★˚⋆ YOU HESITATED BEFORE KNOCKING ON the door to Fugo's room. Even after being on your crew for so long, you didn't know how to approach Fugo when he got like this. He was the hardest of the crew to read. He might appear outwardly calm, but his temper was always simmering under the surface; ready to boil over without your noticing.
"It's me," you said to the door. "Can I come in?"
Fugo's door didn't budge. You knocked again, feet already turned to leave. You might be the Captain, but if your crew didn't want to speak to you, you wouldn't force them.
You despised forcing your crew to do anything.
The door stayed closed. Your heart sank, although you couldn't be surprised. Later then. Hopefully Fugo would come out once the Passione made it onto the ferry and you could talk to him then.
As you turned your back, however, Fugo's door slid open, the sound they made almost like a sigh. You looked back, waiting for the door to slide back closed. When it didn't, you took a few steps inside and stood awkwardly by the door, not wanting to make yourself comfortable if Fugo didn't want you to. The door closed behind you.
Fugo's room on the Passione was spartan. It had been that way even before you'd started selling things. There had been little Fugo found important enough from his old life to bring aboard, and even now, there was little he liked or cared enough about to furnish his room. You liked to think that Fugo found that importance in the people he surrounded himself with, but you were idealistic and who really knew Fugo's interior design preferences but himself?
Other than the cot pushed against the back wall and dresser, there was only a white desk and chair.
Fugo didn't look up from his desk. He had a blueprint projected into the air from his holopad, the image rotating as he considered it. You couldn't make out his face from where you stood. Only the edges of his dark blonde hair tinted blue by the hologram.
"Captain," he said, without turning around. His voice was flat. "Is something wrong with the ship? The thrusters should be holding out, but if the engine is weak, there's not a lot I can do."
"The ship is fine. We'll make it to the Ferry."
Fugo grunted. He zoomed in on the blueprint, highlighting a part of its flank. These weren't the schematics for the Passione. You wondered what he was working on.
"Can we talk?" you said.
"About Zero?"
"I know you don't agree with the plan, but I was hoping I could convince you otherwise."
Fugo turned around then. It was hard to see him in the gloom, but there was enough light for you to see his crew jacket open at the collar and the smooth line of his throat. His face was pensive, the way it always was. His solemnity was as much a feature of him as his downturned mouth and perpetually wary eyes. His gravity kept your crew grounded, but not for the first time, you wondered what would happen if Fugo let loose.
"There's nothing to say. You've already decided to go."
"Why are you so against it?" you asked softly. "Besides the obvious. You could argue we've been through a lot worse for a lot less. And we're not agreeing to anything with Zero yet. We're just going to feel things out."
"But why take the risk at all?" Fugo frowned. "There's no failure in this, Captain. Either we get what he wants, or we die. I don't understand why we're going to Zero when there are a dozen other—safer—people in the galaxy we can barter with."
"Things aren't how they used to be. People don't pay that kind of money anymore. Not the kind of money that could get us out of debt."
"You've always been bold, but I feel like now you've gotten more reckless. It just feels like you're throwing yourself into this because you don't have a choice. That kind of abandon will ruin you."
"It's not abandon. We can handle more. We have to, if we want to keep afloat."
Fugo stood from his chair. "I don't want you to throw caution to the wind. I know he's gone, but that's what he would've wanted too. For you to be careful."
Your chest tightened. It was terrible that even the mention of him could do this to you. It seemed like too long a time to hold on to things like that.
Fugo must have noticed the shift because he tried to lighten his tone. "Can we even trust that turtle? It might have a circuit or two loose in there."
"I want to try," you said. "We don't have a lot of options. With what we have and what we stand to gain, I say we go all in."
"If we just rebuild our resources—"
"I don't have your patience," you interrupted with a wry smile. "My gains need to be big or they're not gains at all."
It was an attempt at levity, but you suspected Fugo could read between the lines. You were getting desperate. You were scrabbling for reins slipping out of your control. This was your chance to seize them back, or risk losing them forever.
Fugo stared at you for a long moment. "We'll have to be careful," he sighed finally, running a hand through his hair. "And I want a backup plan. And a backup for that backup. The Passione needs to be in flyable condition and we need to line the credit a bit, at least."
You laughed ruefully. "You sound like him."
"He was the one who taught me," Fugo replied.
"So you're onboard? You'll help us?"
"Captain, if you think this is the first time I've helped you with a plan I disliked, you'd be sorely mistaken. About three-quarters of all the plans you come up with are plans I dislike." You raised an eyebrow and Fugo shrugged. "The other quarter are plans I detest. You can guess which one this plan is."
"We've never failed, though," you said.
"Yes, because your definition of success is quite liberal."
"Stop that. You know how crazy your snark drives me." You made your way to the door, doing your best not to notice the sly smirk on Fugo's face. "Think you can bang around in the engine room to make sure the Passione doesn't collapse on the Ferry? We'll call everyone up to the bridge to finalize plans."
"Of course."
You paused in the doorway. "You know I don't fault your criticisms, right? You keep this crew sharp. We'd be a pile of space dust without you, Fugo."
"I know, Captain." Fugo swiped his holopad from his desk, dismissing the hologram. "That's why I'm still here."
- ✦ -
"The Ferry has now arrived at the Hub's dock. Slots A1 through A20 can attach to their buggies and proceed off the vessel. Make sure to scan your slot number and collect all ship belongings before leaving the Ferry. All other slots please be patient as ships are loaded off and wait for your slot number to be called. We appreciate your cooperation and hope to see you again."
You looked up briefly at the announcement before returning to your Stand. The Passione was in slot T17. You wouldn't be getting off for a while. The waiting was ass but that was what you got for getting through Bend Gate IV for cheap. Fugo had been right about his assessment of the ship and you'd gotten onto the Ferry without much problem. After an uneventful ride, you were now at the Hub and waiting to be called so you could be towed off.
Trish had once likened Party Rock Anthem to a filing cabinet and now it was all you could think of as you riffled through your Stand's cards. A little compartment in your Stand's chest would open, revealing white, glowing cards. You added and removed cards as you saw fit, and seeing as the only storage limitation was your own memory, you had quite the collection. Each card flared blue as your fingers passed over them, and the card you were looking for popped up as you thought of it.
You held the card between two fingers, considering it. It was made of a thin and flexible material, glossy and cool to the touch. Like each card in your collection, a holographic image was embossed on it, this one of a diamond-studded cricket ball. You didn't know what the flack cricket was—some Old Age sport, according to Fugo—but this ball had been one of the first items your crew had stolen. Seeing the garishly sparkling ball brought a smile to your face. This ball had come from simpler times. You'd held off on fencing it, but it seemed like now was the time. Even if you were going to Zero, the crew needed a few thousand credits to get around the Hub at least.
And of course, to get around if Zero happened to turn you down.
You closed your fingers over the card. When you opened them again, the cricket ball sat in your palm.
"Whatcha doing, Cap?"
You tossed the ball to Mista. He was dressed in a nondescript grey jumpsuit—standard Ferry attire to back up the "maintenance crew" position your ship was listed under. You were pretty sure everyone who was anyone on this vessel knew you were a thieving crew, but they weren't snitches.
He caught the cricket ball, then gaped at it. "No way. You still have this? I thought we sold it a long time ago."
"Nope. I've been holding onto it in case we might need it later."
"Ah, so you're selling it now." Mista grinned, tossing the ball from hand to another. It was a good thing the lights were still off or you would've gone blind from the diamonds. "Do you still remember stealing this baby?"
"We barely got out by the skin of our teeth." You smirked, withdrawing Party Rock Anthem. You walked over to Mista, catching his arm and bringing it down between you. You rolled up his sleeve, tracing the long white scar that ran along his inner forearm. "That's where you got this from."
"Hurt like a bitch."
"Fugo nearly fainted when he saw it."
"I nearly fainted when I saw it. I swear I saw bones and tendons."
You shoved Mista and he cackled. Then the two of you went quiet, the memory stretching so that you could remember what happened after. Who had ordered Fugo to hold Mista's arm down and then you to bring him antiseptic and a numbing pill. Who had closed Mista's skin with neat stitches and wiped away the blood.
"I wonder what he would say, if he were still here."
"You were there, weren't you? He'd never liked Zero. I think he would've voted with Fugo."
"Did something happen?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
In the way that only Mista could, he slung his arms over your shoulders, drawing you close. You settled your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, a reflex at this point. He'd always done that—wrapped you in a hug when your emotions dipped. He'd done it ever since you were grubby kids on Solymus. It had been embarrassing at one point, but now it was a welcome comfort, a moment when you could let it all go.
"I don't know why, but I feel like we shouldn't be doing this without him," you breathed.
"We shouldn't," said Mista. "But we don't have a choice. We have to keep moving forward."
You nodded, but there was nothing behind it. Mista's words were just things you listened to fill the space he'd left behind. There were some nights when you thought the pressing stone of guilt would crush you. All of your crew carried that stone, and so the knowledge that you weren't alone made it a little more bearable.
But only you had the anger simmering beneath that. Anger at the secret he'd forced you to keep. Your soul and his were the only ones bound in that. As much as you wanted to tell someone, you couldn't. Not even Mista.
"We're not fencing this ball to Leaky Eye, are we?" Mista asked.
"He's the only regular we've got. And the only one who can get us credits on a short notice."
Mista let go of you, his mouth making a comical pout. "You know I hate that bag of flack."
"So do I. If all goes well, this will be the last time we see him."
"Thank the stars. In that case, I'll go with you."
"You just said you hated him."
"Yes, my esteemed Captain. However, you couldn't find your way around the Hub to save your life and you're absolute flack at riding those space buggies."
"I could get by," you huffed. Internally, though, you were glad. The Hub was a complicated labyrinth you had no patience to deal with. At least one of your crew always had to accompany you, and seeing as everyone would rather eat space rocks than meet with Luca again, you were only too glad that Mista had offered.
"We can't be great at everything." Mista pressed a kiss to your temple. That was the thing about Mista. You couldn't quite draw where the line was between Mista being flirty and Mista being brotherly. There were times when you wanted him to be one and times when you wanted him to be the other. And with Mista knowing you so well, he could probably tell.
The bastard.
Your holopad buzzed in your pocket. You took it out, frowning at it.
NARANCIA
Cpa cant ty but help pls
Held
Pls
Heshere
asswhguh
YOU
what?
NARANCIA
khjghkjahgbvb
"Narancia wants me outside," you said to Mista. "Probably something to do with the Ferry master."
Mista rolled his eyes. "We're about to leave the flacking thing. Can't he give us a break?"
You shrugged. Going on the Ferry was tentative business. "Make sure the plan has been sent to everyone's holopads. Confirm the backup routes and make sure we don't have anything dropping a trail. We need to be a clean slate when we approach Zero. Have you asked Zucchero and Sale to meet us at the Hub's entrance?"
"Yep. They weren't happy about it, but they'll be there."
"Good. I want the ship towed off as soon as we're off the Ferry."
The plan Mista, Trish, and Coco Jumbo had drawn up was simple enough. Two crew members would approach Zero directly during his ball, under the guise of investors or whichever ident Coco Jumbo would be able to cook up. They would come to him straight. Lay out their circumstances and basically do everything short of begging Zero for a job. Coco Jumbo was confident that was all it would take. Zero was a powerful man, sure, but the man appreciated ballsiness with a sprinkle of recklessness. Appealing to Zero without bullshit would get him on their side. It wasn't like there was anyone else stupid enough to do the same. And if their balls of steel weren't enough, dropping a hint about their Stands would do it. It wasn't every day you got an entire gang of space thieves with Stand abilities. Zero would be overjoyed.
But if that still wasn't enough, that was where the other three crew members came in. Zero would have various items of his personal collection on display. What better way to show the crew's expertise than to steal something from under his nose? Under the hubbub of the ball, the other crew members would steal something of Zero's—preferably the most expensive, illegal item—and and present it as blackmail should he still refuse to hire them. If Zero wanted the item back, he would have to give them a job first. It was arguably the stupidest part of the plan, but there was something about it that you couldn't resist.
Stars, who were you kidding? You just wanted to see if your crew could pull it off.
Coco Jumbo had even gone the length of assigning crew members. Fugo and Mista were approaching Zero—Fugo for his keen thinking and two-shaded speech and Mista for his Elector skills. Narancia and Trish would steal the item, since their Stand abilities were best suited for stealth. The turtle had left it up to you where you wanted to go. The odds of success stayed more or less the same whichever way you went, so it was your call.
For 2437 plan variations, you had to wonder how they had all settled one with only a 27.86% success rate. Trish had assured you it was the best of the bunch. "One of the only plans that didn't involve nudity, excessive bloodshed, or the Emperor" in her words.
You didn't even want to know.
You left through a side hatch in the ship, landing with a clang on the floor of the Ferry. It was easy to forget the Ferry was a vessel itself, with its cavernous space containing over a hundred slots for ships like the Passione to hitch a ride. The Ferry was really just a glorified tow ship—transporting ships and crews too bummed out to go through a Bend Gate on their own. Your crew had the added benefit of being able to avoid GA's at the gate. The Ferry master was supposed to screen all the ships and everyone aboard, but you'd been bribing him to turn a blind eye for years. If Inspector Asswipe had caught on that the Ferry master was part of the reason your crew was able to make their getaways, he hadn't done flack to stop you.
Each slot on the Ferry was like a cubicle—walls on three sides and an orange screen fencing in the ships. Slots closer to doors of the Ferry were more expensive as they were the first inside and the first outside once the Ferry docked. Ships were carried in on magnetic belts, all automated so that all it took was a press from the Ferry master to assign your ship a slot and get you in accordingly. Ship slots stretched as far as you could see, everything from pleasure cruisers to freighters snugly locked in. You couldn't see Narancia anywhere. Was he still at the front of the Ferry, paying the Ferry master? He and Narancia were buddies, but he could still sometimes be a cantankerous bastard. Like everyone in the galaxy these days, you supposed.
You pressed your thumb against a sensor in your ship slot and the orange screen dissipated briefly for you to pass through. Once outside, you hopped onto the magnetic belts, brushing your hand against the slot walls for balance. The mag belts worked in a constant loop on the Ferry, so you'd get to the front office eventually. You nearly forgot to jam the cap hanging on your belt over your head. Even if everyone knew you were from the Passione, why make it easier for the GA's?
- ✦ -
NEXT CHAPTER ─
❝ WHAT'S THE RUSH FOR? YOU STILL HAVE ANOTHER CREW MEMBER STANDING HERE. ❞
★ ⁺ — A BREATH AND DAWN ⁞ INTERLUDE I.