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, so it doesn't offend me. "We worry about getting away from the authorities, first. Then we figure out our next steps."
"Nag, nag," I tease, but I double our shields as we zip narrowly out of the gates. Just in case.
A short time later, I'm in the shower, washing off the stink of sour ooli brew and thinking about the Buoyant Star. And Zoey. And Sophie.
Sophie's gonna be so pissed that it's been weeks and weeks since we left her with my buddy Jerrok, and we're still no closer to finding the Buoyant Star and all its fabled riches. She seemed forlorn and unhappy when we left her behind, and after a month of being in Jerrok's company, I can only imagine how mad she is. Jerrok's a trustworthy sort, but he's not exactly friendly. Or clean. Or pleasant. If Sophie doesn't give us a verbal lashing that scours years off our lives, I'll be surprised. I should send her a comm, but I can't exactly give away our position in space. We're currently hiding the Little Sister on the dark side of one of V'tarr's far-flung moons. Once the coast is clear, we'll head out again, moving in a different direction as we send out a tracing signal for the Buoyant Star. It's pure luck that we found the records—and the private frequency ID—that the Buoyant Star was using before it disappeared. That means we're the only ones that will be able to pick up a distress signal, no matter how old. And if she's active (for whatever reason) we can just say hello. With the frequency ID, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack, as Zoey would say. Without the frequency ID, it'd be like looking for a needle in an entire field of haystacks. At least we can narrow it down, bit by bit.
The payoff will be worth it…I hope. Because once Zoey finds out we're in the off-limits Slatra system on a treasure hunt, she'll blister our ears with her choice words. She hates it when we risk our necks. Doesn't matter that they're our necks to risk—as our younger sister, Zoey, feels obligated to look out for us, and to tell us when we're being keffing idiots.