Skeleton Crew

"Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Care to test it?" Inigoria said. She held a wicked-looking Planarian dagger to the dock master's throat.

Cathibra couldn't help but smile. Tall and muscular with dark blue skin, face and arms covered in tattoos, Inigoria can be very intimidating when she wants to be. Which made for the best distractions. With just a flick of the wrist, Cathibra stole the dock master's personal data pad, along with his v-pipe, his wristwatch, and his chewing gum.

"Inigoria, let's leave the poor man alone," Cathibra said. "After all, he's just doing his job."

Inigoria tightened her grip on the bumbling human. "This cock master has offended me. I require satisfaction."

"It's pronounced 'dock master,' dearest," Cathibra said, patting Inigoria's muscular shoulder. "How about a compromise? The dock master here leaves our names out of the transport's manifest, and, in exchange, you don't throw him out the airlock. What do you say?"

The human's bulging eyes flicked from Cathibra to Inigoria.

Inigoria feigned disappointment and nodded.

"How about you, sir? How does that sound?"

He nodded enthusiastically, double chin quivering. When Inigoria let the dock master go, he breathed heavily, clutching his throat.

"So?" Cathibra said, straightening the dock master's coat and flashing her long eyelashes at him. "When the federation looks over the manifest on this fine transport, what will it read?"

"Two empty seats, miss," said the dock master.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

As the pair of them walked away, Inigoria bared her teeth and grunted at the man. He let out a small yelp. Once they were out of sight, Cathibra quickly hacked into the stolen data pad, transferred a hoard of his credits to a third-party to divvy up later, then ditched the data pad in a trash bin.

"Gum?" Cathibra offered.

"Thanks, Captain," Inigoria said.

"All in a day's work."

Cathibra struck a pensive pose with her brand new v-pipe in one hand. "The way you pushed that man up against the wall... Will you do that to me sometime?"

Cathibra and Inigoria smiled at each other.

The rest of their trip to the outer colony of Banc'sura went smoothly. Their destination, a chop shop for spaceships and hovercraft was a big, dirty, donut-shaped building in the middle of a desert. The sun beamed off of the building's chrome surfaces and large scavenging birds nested in the crooks and crevices of its roof beneath antennae and transmission dishes.

"This place stinks," Inigoria said.

"It's perfect," Cathibra said. "Trust me. The next piece of the puzzle is about to fall into place."

Cathibra pressed a button on a panel to the left of a set of blast doors. After a brief moment a crackling voice spilled out of the intercom.

"Who is it? Put your face in front of the camera!"

Cathibra moved so she could see her reflection in the black surface of the security camera. She tucked a lock of her black hair behind one ear. "Hello, Chomp. Did you miss me?"

"Cathibra? I don't believe it! Get in here, girl!"

The blast doors of the garage opened with a gust of dry air and a stout man with a face full of grey stubble limped toward them, leaning on a cane for support. Cathibra's face beamed with a smile at seeing Chomp.

"Well cover me in batter, dip me in gerthor oil, and call me a fried chingbuu. It really is you!" Chomp said, pulling Cathibra down into a rough embrace. "I ain't seen you in at least ten cycles. Where have you been?"

"No place good, I can assure you."

Chomp laughed. "That's my girl. And who is this?"

"This is Inigoria. She's my closest friend."

Chomp shook Inigoria's hand. "Any friend of Cathibra is a friend of ours here!"

Cathibra placed a hand on Chomp's shoulder. "Chomp, we have some important business to discuss."

"'Course you do! Enough standing around, flappin' our gums out here. Step into my office."

Before long, the three of them sat around Chomp's desk in his office drinking a dark amber liquor he pulled from a drawer.

"I'm putting together a crew," Cathibra said. "I've got the details on a big score, and I need a pilot."

"If it's pilots you're lookin' for, I know a few good ones," Chomp said.

"We need more than just a good pilot," Cathibra said. "What I have in mind, we need a real ace. The best pilot you know."

"Well that narrows it down." He scratched the greying stubble on his cheeks. "Alright, there are two pilots I can think of that are in a league of their own. You've got Batiin and you've Rhys. Batiin is sharp, flawless in everything. Watching him fly is like watching arithmetic come to life. He's perfect. Rhys, on the other hand is... well, he's a bit of a mess. He's just a kid—barely drinking age—not that that ever stopped him. But Rhys has more raw talent than anyone I've ever seen. And you know me, Cath, I do not say that lightly. He comes from a long line of smugglers. Flyin' is in his blood. I once saw him fly through the Nimbus minefield on the outskirts of our system on a dare just to prove he could, and he flew the entire way in reverse just to rub it in everyone's faces."

Cathibra raised her eyebrows at that. "Sounds like risky behavior."

Chomp held in a burp. "That's putting it lightly. Anyway, those are you're options of the best pilots left out here after the last draft took a lot of them away."

"I'll want to meet them both, get a feel for them."

"Yes ma'am." Chomp's face screwed up and he tapped his fingers on his knee.

"Spit it out, Chomp."

"If I could just add one more thing..."

Cathibra folded her arms and waited.

"Rhys is somethin' of a prodigy, that much is true, but you should know that I'm a bit biased. You see, his parents are dead. Killed by the Fed. His last living kin is his uncle who is a good friend of mine. But after a run-in with the local authorities, this uncle of his got arrested for smuggling and now Rhys is alone. I've been tryin' to look after him and keep him out of trouble. And when he ain't flyin'? That's when he gets into trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Inigoria asked.

"Partyin', gamblin', drugs, booze, strippers. You name it. Just bailed him out last week for defacing municipal property. He spray-painted genitalia on a statue of the governor."

Cathibra stifled a laugh.

"Honestly, I think the kid is hurtin' real bad—and understandably so. The only time I see that kid truly happy is when he's behind the dash of a ship. So, I try to keep him busy with as many piloting jobs I can find. I honestly don't know how else to help him. So, I hope you choose him. I ain't exaggerating when I say that a steady job might save his life. Workin' with some real professionals like yourselves instead of hangin' out with lowlifes all night and day? Might be exactly what he needs. But I also realize you ain't runnin' no charity. So, if you decide to hire Batiin instead, I'd understand."

Inigoria leaned forward in her seat and looked Cathibra in the eye. "Captain?"

Cathibra sat up straight and crossed her legs. She took a sip of her drink. "How about a race?"

"'Scuse me?" Chomp said.

"Let's pit them against each other. See who wins. Then I'll decide. What do you say, Chomp? Shall we revive the old Rune Base Run?"

Chomp coughed. "What?!"

"What is this?" Inigoria asked.

Cathibra took another sip of her drink. "Rune Base Run is a hovercraft race the locals used to put on every now and then."

"It was the most dangerous race in the system!" Chomp interjected. "You can't be serious, Cath."

"If your pilots are as good as you say, they'll be fine, I'm sure. We'll have a cash buy-in for any pilots who wish to participate. I'll personally donate 10,000 credits to the pot just to make it a bit more interesting."

Chomp's jaw hung open. "Can you believe this?" He said, looking at Inigoria.

"Yes I can," Inigoria said, looking Cathibra over with a twinkle in her eye.

"You should know this about me by now, Chomp. I like to make a big entrance."

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