Page 9 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
They stare at each other, the tension thick as Triandale’s skin, for what seems like an eon, until Triandale lowers his looping head. “Understood.” His tone is slow and his pitch defeated.
Kaanus takes a deep breath as he lowers himself back onto his stool in no hurry. “It’s like you said, Triandale, the Klendathians only follow the Scythians. They’ll not harm us, especially if we’re useful to them,” he gestures back to his large holographic display. “Now, back to business. The best offer we got for the Earth trip was fifty thousand credits. But I turned it down. I didn’t trust the massive red bastard, looked like he’d murder you as quick as look at you.”
“I don’t know, fifty thousand credits is a lot for a simple runner job, lover,” Hyanxa objects, her greedy golden eyes glued to the number on the display.
“Wait till you hear this,” Kaanus retorts, a mischievous grin spreads across his face. With a tap on his console, the display switches to different nav points and a new number. Five hundred thousand credits, a small fortune emblazoned in neon blue, the number takes our breaths away. “Twice the distance, ten times the credits,” Kaanus finishes with a laugh.
“Hmm Captain, minor problem, nav target is Nebian home world, a war zone. Yes?” Job points out his beady eyes dart around the small room. “An Elerium sphere in the engine is worth two in hold? Yes?”
“No, no. This is one versus ten. We could replace the entire crew with droids!” Mod retorts, as he rounds on his brother, his arm appendages flailing.
“We can’t spend if we expire. Yes?” Job counters as they both join antennae, freezing in place, in complete silence. Theysometimes do this when they have a disagreement. The reason is a mystery to me.
Too dangerous.
My cut is so small, it’s not worth the risk. “I... I agree with Job. It’s too dangerous,” I stammer out, my fear pushing me to speak.
“No one gives a void what you think, weird alien bitch,” Hyanxa spits, her brown fuzzy face drips venom. “Finally, a big job. This could be the making of us.” Her hand squeezes the Captain’s shoulder.
“I vote yes!” Quad declares, crushing my hopes, as he might be the only one capable of swaying Kaanus’ decision. “And I have four arms which count as two!”
Kaanus scoffs, “This is not up for a vote.” He rises from his seat, his movement quick. “Prepare the Mutalisk’s Hammer. We depart in two hours.”
Time to hide.
Chapter 4
Xandor
All aboard
It’s a fine day.The sun kisses my face, such a pleasant warmth that I wonder when I’ll see it again. But it’s past time for me to depart Klendathor. I’ve lingered too long. I belong among the stars, spreading my wings, devastating powerful enemies, and consoling their females. Klendathor was a welcome relief for weary eyes and a tired heart, but its many rules grate and stifle my spirit.
I march through the black marble hangers of Star City, following the route to bay sixty-eight. I’m followed by my two companions, the young warrior Logarn, burdened by the dreary monotonous psychotic tendency which afflicts all our youth. In truth, he’s a liability, but Krogoth requested I take him, leaving me no choice.
I’m much more pleased about my second companion, the indomitable Noroth. His impressive victory over Vethios during the last clan meeting won him much honor. And his gruff manner, intimidating crushed face and wide build is the perfect remedy for many species of aliens, stubborn short-stuffs or otherwise.
Turning onto bay sixty-eight in the distance, a gray ship comes into view, my heart already sinking at the sight of it. “Looks rather small?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the purple sunlight to get a better look.
“Hmm, must be the distance,” Noroth grunts, his breath whistling through his smashed nose.
The terrible reality becomes clearer with each passing step as we march closer. “No, it’s voiding small, and looks like it’s weathered more blows than we three combined,” I jest, as I shake my head with rueful disdain.
The ship is old, some variation of a blocky Argorian transport ship. Much smaller than I expected, about a tenth the size of a Scythian battlebarge. It appears that someone may have painted it black at one point, but it has long since returned to its bare gray metal. A tut escapes my lips as some obvious patches of arcweave all thick mismatched colors and crooked misaligned bolts, struggling to form a straight line, catch my eye.Who would do such shoddy work?
Noroth grins. The expression has minimal effect softening his face. “You’re paying five hundred thousand credits for this?” He reminds me, gesturing to the heap of space junk. I suppress a groan at his annoying but astute observations.
That voiding Argorian.
“He said it was the finest ship in this galaxy... calls it the Mutalisk’s Hammer.” I run my hand over the hull, picking off flakes of old paint and crusted char from the sides. “More like Mutalisk’s drooping ball sack.”
Noroth erupts into laughter, his long red hair fluttering over his face. “Do you see this landing gear?” he continues after catching his breath. “It’s wonky, look.” With a swift motion, he extends an arm up the side and starts rocking the ship, eliciting a minuscule swaying motion.
I grimace, wondering If I should cancel the deal... But this is the only ship available with a crew. “What do you think, Logarn?” I ask, more out of curiosity if the crazy young ones have any opinions when not bathed in blood.
“The ship does not appear functional,” Logarn responds, his gaze fixated on the universe’s most expensive wreck, in a tone devoid of emotion.
“Can’t argue with that.” Noroth gives Logarn a hearty slap on the back. “Maybe the crew will make up for it?” He turns to me with a shrug of his broad shoulders.