3. A Seventh for the Crew

Locra. A pressing question is addressed.

Locra, as far as planets go was nothing peculiar, but it was a hot spot for both fugitives and those that hunted them because it was the only planet in the region that belonged to the Sub-Galactic Entente. The Entente was much like the Syndicate in size and structure, but (in Owen's mind at least) less violent and altogether more logical. Leto's crew had a reputation on many of the planets they frequented, but few governments were as tolerant with them as Locra's.  They never really did anything wrong, and hunting was legal on most planets in the sector, they just had a few minor disturbances on their record, but nothing particularly damning. Well, there was always that one night that had landed Leo and Max in jail.

After Tabitha had completely secured the docking clamps, she looked back at Owen, " You want me to stay with the ship, Captain?"

"No, I don't think it's necessary. Jack has to stay to fix the coil when I bring it for him, anyway. Might as well head over to the Bunker. I can meet you guys there after I pick up the coil."

Tabitha and Owen left the bridge together. Tabitha went straight for the end of the hall but Owen cut back behind the bridge. Owen's room wasn't really meant to be one; it was supposed to be a storage closet, but its relatively large size and its proximity to the bridge made it a practical choice. He pushed the door open and cringed as the hinges squealed. Calin stared up at him from the bed, eyes bright.

"Captain, can I please come with you this time? You never let me do any of the cool stuff," Calin whined through an innocent smile.

Ignoring the fact that Calin wasn't allowed in his room in the first place, Owen told him brusquely, "You're staying with Leto. I need someone to watch her while I'm gone."

"Nice try, Cap. Even I know Jack can do that. Why'd you even take me on anyway, if I never get to help out?" Calin complained.

"You'll get your chance. But not today," the captain said with strong finality. His tone told Calin there was no use in arguing. He ushered the boy out the door rather abruptly and turned to examine his sparsely filled closet. He switched his flight jacket for one made of dark gray corduroy that he found hiding amid a number of shirts he had yet to wear. He ran both his hands through his disheveled hair, accomplishing nothing, and walked out of the room without bothering to check the mirror.

He didn't see anyone else as he left the ship because instead of using the docking doors, he went out by way of the cargo bay, which opened directly onto the landing strip. There were nearly twenty other ships docked on this strip alone. Owen recognized a few: two Syndicate freighters (the only class of Syndicate ship allowed in Entente airspace), a Royal Orbanian cruiser and a few assorted light transport vessels.

The landing strip smelled like warm metal and burning fuel, but Owen breathed it in like it was the best smell he'd experienced in days. The Docking Office was at the far end of the strip, past the farthest of the tiny transport vessels. Even though the building itself was far from large it was pedestaled above the strip so it towered over everything else. The stairs in front of the building were brutally reflective chrome, so Owen had to squint as he made his way up to the door.

He pulled open one of a set of double glass doors and stared up into the central grotto of the office. He rummaged through his pockets for his registration and slid it across the counter to a sour-faced woman who was scribbling notes. She reached for the crumpled paper with her free hand. It sat for a few seconds before she glanced at it.

"Owen," she exclaimed, dropping her pen and rearranging the piles of brown hair atop her head, "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. You staying long?"

"Sorry, Chiana, just a day or so at the most. Business to attend to, money to make," he said with a smile as she quickly verified his registration number and returned the paper.

Stuffing the form back into his pocket, he gave Chiana a wink that turned her red, then carried on down the hallway to the elevator. He hit  the button for the basement and waited while the elevator whooshed down from the second floor. The basement was just as silver as the rest of the complex, but the lighting was not nearly as good. In fact, walls that would have sparkled on the first floor simply glowed a dull gray.

Skylar's office, if it could even be called that, was at the very back of the basement, half covered by a rusting grate that was not nearly at par with the rest of the decor. Through the grate, the room was dark, only lit by a stale yellow bulb hanging from the far corner of the ceiling. A rough wooden table sat directly under the light. Skylar was hunched over the table, tinkering with something the size of a loaf of bread. He dropped it with a clatter when Owen knocked on the grate bars.

"Hello, friend," Owen smirked as he swung himself under the grate by the bottom bar.

"Friend? Friend? Is that what I am to you now?  By the stars, it's time I started raising my prices, then," Skylar shot back while he tried to clean some of the dirt off his nose.

It was no use, of course, because there was always dirt on Skylar's nose, and trying to brush it off only succeeded in making it worse. Like his nose, his faded blue overalls and thinning gray hair also carried traces of his latest project's grime. He pulled a pair of goggles from around his neck and placed them on the table, glaring at Owen.

"Well don't just stand there, boy, what do you want this time? New engine couplings? Maybe some tinted windows? And how's that hyperdrive holding up?" Skylar asked, eyes sparkling.

"My windows are just fine, thanks. But the hyperdrive is shaking the whole ship again. Jack thinks one of the plasma coils is loose. We can't afford to lose the hyperdrive right now. You got a coil for me?"

"I might have something for you. Leto, she's an S-class A6 light freighter, right? You know, Owen, you might just be better off finding yourself a new--"

"I don't need a new ship," Owen snapped," Although I'm starting to wonder if  I shouldn't be looking for a new mechanic."

"I can hear you," Skylar complained.

"That was the point."

::::::::::

At the edge of the landing strip, there was a series of stairs leading down to the surface of the planet. Owen followed them casually until he was staring up at the spaceport from the bustling street below. There were people everywhere. Some stood behind makeshift booths selling broken mechanical parts or jewelery or galaxy-famous Locran stew. Some, dressed in fine clothes with upturned noses walked in straight, unfaltering lines to their destinations. Once or twice, he caught a flash of a light blue uniform and ducked behind the closest person or building. Technically, he wasn't wanted on any of the Entente planets, but he tried to stay off the military's radar either way.

Four streets from the spaceport entrance, Owen turned sharply down a small, dark alley between two rows of mud-brick buildings. Halfway down the alley there was a thick wooden door with no latch. Owen stopped in front of it and banged it with his fist multiple times before there was a soft click and the door was pushed open from the inside. A short, round man wearing a dark green apron and a bemused expression peered out at him.

"Captain Talus. I was wondering when I'd be graced with your presence. Your crew's in the corner booth, making their usual racket," the man said as he ushered Owen through the door and toward the bar. "Anything for you, Captain?"

Owen sized up the shelves of exotic bottles on the wall behind the bar before replying, "Just a Delian ale, Eli. I may yet have to be the voice of reason tonight."

Eli reached below the bar, pulled out a large stoneware jug and proceeded to pour the bright amber ale into a mug. He pushed it across the counter and Owen took it gratefully. Weaving in and out of patrons in varying states of intoxication, Owen made his way across the low, smoky room to his crew.

In the corner, Leo was pounding on the table, trying to explain something that Tabitha and Max were clearly not comprehending. Max looked like he had given up entirely and was eying Leo with overt disgust. Tabitha was still listening intently, but it didn't stop her from being the first one to spot Owen. She waved him over excitedly and scooted in so he could sit next to her.

"What are we arguing about this time, kids?" Owen asked as he sipped on his mug of ale.

Leo opened his mouth to explain, but Max cut him off, "Nothing worth listening to, if you ask me."

The table was silent for a moment until Tabitha started giggling uncontrollably into her mug. Between gasps for air, she managed to get out, "You've got that right."

Once Tabitha regained her composure, Owen took a large swig from his mug and set it down in front of him with both hands. He stared into it solemnly and the other three watched him, intrigued. He started to speak, but stopped himself and tipped the rest of his ale down his throat. Gingerly placing the mug back on the table, he announced, "I don't want to go to Terrandus."

Max shifted his weight uneasily and ran a hand through his hair. His dark eyes gleamed menacingly as he asked, " What do you mean you don't want to go? None of us like being on that hellish planet, but I'd stay there for a week to get the kind of cash they're willing to pay for this Ardeth character."

Owen spoke up again with a little more conviction, "That's just it. I don't think we should take Ardeth in at all."

"I imagine you're going to want us to start paying the Syndicate, then? Because if we don't get paid soon, we're all going to be losing money every time Leto gets off the ground," Leo mused.

"Of all people, I thought you'd have my back on this. Leo. We're just going to have to find another mark. We're meeting Victor tonight, anyway."

"Another mark? My god, Owen, we've been chasing this guy for weeks and now-- what? We're just going to let him go?" Max shot angrily and placed his head in his hands.

"No, he's not going anywhere. We could use a scientist on the crew," Owen answered matter-of-factly.

"Are you suggesting we offer him a job? I mean, I'm not shooting the idea down, but, why? Why the hell should we keep him instead of handing him over to the Prime Consul in gift wrapping?" Tabitha asked.

"I might be a little warped," Owen replied, " But there's no way I'm handing a good man to the Prime Consul of the Interplanetary Syndicate."

"Half the people we take in are good men, Owen. What is this really about?" Tabitha said, keeping her voice low.

"He was in charge of the Syndicate Bioengineering Program," Owen said.

Leo looked confused, but Max and Tabitha both recognized the seriousness of the situation, so Owen continued, " He is- was their senior geneticist. It seems he got tired of treating children like lab rats and splicing the DNA of war prisoners into lower life forms."

Tabitha looked like she'd been hit in the face with a titanium wall. Max was gazing intently at the table and tracing patterns in the condensation with his finger. Leo glared at Owen skeptically and prodded, " So, he's a bad guy. Or he was. Or whatever. I don't see why that's stopping us from getting piles and piles of money."

This time it was max who replied, " Owen is right, we can't take him back. But we can kill him."

"We're not killing him. He's no use to us dead," Owen said.

"What about my father? Would you stop me from avenging him? We happen to have captured a man worth killing," Max growled.

Tabitha placed her hand on Max's to try and calm him, but he quickly shook it off. Confidently, she said, " Well, if we can't kill him and we can't take him back, there's only one option: Owen's. He's just going to have to stay on Leto, at least for the time being."

Max violently swiped his arm across the table, sending mugs and whatever remained of their contents flying everywhere. He stormed out of the bar, slamming the door behind him. If any of the other customers noticed the disturbance, they chose to ignore it and continued about their own business.

"I really don't like this," Leo said, "But I can handle it. I'm not so sure about Max, though."

"I'll see if I can talk to him. Looks like you're going to have to meet Victor on your own. Bring us back something good, Captain," Tabitha said.

"I don't think I really have a choice at this point," Owen replied and walked briskly back into the Locran alley.