Reavers (Book 3) (30 page)

“
Excuse me
?”  The maitre d’ balled a fist.

“Now ‘ere is some advice.”  The man took a single hostile step toward the angry maitre d’  “Mouthing off to a Weaver, not smart.”

“Weaver?”

The maitre d’ tripped over himself as he tried to create some distance between them.  Humphrey and Rhea instantly cleared themselves from their booth and prepared for a fight.  To their surprise, they both recognized him as Dante.

“Dante?” Rhea asked in surprise.  “What happened to you?”

“Oh?  ‘ou mean eeis?” the man asked as he gestured to his mouth.  “A memento from ‘our friends.  They ‘ave me a bit of trouble.”

Humphrey couldn’t help but laugh at the man.  There was no way Dante would ever sound like a three year old.  Rhea kept an uncertain glance locked on him.

“Now it’s ime to die,” the imposter Dante lisped with a grin.

Suddenly, a plate flew at Rhea.  She easily dodged it as another flew toward her.  The waitress who had dropped the plates was now in a dead panic, tossing the fragments of ceramic around the room at invisible phantoms.  As Humphrey moved to restrain the frantic waitress, the maitre d’ landed a heavy punch against his jaw.  Humphrey staggered away as he wiped at his lip.  Before he had recovered, the maitre d’ followed up with a second punch.  Humphrey let out a loud groan as he sank to the floor.

Rhea caught one of the hurling plates and smashed it against the maitre d’ before he could land a third blow against Humphrey.  With her focus on the two men, she had momentarily forgotten about the waitress.  The imposter Dante snickered as Rhea let out a yelp of pain.

A searing pain filled her right leg as the sharp edge of a broken plate sliced into her knee.  Clenching her hands over the wound, she found a small trickle of blood oozing down her leg.  With the hurt leg, Rhea’s reaction time slowed to the point the waitress had no problem pelting her with plate fragments.

Incredible pain filled her senses as each bit of sharp ceramic was hurled at her.  Finally the onslaught of pain ended.  Glancing over, Rhea found the waitress had run out of plate fragments.  The waitress quickly rose from the floor and lunged at the nearest table.  Grabbing a large knife from the table setting, she hurled it with all her might at Rhea. 

Her body was filled with pain and her muscles found it too heavy to move out of the path of the blade or dodge it in any way.  As the blade closed in an instant, she could hear the laughter of the lisping Weaver.  Just as the blade was about to sink into her, an arm moved into its path.  Humphrey shouted in agony as the blade embedded itself in his forearm.  Cradling his bleeding arm, Humphrey turned a hostile glance at the Weaver.

“What is it ‘ith ‘ou people!” the Weaver shouted in frustration.  “Why don’t ‘ou just
die
!”

While the Weaver fumed, Humphrey dived at a cart holding several entrées.  After quickly selecting one, he flung a plate at the screaming Weaver.  The Weaver didn’t even have to dodge as the plate flew toward the ceiling.  The Weaver started laughing at the pathetic display.  The plate hit the ceiling above him, shattering into hundreds of pieces.  The raining debris landed harmlessly on the Weaver’s head.

The imposter Dante ceased his laughing when he noticed Humphrey was beginning to smirk.  Experience had taught him that was a very bad thing.  When his little brother’s friends started to smile, anguish was soon to come.  Suddenly, a searing pain filled the top of his head.

Flinging his hands through his hair he found it covered in strange little vegetables.  The juice from the mashed vegetables burned his flesh and ate away at his hands as he tried to bat them off.  The more he tried to get rid of them, the more he covered himself in the burning juice.  He wailed in immense pain as the juices spread over most of his skin.

“I guess you won’t be wanting seconds,” Humphrey mumbled as he slowly pulled the knife out of his arm.

Not waiting for more, the smoldering Weaver ran for the door.  Humphrey hurled the knife at the retreating foe, but missed widely.  If he had an artillery piece he never would have missed.  However, cutlery marksmanship had not been part of his training.  Gingerly helping Rhea up with his good hand, he held her steady as she got her balance back.

“What did you do?” she asked as she tended to her cuts and scrapes.

“Szöllös food is a bit of an acquired taste,” he mumbled as he tightly wrapped a napkin around his bleeding forearm.  “And that’s if prepared properly.  In its raw form, it isn’t even safe to handle.”

“I should have known,” she said as she tried to smile against the pain.  “I’ll have the ITU lock down the docking ports.  He won’t make it far.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?  You saved me back there.”

“Looks like you’ll have to put off visiting your dad for a while.”

The restaurant was eerily silent as Rosalyn nibbled at what was left of her meal.  The locals studied the unfamiliar faces while pretending their focus was devoted on their own food.  As she idly consumed the nourishment, she worked on her pad.  She had more important matters than if she was interesting to a bunch of rim worlders.  Abruptly, Rosalyn angrily tossed her pad against the wall.  Kevin had been right.  As the other patrons pretended not to notice her, Andreas leaned over and fetched her pad.

“So what did you find out?” he asked as he glanced at the pad.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“Really?  I would have expected more from you.”

“Don’t misunderstand.  There’s nothing
to
find.  Those missiles were never made.”

“I hate to argue, but we’ve got another five crates that beg to differ.”

“Check it for yourself; the serials on those things don’t come up.”

“You mean they are classified.”

“Classified I can deal with.  These things just don’t exist.  I went so far as to check the basic components on the one Revel disassembled.”

“And?”

“Nothing.  The tracking information is invalid.  Right down to the smallest meaningless nut.  The production lots themselves never existed.  The ones before and after exist, but right where our missile components would be is a gap with no information at all.  Every single safety measure put in place to track weapons has been thought of.  Those missiles in our cargo bay apparently appeared out of thin air.”

“Military Intelligence,” Andreas said with a deep frown.

“No question.  Even the Union would have a problem removing
all
traces.”

“So what do we do about it?”

She sighed.  MI was a basic fact of pirate life.  To the average citizen they were nothing more than a rumor or a shadow moving behind the scenes.  To Rosalyn and her kind, they were hunters always looking for prey.  Always lurking just a step behind, ready to capture or destroy you.  However, this was a new development.  They had
never
tried something so ambitious before.

They’d send out assassins, set up ambushes, and even attempt to catch one of Duda’s lot in a sting.  However, to think they would capture a Freeport and deliberately invoke genocide, that was low, even for them.  Something was wrong; Rosalyn could feel it.  All that was a side concern.  If MI was desperate, it wasn’t really important to her or her crew.  The real problem was what to do next.  They had limped to a rim world and were making repairs.

Most of the citizens of the Freeport had already disappeared into the general populace, no doubt waiting for the chance to escape to another Freeport and start over.  The escape had been costly, although far better than becoming the property of some random guild.  The truth of the matter was that they had burned through a year’s worth of credits in the aftermath.  If they didn’t get their teeth into something lucrative soon, they’d be stuck.

“Not much we can do,” Rosalyn said as she absentmindedly poked at the plate in front of her.  “We hide out here until the repairs are done, then get back to work.”

“And our mystery missiles?”

“Too dangerous to sell and too useful to scrap.  I say we use them.  Revel assures me he can figure them out.”

“Do you think MI will mind?” Andreas asked with a delighted smile.

“Who cares?  If they give us trouble we let them taste their own weapons.”

“Sounds good to me.  There is something else though . . .”

“I know.  What are we going to do with Kevin?”

“Are you asking me?”

“You’ve made it quite clear what you think,” Tardos grumbled as he took a seat at the table.

“How’d
you
find us?” Andreas asked, clearly annoyed.

“Wasn’t that hard.  I just asked who had the best food around.  I didn’t think our fair captain would allow herself to eat garbage.”

“This is a private conversation.”

“Hold on,” Rosalyn said as she leaned toward Tardos.  “He does have a point.  I know exactly what you want to do.  A second opinion could be helpful.”

“You can’t be serious!” Andreas protested as he eyed the short newcomer.  “Of course he’s going to defend his friend.”

“That’s not the point.  Sure he’s biased.  However, he is also the one person who’s known Kevin the longest.  What do you think of your young friend’s heroics?”

“I think he should be praised, not locked up!  Figuring out the MI was behind this was . . .”

“Not that.”  Rosalyn quickly interrupted.  “Even a child would have put that together after seeing our overly impressive fireworks display.”

“Well, I’m sure he only knocked out your maintenance personal because he felt he had no other choice.  In fact, if I . . .”

“Not that either!”  Rosalyn sighed deeply.  “If I locked up my crew every time they got in a brawl, I’d never have anyone working.”

“Then what is the problem?” Tardos asked as he bit his lower lip.

“He rerouted a key system,” Andreas said firmly.  “I doubt there is anyone else on the ship who could have done that.”

Tardos stared blankly at Andreas for several seconds before bursting into laughter.  Andreas and Rosalyn exchanged confused glances as the short old man laughed hysterically.

“
That’s
what all this is about?” Tardos asked as he tried to catch his breath.

“You don’t think that’s serious?” Rosalyn asked.  “He has to be a spy.  No one else would know how to do that.”

“Then I guess I’m a spy too,” the short old man said with a huge grin.

“
What
?” they both asked in unison.

“If that’s the requirement of being a spy, then I’m guilty too.”

“You mean . . .” Rosalyn asked somewhat stunned.

“Sure.  I can reroute a system too.  At least I should be able to.  My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“You had better start making sense,” Andreas demanded.

“We worked in
maintenance
together before you picked us up.  Rerouting systems was our bread and butter.  I doubt there was a single day that we didn’t have to bypass three failed systems or fix a dozen others.  They trained us how on the first day if my memory serves.”

“But it was a key system . . .”

“Doesn’t matter.”  Tardos shrugged.  “It could be vital or trivial - we learned how to bypass both.  Had to really.”

“Why’s that?”  Rosalyn asked.

“Well, I’m as old as dirt, but the Freeports are even
older
.  They are
always
falling apart.  It was up to us in maintenance to keep those outdated systems working so everyone didn’t suffocate.  If we couldn’t get around encoded systems there would have been a lot of dead people on that Freeport.  Not many systems more vital than that.  To tell the truth, I’d be more surprised if Kevin had forgotten how to perform a bypass.”

“And you didn’t feel it was necessary to inform us of your . . .
skills
?” Andreas asked, seething.

“Didn’t seem important.  Knowing how to fix ship systems isn’t a requirement of
mopping and scrubbing
.”

“Okay boys, calm down.”  Rosalyn gently poked Andreas with her fork before he slugged the short old man.  “Can you prove any of this, Tardos?”

His brow furrowed slightly as he thought it over.  Finally, he sheepishly pulled out his pad.  After tapping on it for a few moments, he handed it over to Rosalyn.  As she read through it, his cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment.  At first she didn’t understand how it was proof that Kevin had any of the skills Tardos claimed.  Suddenly, it hit her, and she had to laugh.

“What now?” Andreas asked, still staring down Tardos.

“So he covered for you?” Rosalyn asked him with a wicked smile.

“I’d forget every now and then . . .”

“What’s on the pad?” Andreas asked.

“A commendation.  Granted to Tardos for saving the Freeport.”  Rosalyn leaned back and took a bite out of her meal - it was a bit spicy.

“How does that help Kevin?”

“There is also a citation for sleeping in a public space.  Both reference roughly the same time.”

Andreas looked at Tardos.  The short old man hung his head.

“It didn’t happen often,” he said in his defense.  “I’d . . . fall asleep after lunch.  Kevin would do my job for me until I got back; he even filled the reports in my name to cover for me.”

“So he . . .”  Andreas was stunned.

“Bypassed
seven
faulty systems, disabled two others, and repaired the life-support system before it gave out completely.”  Rosalyn tossed the pad to the speechless Andreas.  “According to the Freeport’s head of maintenance himself.”

“Taking control of main weapons control . . .”

“Would be child’s play.”  Rosalyn nodded in agreement.

“So Kevin?” Tardos asked hesitantly.

“Saved us all and is free to go about whatever tasks Revel has in mind for him,” Rosalyn said.

Tardos quickly jumped up and thanked the captain.  Before she could say another word he was already racing back to the ship.  No doubt to let Kevin know he’d been pardoned.  Andreas had a nasty expression on his face.

“He should still be punished.”

“For saving our skins?” Rosalyn asked nonchalantly.

“He took control over an important system, launched an entire salvo of our mystery missiles, and sent half a dozen maintenance workers to the sickbay!”

“I don’t remember you raising this much fuss when he broke Revel’s arm.  So is it only a crime when he hurts people who
aren’t
a pain in your side?”

Andreas opened his mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut.  Thrusting his fork into his meal, he took out his frustrations by mercilessly dissecting the morsels on his plate.

“I’ll have Revel give him some menial tasks to remind him of his place,” she said.  “Would that satisfy you for now?”

“I suppose it will have to.”

“You’ve really got it in for the kid.  Still think he’s a spy?  One of those MI monsters?”

“It’s not that.  I know he isn’t.  Never suspected him, honestly.  It’s just that so many people died needlessly.  I can’t stand being used like that.  I wish we hadn’t left those MI scum back on the Freeport.  I’d like to give them a piece of my mind.”

“So Kevin is your surrogate punching bag?  Can’t hurt Military Intelligence so beat him to a pulp instead?  And for the record, we had no reason to suspect the idiots masquerading as the
Great White Rat
were ruthless MI agents . . .  Wait a second . . . what do you mean you never suspected him?”

“I’ve never heard of a spy that wouldn’t save his own neck.  No way an MI agent would willingly walk into a firefight like the one around the Freeport.  If Kevin was a spy, he would have done anything to convince us to stay on the Freeport until his buddies were ready to mop up the fighting outside.”

“I’ll remind you he was stuck in the sickbay at the time.”

“Like that would have stopped him.  I hate to admit it.  I really do.  But Revel is the best we’ve got.  Probably could take on half a squad of troopers single handedly if need be.  Despite that, Kevin broke his arm like it was a twig.  I can’t imagine the doctor would have been a greater opponent than Revel.”

“That still doesn’t explain . . . oh wait. 
Now
I get it.”  A long smile slowly edged over her face.  “You want to vent on Kevin because you know he can take it.  You wouldn’t have to hold back on him.”

Andreas looked at her for but a second before forcefully turning his attention on his food.  In that brief instant, his expression had given him away.  Rosalyn shook her head and chuckled.  Maybe he needed her massaging chair.  It would be safer to have its mechanical hands relieve his tension than Kevin’s skull.  As she ate her food, idle thoughts wafted through her mind.

She found herself wondering which one would win in a fair fight.  Andreas wasn’t as strong as Revel, but he was crafty.  He’d find some way to turn Kevin’s strength against him.  That was assuming Kevin didn’t immediately disable Andreas.  Revel had led hundreds of assaults but had been taken completely off guard by the new crewmember.  Then again, it was perfectly understandable.  Kevin’s appearance didn’t match his strength.  There were no bulging muscles or thick sections of skin - he wasn’t even much taller than average.

However, with that little surprise out in the open, Andreas wouldn’t be taken so easily.  As an imagined match took place in her mind, she realized she had finished her meal.  As she stared at the now empty plate, she realized she couldn’t remember how it had tasted.  All that was left was the faint aftertaste of something mildly spicy.  With a shrug, she started to clear her plate.  If that had been the best this world had to offer, she didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary.