Pay Me, Bug!

Chapter 30

WHEREIN Our Hero and His Employer Have a Disagreement Over Matters of Procedure

When Grif returned to the Fool's Errand he found Cyrus and Amys waiting for him in Bay One.

They remained in character until the transport decoupled from the hull and returned to the Centurion. At that point all three let out a long sigh.

Amys grinned at Grif. "They didn't find a goddamn thing."

"That's right!" Cyrus laughed. "They went through Bay Three with a fine-tooth comb and still couldn't find the door! And you were right about the search party--some of those marines had been through here before. They didn't recognize the Wardroom, they didn't recognize our living quarters, and one of them kept asking me for directions the entire time. Nobody could tell it was the Fool's Errand, Grif. If they couldn't find anything now, I don't think they're ever going to find anything ever."

"Good," Grif said.

Amys frowned. "You don't seem too happy about it. How'd it go with you?"

Grif stared at the seal to the nadir lock and didn't answer.

Amys' frown deepened. "Grif? Talk to me."

Cyrus' good mood vanished as he looked from Amys to Grif. "Oh, hell," he said. "Something bad happened."

"Yeah…" Grif snapped out of it and turned toward them. "Just us on board, right?"

Amys nodded.

"Right." Grif headed toward the door. "Meeting in the Wardroom, one hour."

"What's wrong?" Amys asked.

"We're screwed," Grif said. "So very, very screwed. Round up the others. One hour. I need a drink."

Grif was barely aware of his surroundings as he made his way to the Wardroom. When he entered the Wardroom, he stood in shock: for a moment he didn't know where he was. He hadn't seen it since Cyrus had remodeled it.

The faux wood paneling on the walls had been painted an off-white color. Digital frames displaying random images hung on the walls. The tiles on the floor were gone, replaced with thick, dark-red carpet. The light globes were gone, simple, brighter lights took their place. The tables and chairs had been replaced with strange, minimalist furniture. For a moment, in a fit of panic, Grif couldn't find the bar--they'd moved it over by the panoramic viewport, and painted it metallic silver.

"Sorry, Grif."

Grif turned and saw Cyrus shrugging apologetically.

Grif sighed and walked over to the bar. "Well, I did want it unrecognizable. Is any of it salvageable?"

"No." Cyrus followed him into the room. "We had to work pretty fast. We weren't being careful."

"Yeah." Grif looked behind the bar and took out a bottle of Stellis Blue. "Glass?"

"Sure," Cyrus said. Grif pulled out two and filled them to the top.

"It's a good job," Grif said. "I hate it. But it's a damn good job."

He raised his glass. "To the ugliest damn Wardroom I've ever seen on a ship," he said.

Cyrus chuckled and raised his glass in kind.

Within the hour the crew--all save Ktk--had assembled in the Wardroom. With them were Velis, Bennet, and a few other agents. Everyone could tell something was bothering him.

"The dinner," he said finally, "went rather well."

Most of his crew relaxed slightly. Amys and Cyrus didn't, and neither did Velis.