The Ramblers Collection

By Karl Thorn

The Ramblers Collection is the assembly of the adventures of Patric and Quinton. They live in the shadows of a post Czarian Empire.

It contains ‘Bond Beyond Measure’, ‘One Star Away’ and the authors best seller ‘Freighter’s Prize’.

Bond Beyond Measure:As a small child, Patric meets Quinton in the most tramatic event of his life.

One Star Away:Patric is a teenager living in an orphanage. He and his alien friend, Quinton, set out on a journey to find his father. All they find is trouble.

Freighter's Prize: Disguised as a tramp freighter captain, he recues Dayna Quinn from a failed diplomatic mission. They flee from the ambush with Dayna aboard and must find out who attacked them and why.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karl Thorn
• Release date: Mar 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311388629

Karl Thorn

Technical Support Engineer Two degrees in electronics

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Maybe the next one, Patric whispered to Quinton in the middle of the night. He ducked his head back behind the lush purple bush that grew along the paved taxiway. Like most plants on Cimeron, the bush used retinal instead of chlorophyll to process the sun’s energy. It was within two feet of the road and provided more cover than anywhere else along the route of the automated cargo carrier. Shouldn’t be long now.

They had a good vantage point for the entire spaceport complex. To the left, Patric could see the warehouse, hanger and small control tower across the purple meadow. He expected the next cargo transport to exit the warehouse.

Looking to the right, Patric could see the six landing pads and the single runway that ran between the pads. Currently an old beat up freighter sat on one of the pads on the east side of the runway while the planet’s transport shuttle occupied a second pad on the west side. Patric knew the shuttle was currently ferrying passengers and cargo to a luxury liner that was in orbit.

The passenger liner was Patric’s target.

He had been watching the spaceport for weeks now; through sun shine, rain and starlight, learning the routes and routines of the facility’s traffic. The vegetation was still moist from the daily rain. Fortunately, today, it had cleared up by evening.

Tonight was the final night that cargo would be lifted to the passenger liner. It was going to Yeltson. It would be several months before another ship would be heading that way. Patric didn’t want to wait any longer. He was just one star away from finding his father. He wasn’t going to miss this chance.

Patric peered around the purple bush again. The robot cargo carrier had left the building and turned toward them. The canister it carried was marked with the symbol that Patric was looking for. It indicated the container would be placed in a pressurized cargo hold. Whatever was in it, was sensitive to vacuum. This crate would remain pressurized the whole trip into space. It would be safe for a couple of stowaways.

Here it comes. Patric whispered. Get ready.

The pink five legged quintapod crawled up Patric's tall slender body and onto his shoulder. Quinton wrapped one octopus leg under Patric's long black hair and around his neck. He hooked another leg under Patric's arm pit while the other three clamped onto Patric's shoulder and backpack that he carried. He gave Patric a soft whistle, stating he was ready for the leap. Quinton’s smooth, bulbous body was about the same size as the backpack and weighed as much. He had a faint purple diamond pattern to his pink skin. When he stood on all five he was about three and a half feet tall.

Quinton clung to Patric’s shoulder while he waited behind the bush. The automated hauler, carrying the canister, passed their location. Patric ran at full speed and leaped for the container. He tried to meet the cargo canister at optimum height, but with the weight of Quinton and the backpack, his jump fell short. He stretched with both arms and managed to clutch onto a locking pin with one hand. He hung precariously over the side while the robot moved quickly toward its destination. His free hand swung wildly.

Quinton squealed in his ear, hanging on for dear life.

Patric grimaced and swung his loose arm at another locking pin. His fingers hit the pin, but slipped off. On his second try he stretched his arm a little further and managed to wrap his fingers around it. He hung there a moment taking a deep breath. His shoulders screamed with pain.

Quinton reached up with a tentacle, found a ledge and crevice to grab hold of. Using Patric’s head as a step, he pulled himself on top of the canister. He whistled and lowered an arm to Patric while planting his other four legs. He wrapped his tentacle around Patric’s wrist and helped him to the top of the cargo container. Quinton was deceptively stronger than his soft pliable body would suggest.

Both took a moment to rest on top of the canister in the dim lighting of the spaceport.

Cimeron was a poor remote planet that recently joined the Free Worlds Organization. The marooned crew and passengers of the doomed passenger liner were the first permanent human inhabitants. Years later, they were discovered by an FWO survey ship. Most of the people had decided to stay on the planet since they had established a pleasant way of life. The orphaned children were forced to stay as well.

Troubles with the Czarian pirates continued to plague the FWO. Cimeron didn't have the money nor the resources to build their own spaceport. The FWO had built this complex to be used by the military fleet as an emergency landing site. They did allow the Cimeron residents to use the port as long as they agreed to maintain it to military standards. They gladly accepted the offer. The facility provided the infrastructure for commercial and private commerce they badly needed. Business was growing at a much slower rate then they had hoped. If only the piracy issue could be resolved then business would pick up substantially.

The Czarian pirates were the only beings in the universe Patric truly hated. He and his mother could be on Yeltson now with his dad if they hadn’t attacked the ship. It grieved Patric every time he thought about it. They had changed his life and presumably killed his mother.

Patric thought, now that he was fifteen, he was able to search for his father. His mother had not been found as one of the survivors on the planet and listed as missing, presumed dead. The orphanage that he lived at was no help in finding his father either. He decided it was time to do it on his own. The last known location for his father had been Yeltson.

His feelings toward his father had fluctuated between grief, thinking his dad could be dead, or anger because he had never come looking for them. He realized the only way to deal with it was to put his feelings on hold until he could learn the truth. For the most part he had been successful.

The link with Quinton had helped in that regard. Patric could truly share his feelings with Quinton while touching each other. Quinton gave Patric the support, encouragement and understanding he needed.

Now they were going to learn the truth one way or the other.

Quinton chirped softly in Patric’s ear. The pink quintapod was the intelligent native to Cimeron. Only now were the local Humans beginning to recognize them to be more than just another inedible herd animal. Their tissue was too tough for human consumption, made mostly of cartilage, ligaments and organs with a thin layer of efficiently designed muscle, covered in a tough pliable skin. Patric knew from his first day on the planet that quintapods were sentient. Though quite intelligent they normally showed little interest in human activity and stayed away. Quinton was different. With his bond to Patric, he has grown quite curious of Human Beings.

I can do it. Patric answered Quinton’s whistle. He turned over and started to work on the cargo container’s top access hatch. I certainly can do it faster than you. He added while bypassing the locks on the canister's sealed hatch. This was one of the techniques he learned, knowing he would need it for this adventure.

The automated carrier never noticed the activity. It was happily doing its programmed task. The robot turned onto the main taxiway, heading for its assigned destination. They were now out in the open with no obstructions to block the view.

The hatch slid open with a whoosh. Patric's elation turned sour when he saw the canister was packed full. Only a few gaps existed between the items. He quickly tried to pull something out, but nothing would budge. Everything was securely fastened to the canister’s sides.

Quinton chirped something then slid down into a crevice.

I can't, I'm too big.

Patric looked up, realizing he was out in the open. The darkness helped to conceal him, but out here someone would soon notice. He frowned, took off the backpack and wedged it into a spot between the boxes at the top of the canister. He then slipped his legs into the same crack Quinton slid into. He began forcing his mid-section into the tight space. He made it all the way in, but only after exhaling all the air out of his lungs. He could only take shallow breaths. He moved his leg into a more comfortable position and accidentally kicked Quinton.

Quinton squealed.

Sorry. Patric barely whisper. He hated the confinement, recalling a ten year old memory of the cramped lifepod. He still had nightmares on how the restraining bar kept him in his seat and prevented him from making a big escape to find his mother. The emotions of that time returned with it. He willed himself to remain calm. Patric looked up and stared up at the stars through the open hatch. He had originally planned to close it, but now knew it would be impossible. He just hoped it wouldn't be noticed.

Patric desperately wanted to get aboard that ship and make it to Yeltson. Would his father still be there? And why had he not come looking for them? He refused to be angry with his dad until he knew the truth. He knew other orphans were bitter even if they knew their parents had died. Patric didn’t even have that knowledge for either of his parents though he now suspected his mom was dead. He had learned the passenger liner had rammed the pirate ship. That act had saved the lifepods from being captured, but it also told him that his mom was likely dead too.

The hauler slowed. Patric looked up in time to see the hull of a ship surround them. It was bigger than he would have expected for the shuttle. Patric heard mechanisms latch onto the locking pins. The hauler released the canister and backed out. The compartment became dark as the cargo bay’s hatch closed. Only a dim maintenance light lit the bay.

This was the last canister to be loaded? Patric puzzled. The closing of the hatch would suggest it. He thought there should have been several more.

Quinton chirped something.

I will as soon as we are aboard that ship. Patric answered. He wanted out of this spot too, but knew they had to stay here until the shuttle lifted and loaded them onto the passenger liner.

Quinton chirped again.

Only a few humans were trying to decipher the quintapod’s language. The bond with Quinton, had allowed Patric to pick up the language within the first few days and Quinton learned Standard just a quick. They could understand each other though neither had the ability to speak the other’s language.

No one believed Patric when he told them he already knew it. How could he know? They thought he was just pretending. However, they did allow Quinton to stay with him. If they hadn’t, he never would have agreed to go to the orphanage in the first place.

Patric did not know why Quinton befriended him that first day or why he chose to bond with him. Quintapods rarely bonded with each other and fewer still with other quintapods outside their herd. Patric was the first person outside the species to be bonded. Since then, he and Quinton had survived in the wilderness until the FWO found him with the pack of quintapods. He was placed in an orphanage like all the children they found running wild. Quinton willingly went with him.

Patric would admit that things had improved since the FWO arrived on Cimeron, but Patric still didn't trust them. They had promised many things, but delivered on very few. They always bragged to him about great opportunities that existed on the founding worlds of the FWO. They promised that someday things would improve here. To Patric, he felt it was just talk. He knew they hadn’t looked too hard to find his mom or his dad.

Now, if this plan worked, he will soon be heading to the planet Yeltson. There he could learn what happened to his dad and hopefully start a new life with him.

* * *

The first officer of Prospector’s Dream rested her chin in the palm of her hand with her elbow on the table as she watched the cargo being loaded on screens from her bridge console. She sighed, another typical day. The captain had returned drunk from another of his ‘meetings’ and was currently resting. Kae was nowhere in sight to verify that the cargo loaded was correct.

She wasn’t going to make an issue of it after the last incident. Perhaps Kae was just outside of the camera’s view. She didn’t want to find out. She turned off the screens leaned back in the chair. She would wait for Kae’s signal. He was supposed to check the cargo and insure that everything was secured in the hold. She decided she would lift the ship on his word.

The slightly overweight woman was in her late forties. She had salt and pepper hair that she died charcoal. She was tired of trying to protect the crew. They obviously didn’t appreciate it. After the last incident that caused the loss of a crewman, she knew it without a doubt. She would give no more warnings to any of them and let the chips fall where they may.

Kae here. Malory heard over the comm, The last crate is loaded and secure. Ready for lift off.

Fine. She replied. She doubted he was even in the hold, though from now on she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Malory started up the engines and lifted the ship immediately per the captain’s orders.

* * *

After just a short wait, Patric heard the craft's field effect engines start to hum. They sounded a lot larger and heavier than he expected for a shuttle. They changed pitch as the craft lifted off the ground. The artificial gravity prevented them from feeling any external forces.

Quinton crawled up by Patric's head. His five octopus like legs easily found holds that allowed him to make the climb effortlessly up the narrow space. He rested on Patric's shoulder and chirped.

Ya, I'm all right, Patric managed to say. I just hate being in this position.

Quinton trilled a lower pitch.

Shouldn't be long now. Patric hoped.

They waited and waited. The pitch and sounds changed in the engines, but the exchange of cargo never happened. Patric realized they must not have been loading into the shuttle, but rather the small freighter that had been sitting on one of the other pads.

They had to get out of the crate. He grabbed the top edge of the two boxes he had squeezed between and tried pulling himself up. He couldn't, he tried again. His shallow breaths speeded up. He tried pushing with his legs as well. He couldn't move.

Quinton chirped.

I can't!

Quinton squeaked, climbed on Patric's head then out of the crack. Quinton slid two tentacles under Patric's arms and began pulling.

Quit!

Quinton stopped and whistled sharply in return.

Patric relaxed. Quinton was right. He had to stop and think. He forced the panic away and realized what he was doing wrong. He exhaled all the air out of his lungs, then pushed himself up. He moved. He repeated the process. He moved again. He continued this until he was high enough to pull himself out in one stroke. He rested on his back for a few minutes. The ceiling of cargo bay was just a few feet above him.

Patric reached into the opening, grabbed the backpack then pressed the button that closed the lid. He crawled to the edge of the crate and jumped off into the narrow isle. He slipped the backpack over his shoulders. Hop on and let's get out of here. He said looking up at Quinton.

Quinton dropped off the side and scurried up Patric's body and perched himself on Patric's shoulder.

Though it was fairly dark in the cargo bay, monitors would easily pick up his movements. He hoped there were none. He wondered if this ship carried passengers too. If so, maybe he could hide among them, otherwise, he would have to find a way to remain hidden.

Patric studied his surroundings. This cargo hold would definitely stay pressurized otherwise they would be dead by now. Maybe they could hide out here and only leave the area long enough to get food. He knew the food bars that he carried in his backpack wouldn’t last long.

A hatch opposite of the large external hatch opened. Patric managed to duck between two crates before the main lights turned on. Quinton slid to the floor and stayed undercover as well.

Through the space between the crates, Patric watched a middle aged man with a large pot belly enter the bay. He had thin arms and legs with a receding hairline. He wore clean but badly stained cloths. He began inspecting the canisters. He checked to see that each crate was securely locked into place. Patric wondered why he hadn’t done that before lifting off. Even he knew he would have if he were the ship’s captain. He watched the potbellied man checked the bill of materials on each crate and verified that the contents matched those listed on the roster he carried. Patric easily avoided him. As the man left the cargo bay, he turned out the bright lights leaving only the dim maintenance lights.

Patric waited hours in his hiding place between two strangely shaped boxes. He and Quinton talked very little during this time. Only through the mental link that touching provided did they say anything. If there were sound monitors here, Patric didn't want to trigger them.

Finally, Patric decided that he needed to move out into the ship. His bladder told him it was necessary. He was surprised Quinton hadn’t complained. He hoped, by now, they were far from Cimeron.

Time to move, he told Quinton as he pushed through the gaps and into the narrow isle that separated the rows of boxes. He left the backpack at their hiding place.

Quinton followed him. Patric waited for the five legged creature to crawl up his body and on to his shoulder. Quinton leaned in front of Patric's face and looked him in the eye. He spoke quietly in a soft trilling noise.

With the soft red lighting, Patric could barely make out Quinton's eyes protruding from the top of his body like short round antenna. Quintapods had no real head to speak of. The only extremities they had were the five tentacle like legs, two black eyes and two bulbous antenna that really were ears, designed to hear the range of sounds in the quintapods’ native language. The ear antennas were behind the bulbous eyes and raised slightly higher.

I'm thirsty too. Patric went to the hatch and began to work on the electronic lock. This one proved a little more complex then the ones he was use to, but he thought he could figure it out.

* * *

Haus, Malory said to the captain, who had just stepped on the bridge. We have a tamper alarm on the cargo hold hatch. Malory was the First Officer on the freighter. She was the slightly overweight woman that was in her late forties. She was about to get off duty when the tamper went off.

The bridge of the freighter was small by comparison to the larger freighters, but it had certain advantages. Landing on planets was one of them, being faster was another. The captain of this ship took full advantage of both.

Captain Haus Chevoff frowned with a nicotine stick protruding from his lips. Go check it out. He said without removing the nicotine stick. That idiot, Kae, must have not sealed it properly again.

Malory left the bridge with a frustrated nod. What a waste of her free time!

Freighter Captain Haus Chevoff was an ex-Czarian cargo ship captain. He resented the FWO because they took away his huge cargo ship and forced him to make a living with this small old freighter. He had a sloppy appearance with a week’s growth of beard. The old gray uniform he wore still bore the Czarian Captain’s emblem.

Chevoff ran his fingers through his peppered colored hair as he watched the tamper change to a full ingress. Someone was messing with the lock. They must know what they were doing to open it so quickly. He flipped on the intercom. Mal, the status has just changed to code green. This told his first office to be careful, a possible intruder alert.

* * *

Patric found a restroom easy enough. It was the next door down the narrow corridor and no one had entered while they walked the short distance. He regained some hope they could remain hidden for a while. He decided they would try to live off the snacks in his backpack for long as they could. He couldn’t ask for a better set up.

After finishing his business in the stall, he combed his long black hair and tidied up his cloths on the event there were passengers. Maybe he could pass for one, if he were spotted by the crew. He had picked these cloths thinking they looked the part of a traveler.

His stomach growled. Let's go back to the cargo hold and eat something.

Patric heard a heavy accented voice come over the speaker. Mal, the status has just changed to code green. He shrugged it off. It sounded routine enough.

Quinton left the stall and jumped onto the counter. He turned on the water faucet with one leg and chirped at Patric. He slid into the sink and extended his legs out of the bowl. The faucet was just high enough for him to get his bulbous body under the water flow.

Okay, get your drink, Patric rolled his eyes and started tapping his foot when Quinton began to wash. We can’t stay in here forever! He warned

Quinton turned off the flow and climbed out of the sink and on to the small counter. Patric threw the hand towel on him, rubbed him dry and lower him to the floor. Just a drink?

Quinton squeaked a happy return.

Just then the door swung open toward Quinton. He quickly scurried behind it and flattened his body against the wall. Patric started to move toward the stall, but decided against it. The gun he saw in the hand of a slightly overweight woman stopped him. And who do we have here? She growled. Without taking her eye off of Patric, she hit the intercom with her free hand. Captain, I’ve found our rat. Caught him in the stern head.

CHAPTER TWO

So this is our little rat. Captain Haus Chevoff grumbled with a heavy accent, scanning up and down Patric’s skinny form. He wasn’t much a threat. He doubted the kid was anything more than he appeared to be, a stowaway. Haus figured even the FWO wouldn’t recruit someone as young as him. How old are you boy? The accent made the words sound harsh. He chewed on a nicotine stick.

Fifteen sir. Patric answered, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. The captain’s grubby appearance and rough beard scared him even more.

Patric’s fear couldn’t stop him from wandering about Quinton. The backpack was still in the cargo hold. If Quinton was able to sneak back, he would at least have something to eat for a while.

Why are you on my ship?

It was by accident …

Accident! Haus roared. You don’t happen onto a ship by accident! His cheeks reddened as his face came within inches of Patric’s. The nicotine stick smelled horrible and gave him even worse breath.

Sir, I was trying get aboard the passenger liner. Patric quickly answered. I must have made a mistake and hid in the wrong crate.

I’ll say you have. He looked Patric up and down again. He glanced over to Malory, his first officer. Mal, did he have anything with him?

Not on him, but I’ll have the head and cargo bay searched for any foreign items. The slightly overweight woman seemed relaxed as if she always found stowaways on their ship. He couldn’t have gone anywhere else.

Patric swallowed. He hoped Quinton could stay hidden.

Captain Chevoff gave Patric a hard look. Boy, you made your last mistake. He turned to Mal. Push’im out the airlock. The corner of his mouth turned up.

Patric felt his body shake and a rock formed in his throat.

Haus, that’s a bit harsh. Don’t you think? The woman spoke up quickly. She did not seem to fear the captain.

Captain Chevoff’s face reddened again. He’s illegally on my ship. He’s obviously a runaway. No one will miss him.

Since when are you concerned with legalities? She rebuked the captain.

He only grunted, chewing on his nicotine stick. He already knew what he was going to do to the boy. He wasn’t going to tell his exec until she needed to know. He loved keeping his crew off balance.

Don’t you want to know why he stowed away?

Chevoff sat back in the captain’s seat and pivoted it to face Malory. He looked to her and waved his hand toward Patric then folded his arms, still chewing on the stick.

Malory nodded her thanks and stepped around Patric so she could see his face. She still held the gun in her hand and kept a few paces away from Patric. Kid, where were you trying to go and why? She paused for a moment. Don’t lie, the captain here isn’t to kind to liars either.

Patric tried to swallow the lump in his throat. I was trying to go to Yeltson to find my father.

Your father? Does he know you’re coming?

No. I haven’t seen him since I was five.

Malory thought about his statements, the planet he was from and his age. Her eyes lit up as the pieces fell into place. You are one of the orphaned kids that were marooned on Cimeron? She had heard about the large amount of children that were orphaned from that event. She wondered how she would feel in his place.

Yes, Patric blinked his eyes several times to hold back any tears. The pirates killed my mom back then and my dad never came looking for me.

And you now think you are old enough to find him.

He’s old enough to get himself into trouble. Haus blurted out. Throw him out the lock and be done with it. He gave an open lipped grin, holding the nicotine stick between stained teeth.

Haus, think about this for a second. Malory was the only crew member that dared use the captain’s first name. Let’s put the kid to work, make him take over the hydroponics and waste systems.

Captain Chevoff grunted as if he had already thought of that. He wasn’t going to tell her that he hadn’t, either. He irritably chewed on his stick.

You know how Cid and Kae grumble whenever you force them to do it. We’ve already lost one crew member because of it. She didn’t need to tell him how critical the situation is. Sure, he could force Kae or Cid to do it, but he would be risking another incident. Fortunately, she thought, Haus had enough brains not to force the issue at this time. She knew Haus would eventually force them to do it. She hoped to avoid the situation.

The way she said it, Patric got the feeling that person had not quit either.

Captain Chevoff thought for a moment. The end of the nicotine stick bobbed up and down as he chewed. They did need someone to do daily maintenance on those systems. He knew the backup system would not last too long either. The primary had been out since he sold Morgan to the Reprisal. The corner of Haus’ mouth turned up on that thought. The scum deserved it. I’ll tell you what boy. Haus Chevoff finally announced. I’ll give you a choice. You can either take a walk in space or you can work with shit. He shifted the nicotine stick to the other side of his mouth. I have a third option, which was what he had in mind all along, but that’s worse then the other two. He grinned again. For you, that is.

Patric couldn’t imagine what would be worse than death by explosive decompression. He wasn’t about to ask. I’ll take the shit, sir. He answered not knowing what that was, but it certainly sounded better than being spaced.

Haus let out a roaring laugh. He then squinted the eye on the side of the nicotine stick and speared Patric with the other. You will be working with shit, playing with shit and even sleeping with it. If you do anything out of line, I’ll dispose of you as if you were shit.

Patric swallowed.

Do we understand each other here?

Yes sir. Was all Patric could say, he then added. I’ll cause no trouble. At least it appeared he would live. How he needed to keep Quinton hidden! What has he gotten himself and poor Quinton into?

Captain Chevoff rose from his seat and stood face to face with Patric. The nicotine stick just inches from his face.

Patric smelt that awful breath again.

So how do you feel about Czarian pirates? The captain’s voice lowered. I want to hear the truth. Be man enough to tell me.

Don’t like them sir. Patric swallowed. The lump in his throat had returned. Was he a pirate? They tried to capture the passenger liner I was on and killed my mom in the process.

The captain’s head bobbed slightly. What if I told you I’m ex-Czarian and so is my crew?

Patric swallowed again. Was he baiting him or testing his character?

Answer. Haus growled.

I have no problem with ex-Czarians, only Czarian pirates.

Will you still loyally serve with me?

Did he really have a choice? Yes I will. He didn’t think so.

Captain Chevoff gave a belly laugh. Get him out of here. He watched Malory holster her gun and escort the kid off the bridge. He smiled to himself. The kid has given him several good options. Even in the worst case scenario he would sale the kid and make some money. He openly smiled. If that ended up being the case, he would find himself working for the vary people he hated.

The moment the hatch was closed behind them Malory spoke as she walked. And don’t think I’m a softy. She said, stopping in the middle of the isle. She pointed a finger in his face. I only saved your butt because we need an environmental tech on this crate. I don’t cherish the thought of when our backup system fails. You will get the primary online.

I don’t know anything about that. Patric responded without thinking the statement could hurt him.

I know that. Malory answered sternly. I or one of the guys will teach you, but you will do all the dirty work. She started down the hall. And if you can’t do the job or you give us trouble, Captain Chevoff will get rid of you.

Space me?

There’s worse things than death, kid. Malory stopped in front of a hatch and pushed the bar that opened it. She stepped in with Patric following.

The room was littered with clothes and discarded items. A total of four bunks hung on opposite walls, two bunks per side with a computer terminal and desk on the far wall. A middle aged potbellied man jumped from a bunk.

We have our new environmental tech. Malory announced.

Where’d he come from? The man said in the same accent of the captain.

Malory sneered. Apparently the cargo hold, which you were supposed to have inspected before takeoff.

I did, all the cargo was accounted for.

Apparently you missed this one. She tilted her head toward Patric, not fooled by the lie. Consider yourself lucky that the captain hadn’t suspected that you were slacking in your job again. Remember what happened to Morgan. She warned.

Fine, fine, I’ll keep it in mind. The man grumbled. I suppose I have to give up one of my bunks and train this bum?

Not unless you volunteer for his duties.

He grumbled something under his breath and pushed dirty clothes off the top bunk. You have a name? Mine’s Kae.

Patric.

And your last name? Malory asked, realizing she should have