Cynthia walks over and hands her helmet to Zephyr. “Long time no see,” she purrs as she walks by. Zephyr only growls again.
“Oh, this should be fun,” Maxim says, turning to watch her leave, then exhaling loudly as Zephyr thrusts a spacesuit helmet into his midsection. Zephyr storms after the feline-featured criminal.
“What could go wrong?” Wil asks, turning to follow the two women, patting Maxim on the arm as he passes him.
Entering the lounge, Wil finds Cynthia sliding her spacesuit off and handing it to Zephyr, who promptly tosses it onto the couch. “Okay, so we’re stuck with you, but there are ground rules, cat-ninja-assistant-crime-boss-lady.” Wil levels a finger at Cynthia.
“I’m Tygran, have you really never met another of my people?” She smirks and drops into a chair, where she drapes one leg over an arm, her tail swishing lazily.
Wil shakes his head once, then continues, “You’re a guest aboard this ship, so you can come and go as you like in the lounge and crew berth section. If you shed, you clean it up. Once we get where we’re going, you’re welcome on the bridge, but not before. Engineering and the cargo hold are off limits.” He gestures to the kitchenette in one corner of the room. “We tend to eat meals together. You can join, or not.”
“Sounds fine to me. Anything else?”
“Yes,” Zephyr answers. “How did you survive that firefight on Harrith? Or get away from the authorities?”
“Or that crime boss, what’s his name?” Wil adds.
“Hoob,” Cynthia offers.
“Yeah, him,” Zephyr says.
“It might surprise you how far Xarrix and Lorath’s reach goes, even on Harrith. That Hoob character was a handful, I admit. I lost some good men fighting him and his goons off. When the planetary security service showed up, he crawled back under whatever rock he came from before they secured the area. We sat in detention for a day, no big deal.” She shrugs, smiling. “Overall, it wasn’t too bad.” She arches her back, stretching, “The bed wasn’t very comfortable though.”
Just then Bennie walks in from the crew berth area. “Cynthia?”
“Hi, pipsqueak,” she waves.
Bennie gestures to the lounging woman. “This is who we have to keep with us?”
“Afraid so,” Zephyr says, grabbing the discarded spacesuit and heading back toward the airlock and armory. “I’ll grab her bag.”
“Great.” Bennie gestures back toward the hatch he just came through. “Your room is that way.”
Cynthia starts to get up before Wil says, “Not so fast. There’s the little matter of payment, and then details. Xarrix said you’d have both.” He gestures over to the terminal set into the bulkhead near the kitchenette.
Cynthia reaches inside a pocket of her tight-fitting jumpsuit, and retrieves a small device no more significant than her thumb. She tosses it to Wil, who throws it to Bennie. “Check it.” Bennie nods and heads to the terminal. “Okay, while he does that, details. What’re we doing?”
Cynthia sits up in the chair and looks right at Wil. “Holoprojector?” Wil gestures to a console set in the coffee table next to her. She retrieves another data stick and inserts it into a slot on the table console. The surface of the table comes to life, showing a section of the galaxy Wil isn’t familiar with, just as Zephyr walks in with Maxim and takes a seat on the couch next to him.
“This is just outside the Neglool sector,” Cynthia says. The image rotates and zooms to show several blue dots—dozens, in fact. “These are our targets. They’re all adrift in a relatively tight formation, here.” She gestures to the dots. “This is twelve light-years from Werdlow Three, which is where our client is.”
“Werdlow?” Zephyr asks. “That system is classified as badlands.” She looks at Wil. “The Peacekeepers gave up trying to ‘civilize’ the system and its neighbors several tens of cycles ago. The last I heard, Werdlow Three was home to some low-rent warlord who’d taken control of the system.”
“Be careful not to use that term if you meet our client,” Cynthia smiles. “She prefers the term ‘Duchess,’ since warlord sounds so malevolent and masculine.” She chuckles. “And low rent just sounds insulting. Warlord suits her just fine, as she’s one of the cruelest beings I’ve ever met.” Cynthia shakes her head slightly. “I’m getting off track. These—” and she gestures to the blue dots, “—are some type of massive ships, freighters of some kind, we assume. She wants them to create a maritime fleet to begin building her empire so that she can expand beyond Werdlow. She sees shipping as the key.”
“You said she’s a warlord. What’s she need with empire building at this point?” Wil asks, leaning forward, staring at the hovering blue dots.
“Werdlow is a relatively poor system, so are its neighbors. That’s why it was so easy for the Peacekeepers to designate the region badlands and be done,” Cynthia replies. “With a fleet of ships, she’ll be able to create a shipping empire overnight.”
“So, evil space UPS? Got it.” Wil says.