When the bartender passed her again, Meja took a chance. “Excuse me?”
He raised an eyebrow at her in judgment, his smirk telling her he’d already formed his opinion. She didn’t care; he didn’t need to like her, only help her. The bartender reached under the counter and set a chip reader on top of the bar. “Buying or selling?”
She slid the chip reader over and tapped her omnidevice on it, then finished the transaction with enough tip to buy her drink ten times over. “Buying. I need to get off-world. Who do I want?”
He glanced at the chip reader and sniffed. “Depends on how deep your pocket is. Best bet’s probably Corrington there.” He pointed his chin at a corner table, where a clean-shaven man in a flight suit rested with his feet on one chair and a beer in his hand. If the captain noticed the conversation, he didn’t give any sign.
“Thanks.” She stood as the bartender walked away.
“Corrington and Emil are partners,” the woman next to her muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“You say that a lot.” The woman turned and pinned Meja down with a gaze. “Corrington and the bartender work together. He sends clients to Corrington, and they split the money. Given some of the things I’ve heard about Corrington’s dealings, I don’t know how many patrons make it to their destination.”
A chill pimpled the flesh over her spine. “And you’re telling me this why?”
“Because, I hate seeing people get taken advantage of.” The woman grinned, a predatory smile splitting the dark skin of her face. “Also, I hate Corrington. He’s a shit captain. He has no respect for social mores, and the Branwyn is a junk heap.”
Meja snorted. “And you’re better why?”
The woman shrugged and picked up her drink. “Didn’t say I was.”
Meja studied her, making no effort to hide the observation. The woman wore a knee-length synthetic leather coat over tight pants. Her shirt was loose, in an outdated style, but she wore it like fashion hadn’t caught up with her yet. The same held true for the bob cut of her hair. Nothing about her appearance indicated captain, but the air of authority surrounded her like perfume.
“Fine. So, if I don’t travel with Covington—”
“Corrington,” the other woman corrected.
“If I don’t book passage with him, what are my options? Anyone else able to get me off-world and keep me from being followed?”
The bartender came back to their end of the bar and shot the other woman a dirty look. “Poach clients somewhere else, Barnes.”
The woman’s smile was a sickle. “I’m not poaching anything, Emil. Just giving the nice lady complete information. What she chooses to do with it is up to her. Or did you not feel that your arrangement with Corrington was pertinent?”
Emil slid a hand under the bar, and everyone in the vicinity tensed. Except for Barnes, who kept her hands out in front of her, relaxed. “Don’t reach for it, Emil. I don’t want to threaten you in your own joint, but if you pull steel, I’ll be forced to defend myself. And then I’ll have to find a new place to drink. I’d hate the hassle.”
The other patrons at the bar scooted away from the confrontation, hoping not to get caught in the blast of whatever happened next. Meja saw movement out of the corner of her eye as Corrington stood and took a step toward them. She moved to intercept him. “I think its best we stay over here rather than pick sides, don’t you?”
Corrington tilted his head, confused as to why she’d addressed him. “Nah, I don’t think it’s best at all. Townie.”
He started to step around her, and Meja pulled enough of her tranq pistol out that he could see the handle in her grip. Hopefully in the gloom of the bar it looked more threatening. “I’m afraid I have to insist.”
He glanced down at the pistol then back to her face before taking a step back. He watched over her shoulder as Emil and Barnes hammered out their disagreement but didn’t make any effort to charge past.
Which was a mercy for her since the tranq wasn’t loaded.
A few long minutes later, the standoff ended, and Barnes strode out the main door. Meja gave Corrington another glance, then chased after her. She found the other woman just outside the bar and called out to her. “Barnes!”
The woman turned and gave her a smile. “Nice work keeping Corrington out of the way. Thanks.”
“You’re a captain, right? If you want to thank me, can you take a passenger?”
“You don’t even know where my next port of call is.”
“Don’t care. It’s out of here, and frankly, the further the better.”
Barnes stroked her chin. “Running away from a jealous ex?”
“Something like that.” It was as good a metaphor as any, and the less she shared the safer everyone would be. Meja checked the street and tensed as a chiseled, muscular shadow detached himself from an alley and strode toward the captain.
Meja was about to shout a warning when Barnes smiled. “About time you got here. I almost had to carve up Emil, and then where would I drink?”
The big man chuckled, a sound like rocks grinding. “Someone else would move in. They always do.”
“You’re probably right.” She shrugged, then indicated Meja. “Speaking of moving in, this is is Mx. Smith. She’ll be booking passage on the Sentinel. Mx. Smith? This is my boatswain, Mr. Barr.” She pronounced the title “bosun”. “He’ll take you to the ship and get you settled. Do you have any cargo?”
“Yes. Two small crates. I’ve got them stored nearby.” Meja’s pulse was dizzyingly loud. So close now. She had a way off Burbidge. Everything else would be easy.
“…And that should do it.” Layth Ali tied off the last of the sutures and smirked at April, the ship’s engineer. “I thought you were supposed to be graceful in zero gravity.”
April stood, their near 2.2-meter height making them tower over Layth, and checked their reflection in the mirror. He could see their desire to touch the stitches above their eyebrow, but their hand stopped short of doing so. “My grace or lack thereof is related to the tight quarters down in the core.”
They took a deep breath; Layth knew the engineer was struggling even in the mild gravity of the Sentinel’s rotational arm. Like most deep-spacers, the engineer had been born and raised in microgravity. It left them physiologically ill-equipped for being anything other than weightless.
He touched their shoulder. “I could have come down to you, you know. You don’t have to leave the core if you don’t want.”
“Here’s where the food is.” They shrugged. “And if there was more needed then a suture, you would have to travel back for additional supplies.”
Layth shook his head. “It’s no reason to torture yourself.”
“Maybe it’s worth it to see my friend.” Their voice softened slightly on the suggestion.
Layth’s gaze snapped to the floor, hoping to hide the heat that built in his cheeks. “Yeah, okay. But next time I’ll come check on you. I need to make sure there’s no infection. And I should cover your wound so you don’t get grease in it.”