Chapter 117: Chapter 29: A Proposal

Milia shouldered between the parting lift doors onto a dimly lit deck B—the lighting adjusted for the local nighttime—and made for the galley.

Her muscles held a coiled tension like the ship’s landing struts. How could Dash have screwed up so bad their contract was revoked? She squeezed her fists as if they were pressure release valves that could sooth her rage. It helped her resist the urge to grab something delicate and smash it. Thankfully, there was nothing in the passageway to tempt her. She briefly considered a trip to the cargo hold to search for a suitable outlet when she heard familiar angry voices ahead.

Her focus redirected to the noise like a ship’s sensors picking up an anomaly along its flight path. She froze, then hugged the bulkhead on the same side as the galley. She could have her tantrum later. After a few deep breaths, her anger lowered from a boil to a simmer.

Light spilled out the open galley hatch. Occasional shadows floated past as someone paced inside. Silent and out of sight, she crept closer.

The first voice she understood was Henrik. “He’s out of control!” the chief engineer said. “He attacked his own precious pilot, for crying out loud! What’s to stop him from going after one of us? Or some random person?”

“I dare him to try me. I’ll knock him out,” Brock said.

“Look, he was altered,” Rosalie said.

“Everyone has bad days,” Draug said.

“No more excuses. We have to do something,” Henrik said. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious this time.”

“We could just void our contracts,” Draug said.

“And what? Get dumped off at some station, hoping to be picked up by another ship? I’m not pinning my hopes on that while the galaxy collapses around us. They’re locking stations down with the increase in piracy. And you can forget about any help from the guilds,” Henrik said. “The flight crew is the problem here. Think of it this way. We’re doing the galaxy a favor. What if Dash’s actions lead to one of us getting hurt? Or innocent bystanders?”

“I never thought about it that way.”

“If you’re serious, then propose something serious,” Rosalie said.

“We need to get rid of him. That’s the only solution I see,” Henrik said.

Milia’s heart fluttered. They spoke of mutiny. Intoxicated or not, it was serious.

“Is that really fair though? It’s his ship,” Draug said.

“It’s just as much ours as it is his. We’ve put sweat and blood and tears into it to keep it running.” Henrik’s next words came out in rapid succession, as if he couldn’t stand saying them. “We should bring Milia in on it.”

Very serious, Milia knew, if they brought her in on the plot so soon.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re the one who didn’t want her aboard!” Rosalie said.

“With her aboard, we can get these cushy CSL contracts. And she’s upset about what happened tonight. We can leverage that.”

“She could probably take Dash in a fight too,” Brock said in a mocking tone.

“Shut up. She never had me,” Henrik said.

The voices faded as Milia’s mind raced into a black hole of dangerous thoughts. Her hand went to the snub pistol in her pocket. She’d discretely retrieved it from the backpack in the cart before Dash had made it to the ship. It might be enough, but better to have more. She pictured the case in her locker, the promise she’d made herself: to get her revenge. Could it have presented itself so soon? She’d thought it would take time, that she’d feel a need to analyze all the angles before righting her failure. But her instincts burned hot, and she knew with crystal clarity what she needed to do.

She stepped away from the bulkhead and scuffed her foot on the deck. The voices hushed. She walked down the passageway and entered the galley. The ops crew swiveled their heads to her, doing their best to look like they hadn’t been caught sneaking an alterant on duty.

Milia paused, surveying the group. She let the silence grow uncomfortable, then said in a neutral voice, “Am I interrupting something?”

The others threw nervous glances at each other. Rosalie said, “Just blowing off some steam.”

“There’s plenty to blow off,” Milia said invitingly.

“You should be more upset than any of us, given how your face looks,” Henrik said.

The ops crew looked at him in shock. Milia saw sincerity behind his eyes, despite his crude words. She strolled through the group to the service station. On the counter was a jug of a pinkish liquid.

“My homemade recovery. Please help yourself,” Draug said.

Milia poured herself a cup. She leaned against the counter and sipped it. “That’s better than the stuff you buy at a clinic.” She waved at hand at them. “Continue with your conversation. Don’t stop on the account of me.”

Draug said, “I don’t know if we should—”

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Henrik cut in. “Dash is a problem and we need to—”

Rosalie squeezed his arm to silence him. She said, “We were discussing how disturbing Dash’s behavior is.”

They looked to Milia like they were children gauging the response of a parent. She crossed her arms and gave a slight disapproving shake of her head. “I will admit, what happened wasn’t a good thing,” she said, eyeing each of them. She pressed her lips together as if struggling to keep something in. “It’s more complicated, but I shouldn’t say anything else.”

“No. We want to hear it,” Henrik said.

“What was the scheme this time?” Rosalie said.

“This time?” Milia asked. “I take it things like this have happened before?”

“Honey, how much time do you have?” Rosalie said.

Milia sighed heavily. “Okay, I’ll tell you, only because I think you deserve to know.” She filled them in. She knew Dash had called in a favor from this Fletcher character. Then there was the late-night meet at the warehouse. SecForce and the Nova-Reds. The package. Milia’s funding of Gaius’s event. All of it.

No one spoke as they digested the reality of what happened.

“There were people trying to kill us?” Draug said. Its knobby hands pressed against its cheeks.

“It’s one thing to have mercenaries after you, but SecForce and these Nova-Red cultists?” Rosalie said.

“I’m impressed that you made it out of that warehouse alive,” Brock said to Milia.

“We wouldn’t have if not for me,” Milia said. “Dash and Wesley would’ve been dead had I not shot a Nova-Red in the face.”

The ops crew quieted, observing her with a wary edge. Draug broke the silence. “Do you think Dash was going to tell us the truth about what happened?”

“No,” she lied. It was a calculated risk. But her gut told her that even if she were proven wrong, the ops crew would attribute it to an unpredictable move by the captain.

They shook their heads. Brock stepped forward and put a hand on Milia’s shoulder. “You put your neck and cred on the line to save us. We’ll make sure you get paid back.”

“We only got this sweet gig to Praxa Prime because of you,” Henrik said. “Now, we’ve lost it because of Dash. We’d probably be dead without your help.”

Milia shrugged. “I did what needed to be done.”

“If you think about it, if we make Milia captain, we don’t need Dash anymore,” Draug said with an amused smirk. Every other head in the galley swiveled to the Ghupto. “Er, did I say something bad?”

“No, you didn’t. What you said is the truth,” Rosalie said.

An unspoken tension settled upon the galley like a morning fog. Milia surveyed each of the ops crew. Their faces couldn’t hide the roiling emotions beneath. They’d been given a solution, but one that crossed a dangerous line. They stared back at Milia, their expressions coated with leery anticipation.

“I had a bad captain before,” Milia said. She leaned against the service counter. “I remember where I was when I reached my breaking point. It wasn’t during a docking operation or while loading. It didn’t happen in the galley. And, if you can believe this, it wasn’t in a pub. We got into it at a bakery. Specifically, over the cost of a pastry. The drunk picked a fight with the owner, and I had to step in. The captain stayed, and I left. I understand your frustrations, because I’ve been there before. And now your frustrations are mine, too.” It was all true, technically.

Milia bit on her tongue to keep herself from smiling, and let the ensuing silence speak for itself. Time stretched past the point where a loyal first mate should’ve squashed any slippage toward mutiny.

Still, she said nothing.

She let them squirm a little longer, to the point where Henrik’s mouth twitched to speak. Then she said, “This is a very sensitive subject that we should continue in private.” They watched, hanging onto her every word. She let them hang another few breaths, then said, “I’m going to my quarters for a few minutes. If you want to participate in the next part of this discussion, meet me in Engineering.”

She downed her recovery as they stewed on her words. With a knowing nod, she left the galley and made for her quarters.

A sense of disbelief clouded her mind as she walked the Stardancer’s central passageway. The gravity of reality yanked her back to the opportunity she’d been given. Her stomach somersaulted, her body swelling with an unexpected rush. Excitement, anger, and fear, all swirling together like Draug’s recovery concoction.

She unlocked her quarters and slipped inside. The lights were dim to match the nighttime ambience of the passageways. This ominous mood lighting complemented the discussion about to take place.

Her mind settled into a zone of detached focus as she removed the case from her locker and set it on the bunk. She looked over the small compartment. Her plan would either succeed or fail, but she wouldn’t sleep there again. That was fine with her.

She left her quarters, case in hand, and rode the lift down to deck C.

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