Alexander Outland: Space Pirate (16 page)

“Thanks. And, that would make sense, I suppose. I don’t know what his story is, though. I got very little before my mind shut him out. But, I can say this—he’s the scariest person I’ve come across in my entire life.”

“S
carier than the pirate armada?” Not that it wasn’t possible. I just felt a dozen manned pirate ships outweighed one nasty guy.

“I’d rather face them than be alone in a room with Nitin.”

I’d been alone in a room with Nitin. Hadn’t been a big problem. “You think he let me escape?”

“No. I think he underestimated you in a big way. He’ll never do that again.”

“Good to know.” I thought about this. “Nitin said my reputation preceded me. That means he knew something about me.”

“Yeah, you’re the best pilot in the galaxy. Considered dangerously reckless and very adverse to following orders. And Janz the Butcher seems to favor you, which is always a good thing.”

I wondered if Tanner had figured out who was sleeping in the tankfloater or not, but decided to hope for the best. If the Governor hadn’t panicked when he discovered Tanner was a telepath—and the Governor rarely panicked—then the likelihood was slim. The Governor spent most of his conscious time thinking of himself as the pathetic old geezer I had to take care of, not the crime lord of the galaxy. I hoped Tanner didn’t know—the Governor wouldn’t want the nice young telepath harmed. Janz the Butcher would want
him exterminated with extreme prejudice.

One of the donkeys, the one I thought Jabbob had identified as Ol’ Temper, came over to us now. Despite polite efforts to move him away, he seemed to feel we were on his spot, to the point where he settled himself down right next to me. No amount of shoving or even hitting made an impact—Ol’ Temper was going to sleep in the hay next to me or I was going to move.

“Maybe we can sleep in the back of the tank,” Tanner said hopefully.

“Only if you don’t want to get any rest at all. Not a good idea to sleep on top of loaded firearms.”

“Yeah. I have explosives in there, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He sounded offended. “I keep telling you, I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah? Well, then why are we sleeping with a donkey?”

Tanner looked at me for a long moment. “You have a point.”

“Well, at least the donkey adds warmth.” No sooner were these words out of my mouth than another donkey came over and settled down next to Tanner. We weren’t snuggled up to each other, but only because we were now both snuggled up to a couple of hooved beasts. “You know, if someone had asked me how I planned to spend tonight, this would never have come to me in about a million years.”

“Same here.”

“So, can you read animal minds?” I wasn’t that interested, but it was something to discuss other than how we were bunking with the burros when where I wanted to bunk was with Slinkie. Plus there was light in the barn, presumably to keep the animals happy. It was going to make sleeping difficult. More difficult than it was already going to be.

“Not really. I could if I worked at it, just no interest. They don’t think like humans, so it’s harder. I’ve heard there are a couple of telepaths out there who can and do, but I don’t know them.”

“Big community? The telepathic one, I mean.”

“Not really, no. We don’t mingle with each other.”

“Why not?”

“Most of us are in some form of espionage. Doesn’t pay to hang out. Plus, there’s the one-upmanship and the stress of wondering if they can read you better than you can read them. Not fun.”

“Too bad. If you guys organized, you could take over the galaxy.”

“Supposedly. But it’s not as easy as you think. Organizing or taking over.”

“The pirates are trying to do just that.” I pondered this. “Think they have a telepath with them?”

“No. I think they’ve got something better.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

Tanner looked right at me. “I think they’ve got someone like you, but who wants to run things, instead of work around and outside of them.”

“I
nteresting concept.” Someone like me? Truly, was that possible? I had to admit that, in the huge galaxy, it might be. I didn’t like the idea. I was, as I’d heard a lot, one of a kind. I liked it that way.

Tanner shook his head. “Only if it helps you figure out how to survive against him. Because we’re going back into space and we’ll run right into that armada.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He shrugged. “They want your ship. And since you escaped from them the first time, they want you. Probably want you dead, but maybe recruited.”

“Oh yeah? What happened to the captain who got you here?”

Tanner was silent for a few moments. “He was murdered on Herion, about two weeks after we landed.”

“Huh. Do you know who happened to kill him?”

“Yeah. The Land League. The same people who tried to rig your ship to explode if you left the planet.”

“Wonderful. So, I guess they don’t want to hire me to get rid of the pirate armada.” At least someone didn’t want me to get involved.

“No. I figure they want to kill you. It’s one of the reasons we’re hiding out here.”

“You sure Jabbob isn’t part of the Land League?”

Tanner closed his eyes and I could tell he was concentrating. “No, he’s not. Or if he is, it’s not something he’s thinking about in relation to any of us.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t read someone if you knew them well.” I wondered if I was going to have to kill this kid after all.

He shook his head. “I can’t. But, in the same way that I lose the ability to read someone the more I like or dislike them, if I don’t feel much of anything towards them, they remain readable. It’s a little harder, but not impossible.”

“So, you took this guy’s identity and you seem protective of him, but you don’t like or loathe him?”

Tanner looked embarrassed. “I guess. I mean… there’s not very much there
to
like or dislike. He’s as simple as he seems.”

“He likes you.”

“Yeah. The story of my life. The one person who actually considers himself my friend? We have nothing in common and he affects me so minimally that I can still read his mind. Not that it’s ever interesting.”

“So, can you still read the rest of my crew?”

“Somewhat. Audrey’s a robot, so not really. Robots have minds, but they’re a lot more regimented than human minds. Again, it’s a specialized telepathic talent that I haven’t worked at. Randolph, yeah, I can still read him. Slinkie….” He concentrated and laughed. “Yeah, I can still read her. Boy, is she mad at you for letting me stick around. And the Governor? Not at all.”

“You like or hate the Governor already?” That was fast, even if the Governor had his peevish persona going strong.

“No. But he’s clearly come across telepaths before. He runs white noise.”

“Pardon me?” The kid was starting to sound like Randolph, using terms I’d either never heard of or that meant something totally different than I thought they should. I hated that.

“White noise. It’s something a person can do to make themselves
unreadable. I guess I should teach it to you, if I’m going to be flying with you.” He said it casually, but I could pick up the longing just under the surface.

Great. The kid wanted to stick around, didn’t he? He didn’t just want a ride to Runilio—he wanted a permanent berth. No way. No way in the deepest volcanic pit of Thurge. Absolutely no.

“So, how do I learn this white noise thing? And how the hell could you tell if it was working anyway?”

“Audrey could probably monitor it.”

“Audrey can read my mind?” The horror of this day was never-ending. I tried to concentrate on kissing Slinkie.

“Not so much. She can monitor your brainwaves, and I could tell you if they were flowing right to throw off a telepath.”

In my mind, Slinkie was telling me how to throw off a telepath. That wasn’t romantic or sexy, it was downright odd. Figured I’d better stop the happy thoughts and focus on Tanner and his telepathic blathering.

“Fine. So, what do I do?”

“Easiest way to start is to come up with a song or a phrase, something that you can repeat in your mind over and over again. You get it so ingrained that your mind runs it as background, or white, noise.”

“How long does this take?”

“Usually? A few months at least.”

“So, you could potentially teach the whole crew how to do this?”

“Sure. You’d have to have me around for that time, though. Audrey couldn’t do it alone, because she’s not a telepath.” Still trying to sound casual. Still not succeeding.

“You mean, you won’t tell her what to look for so that you’re not easily expendable.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean.” The kid’s expression had been almost excited and hopeful. Now it went back to that bitter, hurt look. He turned his back on me, which meant his face was in donkey fur. I had to wonder about him a little bit. “I’m going to sleep.”

I was not going to let this get to me. He wasn’t my problem. He was potentially a huge issue, and also potentially useless, since he couldn’t read anyone’s mind that mattered, or would lose his connection when we needed it most.

I lay back on the hay and tried to ignore that Ol’ Temper was a haystack hog. I thought about Saladine. Randolph had been right—I had been a lot happier when he was flying with us. We got into a lot of trouble together, but somehow, we’d always get each other out of it, too. Sometimes I’d save his hide, sometimes he’d save mine.

Until the time I screwed up and cost him his life.

The kid was better off without us. He had a career and some job he had to do for Aviatus. Besides, it’s not like we needed anyone else. We had Audrey as copilot now. Weapons and Security were fine as joined jobs. At least, Slinkie never complained. Much. And no one in their right mind would want to sign on as cabin boy to take care of the Governor’s demands.

“By the way,” Tanner said, back still to me, voice still stiff. “Randolph’s worried that you’re brooding about Saladine. No idea of what went on, since he’s not thinking of that, but for whatever it’s worth, Randolph doesn’t think Saladine’s death was your fault. He thinks it was his.”

Interesting. Not surprising, but still, interesting. A thought occurred. “Check Slinkie, same thing.”

He spoke a few moments later. “Wow, yeah. She’s worrying about you blaming yourself for this guy’s death, too. She blames herself, by the way. Who was he and what happened?”

“He was some guy we ran across and let join up with us. No one wanted to like him. We all did. He was the first person who called me Nap because he realized I like my middle name more than my first name. He nicknamed Slinkie when she wouldn’t give us her real name. He was actually interested in Randolph’s mechanical babbling. He honestly respected the Governor. Saladine was one of those people who made you a better person because he was around you.”

“He sounds great.”

“He was. And we screwed up, collectively, I guess, and he died because of it. But I’m the captain, so, when it comes down to it, no matter who else contributed, it’s my fault he’s dead.”

“Would he see it that way?”

“No idea. Probably not.” Knowing Saladine, not at all. He might have blamed himself, but not anyone else. I tried not to miss him—didn’t do a great job of it. It was easier if I didn’t think about him, but apparently I wasn’t the only one missing him right now.

“Why are you all thinking about him? I mean, you must have been, because when I mentioned him, you didn’t act like it was out of the blue.”

I sighed. “We’re thinking of him because of you.”

“Why? Do I look like him or something?”

A chuckle escaped. “No. Not really at all.”

“Then why?”

I sighed again. “Because, despite all my better instincts, common sense, self-preservation, and any other form of sane thinking, they all know that when we leave this planet, you’re coming with us, and, should we survive to reach Runilio, let alone anywhere else, you’re not getting off-ship.”

T
anner was quiet for a few long seconds. “You’re going to let me stay on as part of your crew?”

“As moronic as that sounds when you say it aloud, yeah. And the others know it, too. The Governor’s probably thinking the same thing, you just can’t read him. Hell, Audrey’s probably thinking it, too.” I was, apparently, the easiest book in the galactic library to read. Saladine had always thought so, at least. It had been something he’d loved to joke about. I hated thinking about him, I really did. Because I still missed him, and I knew the others did, as well.

“Thank you.” Tanner was still facing the donkey, but he sounded a little better.

“Yeah, well, see how you feel about it when we’re running for our lives or captured. You may not be as happy about the decision.” I managed not to add that he might not like it when he was dead because of my error—didn’t feel like wallowing in the guilt and, besides, at least until we finished off or escaped from the pirate armada, the kid knew what he was getting into.

We lay there, just us and the animals, and I tried not to worry. Worrying wasn’t worth much, according to Great-Aunt Clara. Actions counted, but worry was interest paid on something you’d never collect. Of course, Great-Aunt Clara was usually full of it, so
who knew if this was good advice or just senile prattling?

Somehow I managed to fall asleep. I knew this because you have to be asleep to be awakened by something. In this case, by a donkey snout shoved into my face. “Gak!”

“I hate the country.” Tanner sounded as repulsed as I was.

“You get the donkey wake up call too?”

“Yeah. I think we’re on their breakfast.”

I looked around. Yep, there were a lot of donkeys eyeing us in a way that said either they wanted the hay or had turned carnivorous during the night. We scrambled to our feet and the donkeys dived in.