part0009

Craze guided Rainly back to the table, patting her hand and speaking softly to her. Over his shoulder, he glowered at Dactyl. Getting a straight answer from him about that Quasser guy was like trying to figure out which way was up in a dust storm. “If he’s not a man, then what is he?”

Dactyl shuffled after them, coming to stand behind the chair he’d sat in moments earlier, neurotically running his hand over the beige-coated back. “I don’t know. Yous don’t want to know. The more we talk about Quasser, the more likely he is to come here. Or his low-life associates. So shut up. Don’t speak his name anymore, ‘n the ship has to go.”

Holding out a chair for the Sprinkler, Craze waved at her to have a seat. “Seems from what Dialhi said, he’s already been here. When Lepsi disappeared. He didn’t do anythin’ then.”

Dactyl sneered. “Taking Lepsi isn’t doing nothing.”

“If it was this Quasser, why’d he only take Lepsi ‘n do nothin’ else? It doesn’t make sense. If he’s after you, why take the aviarman?”

“But he didn’t leave one.”

“He did. He took one of ours.”

The circular words threatened to pound Craze’s mind into hours of pain and just when he thought he’d made progress. “Sounds like he marks stuff. He marked nothin’ on Pardeep, unless he did ‘n you never said.”

Dactyl shook his anvil of a head. “Not that I know of.”

Craze crossed his arms over his barrel chest and sank into his seat. “Well, there we have it.”

Eyes rolling toward the ceiling, Craze exhaled long and slow before answering. “The Olvis has nothin’ to do with you. You is imaginin’ stuff.”

“Maybe if you explain—”

Dactyl gripped Craze’s shoulder, hanging on like a sting beast. “I told yous more than once, the subject is off limits. Nothing changes that.”

Did the Quatten want a fight? Why couldn’t he just talk plain? The table bumped when Craze shook Dactyl’s hand off, and the crocks rocked.

“Remember you is talkin’ to friends. Jeez!” Craze said. “I’ll accept the fellow is dangerous, ‘n we need to set some precautions in place.”

None happier at winning the argument, Dactyl’s frown threatened to break his face. “The ship still has to go. We not safe here with that parked in the docks.”

Craze watched Rainly tap the colorful star that opened InfoCy on her tab. She touched a red bird and scrolled through the incoming data—what appeared to be images of Backworlders doing stupid things. He snapped his fingers at her. “We can put the Olvis in a stable orbit. Can’t we, Rains?”

For a moment longer, she stared at her tab, shaking with a silent laugh, then she nodded, her white hair swinging and swishing. “It’s very easy to do.”

Dactyl slapped the table top, rattling the crocks again. “No! Too close.”

Without engaging the Lepper, which Craze wouldn’t consider, there was only one other option. “What if we park it on one of our neighboring moons? Nitera?” The moon that didn’t constantly quake, didn’t have cryovolcanic eruptions and torrential ice storms coating everything under miles of ice would be best for keeping the agro bay and spacecraft intact. Putting it away for later was better than giving up his vision of a chocolate empire completely. One day, he’d see those trees reach for the skies and bloom. One day, their fruit would make him as powerful as the galactic center. One day was better than never.

Sitting down on the chair made Dactyl a little taller. “It could work.”

Finally, some progress in this damned situation. Craze tilted his head back and poured the remains of his crock into his mouth. He hummed at the pleasing sensation of a throat full of fire, and he eyed the Sprinkler. “Go get your ship ready, Captain.”

Dialhi leapt up as if bit by a Lletabooran viper, and backed up toward the wall. “I’m not going in there. I’m not. You can’t make me fly it.”

Rainly’s attention left her tab screen, eyes narrowing as she studied the dripping newcomer. “I’ll fly it,” she said. “I’ll take the Olvis.”

“That bad-ass dude towed it,” Craze said. “Why can’t we do the same? Then no one has to drive it. The Sequi is still here.”

Dactyl nodded. “Good call since Talos isn’t here, ‘n we is short on pilots.”

“I’d fly your ship,” Dialhi offered, inching back to the table, “just not my own.”

“That’ll do.” Craze pushed onto his feet and picked up the empty crocks. “You know how to hook the Olvis up for a tow?”

“Good. Then that’s your next job for me. You ‘n Rainly go park the Olvis.”

“I’ll help,” Dactyl said. “Make sure it’s well hidden.” He checked his revolver.

Craze harrumphed. “You can’t go usin’ bullets in space.”

“There might be trouble.”

“Take my stunner.” Craze tossed it over.

With quick reflexes, Dactyl snatched it out of the air. “Yous coming?”

The crisis now averted, it was time to get back to business. Success wouldn’t pour into Craze’s accounts of its own accord. He hated to mar his shiny new bar top with dirty crocks, but he eventually set them down, moving behind the counter to the basin of disinfecting gel, a bright sunny yellow to go with the new digs. “Nah, you don’t need me. My hire-on will look after my interests.” He stared pointedly at the blue, dripping gal shaking in the middle of his floor. “Yes?”