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Normally, ammunition for the ship, particularly for the big guns, would have been loaded using an automatic system. Using such heavy weaponry required less manual labor. And with any kind of biological loading, there was always the risk that somebody would drop something. It wasn’t so much a problem of the things exploding but more of them crushing dock workers. The issue with exploding came when using an automated system. Anson did not trust any of these outer trade stations to have maintained their equipment correctly. He said he needed to make sure the process was done properly.
At the end of the day, though, Covak didn’t blame him. Security was Anson’s department, whether that meant safeguarding the ammunition they brought on board or ensuring they didn’t get boarded by pirates.Again.The buck stopped with Anson.
He lifted an eye as he reached the top of the ramp, and Covak was still standing there.
“Are you planning on doing any work today? Or are you just going to stand there and look pretty for your admirers?” he asked, jerking his head toward the dock workers who were still watching them.
“Youwishyou looked this good doing this,” he threw back at Anson and turned, heading into the loading bay on theDream. They were almost three-quarters full now, and he was nearlydone with the medical supplies. There were just three or four large crates left to bring in.
“What? A sweaty mess?” Anson threw back as he walked past him again. “Purlease! I’m just glad this place has air recyclers. The last thing I want to smell is your freaky Vorrtan pheromones all day.”
Covak grinned as he hefted the huge crates from the medical grav-sled onto his shoulder and carried them into the cargo bay as though they weighed nothing. Sweat ran down his spine, and he’d long since stripped to the waist, his vest tucked into the back of his waistband. He wasn’t complaining, though; it was a good workout.
Stacking the last crate into place at the back of theDream’sbay, he arched an eyebrow at Anson. “Yeah, we don’t all need fancy machines to get the job done, you know.”
Anson shook his head as he clunked by. Without missing a step, he swiveled the big machine’s cockpit around and flipped Covak off with the loader forks. Covak flicked him the bird absently as he stood in front of the loaded medical supplies.
He pursed his lips, tapping them with a clawed hand as he went over everything he’d ordered in his head. He’d tried to account for every eventuality, but this mission was different. They were tasked with rescuing a human woman, or a near-human woman, and apart from Tell, he’d never treated a human before.
His mind wandered back to the images they’d been sent. Jane, the female they were going to rescue, was stunning. The most beautiful female he’d ever laid eyes on in all his travels across the galaxy. His brows snapped together in a frown.
Would it be enough? Did humans have any odd medical needs that he didn’t know about? He would have to scan Davis Tell again. He’d treated him before, but that was when he didn’tactually know he was human. He’d just assumed Tell was some kind of scrawny, runt Lathar.
Of course, he’d given some trall about always knowing because Tell smelled different. Telldidsmell different, but so did every other Lathar out there. Therehadalways been something different about Tell… it was right there in his damn eyes. But they’d all bought the story he’d told about a birth defect without question. Not surprising. Given the amount of genetic manipulation the Lathar did to themselves, there were always… accidents. It wasn’t really polite to ask. But as the team’s medic, he had to ask the question now, especially if they were bringing a female on board—a female who could quite well be injured.
That was a task for later, though. He’d done all he could for now. With a sense of satisfaction, he spread securing nets over his supplies and tethered them into place. Now, no matter what loops Ryke decided to put the ship through, his delicate medical stocks wouldn’t end up smashed to bits like eggs in a shaken box.
Ducking out of the cargo bay, he headed over to where Anson was finishing up with the power loader. Aware of his audience of awed dockworkers but ignoring them, Anson grinned as he loaded up the last of the ammunition, lifting it high above his head and twirling it into a complex dance. The mechanical limbs of the power loader moved as if they were an extension of his body.
“Show-off.” Covak leaned against a support strut and called out, “What’s next? How about a little jig for us, show off your expert control there.”
Anson laughed, the deep, resonant sound echoing across the deck between them. “Flattery? What’s next? A compliment on my hair?”
“Don’t push it.” Covak snorted and flicked his own long hair back over his shoulders. “Mine is far superior anyway.”
“Now who’s showing off?” Anson grinned at him as he walked up the ramp to load the last of the ammunition and then walked the power loader over to its charging cradle.
As soon as he stepped out of it, any animation the machine had had disappeared, and it became just a generic piece of loading equipment again. The B’Kaar walked back over the deck toward Covak, shoving a hand through his black hair. The lines under his skin had disappeared now that they were no longer required to control the power loader.
As he walked, it appeared he was just another arrogant mercenary with that cocky swagger, his attention on nothing more than their ship and his teammate. Covak knew differently. That was what made Anson so dangerous and every inch the Reaper he was.
Like Covak, he was aware of every being around him, every dockhand, every machine. Unlike Covak, who couldn’t do the freaking machine uplink thing, he could probably tell how much juice every power loader around them had and whether the dockhands were armed with as much as a mini spanner, as he had been every second of the time they’d been loading. They both had. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody had tried to sneak aboard theLady’s Dreamas a stowaway.
Covak didn’t have to ask him if there were any issues. If there had been, he and everyone still on the ship would have instantly known about it. With hiske’lathAnson could talk to anybody inside just as easily as he was talking to Covak right now.
“I think that’s all of it,” he said and then arched an eyebrow. “You ready to grab a beer before we head out into human space?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Covak replied. “Especially since it’ll be the last decent one we’ll get for a while.”
Covak leanedback in his chair, the metal legs squeaking a little in protest, and surveyed the bar around him. It was a familiar scene. The bar changed every time, but the Reapers usually found somewhere that served food and alcohol in large quantities, which was where they did their best thinking off the battlefield.
Tonight, they had claimed a large round table at the back of the bar, tucked away in the corner. His gaze washed over the scratched metal surface that bore the scars of many a brawl. Just his kind of place.
He took a deep appreciative breath, his large chest inflating. The air was thick with the scent of strong alcohol and grilled meat, with a faint hint of decay from the ancient ventilation system clanging above his head as it struggled to keep up. Something, possibly several somethings, had definitely died up there.
Spreading his arms over the backs of the chairs on either side of him, he looked around. As usual, the other customers in the bar gave the Reapers a wide berth, shooting nervous glances in their direction when they thought the mercenary group wasn’t looking. Besides that, they kept their distance. It was wise; no one wanted to mess with a bunch of mercenaries, especially not those with the bloodthirsty reputation of the Reapers.
He bit back his smile at the mix of fear and respect in their eyes. That reputation had been bought and paid for in blood, and it always preceded them. On outposts like this, in the ass-end of the known universe, it paid dividends to be known as a group not to be fucked with. This area was thick with pirates and thosewho would sell their own mothers for credits. Being a victim out here? Not a long-term survival prospect.
