Ressk waved his slate, although in the close confines of the Star's cabin the extra effort to get her attention wasn't necessary. "We can pull up the schematics and work them from here, Gunny, if you want to head down to the docks and check things out."
"Why would I do that? Where I refers to the person Big Bill just hired to teach his free merchants how not to blow holes in the bulkheads."
"This job you're not doing," Mashona began. Frowned. Began again. "This job we're not doing, right? He's hired all of us?"
"Technically," Torin told them, "he's hired me. I've hired you lot."
"How much are you not paying us?" Werst wondered, sitting up.
"Exactly what you're worth."
"I need next week off."
Torin sighed, sagging back until her shoulder blades hit the bulkhead. "Mashona, you were explaining why the person who's paying Werst more than he's worth would head down to the docks."
"You can't start doing the job you're not doing until the armory's open. Therefore, you'd like it to be open." Mashona shrugged. "Hatches are locked, you can't send one of us down, so it makes sense that you'd personally check on their progress. While that you is being impatient about the wait, the you that's here to take care of business can spend some time with Ryder."
"I don't…" Except she did. They were on the same damned station and that wasn't enough. She'd just spoken to him and that wasn't enough. If she'd been able to touch him, that would've helped convince her that he was… not all right, it was obvious he wasn't all right, but that he didn't blame her for what happened to him.
Most of her adult life had been spent at war, and now she was out, it seemed like that violence had followed her. Rationally, she knew what had happened to Craig had nothing to do with her, and guilt over it was self-indulgent bullshit she had no time for, particularly not given their new shortened schedule. Rationally, she knew that if Craig hadn't been with her when he was taken, there'd be no one coming to pull his ass out of the fire now.
Rational had nothing to do with the way she'd felt when she saw him.
Or heard his voice.
But rational was what would destroy the armory and get them all off of Vrijheid in one piece.
"While Ressk pulls the schematics up, tell me about Cho and his crew."
Werst and Mashona shared a look Torin didn't care to examine too closely, then Mashona said, "Captain because it's his ship. Mackenzie Cho is ex-Navy. Made lieutenant before they court-martialed him for abuse of power."
"There's about fifteen different versions of what he actually did," Werst put in. "Doubt that any of them are accurate, but they all agree that Marines died. He's got two Krai on crew. Most of the Krai here-on station and on the ships-are here for the same thing, eating sentient species, but that said, Huirre's apparently just a guy with no military training, used to fly cargo ships smuggling body parts, and Krisk never willingly leaves the engine room."
"Three di'Taykan." Mashona flipped fingers up. "Dysun, Almon, and Nadayki di'Berinango."
"Nine letters in their family name?" Torin frowned. Taykan society was hierarchical. The more letters in the family name, the lower the class. Alamber was a di'Cikeys; six letters, solidly working class, and making up a high percentage of the di'Taykan in the Corps. Prodded by Parliament, the Taykan were working toward equalizing their society based on merit and more or less succeeding on the colony planets.
"Unfortunately, the poor bastards come from home world," Mashona continued as though she'd been following Torin's line of thought. "With nine letters stacked against them, I'm amazed they even got off the ground. By all accounts, Nadayki, the youngest, is some smart. Ressk-level smart. And, like you said, Gunny, he does what Ressk does."
Ressk snorted.
"Cho has Nadayki breaking the seal on the armory, so he could be Ressk-level smart," Torin pointed out. "But he'd have had to fight for any opportunity to prove that at home."
"Could've joined up," Ressk muttered, pulling the big screen up from the Star's board.
"Crime's easier. Are they siblings?"
Mashona shook her head. "No. Thytrins. Almon, the oldest, he's a big guy and apparently pretty damned protective of the kid. Competent street fighter; no training but if he fights, he doesn't tend to lose. Only thing I heard about Dysun was that she took to pirating like the H'san took to cheese. She's on the bridge of the Heart doing pretty much everything Huirre doesn't."
"I got told she's likely to have her own ship someday." Arms folded, Werst met Torin's gaze. "If she survives. They're none of them too serley old, Gunny."
Torin thought of Alamber and ran both hands back through her hair. "And Nat?"
"Okay, she's old. Well, not young anyway, not by Human standards," Mashona amended. "When Cho showed up looking for a crew, she was the first to sign with him. There's a lot of rumors about what she used to do but I'm guessing ninety-nine percent of them are bullshit. Me and Werst compared stories and think she was probably quartermaster corps back in the day and cashiered out for black marketeering."
"And the other one?" Torin asked. "The Human male I saw with her?"
With the schematics hanging in the air over the board, Ressk spun the chair and joined the conversation. "That's Doc."
"Definitely ex something," Mashona continued, "but no one agrees on ex what. Everyone figures the military broke him, but no one's willing to risk getting caught talking about him because he's completely bugfuk. Disturb his calm, and he'll hurt you. Someone with more balls than brains challenged him to a fight once. At the end, Doc gouged his eyes out and dropped them on the body."
"Showy," Werst snorted. "But effective."
"Good thing I'm not actually taking Big Bill's job," Torin muttered.
The three ex-Marines murmured varying agreements. He'd watched Dysun stagger back to the Heart just after Torin had pinged off, and now, watching Huirre cross from the air lock to the storage pod, Craig wondered if the two things were connected. Had Dysun brought news in from the station? News about Torin? Had someone finally realized he was the bearded man in the vids from the prison planet?
Then he wondered how true all those stories were. Once a Krai tastes your flesh, they'll do anything to get more of it. He straightened, rolled his shoulders to loosen stiff muscles. If Huirre wanted more, Craig would start him off with a mouthful of fist.
"Captain says you're to pull some rack time."
Braced for a fight, that wasn't the opening line Craig had expected.
"Oh, fukking great," Huirre sighed. "I eat your toe, you get all weird around me. Well, pull your shit together, and go grab a few hours sleep."
Pulling his shit together sounded like a good idea. So did sleep. Craig dug the heel of his hands into his eyes. "The captain told me to watch that exit to the station, let him know immediately if Big Bill returned."
"And he sent me here to replace you, you serley chrika." Holding the edge of the hatch, Huirre leaned into the pod. "Not done yet?"
"Asshole," Craig heard Nadayki mutter. "Ryder was talking to himself."
When Huirre leaned back out to snort a wordless request for an explanation, Craig shrugged. "Trying not to fall asleep." He rolled his shoulders again, cracking his upper back. "He's lucky I didn't sing."
"Yeah, well he's lucky about a lot of things."
Craig heard boots ring against the deck then Nadayki stood in the open hatch, scowling down at the Krai, the ends of his hair flicking back and forth in short, jerky arcs. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Hurrie ignored the question. "You going to get that thing open in time?" His nose ridges flared and closed, slowly, deliberately, and-although Craig realized his perceptions might be colored by lack of sleep-he suddenly sounded dangerous. "Cap'll pitch a fit if you promise and don't deliver. You don't want to piss him off, do you?"