Moreded raised his pistol as the door blew open, and fired.

#

Dallas opened the door to his room, walked in, waited for the door to slide closed and flopped down on his bunk.

What was supposed to be an easy-squeezy job had become a fight for their lives, then for the lives of the salvage ship. It’d been rough, very rough, but an incredible payday. The compressed chassis alone of that hundred-ton monstrosity they’d knocked down was going to pay off nearly half the debts they had on this boat, and the amazing weapons they’d grabbed just might push that to three-quarters paid off, unless he decided to have them attached to their own war-mechs. The Ultra-class laser cannon alone could pay off nearly a dozen of the loans they had to deal with on the Palefroi, and the two-dozen missiles from the racks could mean the equivalent of hundred-thou T-dollars each, with the rack going for…

Too much, he thought, His brain felt full, tired, and at the same time buzzing like a beehive. He needed rest.

“Hells of a first day,” he mumbled, wishing he knew where Gareth stashed his booze. A drink of alcohol sounded very, very good right now, and…

“Cap’n?” said the voice over the comm, startling him awake.

“Whut?” he mumbled with a mouth that felt like it was full of cobwebs. He looked over at his clock- cripes, he’d slipped off to sleep without even trying, and been out for over an hour!

“Cap’n, this iz da bridge. Yah gonna wanna come up here an’ see dis, sah.”

Dallas swallowed. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to get dressed! “On my way,” he mumbled. As he heard the comm click off, he sighed, counted to ten, and say up.

Everything hurt.

He stood, and winced as more things hurt.

They never mentioned this in the vids or the books, he thought as he raked his hand through his hair and stepped back to the door. When the starship captain finished the adventure, they never talked about how soon he had to go back to work.

No matter, he thought. That was just what his dad called ‘tumbleweed trouble;’ the kind that blew in and out almost as quickly. With Gareth on the injured list, he was going to have to assign a new chain of command fairly quickly, though, so he could get right hours of sleep after this latest thing.

He grumbled a little to himself as he strode down the hallway, remembering how Gareth had told him not to let the men see him cry; he assumed it also counted when he was in pain from the stress and upset from the last job. And, to be fair, he didn’t have it as bad as some. Anja and Gareth would be at least a week in recovery from their injuries, maybe more. Joker wouldn’t be talking or laughing as much with the stitchburns in his tongue- how did he manage not to have anything sound like-

The door to the bridge opened as he approached.

The general hum of men on the bridge stopped as he entered.

Dallas looked around, wondering what had stopped them from talking. Then, he realized it.

Dallas was the reason.

He was in charge, now. For real.

Oh, man.

Keep cool, stay alert. Gareth wasn’t here right now to make sure you did the smart thing, or the right thing.

Remember the rules he told you: Everyone’s as dishonest as you could be; nothing is simple, there are always other options, and most important: cry on your own.

Dallas breathed in, held it, and let it out. He assumed that went for all other emotions, too. Right now, he had a vague sense of discomfort at the thought of leading men twice his age, whatever successes he’d had so far.

“Alright,” he asked in a voice that still felt like he had gum on the roof of his mouth, “what is it that was so important you hadda wake me up from my beauty sleep?”

The crewman [Dallas made a note to start memorizing names] with the fingerless gloves pointed at the viewer. “Onscreen, Cap’n, in three, two…”

The main viewer screen blinked.

Dallas’ head filled the screen.

More accurately, a statue of Dallas’ head had filled the screen.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Dallas’ real face had never looked so confused. “What in the nine hells is this?” he said, his voice rising.

“Sir,” the crewman said, “you couldn’t be raised on comms, but for some reason we could hear and see you, everything you said and the whole fight you had with the hunnet-ton down there, it all got broadcast out to the infranet. You’re- you’re famous, sir! And the folks who’d worshiped those two you beat? They’ve switched to you!”

“What?!?”

“Yah, cap,” said Dagonet, the financial officer. “They ‘tink you dah incarnation of Apollo, or some’tin. You killed da god, dat means you da god! Nice deal, hey?”

“Oh, no…no!” said Dallas. “I- I gotta…”

A whistle sounded on the bridge. Everyone fell silent.

The figures milling around the enormous sculpture of Dallas’ head had fallen silent, too, seeming to look out at him through the screen.

“What’s that?” Dallas asked.

“Subspace radio call, Cap’n,” the Comms officer said. “You’ve got a call coming in from your new-ah- followers? Fans?”

“Can I talk to them?”

“Yes. The signal’s strong enough you can have only a…zero-point-two-one second delay, cap’n”

“Good to know. Patch me through.”

“Visual too, sir?”

Dallas thought- “Yes. THey need to know this is really me speaking. Onscreen.”

The main viewscreen flickered, and the hundred or so people milling about Dallas’ sculpted head in makeshift togas all began pointing at the screen and screaming. Some fell on their knees, a couple fell flat on their faces and presumably began begging for mercy of some kind.

“People,” said Dallas, “Are- are you listening?”

They all fell silent.

Dallas looked at the crew on the bridge for a second, then back at the screen. “You all know what I did today. I defeated the people who called themselves Zeus and Artemis.”

There was still silence. Dallas wondered just how their late ‘gods’ had trained them to be so obedient. Perhaps, thought a part of Dallas in the back of his conscience, perhaps it’d be wrong to take their belief from them. Let them worship you, Dallas. You’d only need to talk to them once a week or so, and visit their world once a year. Maybe you could ease them into worshiping the real God, turning them to your own faith. Or, if they wouldn’t do that, if they had resources, or… his eyes rested on a woman who looked about his own age, with long blond hair and a fearful expression on her face. She was pretty….

No, thought Dallas, no, no, NO! That’s how it started with the Roman Emperors! Caligula stabbed the moon’s reflection in his pool, and when Diana the moon goddess didn’t kill him, he thought he was god and went totally crazy in a year…

Yeah, no. No god gambit here today.

“I killed them but only because I had to. I am not a god, not of any kind. I’m a man, just like you. I’m twenty years old, and I’m captain of this ship, the Palefroi, by accident.

“You, all of you…you’ve been deceived, people. Those people I had to kill today? They bled, they died, they cussed me out as they passed. They lied to you. I won’t do that. I’m not a god, and I can’t do anything for you.

“I could tell you about my faith, but- well, I’d likely mess that up. Whatever you do end up doing, never again worship a man who says or thinks he’s a god. Caligula, Hilter, Danama-Soog, these men all did that, and they caused suffering to millions. Make your statues, sing your songs, but do it for the truly Divine, not the truly human, like me.”

The people had stopped speaking, Some on the screen were crying.

“Okay,” Dallas said, “turn it off.”

“Good job, sah,” said Dagonet as the screen flickered and turned black. “You sure you don’ wanna play god, just a little while?”

“Very sure, Mr. Dagonet. What’s next?”

“Sir,” Comms officer again, “Do you want the latest from the newsfeed?”

“Why?”

“You’re from New Avalon, sir, correct? In the time we’ve been traveling, there’ve been some interesting developments there.”

Dallas paused. Did he really want ot hear about how Pater had mobilized the gendarmes and was scouring the galaxy, looking to get great-grandfather’s sword and mech back?

He sighed. Might as well. “Define interesting, comms.”

“A coup, a counter coup, the former leaders are on Golgotha, and-”

Dallas had already leaped from his captains chair and launched himself at the screen. Swiveling it around to face him and shoving the comms officer aside, his eyes tracked the text as it flowed across the screen.

“What-what are those discolorations, on either side of the planet?”

“Sir,” said the comms officer in a voice that was suddenly very, very young, “I haven’t been at this as long as some. But the last time I saw something like that, they were fleets.”

Dallas looked and thought again. “Starships?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dallas closed his eyes and nodded. His mouth formed a slight frown as he nodded his head a second time. “Alright, then. Helms?”

“Sir!”

“Set a course for the nearest place where we can sell of this salvage and refuel. After that, set one for New Avalon.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hold on, Pater. Hold on, Mater, Dallas said to himself, I’m coming! I’m coming home!