“A fool is she who plans to live forever, but a few centuries can’t be too much to ask for.”
-Blood Witch Amkara, 185 U.E.
No one stopped the crew when they made their way across the busy entertainment area. A few of the less intoxicated celebrants threw them sidelong glances, hands inching to weapons, but none mustered the courage to draw. No sign of Torch.
They entered the smaller antechamber before the captain’s cabin. Kurko closed the doors behind them and standing guard in case any of Barandi’s crew considered coming after them.
Stephan was met by a scene of wanton carnage. Singed body parts scattered across the room, furniture ripped apart.
Torch was propped up against the back wall, his patched coat of many colors drowned in scarlet. His scarred face had gone white, and he held his one good hand pressed to his throat, blood trickling between his fingers.
“Bastards… spiked me…” Torch forced out, red spittle staining his lips. “Don’t worry though. Made ‘em… pay.”
“Codes,” Stephan whispered. He knelt next to Torch and opened the man’s coat. He counted five bullet holes distributed evenly across his stomach and chest.
He attempted a smile. “We’re going to set you right, Torch. Don’t worry. Taira, could you open a portal to the Tits Up?”
“M-Maybe,” Taira said. “I would have to guess the placement…”
“Get it done,” Kurko said. “Now.”
Torch’s metal hand closed around Stephan’s collar. The demolitionist pulled him close, face screwed up with pain. His breath smelled of bile and cigarettes. “Listen… I’m done for. I can feel it. Insides are… mincemeat.” His eyes welled up, and a single tear rolled over his scarred cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Stephan said. He pressed down on two of the gut shots, putting pressure. “You’re not done for. We’ll fix this.”
“I’m sorry… because…” He groaned, tendons in his neck standing stark. His lips were going blue. “I didn’t put you in my… in my will.”
“Hey, don’t worry about that. I’ve only known you, what, a month? Besides, we won’t need to use it. You can put me in once you see how good I patch you up.” He looked over his shoulder. “Taira, how’s that portal?”
Taira was molding black anima between her hands, face tense. “Almost got it. Honing in.”
A pair of Barandi’s crew burst into the room, weapons drawn. Kurko grabbed each by the head and banged them together until Stephan could hear their skulls cracking. Blood leaking from their ears, nose, and mouth, Kurko tossed them back into the room beyond.
“Listen to me!” Torch hissed. “I didn’t put you in my will, so… I have a surprise. Something… special.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out in his clenched fist. He motioned insistently for Stephan to take it.
“No hands free, buddy,” Stephan said, putting his weight on the wounds. “You can give it to me once we’re out of here.”
“Take… it…” His eyes were big and pleading.
Stephan sighed, leaned back, and wiped sweat from his forehead with his arm. He took the small object from Torch and peered at it in the palm of his hand. Red, cylindrical, size of a thumb.
He frowned.
Is that…?
The firecracker went off in a shower of hot sparks. Stephan scrambled to his feet, hand thumping, his vision bleeding light.
Torch laughed, shrill and rattling. Pained, but full of simple joy. Stephan rubbed at a blackened spot in the palm of his hand, swearing under his breath.
“Torch, this isn’t the time to…” He looked up.
Torch’s head slumped, the light gone from his eyes. Blood dripped from his mouth, which twisted in one final grin.
Stephan took a step back. “Codes. He’s… Is he…?”
“Dead,” Kurko said. “You did your best.”
“There’s nothing we can do?”
“Nothing. His soul is gone. Med-patches can’t fix that.”
Taira got a portal open to the Tits Up’s cargo hold. Kurko gently lifted the demolitionist and carried him through.
“Taira, go with him,” Stephan said. “Tell Kazzul to fire on the Bliyzarra in two minutes. Just enough to rattle them.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because we’ll need a distraction. The captain’s in there alone with Barandi, a psychomancer. He’ll be twisting her mind as we speak. He could have her hostage, or worse, she could be the one shooting at us when we walk through that door. So we need to throw them off.”
“It’s sound,” Kurko said from the cargo bay. “We go with that plan.”
*****
Quintilla sipped at her beer. “Say I’m considering this offer of yours. How many pieces do you have? Two? Three?”
“Three,” Barandi said.
Perfect. This deal goes through, that treasure is mine. I’ll stiff him on the ten percent, of course.
“I’m ready to shake on these terms if you are,” he continued. “There’s just one thing I’d like first.”
“Which is?” Quintilla asked.
“I’ll be honest, I’m feeling a little tense. You’ve got an infamous trigger finger, Wenezian. I’d feel more at ease if we could all just… put our weapons aside.”
Quintilla snorted.
Barandi’s easy smile faded. He got that flint-hard look in his eyes. “I won’t shake your hand while you’re carrying that piece. Don’t you want this deal to happen? Sovi.”
She blinked. Shit. I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I? Can’t afford to blow this deal. I need that treasure. For Tee. She’ll never be free unless I do this.
Barandi reached for her holster. “Let me just take care of that for you.”
She grabbed his hand, guided it away from her gun. She shook her head, thoughts swimming. Something wasn’t right. Why didn’t it feel right?
“No need to make this difficult. All I want is the gun, then we can deal.”
Quintilla pulled out her beat-up revolver, looked at it. Slowly, reluctantly, she reached it towards Barandi.
“There we are,” Barandi said with a smile, gripping the barrel.
Boom!
The floor shook. Blink tumbled to the floor, and Quintilla pitched forward, smacking her head on the table.
A hard jolt went through her, knocked the fog out of her brain. She reeled, body thrown by the motion of the ship. Her beer went flying, but she kept a hold of her gun.
“Shit!” Barandi cried. “Blink, get the gun!”
The reedling crawled towards the table and reached under it. Quintilla stood and kicked his hand away, then put a bullet in his back. Barandi scrambled out of the couch, hat flying off his head, and made to run.
Quintilla angled the revolver low, fired once. Took the lubbard’s manhood clean off. He cried out, falling to his knees, grasping at the stump as it sprayed blood.
“What did you do to me?” Quintilla asked, chest heaving.
Barandi’s only response was a sobbing scream.
*****
Kurko shouldered through the doors, taking them clean off the hinges. The rest of the crew followed. Stephan went in, hands sweating, Rivello in a white-knuckled grip, hazy auras playing across the surface of his glasses.
Captain Barandi was on his knees, bleeding profusely from his crotch, head lolling. Quintilla had her foot on the back of the first mate, gun against his neck.
“Thanks for the rescue,” Quintilla said.
“Doesn’t look like you needed it,” Stephan remarked.
“I needed a good knock on the head. Barry here did something to me.”
“Psychomancer. He’s been messing with your head.”
She glanced over at the lubbard. “How… on brand. You thought you could take me down, huh? Me and my crew? Pathetic.”
“Captain…” Kurko murmured. “Torch is dead.”
Quintilla whirled around. “What?”
“We got split up. Barandi’s people got him.”
The captain paused. She wiped blood from a cut on her forehead. “Damn. I thought that ugly bastard would live forever.”
“I need healing magic!” Barandi cried. “I’m about to fucking bleed out!”
“Anybody got one?” She looked over the crew.
“Really?” Yin asked. “You’re going to patch him up? Torch is dead! He would’ve done the same to the rest of us!”
“We’re going to patch him up, because without him, there’s no one to keep his crew off our backs. We don’t need a fight right now. He’s also going to fetch us those map pieces, free of charge.”
Kurko handed her a med-patch, and she threw it in Barandi’s lap. “There. Sort yourself out.”
Damn, Torched snuffed out, just like that. Can't say I'm not going to miss him. He did go out quite appropriately though.