Drifters' Alliance, Book 2 (3 page)

Rather than wait for her response, I look out at the group, all sense of humor gone from my voice and expression. “As I said when I came onboard, the people who fly with me have the right to earn credits from our payloads or to receive a share of the payloads, whichever they prefer. That kind of gesture on my part deserves some sort of commitment from you. It’s a fair deal, but I understand if some of you aren’t willing to go that far. And if that’s the case, you can get off this ship at our first stop.”

“Which will be…?” Rollo asks. He sounds way too excited about the idea, which pisses me off.

“To be determined,” I say. “Once we talk to the members of the Alliance.”

“What if they don’t accept us?” Lucinda asks.

“I’ll deal with that when and if it happens. But that doesn’t change my basic strategy moving forward. We will contract our transport services out to whoever needs them, and anyone who’s part of the crew during that contracted service will have a share. That’s how you get paid here. Like it? Great. Don’t like it? Tough. That’s the deal, and it’s not negotiable.”

Tam is the first to speak. “We’re in. Said we were from the start. Blood contract goes both ways, though.”

I nod. “Of course.” I understand their reticence, but when Tam and Gus suggested it before, I saw it for the answer I’d been seeking. This is the only way I can compensate crew members and show them I mean business when I don’t have a pile of credits to share. It’ll give them security against me backing out when things get tough, and vice versa.

Blood contracts are scary in concept —fully supported by every tribunal ever convened and considered an oath only breakable by death … definitely not something to mess around with— but they’re effective. I’ve seen a man float after breaking one, and I’ll never forget it. I’m sure most of the people in this room have at least heard of that happening. This is where we find out who really means to be on my team, and who means to screw me in the future. Hopefully, my crew understands that my willingness to enter into one of these with them signifies my dedication to this cause …. my dedication to being a drifter and living life on my own terms.

“Rollo is not comfortable with signing in blood.” His complexion has gone somewhat gray.

“Rollo doesn’t need to worry,” I say dryly. “I wasn’t making the offer to him. Stowaways aren’t owed a single credit. You work to earn your bread and water and a spot on the floor to sleep. That’s it. No compensation above that and no promise of future rides once we hit the next station.” I’ve stowed away enough times in my life to know how it works. If Rollo jumped on my boat because he thought I was an empty-headed Dark virgin, that was his mistake. I don’t feel one speck of regret over my attitude. Stowaways take, usually without giving, but not on my ship.

“Harsh,” he says, but then he picks up his fork and looks at the dish Jeffers has revealed. “Ooo, fritters. Nice. Rollo loves fritters.”

I take his fork from his hand and put it on the table next to me. “You get bread and water until you earn your keep.”

Jeffers looks over at me with a question in his eyes, but I ignore it. He’ll learn soon enough that I don’t play games, especially when it comes to food. My crew works hard, and they deserve to eat well whenever possible, and that means not sharing a helping with a useless taker.

“Are you serious?” Rollo asks. He looks like he’s about to cry. “Rollo really loves fritters. They’re his favorite food.”

I shrug. “If I get a good report back from Lucinda that you’re pulling your weight in the biogrid, I’ll let you have one next time they’re served.” I look over at Jeffers. “Any of that bread from last night available?”

He shakes his head. “No. But we have oat squares and pellets.” He looks at Rollo with an apology in his eyes, but he’s smart enough not to express his regret out loud.

“Excellent.” I smile at the look of frustration on Rollo’s face. “Bon appétit, Rollo.”

He stares down at his plate and mumbles. “Not sure how Rollo is supposed to enjoy eating dust.”

I let out a happy sigh and stare at the wary expressions around the table. “What was I saying? Oh, right. Blood contracts. We’ll get those done and then we’ll start on our training routine.”

“Do we even want to ask what you mean by training routine?” asks Tam, holding his plate up at Jeffers in expectation of having a fritter put on it.

I nod at Jeffers who seems to be confused about what he’s supposed to be doing. He continues the serving he’d paused, but he keeps glancing back at me, like he’s worried I’m going to yell at him to stop.

I move on with the conversation, having faith that this will all smooth out eventually. Once they get to know me, they’ll stop being shocked by my ideas and approach.
I hope.

Chapter Four

AFTER A BREAKFAST OF POTATO fritters and fresh squeezed carrot and lime juice, we move to the central cargo area, just inside the area where our docking airlock sits. The space is about ten meters in diameter and two stories high. Walkways ring the outer sections with openings that mark the corridors branching off to other areas of the ship, but for the most part, we’re standing in an open space.

“Here’s where the majority of our training will take place.”

The group looks around, most of them confused. The only one not looking completely lost is Jeffers. I focus on him. “Do you have any experience with battle readiness training?”

“Why would you ask me that?” he says, trying to sound all peaceful. His arms come out like Moses or something, the wide sleeves of his overcloak falling halfway to the floor. “I’m a healer and domesticant.”

I snort. “Yeah, okay. If that’s how you want to play it.” I ignore him and look at the others. “My training regimen will include daily upkeep of both your cardiovascular and musculatory systems, as well as more focused sessions, designed to help you defend yourselves in the event of a conflict.”

“Conflict?” Lucinda looks at me and then the others. “What conflict?”

“Any kind of conflict. We were boarded by OSG just yesterday. In ten seconds, they had all of you flocked together like sheep ready for slaughter. That’s not going to happen again.”

“What? You want us to take them out next time?” Gus looks at his brother. “She’s hardcore, man.”

“Just shut up and listen,” Tam says, shoving his brother away.

“Yeah, listen up,” Baebong says, his arms crossed over his chest in an effort to make his pecs look bigger. Not that he’s a slouch in that area. He’ll probably be the fastest one to get in shape. His metabolism is naturally high. The others are going to have to learn how to speed theirs up.

“No one is taking anyone out,” I say, trying not to sigh. “I’m not teaching you how to murder innocent people. We just need to be in a position to be able to manage certain situations better, like when someone unexpected shows up and demands to board. Someone who means to take what’s ours.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” Lucinda says.

I detect fear in her voice, but I can’t let that perfectly natural reaction dissuade me from my plans. I know that a conflict-ready crew is a much better group of people to have around me than a bunch of sheep. “You will be.”

“I doubt it.”

Jeffers puts his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s reserve judgment until we actually see what it is she’s going to ask us to do.”

They share a look and a nod and then silence reigns.
Finally.

I focus on the twins. “I’m going to need some things rigged up in here. Can you handle it?”

Gus laughs. “Us? Handle it? Please.”

“What are we talking about, exactly?” Tam asks.

“A couple pull-up bars, one higher for the men, one lower for the women and Baebong…” I look over at him and manage not to laugh at his offended expression. I’m grinning so hard it hurts, though. “… a ten-centimeter beam about three meters long set a foot off the ground, a couple heavy engine parts you’re not using…”

Lucinda interrupts me, apparently no longer on board with Jeffers’ idea to be patient and wait to see what I’m up to. “I’d love to know how I’m supposed to be in two places at once.”

I blink at her, waiting to hear more.

She sighs loudly, annoyed by my lack of understanding. “I told you before … the biogrid needs constant attention.”

“The biogrid will get all the attention it needs. Trust me. Just fill out a log over the next few days, of the activities that need doing in there, and I’ll make sure you have the manpower to get it done.”

“What’s that mean?” Gus asks.

I smile at him and everyone else in turn. “Let’s worry about that later. We have other priorities. Vacuum cycle, blood contracts, training equipment build, weapons adds.”

“Finally getting to the good stuff,” Baebong says. He’s not rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist, but I know he wants to; his fingers are twitching.

“Weapons?” Lucinda is looking freaked out again.

I shrug. “I promised Baebong he could add some of his weaponry to the ship.”

“Is that even allowed?” She looks to the others, maybe not trusting me to tell her the truth.

“Of course it’s allowed,” Baebong says. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“This is a DS, not a warship.” Lucinda crosses her arms. “I’m pretty sure the OSG wouldn’t appreciate a DS having firepower.”

“Actually, DSs have firepower,” I explain. “We just use it to vaporize space junk that gets too close, but those arrays have been repurposed for other uses in the past, like to discourage scavengers in the outer limits, for example. Rigs with add-ons aren’t common, but that doesn’t mean they’re illegal.”

“Well, I just don’t think calling attention to ourselves by outfitting the ship to be a warship is a good idea.”

I nod. “I hear what you’re saying, and I don’t disagree. But Baebong has assured me that his weapons will be very unobtrusive.”

His chin goes up. “No one needs to worry about anything. I’ve got it covered.”

“And us too.” Gus says, pointing to himself and his brother. “We’ve got it covered.”

My eyes roll as I imagine what they’ll get up to together. They’d better not blow a hole in my hull, that’s all I’ve got to say about it. “Great. We’re counting on you.”

Everyone but the three amigos looks decidedly worried, including Rollo.

“So!” I clap my hands together. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready for what?” Rollo asks.

“To get started, of course.” I grin like a maniac. “Gus and Tam? Engine room. Vacuum cycle.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they both say in unison before jogging off, shoving each other in the process. When they get to the portal it’s a fight to see who can get through first. They’re both grinning, and for obvious reasons it’s making my ass twitch.
Seriously, they’d better not blow any holes in anything.
Tam finally wins the war for first man into the corridor, leaving Gus stumbling to the floor as he races ahead to the engine room. Gus leaps to his feet, two steps behind his brother. The echoes of their boots banging on the metal floor ring out into the open space. I envy them their abandon. As captain, I don’t have that luxury anymore.

Back to business.
I turn to the remaining crew and continue issuing my orders. “Everyone else, bag up any crap you don’t want anymore and bring it here.” I gesture to a spot off to the side of the empty area, next to the entrance to the airlock. “We’re going to use it as target practice.” I look over at Baebong. “You ready to get some things onto the hull?”

“Ready? Hell, I’ve been ready for months. Years, maybe.”

“Perfect. Bring it to the airlock.”

He leaves in a hurry as I shift my focus to the old man.

“Jeffers?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I want an inventory of all the foodstuffs onboard. Things already harvested or dry-stored.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“Medical supplies and equipment as well.”

“Would you like me to get started now?”

“Yes.”

“As you wish.” He bows at the remaining members of the group still present and then backs away toward the nearest corridor.

Domesticant, my ass. He’s battle hardened, I know he is.

I switch my focus to Lucinda, knowing that my confrontation with Jeffers and his real background will come in due time. “I need a complete inventory of every single plant you have growing in there.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “This is my ship and those are my plants. We’re either about to embark on a new partnership that functions through a system of bartering through the Alliance, or we’re about to start a trading and transport business on our own. I need to know what assets we have on the ship either way.”

She looks down at the ground, her face twitching, but she’s saying nothing.

“Make no mistake, Lucinda. I’m very appreciative of your efforts, and frankly, I think you’re some kind of mad genius … but at the end of the day, those assets are mine, and if you so much as hide a single plant from me, you’ll pay the price.”

She finally looks up. “What price?”

I stare her right in the eye so she knows I’m not kidding. “The ultimate one. You’ll float.”

“But plants die in there every day! The total I give you one day might not be true the next!”

“I know about the plantlife cycle, believe me. I also know when people are lying to me. It’s a special talent I have, so just be honest, do what I ask you to do, and we’ll be fine.” I shrug. “Don’t, and we won’t.” I hate to be so hardcore with her, but she’s pushed me to it. Besides, I don’t think she’d respect me if I went soft on her just because she’s a girl.

She’s got mutiny written all over her face.

Rollo raises his hand.

“What?”

“Rollo has a suggestion. An offer, actually.”

I sigh, not even sure I want to hear it but knowing I’m going to anyway. “What’s that?”

 
“Rollo will do the inventory. An impartial party, doing a job with no vested interest.”

I don’t know this guy very well, but I know with every fiber of my being that the first thing he’ll do when he gets to the biogrid is try to strike an alternative deal with Lucinda. I smile at the idea of him thinking he can get away with that. When I catch both of them in the act, it’ll give me even more ammunition to use with them than I already have. Life is all about leverage, and I plan to always have more than anyone else. Any captain who doesn’t plan otherwise is asking for trouble.