and decided to come clean about everything. “This hasn’t been one of the smoothest jobs I’ve ever had. Your incubator broke, the babies hatched, four of them got aspiration pneumonia because nobody told us what to look out for—”
“Are they well?” she interrupted.
“Um, that’s the thing.” He cringed, although she couldn’t see it. “Two of them sort of exploded on us before we figured out how to stop that from happening.”
“Only two? What about the largest?”
“Oh, that one’s healthy and happy and eating like there’s no tomorrow. Look, I’m really sorry about the ones that blew up and I wouldn’t blame you a bit if you’re mad—”
She interrupted again. “It is an acceptable loss; rarely do all hatchlings live to maturity. You have done better than many others would have under similarly trying circumstances.”
He blinked. That had gone over a lot better than he expected. Okay, then. “Your husband contacted us as well.”
She chuffed. “I thought he might.”
“Yeah, that was interesting. Then his Clan got in on the action and demanded that we space the babies. Ainmire was tailing us… and he fired at them, Morrigan.”
“He did what?” For the first time, she sounded surprised.
“Shot at them, to protect the dragonets, and that let us get away. I think they might still be in the area, but they’re keeping their distance. And now your Clan wants the babies, and got the damned government involved.”
“Kierwyn must not be permitted to obtain them, Captain. That would be disastrous.” The anxiety in her voice was palpable. “He would eat them as I watched and pick his teeth with their bones.”
“I’m doing my best here,” Russ said. “But the Feds have been dragged into your Clan wars, and they’re none too pleased about it. Might help if you came on the scene and talked to the Commodore that’s riding my ass.”
“I am orbiting Medoc as we speak, and was making ready to land and prepare my nursery when you called. I am a full day away from your position.”
“If you don’t get back here, you won’t have a reason to prepare a nursery,” Russ said, exasperated.
“Very true.” She paused for a moment. “I assume you are in communication with the Federal Cruiser. Are you able to patch me in?”
“Sure thing.” He hit a button on the console. “Kierwyn, Commodore Landers? Morrigan would like a word.”
The screen split, and they could see both Morrigan and the Commodore. Morrigan inclined her head. “Commodore, this is a squabble between dragon Clans and none of the Federation’s concern.”
“I’m afraid that any incident that disturbs the peace in our jurisdiction is our concern,” the Commodore replied. “We’ve already had three ships firing on one another in this sector because of this situation.”
“I’d like to point out, just for the record,” Russ said, “that we didn’t shoot until we got shot at.”
“Perhaps if our Clans were not so determined to bring Ainmire and me back into their folds, and destroy our young in the process, the peace would not have been disturbed,” Morrigan said acidly. “Tell me, Commodore, what is the Federation’s policy on killing the children of sentient beings? Is the Federation concerned by that, or only by what is expedient?”
“Go get ‘em, girl,” Mandy muttered.
“We have no wish to harm your babies, Princess,” Kierwyn said, pushing the Commodore aside. “But your parents are quite insistent that you come home to them.”
Mandy and Russ stared at each other. “Princess?” Mandy choked.
Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me that we didn’t just find out that we’re in the middle of a royal Clan war?”
“I have left the Clan and abdicated my position.” Morrigan sounded impatient. “Mother and Father will have to find another heir to the throne.”
“You are the Chosen.” Kierwyn didn’t sound too happy himself. “Your parents are willing to overlook your… dalliance with the commoner Outlander if you will just come home to them.”
“You have ever wanted to be my mate, Kierwyn, and would say anything to bring me back into the sphere of our homeworld.” A plume of smoke curled out of her nostril. “At least Ainmire loved me for my own qualities and not his selfish ambitions. He sacrificed much to be with me.”
A new voice entered the conversation. “And I would do it all again in a brace of heartbeats.”
Kierwyn hissed. “Hold your tongue, abominable Outlander.”
“Is it true what Captain Fisk said, Ainmire?” Morrigan asked, leaning forward as her husband’s face appeared on the screen. “You fired upon your Elders to protect our children?”
“Murchadh pursues me now. I have managed to evade him thus far, but he is close behind. He will likely capture me soon, and execute me for my crime.” He flexed his neck frill. “It is a small sacrifice, to make them safe.”
In the pause that followed while everyone digested that statement, Charlie’s voice shouted over the intraship comm. “Cap’n! Kinda need you down here in the cargo hold!”
Russ swore. “Right now it’s just a bunch of jibber-jabber,” he said to Mandy, “but let me know if anything important happens. And keep us on course. We’ve still got a contract to fulfill.”
“All right, Dad.”
He raced down to the hold to find the two loose dragonets rolling on the floor in a snarling, flaming scrum of enraged sibling rivalry. Charlie’s clothes and eyebrows were singed, his hair smoking, and Ss!kct was trying to pull one of the babies away from the other by its tail, with no success.
“Charlie, go grab a bucket of water,” Russ said. “Hurry!”
“Aye, sir.” Charlie ran out, returning a few moments later with a sloshing pail.
Russ grabbed it from him and doused the dragonets with it. Sputtering and steaming, they separated and plopped down on their haunches, looking distinctly disgruntled. Ss!kct and Charlie each grabbed one and bundled them off into cages before they could recover, slamming the doors on the tops with authority and no small amount of relief.
“Well. At least that’s taken care of,” Russ said. “Ss!kct, treat that burn on Charlie’s face, will you? I’d better get back to the cockpit and see if we’re being arrested yet.”
He slid into the copilot’s seat. Ainmire and Morrigan had disappeared from the screen, but Murchadh had arrived and was arguing with Kierwyn, although Mandy had apparently muted the sound. “What’s new?”
Mandy sniffled. “Morrigan and Ainmire had a nice conversation, and they’re getting back together. It’s so sweet.”
“Yeah, that’s nice.” He had bigger fish to fry. “What about our warring Clans?”
“Oh, they’re still arguing over that. Murchadh’s arrived on the scene.” Mandy waved at the screen and made a face. “Ainmire got away from him, so he’s kind of upset, but he deserves to be, the big meanie.”
“And the Commodore?”
“She’s just sitting there and making sure no one shoots at anyone else. It’s kind of funny. What happened in the cargo hold?”
“The two loose babies got in a fight; we got them separated and caged. Finally.”
She eyed him. “You’re wet.”
“Not as wet as the babies,” he snorted. “How we doing on time?”
“We’ve shaved a little off. The new engine parts were a big help.” She smiled. “One more day to planetfall.”
Russ looked at his chronograph and blinked. Was it really that late? A crushing wave of fatigue told him that, yes, it was. “Commodore?” he said.
“Yes, Captain Fisk?” Her expression was bemused. Kierwyn and Murchadh continued their argument.
“I’ve got a cargo to deliver tomorrow, and these two blowhards might make that difficult. Much as I hate to request help from the Feds, I was wondering if you’d mind tagging along to make sure things don’t get too awful ugly.”
“We’re prepared to do that. The safety of our citizens is of paramount concern to us, naturally.” Landers inclined her head.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Russ stood up. “I’m going to go get some shuteye, Mandy. Wake me up if anything changes, or in four hours.”
“Sure thing, Dad.”
He ruffled her hair before leaving. A royal dragon dustup, and he was stuck in the middle of it. All his luck lately had been bad. He stared at the ceiling in his sleeping quarters for a long time before he managed to drop off.
* * *
Someone pounding on his door awakened Russ from a dream where Morrigan was turning him on a spit and roasting him with her breath. The ship shuddered, and alarm klaxons sounded as he pulled his clothes on.
He yanked his door open to find a breathless Ss!kct standing there. “They’re shooting at us, sir.”
“Who is?” he demanded, racing barefoot toward the cockpit.
“Both dragon Clans, in separate ships.” She skittered behind him. “Charlie’s in the turret, but our little popgun isn’t much against their firepower.”
“Dragonets?”
“Mandy watched the argument between the two Clan leaders closely. She thought they might be coming to some sort of accord and alerted me, and Charlie and I got the cages strapped down before the shooting started. They’re secure, at least.”
“What about the Commodore? I thought she was supposed to be shadowing us?” He slid into the co-pilot’s seat and belted in.
Ss!kct buckled herself into her own specially-made chair behind him, but Mandy answered him. “Kierwyn and Murchadh broke off communications with each other, and it looked like they’d given up and were going home. Kierwyn went back aboard his own ship and turned it around, Murchadh headed in the opposite direction—the Commodore thought they’d left.” Mandy shoved her hair out of her face. “She had better things to do than trail after us, so she took off. Then they came back.”
“And started shooting. Great.” He eyed the viewscreen, which showed that the dragon ships were both about twice the size of the Tamandua. His shields were holding, but wouldn’t for long. “Anything I can do?”
She gnawed at her lip. “Just… let me fly the ship.”
Russ hit the intraship intercom. “Charlie?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Doing all right up there?”
“So fa—Shit!” A light on the console blinked an erratic red, then went to a solid amber. “We’re okay, but that was close.”
“Anyone tried actually talking to them?” Russ asked.
“We were too busy reacting, sir,” Ss!kct said. “They began firing on us as soon as they were in range. It was a coordinated attack.”
That was something he could do. He hit the comm link. “Kierwyn? Murchadh? Can’t we talk this over?”
Onscreen, Murchadh stared back without sympathy, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You have heard our demands, Captain Fisk. You refused. There is really nothing more to discuss.”
“Oh, but I think there is. After all, Kierwyn, this Outlander is trying to kill your Princess’s kids.” Russ crossed his arms. “You going to put up with that? And have you cleared it with her parents?”
Kierwyn’s image on the screen shook, and Charlie’s victory whoop told Russ he’d scored a hit on the Coquhoun ship. Kierwyn’s neck frill flexed, and acid dripped from his fangs. “Her parents are horrified by her liaison with the Outlander commoner. They would be equally horrified by any offspring.”
“You sound awfully sure of yourself there.” The Tamandua shook, taking a hit of her own. “Checked with them, have you?”
“Shields down to forty-five percent,” Mandy muttered.
“I have no need to ch—” Suddenly Kierwyn’s image dissolved in static as Charlie let out another yell and a piece of ship bounced off the window before spinning off into space.
Russ leaned forward and addressed Murchadh. “You’ve seen we’re hardly defenseless here. Turn around and leave us alone, or you’ll be next.”
Murchadh snorted out a little jet of flame. “Clan Coquhoun ever had inferior technology and egos that exceeded their eggcases. You will not find me so easy to defeat.”
The Tamandua shuddered, but so did Murchadh’s ship. “Eighteen percent,” Mandy gritted out. More red lights blinked on the console.
Russ hit the “hold” button, cutting Murchadh out of their communication. “No more pussyfooting around. Send us straight at them,” he said.
Mandy looked at him like he was crazy. “Straight—?”
“It’ll give them a smaller target to shoot at, head on, and give Charlie easier aiming at the same time.”
She shook her head and banked them into a turn. “You’re the boss…”
“Act like you’re going to pull up at the last second, but, Mandy.” He grasped her arm. “I want you to ram them.”
Her eyes went huge. “With our shields this low? We’ll die too.”
“Not if we put full power, everything we’ve got, on the shields right before we hit. Ss!kct, can you time it that close?”
Her antennae twitched. “I can, but I can’t guarantee the shields will take a direct ramming.”
“What about an indirect one?” Russ ran his hand through his hair. “What if we bounce off the top of their hull instead of trying to go straight through?”
Ss!kct considered. “Better. Still no guarantee, but better.”
“Okay, we’ll do that. You get all that, Charlie?”
“We’re gonna smack ‘em. I’m in.”
Russ took his hand off the “hold” button as Mandy headed directly at the dragon ship. “You can stop this any time, Murchadh.”
“You are insane.”
“I’ve been called worse things by better people. Question is, are you as crazy as I am?” Russ lifted the eyebrow he no longer had, singed off by a hatching baby dragon… was it only three days ago?
“You would not—Evade! Evade!” Murchadh screamed.
They braced for impact. Mandy had aimed them directly at the dragon ship’s window, and they caromed off it with their heavily-armored keel. Alarms blared, and lights blinked angrily on the console—
But they hadn’t breached.
Murchadh’s craft hadn’t been so lucky. The image on the screen showed the window cracking, spiderwebbing, then blowing out, silently and spectacularly spewing parts and dragons into space. One more salvo of energy fired toward them from its gun, but it was the last gasp of a dying ship.
Russ, Mandy, and Ss!kct looked wildly at each other. “We lived? We’re whole? Oh my God, it worked?” Mandy babbled.
“Can we not do that again?” Ss!kct said, unbuckling and going through the door. “I’ll go check the babies.”
“Charlie, you all right?” Russ asked. Silence. “Charlie?”
Mandy’s hand went over her mouth, and Russ slapped his seat belt open and raced toward the gun turret. Mandy was right behind him, and they gathered Ss!kct in their wake.
They found Charlie sprawled on his back in the access hatch, the door to the turret sealed shut and the warning light throwing the hall into harsh red relief. A deep black burn on the right side of Charlie’s chest, about a handsbreadth below his collarbone, told an ugly story. Ss!kct skittered away and came back a few moments later with a stretcher.
They moved him onto it as gently as they could. He moaned, moved his head, and coughed. “We okay?” His voice was weak, too weak.
“We’re fine, thanks to you,” Mandy choked.
“Nah, all I did was shoot at ‘em. You’re the one hit ‘em just so…”
“Can you tell me what happened?” Russ said gently, trying not to shake him too much as they carried him to the infirmary.
“Last blast came right through the gun barrel. Knocked me on my ass, set my shirt on fire… think it broke something in the shielding.” He coughed again. “I got out, hit the door before we lost all our air. That’s all I remember.”
“You done good, Charlie,” Russ said; Charlie acknowledged that with a half-smile and fell unconscious again. “Real good.” They set him on the exam table, and Russ gave Ss!kct an inquiring look.
She waved her pedipalps. Crap. “Everyone out. Let me work.”
Mandy’s eyes were huge, and tears slipped down her cheeks in a steady stream. Russ put his arm around her shoulders and steered her out. “Nothing we can do, and we’ve got baby dragons to tend. Wanna run the snot puppet?”
* * *
Ss!kct found Russ and Mandy in the cargo hold about an hour later. They’d fed the dragonets, suctioned out the sick ones, and cleaned the cages, and now Mandy had the blue baby in her lap. It seemed quite happy there, chirruping contentedly and nuzzling under her chin, although it peered around the room as if it was looking for someone else.
She picked it up and rose to her feet as Ss!kct came in, however. The ship’s doctor lifted a hand to forestall questions. “He’s going to be fine.”
Russ sagged with relief, but Mandy burst into tears, shoved the dragonet into Russ’s arms, and ran out of the room. “Is he awake?” Russ asked.
“Yes, sir. Asking for you. And Mandy. You humans are so strange,” Ss!kct observed, trailing Russ to the infirmary. “One would think that she was unhappy about his recovery.”
“Some people react to good news that way. Doesn’t make sense, but there it is. Hey, Charlie.”
“Hey.” Charlie waved from the bed with his left hand, his right arm being bound to his chest. “You brung me a visitor.”
Russ hadn’t even realized he was still carrying the baby dragon, which was wiggling like a happy puppy at the sight of Charlie. He chuckled. “Well, I knew you were fond of them.”
“Oh, yeah. Gimme.” It curled up by his side and rested its chin on his stomach, and he scratched it behind the neck frill.
“Full recovery?” Russ said to Ss!kct.
She made a notation on Charlie’s chart. “He’ll be up tomorrow, ready for duty in a couple of days.”
“Well.” Russ stood there and just breathed for a few moments. “That’s good. Real good. I guess someone ought to tell our client that we’re slightly delayed, but we’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, assuming nothing breaks.”
Ss!kct twitched her antennae. “Maybe you should do that, sir.”
* * *
Morrigan and Ainmire met them on Medoc. Morrigan’s nostrils flared when she saw the setup in the cargo hold. “You’ve been feeding them rats and keeping them in cages?”
“Now, dear,” Ainmire soothed. “They are mere humans, after all. They did their best under very trying circumstances.”
Charlie, Ss!kct, and Mandy began opening the crates and letting the babies out. Most of them raced immediately to their parents, but the blue one that had been sick sat down next to Charlie’s leg and wouldn’t move. Morrigan chirruped at it—him, Russ remembered—but the dragonet refused to look at her, instead keeping his gaze fixed adoringly on Charlie’s face, which turned an interesting shade of red.
“Charlie?” Russ’s voice was dangerously calm. “Have you been corrupting our client’s offspring?”
Charlie’s face went even redder, and he knelt down and rubbed the dragonet’s head. “Ain’t my fault the little fella took a shine to me, boss.”
“That may or may not be so. But the fact is that he needs his mama, not us. So send him on his way.”
Reluctantly, Charlie pushed on the baby’s bottom, shoving him slightly toward Morrigan, but he scampered around behind the mechanic and peeked out from behind his knees. Morrigan stepped forward and rumbled at him, and he meeped back. She rumbled again, a sharper interrogative note, and Russ would have sworn that his answer was defiant.
“Bradaigh wishes to stay on board the ship with Charlie,” Morrigan said.
“I—he—what—no!” Russ sputtered. “That’s impossible. What are we supposed to do with a baby dragon?”
“Train him up to be a member of your crew. I am sure he will be a valuable addition.” Morrigan eyed Charlie. “And I am sure your mechanic will not object.”
“We can hardly feed ourselves, half the time.” Russ glared at Mandy, who was bouncing, and he felt compelled to give her a harsh reminder. “How in the hell are we going to keep a growing dragon in live prey?”
Morrigan chuffed out a stream of smoke. Was she laughing at him? “He will learn to accommodate your silly human sensibilities soon enough. As for his provision, that is easy enough to arrange.” She shrugged. “I will, of course, be responsible for that. Think of it as a debt of honor for your undue trouble.”
“I got set on fire. Twice,” Charlie said. He started to cross his arms, but since one was still bandaged to his chest, he didn’t get very far with the gesture. Bradaigh nuzzled him. “He won’t be any problem, boss. Honest.”
Russ stared at his crew. Ss!kct was steadfastly staying out of the conversation, but Mandy and Charlie presented a united front. And Charlie had, as he pointed out, been set on fire. Twice.
Russ threw up his hands. “Fine.” He pointed a finger at Bradaigh. “You cause me any heartburn, mister, and back to your mother you go. Got me?”
Bradaigh chirped at him, flapping his tiny wings, and Charlie grinned. “Thanks.”
“Now for the small matter of payment.” Morrigan reached into the pouch attached to her collar, pulled out several gemstones, and handed them to Russ. “I think you will find that this compensates you for the several unanticipated inconveniences you suffered on this job, Captain.” She tossed a smaller one to Mandy. “And one for your own youngling. Also, I will wire a stipend into your account on a monthly basis for Bradaigh.”
Russ had to consciously close his mouth. “Um. Okay, then. Thank you, Morrigan, that’s more than fair.”
“Perhaps we can do business again.” She flexed her wings and neck frill. “Come, Ainmire, children.”
As the dragons walked off his ship, Russ realized that he’d just been shanghaied into putting a baby dragon on his crew. But Bradaigh had flopped onto his back, and Charlie was scratching his tummy with that goofy smile on his face, and Mandy was turning her gemstone this way and that to see how the light refracted off it.
And they’d been paid. Generously.
Charlie getting set on fire notwithstanding, maybe it hadn’t been such a bad job.