“Your friend’s quite savvy, there, li’l Dallas. Seems your daddy wants you real bad; I’ve never seen a bounty that high for anyone who hadn’t killed or stolen from someone real important, like a Corporate emperor or maybe a high councilman.”
“My pater is the head of-”
“Dallas,” said Gareth. But the bell had obviously been rung; the captain smiled even wider, reminding Dallas of a friend’s cat who liked to stretch with satisfaction after killing a rodent.
“Well, so you are related to that Morgan, after all. Good to know. As I said, there’s a bounty on your head, Dallas. But, this is still a relatively free system, which means there’s no law says I have to turn you in. And I won’t. If you’ll just hand over the rest of the New Texas dollars you came on board with, I’ll be happy to drop you at this station with your mech intact, and head out into the wild black yonder with my suddenly very wealthy crew.”
“And if I don’t?” Dallas asked, trying to ignore Gareth’s rolling eyes.
“Then we march you back to your room, your sack of money gets, ah, lost somehow, and I call your daddy on subspace radio. I’m giving you a little choice here, kid; I’d rather you go back without anything broken- alive, undamaged, and all that. But I’m willing to have my crew work for their pay for a change, right boys?” he said, shouting over his shoulder.
Exactly two crew members gave half-hearted, sarcastic cheers without lifting their eyes from whatever spot of drying paint was occupying their attention at the time.
“What happens to Gareth?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“There’s no bounty on him. We let him decide- you wanna go back and face the music for helping junior here get offworld, or hit the station and see what’s there?”
“I’m staying with Dallas.”
“Fine by me. A few more meals for you and a bit of oxygen won’t hurt our bottom line so much at all, once we get our money for the kid and the mech. So, back to the room for both of yuh.”
The captain looked past Dallas and nodded. Two crew members reluctantly stood up from their stations to escort them back. As Dallas turned, something caught the captain’s eye and he held up his hand. “Wait,” he said. “Kid, what’s that you got magged to your belt?”
Dallas stopped, as did Gareth and his escorts. “That’s- it’s a sword hilt.”
“From a laser sword? People still use those?”
“Some,” Dallas said. He was about to say more when Gareth interrupted him.
“It’s a piece of junk his grandpa put together years ago. Only sentimental value.”
“Really?” said the captain as he stood up, walking with his ponderous belly towards Dallas with his eyes on the shiny silver hilt.
“It’s mine,” Dallas said. He’d had very little experience with bullies in his life, but the look on the captain’s face made him more worried than the talk of holding them for ransom.
“Oh, really, rich boy?” the captain said, “we’ll see who owns what when you’re on my ship! See these men? Know why they do what I tell them? Each one of them’s in debt to me! And the way the law works this part of space? If I die, debts to me get transferred to my creditors. And you don’t want that happening- the people I’m paying money to each month are not nice and they don’t take IOUs. So, kid, when you are on my ship, what’s mine is whatever I say it is, understand? And right now, I want that hilt.”
Dallas planted his feet and stuck out his chin, his right hand hovering over the hilt at his belt. He took only the slightest split-second to look over at Gareth before he spoke an ancestral quote he’d heard again and again from his history tutor growing up.
“Come and take it,” he whispered.
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TO BE CONTINUED...