Pay Me, Bug!

Chapter 04

WHEREIN Our Hero is Revealed to Have Pulled a Fast One

Amys watched the bridge hatch close on Grif as he doubled over with laughter. The laughter, muted but still audible, faded as the lift took him to the lower decks.

Morgan stared at the hatch as Grif's laughter faded, replaced by a largely uncomfortable silence. "Huh."

Amys frowned thoughtfully.

Morgan glanced at Amys, clearly perplexed. "Do you think he's all right?"

Amys hesitated, then shrugged.

"Of course he's not all right," Doma said, forgetting where he was, who he was talking to, and abandoning anything that could reasonably be attributed to a survival instinct. "He was clubbed in the back of the head with a gauss rifle at least five times..."

"Shut up, Doma." Amys reminded herself of the kind of trouble Grif would get into if she killed his nephew.

"Well he did," Doma protested. "And we just lost a fortune in cargo!"

"Shut up, Doma," Amys repeated, eyes glittering.

"But... he... hey, this isn't my fault! He's the one--"

"Doma." Morgan interrupted Doma in mid-stammer, voice calm and soothing. "While I personally think it would be wonderful if your lack of self-preservation provoked Amys into gutting you from stem to stern, Grif has this funny rule about us not killing you. So for God's sake... just shut up!"

Doma closed his mouth, turned around in his chair and sank into a deep pout.

A few minutes later Ktk announced it was restoring gravity. Much to Amys' disappointment, Doma remembered to brace himself properly.

Amys stood, testing her weight against the newly restored gravity, and tugged at her ponytail absently. Morgan and Doma looked up questioningly.

"I'll be right back," she said. "Morgan, monitor communications and contact Grif if anything important comes in."

Morgan nodded and returned his attention to his station. After an intense but brief internal struggle, Doma looked away without asking any questions. Amys smiled in spite of herself; for an instant Doma had looked exactly like Grif when his curiosity was killing him. She made a mental note never to tell Grif that.

Amys took the lift two decks down, and when it opened she stepped into a short hallway that ended at a door bearing the sign "Wardroom."

The Fool's Errand had originally been commissioned as a troop transport, and amidships above the cargo bays there was a large galley and general mess designed to feed a company of soldiers. The Wardroom was nicer, as it had been designed for use by the ship's officers, and the crew used it for all meals.

Amys opened the door and stepped into the room. It was well-kept, and still maintained much of its elegance from its service as an officer's mess. It was large, with a higher than average ceiling, and at the far end the bulkhead sported a panoramic viewport that could either display a projected image--very popular with the crew when they were in tach--or fade to transparency, as it currently was, providing a magnificent star-filled view.

The room was tiled, rather than sporting the standard monochrome metallic floorplates common in most of the ship, and tiles were dark colors intended to replicate the effect of a polished wood floor. The walls were also designed to resemble faux wood panels, and globe lights, rather than the ceiling mounted light panels, lit the room in a softer, more ambient light. There was a master table in the center of the room, smaller tables set against the wall, and to Amys' right there was a bar which Grif kept well-stocked. Behind the bar, Grif was preparing a drink: a glass was set on the bar in front of him, and he was wrestling to uncork a bottle of something.