Chapter 37

Craze escorted Moxy up to his tavern. He held his jaw so stiff it ached, but he’d not let the dastards who ruined his old life take over his new one. Bast and the Verkinns had to learn they had no place on Pardeep. Fast.

Before the elevator opened to let Craze and his sister out, he could hear Mos singing. The gangly hire-on belted out a melancholy tune about searching for a world onto which to belong, words that resonated with every Backworlder since the war.

At the door, Craze held still for a moment and listened, letting the message strengthen him. He’d searched and found, and he’d not let his traitorous pa and turncoat council ruin it. No way.

Inside his tavern, business wasn’t exactly booming with a mere twenty-three customers, none of whom were customers he cared to schmooze with about anything other than the heel of his boot. His mood sparked hotter than searing, spying Bast working the staff, lining up cups of malt and mead on the bar.

Craze stormed over and slapped his palm over his pa’s glass. “You made things plenty clear about how we stand four years ago. We is not partners, ‘n you is expected to pay here. I hear you didn’t. That’s a high crime ‘n jailable offense here on Pardeep. Oh, ‘n I’m the actin’ sheriff.”

Bast’s short hair stood up, and his brows shot for the ceiling. “You lost your good humor, son.”

“Don’t pretend you know me. You don’t.” Craze picked up the cups, placing them well out of Bast’s reach. “You saw to it I lost plenty. That’s not goin’ to happen again. Not ever.”

Smoothing the folds in his shirt, luxuriously shaded in a deep chocolate tone, Bast laughed. The grating sound turned into a cough, and he pulled a flask from his hip. “You never could let things go. You been stewing this whole time on how to get back at me? You need to stick one to me?”

Craze tugged a wash rag off a hook from under the bar and wiped all traces of his pa off his counter. “More than one.”

Rising to his feet, Bast sidled over to stand nose-to-nose with his son. “Take your shot. This is the one ‘n only time I give you a free one.”

For labeling him a leecher, for tossing him out like trash, for treating him no better than a mark to scam advantage and chips off of, Craze clenched his fist and drew his arm back. “I’ll take it.”

“Gentlemen.” Yerness squeezed between them, placing her delicate hands on Craze’s chest, blinking tears into her eyes, flapping her lower lip as if she cared. “Let’s act like the family we is. This squabbling gets us nowhere.”

“Get out of the way.” Craze didn’t budge, dislodging her odious touch with a hard shrug. Her pouting wouldn’t get to him. He’d become immune since she hooked up with his father. “I’m right where I need to be, toots.”

“Toots?” Her face clouded, and her palm lifted to slap Craze hard across the jaw.

He caught her wrist and shoved her aside. “Now where was we?” he said to Bast.

“Freebie is up. You just insulted my wife.”

“She was mine first, ‘n I can tell you she’s asteroid debris. Not worth the spit to form your sad protest.”

Bast swung. Craze ducked and socked him in the solar plexus. The older man reeled backwards, stumbling against the bar. Craze connected with Bast’s jaw, then his nose. It felt so good knocking the shit out of his asshole father, he couldn’t resist another shot to the temple, then the ribs. Bast growled and charged at Craze like a nitro-charged excavator, bulldozing Craze toward the wall. The impact knocked the air out of him, but the coveralls helped him recover quickly. He stampeded at Bast, snarling, grabbing at the old man’s collar and swinging him about.

“Get the frig out of here. Now!” With the might of a man on the universe’s mission, Craze thrust Bast through the doors and toward the docking berth where the transport back to Siegna sat waiting. “You really should’ve pinged first.”

Breathing heavily and swiping blood off his face, Bast smirked. “You feel better now?”

No, he didn’t. “What the frick you doin’ here anyway? Just blab it out ‘n go.”

Bast straightened the draping folds on his chocolate colored shirt. It shimmered under the landing deck’s lights, rich as the actual luxury good. “We came to discuss business. You is still a Verkinn, one of us, I assume. Or did you lose your genes along with your sense of humor?”

“You branded me a leecher. So, no, I’m not one of you, ‘n I’m not itchin’ to be.” So they’d come begging. For what?

The chief elders promenaded out of the tavern, surrounding Craze and Bast on the landing deck. The ventilation vents puffed up their draping shirts, fluttering them like flags. Their gold suspenders with the council’s insignia embroidered onto them kept the loose tops from flying over their heads. Craze noticed they had all dressed in shades of chocolate. Such a need to display status meant they had serious negotiating in mind, meant they wanted Craze to see them as powerful; evidence they teetered on the edge of calamity, or at least some type of disaster they needed Craze to rescue them from. He straightened his shoulders and stared the three of them down.

The elder with hair shorn down to his scalp and the most wrinkles stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Bast was to explain before you left your leecher status was merely temporary, that you’d soon be heralded as our greatest hero. He did, didn’t he?”

Where was their bravado? In the folds of their shirts, obviously. Craze did remember those words, but hadn’t put much stock in them. His earnings hadn’t yet amassed to a level deserving that kind of Verkinn forgiveness. “I don’t remember, ‘n I don’t need to be a hero.” Yeah, he’d not make it easy for them. If they needed him, he’d make them grovel.

“We is prepared to revoke your leecher status...” the shorn counselor wet his shriveled lips and clasped his hands over his paunch.

Those words were calculated to inspire Craze into leaping at the opportunity, into sending him onto his knees, into begging the elder to tell him what he had to do to get redemption. He chuckled instead. “Label me what you will. I was never a leecher ‘n never will be. You have no power over what I am out here. None.” He snapped his fingers at his staff. Nahv peeked out the doors. “Clean up ‘n throw everybody out. Bar is closed.”

“We is not leaving until you hear us out,” Bast said, gripping onto Craze’s arm, jerking him about.

“Then I’ll throw you in the holdin’ cells.” Craze pulled the stunner from his holster, flicking his thumb onto the power switch. He’d not let them ruin his boom. He’d not let them take away what he’d struggled for. “Better yet, I’ll start chargin’ you two hundred percent more for air ‘n water. That should get you all sprintin’ back onto your ship.”

The elder puffed his chest. “Verkinns require no extra air or water, boy. We’ll just hibernate until you is willing to listen.” He marched to the tavern, leading the other councilors and Bast. The pain-in-the-ass Verkinns took up the prime space at the counter, plopping down on the barstools.

Craze rushed after them, shaking the stunner. “Not in here. Oh, no you don’t.”

Refusing to look at him, the councilmen stared straight ahead. Bast joined them. Their chests moved slower and their jaws grew slack. Their eyelids fluttered and shut. One by one they slouched over the bar.

“Son of a bitch!” Craze waved Nahv and the rest of his hire-ons over. “Carry them onto their ship. Get rid of them.”

“Don’t you dare.” Yerness stormed in front of Craze. “You let them be.”

His mother stood beside Yerness, then his sisters joined them. “I never took you for such a selfish brute,” Ma said. “That’s not the way I raised you.”

Oh, the irony. Craze laughed so hard, tears sprung to his eyes. “The very essence of a Verkinn is to be selfish.”

“That may be, but hear us out. It’ll take a mere four minutes of your time. It’s nothing.” Yerness sashayed her hips, and a simper sat on her pouting lips. “You’ve grown into such a handsome man. Have I said?”

Craze stepped to the side. “You, I’m definitely not listenin’ to.” Did she really think he’d fall for that? The minute she jumped into bed with his pa, Craze had ceased to find her attractive. Lusting after her was like lusting after his ma, but worse. The idea made him shudder.

A crystalline chime and blinking lights interrupted his revulsion. The Lepper opened with timing to scuff Craze’s ass five times over. He didn’t want a boat load of tourists to see the unconscious Verkinns. It would set the wrong tone for his business and he might never recover. “Shit.” Craze yelled at Nahv, “You’ll never get them onto their ship before this one arrives. Shove them in a dark corner ‘n get as many as possible to their rooms below.”

His mother pulled at his arm. “No. I won’t let you. Won’t let them. Just listen. Please.”

“I don’t have time. I have to go approve the transport.”

Moxy grabbed onto his other arm. “Please. You must.” She jerked him harder. “You must.”

Her trembling lower lip had the effect Yerness’s didn’t. He let out a long, slow breath. “All right. But you help my hire-ons get the elders below. If they still here when I bring in these tourists, there’ll be no talkin’. If they is gone, I’ll meet you in my place in an hour.”

Ma squeezed his wrist as if she had two sting beasts in place of hands. “Your terms is horrendous.”

Craze shrugged her and Moxy off, shaking a finger at Nahv. “Whatever you do, protect my business or I’ll send you off on the next transport.” He hoped a threat would keep the hire-on’s ulterior motives under wraps. He had no time to deal with them now, whatever they were.

Tugging at his collar, Nahv gulped, nodding like a stuck gear. “Aye, mac.”

After giving everyone a good glower, Craze trudged off to Rainly’s repair bay, pinged her code to the door, and hurried up into the control room. He turned off the Lepper alerts and checked the instrument panel. Two vessels had popped out of the starway and headed toward the docking facility.

The first was a big blue cruiser, a freshly painted luxury liner with six hundred tourists, a sign Pardeep’s reputation grew. Craze hoped Nahv worked some quick magic with the bothersome Verkinns, or this would be the last visit by chip-endowed customers. “Berth two,” he assigned them, hoping his new age wouldn’t unravel faster than a Sprinkler could spit.

The second vessel made him groan. It had a Jix logo—a cube scratched into a hull that was in dire need of refurbishing. It was a hull Craze had seen many times in the past. “No, not now,” he mumbled without opening a communications channel. “Talos, what you doin’?”

The speakers on the console crackled to life. The Jix ship established contact with Pardeep. Craze shut his ear holes, hoping not to hear the inevitable.

“Missed you, darling,” Gattar cooed over the channel. “Did you miss me? Looks like berth number five is empty. My favorite. See you soon. Kisses.”