clothing is best when it fits tightly. I imagine Lord Straik floating through his room of vases, his skirts above his head because his ship lost gravity, and fight back a snicker.
Everyone looks at me like I'm crazy.
Straik glares at me, then at Kaspar, who's utterly silent, and then moves to Mathiras. "Did you say the Buoyant Star?"
"Maybe. What's it to you?"
"That is my family's ship," Straik bites out. "It's precisely the reason I'm here and working with the Voo Rees. Tell me what you know."
Mathiras lifts his chin. "Why, so you can space us and pretend we never met? No thanks."
The lord stalks back and forth, robes swirling, and I snort-chuckle again, still stuck on that mental image of floating skirts. It's hard for me to take a male seriously when he's dressed in something so keffing impractical. "What's your family name?" Lord Straik demands.
"Va Sithai," my brother Mathiras says proudly. "I believe you've heard of us."
That makes Lord Straik pause. "I do know the va Sithai family," he murmurs, rubbing his chin. "It's a very old family, much like mine."
"Which means if you space us, you'll be blacklisted from every decent society function for the rest of your life if they find out you’re our murderer." Mathiras is calm and cool. "And we all know how terrible that would be for your family."
Lord Straik snorts. "Not much of a threat there. I'm already blacklisted. And it's not as if anyone would find out where you went. Your ship will be found, eventually, drifting through V'tarrian space, and no one will be the wiser as to what's happened to you."
It's Mathiras's turn to glare. At my other side, Kaspar shifts, and I know he's still hard at work on his cuffs.
I glance around the room, because our next option is to fight our way out. There's the two a'ani by the door, but the others left us alone with Straik. Either he's bluffing or…well, I'm not sure what else. But I'm pretty sure he's bluffing. "I might have already sent a message," I casually mention. "If you kill us, it's just a matter of time before you're rounded up. I've already alerted our sister Vanora back on Homeworld that your ship approached ours."
Lord Straik freezes. "Is that so?" He turns to his men. "Find that communication and stop it."
"It's not a vid comm," I blurt out, and Mathiras looks at me like I'm crazy. "It's…a secret comm."
And it's on a mirror. On our ship. Which…in hindsight is probably not the best way to send a message, but I guess he doesn't have to know that. And it's not going to Vanora, either. It'll go to Zoey, if she ever figures out that I've sent it.
Lord Straik sa'Rin takes a deep breath and then begins to pace. He clasps his hands behind his back and shakes his head at the guards, indicating they should remain where they are. He paces back and forth slowly, glancing over at us. "So. You've ruined my plans with the Voo Rees and yet I can't kill you. What options are left?"
"We can work together," Mathiras says boldly. He gestures at his cuffs. "Take these off and we'll work with you. We've got intel on the Buoyant Star that no one else does. You need us if you want to find it, and we can split the treasure four ways."
"Why do I need you?"
"Because you're not very good at playing pirate," Mathiras says bluntly. "And you have a crew that takes orders and won't think beyond obedience."
"Buuuurrrrn," I whisper, using one of Zoey's favorite human sayings. "Super burn, brother."
"Shut up, Adiron," Mathiras fires back.
"Yes, do shut up," Lord Straik says. He focuses on Mathiras. "If we work together, the split will be fifty-fifty—half for your household, half for mine. It's only fair since the ship does belong to my family."
"Yeah, but it's salvage," Mathiras counters. "And if it's been abandoned for three years, it falls under salvage law, which means anyone can claim it. So that doesn't hold. And you need us. We have the frequency they used and star charts downloaded from their navigation systems."
The lord tenses, eyes widening just a bit. "How did you get that?"
"We stole it from other pirates—" I begin, but Mathiras kicks me.
"Doesn't matter," Mathiras overrides, giving Lord Straik his most arrogant grin. "All that matters is that you need us more than we need you. Seventy-five, twenty-five."
"Absolutely not," Straik retorts, pausing in his pacing to glare at all