Page 17 of Tarek

He looked up at me, and his expression brightened. “Tarek!”

“Mmm...”

His smile faded. “I haven't said anything yet. Why you bein’ mean to me?”

I sighed. “I’m not. You're just drunk.”

“I am not.”

“You're sitting on the floor.”

He looked down as if this was surprising information. “I was checking something.”

“What?”

He frowned. “I don't remember.”

“Come on.”

He tried to stand. I caught him before he went over backward. “Easy.”

“I've got it.”

“You really don't.”

Getting Rell back to the ship was less difficult than it should have been given his slightly argumentative state and lack of coordination. Mostly because he'd reached the stage of drunkenness where arguing required more effort than simply letting me steer him while he mainly mumbled complaints under his breath. I got him through the station, through the docking access, and onto the Wayfarer's Fortune with enough time left for him to sleep it off before departure.

I wasn't paid enough for that part of the job. Then again, I wasn't paid enough for most of it. None of us are, not really. The Wayfarer's Fortune was a decent merchant vessel. She wasn't beautiful, but she was reliable, and that counted for more in space than beauty ever would. And while the pay wasn't great, it was always on time, which was not as usual in this line of work as one would hope. Our crew was a mixture of species, as most working ships were these days. We had Mylos, Dragonii, Veyra traders, a pair of squat six-armed Kesh, three humans who'd found their way out here, and a quiet Orani who handled environmental systems and rarely spoke unless something was about to explode. Our first mate was Dragonii like me, although he had quite a few inches on my seven foot three height, which I considered mildly offensive.

It was work. That was all it had ever been. Not a fun jaunt out with friends, or a meaningful career, or anything else. Just work that paid on time, though not well, and allowed me to get by.

We left Kessara Station after the final cargo was secured, and for the first hour or so, everything was normal. Then the captain announced a course adjustment.

“All hands, prepare for course adjustment.”

I looked up from the security monitor. The new course appeared on the overhead display.

Straight toward the asteroid field.

I stared at it. Then I stared at it again.

“Captain,” I said over the comm, keeping my voice deliberately calm, “you might want to reconsider that course.”

There was a pause. “We're taking the shortcut.”

Of course we were. The shortcut would save us roughly six hours, although it would also take us through an asteroid field. The captain had an unfortunate habit of choosing speed over caution.

“Understood.” I cut the comm and sat back.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then the ship shuddered, and it was definitely not a gentle vibration. It was a hard impact that made the deck move beneath my boots and sent several unsecured items sliding across the console.

My wrist comm flashed.

WARNING. BRACE FOR POSSIBLE LIKELY MINOR COLLISIONS.

I stared at the message. “That's reassuring.”

Another impact rocked the ship. Then another, and the alarm lights changed. I was already up and moving toward cargo hold three, as that was the direction the alarm lights were flashing a warning for.