on his shoulder. If he's hanging out in V'tarrian space, he's not doing anything good. "What's he buying weapons for?"
The clingy one pouts, holding her hand out.
With a sigh, I put a credit in her hand.
She pockets it, her smile returning. "I heard he's buying weapons for his private army…because they're going to take over a ship."
"Take over a ship?"
"Find a ship," the other one corrects. "They're looking for some lost ship. Came in here and asked a thousand questions about shipping lanes and such." She rolls her eyes and drinks the last of her ooli brew, then eyes the ordering system. "Can you buy us another round, friend?"
"I think I have to go," I say, and get to my feet.
The females pull me down again, just as Kaspar grabs his barstool and slams it over his neighbor's head.
2
ADIRON
"I can't believe you two keffing idiots," Mathiras rages as we race onto the bridge of the Little Sister, several V'tarrian guards hot on our heels. "What happened to ‘create a diversion to peel off the guards and sneak out’?"
"How are we supposed to sneak when we're the only mesakkah in the entire V'tarrian system?"
"You could have tried a little harder." He pauses to shove Kaspar up the ramp, since our brother seems determined not to leave without finishing the fight.
I automatically grab at Kaspar's shirt and shove him through the Sister's door, something we've gotten down to a science. Most battles end like this—us knowing when to pull out and Kaspar too stubborn to do so. So between Mathiras and myself, we've become experts at hauling Kaspar's ass out of danger.
And they say I am the dumb one.
"We're not done here," Kaspar complains, trying to aim his gun around my horns. "We can take them—"
"You're our navigator now," Mathiras reminds him, easing up the ramp with his back to me as I hover in the doorway. He keeps his eyes on the V'tarrians who are no longer racing for us but for a control panel—no doubt to trap us before we can take off. "Go and keffing navigate! We've got to get out of this place!"
Kaspar growls, then turns and races for the nav panel. Mathiras continues to back up, shooting. The enemy is pinned down behind a crate, but I see someone race ahead and I know it's just a matter of time. In his way, Mathiras is just as bad as Kaspar in never wanting to leave a fight. So I grab him by the collar and haul him backward onto the ship, then slam my hand on the hatch release, the door zooming shut.
Mathiras glares at me, putting his blaster away. "I was coming," he mutters.
"Sure, sure." We both head for the bridge.
"Why do you smell like ooli brew?" Mathiras asks, glancing over at me. "And why are you all wet?"
I just grin. "You said you wanted a distraction. I jumped into the bar fight that Kaspar started. And I might have made the bartender angry."
He sighs.
"And a few barmaids." I pause, considering. "And some cantina girls. And a patron or two."
"I told you to blend," he complains as we move onto the bridge and slide into our seats. "Fighting with everyone in the cantina isn't blending."
"Neither is being blue, but we didn't realize that was a problem until we got there," I point out. "We stood out no matter what." I flip switches at my seat, running checks on the landing gear and initiating the ship's protective shields as the engine fires up, whining as we begin to lift off. "Weapons systems?" I ask, my hand hovering over the next panel.
Mathiras shakes his head, concentrating on his controls. "They're trying to detain, not destroy. I don't think they realized that I hacked their records. It's probably just about the bar fight."
"Then we did good." I grin broadly…and then sniff my clothes. Whew. I do smell bad. Like I rolled around in an ooli's armpit.
Kaspar glances over at the two of us as the Sister lifts off, heading for the rapidly closing gates on the station. "Did you get what we needed, then?"
"Yes and no." Mathiras shakes his head. "I got in, but I couldn't find records of the Buoyant Star. If she came through this system, she never made it here. It narrows things down…but not by much."
I grunt, scratching at my damp, itchy tunic. "So what now?"
Mathiras shoots me a look, as if I'm an idiot for asking. I'm used to that sort of look, though,