Three Card Monte (The Martian Alliance) (3 page)

Kyle returned and I wandered off. It didn’t take Ciarissa’s telepathy to know Willy didn’t want to continue our discussion with Roy’s little brother present.

I headed for the galley, in part because I was a little hungry and in part because I wanted to get some other opinions. Tresia and Bullfrog were both there—her cooking, him eating—which meant I could get fed and get information at the same time.

“Snack time, DeeDee?” Tresia asked cheerfully. She was busy prepping our next meal, arms going every which way, pincers snapping, stirring, or grabbing depending. Since Arachnidans had eight limbs, this wasn’t as hard as it sounded—until you realized she wasn’t looking at anything other than me.

“I could be convinced.”

Bullfrog grunted as I sat down across from him. “I have some fly pie left.”

“Hilarious. I haven’t gagged at that one for a long time. Trying out the oldies but goodies to prep for a home world visit?”

Bullfrog shook his head. “I’m hoping to stay on the ship.”

“Seriously?”

“Very.”

“Why? You were the one who brought the whole thing up.”

He grunted. “Yeah. I’m an idiot.”

Tresia put a plate of sautéed sandworms in front of me. I hadn’t gagged at these for a long time, either. Despite the name, and unlike fly pie, Quillian Sandworms were succulent and delicious, and the way Tresia prepared them made them even better. The sandworms were plump, perfectly browned—crisp on the outside, tender on the inside—with a buttery finish and a hint of cinnamon.

“Yum.” Information could wait. I dug in.

“Bullfrog’s worried about his cover,” Tresia said as I tried not to slurp or shovel the entire plate into my mouth at once. I really loved sautéed sandworms.

“Oh, why?” I asked with my mouth full.

Bullfrog heaved a sigh. “I’m worried that things have…gotten around.”

“What things? Tresia, are there any more sandworms?”

She piled more onto my plate. “We have plenty. I stocked up.”

“Things like my cover,” Bullfrog said as he finished his fly pie. “It’s one thing to say I’m part of the Polliworld Underground when we’re not there.”

“It’s never bothered you before. We’ve gone to Polliworld a lot and this is the first time you’ve mentioned this worry.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never visited when someone who thinks I’m part of the Polliworld Underground has taken up residence there.”

I froze, mid-slurp. “Oh. Would Monte say anything, do you think?”

“I think the Leech would do or say whatever he had to in order to protect himself or give himself an edge. I know he likes us, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as you could throw him.”

“Since I don’t want to touch him, that wouldn’t be far.”

“Exactly. And I really wish this had occurred to me before I opened my mouth and told Roy what was going on.”

Tresia slid a few more sandworms onto my plate. “That’s it for you or you won’t want any dinner.”

“The way everyone’s acting, I think I want more, in case it’s my last meal.”

Bullfrog shook his head. “No joke. If the Underground finds out I’ve been pretending to work for them, we’re going to be in big trouble.”

The Polliworld Underground wasn’t as bad as the Diamante Families were. No one was. But Polliwogs were exceptionally strong for their size, territorial, and tended toward taciturnity. This hid the fact that they were a lot smarter on average than anyone would think a walking toad could be. The fact that the Underground survived and thrived after the Diamante Purge said a lot about their own cunning—and brutality.

We’d managed to stay pretty clear of any Underground entanglements. So far. But Bullfrog had a good point—if we were about to visit Monte, then we were asking for Underground interaction.

“Do you think Roy’s considered this?”

Bullfrog grimaced, an interesting sight on a Polliwog. Somehow, it made his mouth look even larger than it was, which was saying a lot. “I mentioned it to him. He said I was worried for nothing and should take a nap.”

I finished my last sandworm and put my plate into the sink. “Yesterday at this time nothing was wrong. I get one good nap in and somehow everything’s all messed up.”

“That’ll teach you to sleep on the job.” Bullfrog stood up. “Back to work for me. Maybe if you take another nap everything will go back to normal.”

“It never works that way,” Tresia said.

“Let’s pretend it does. I don’t want to give up naps forever.” Though I didn’t think a nap was a good idea right now. Snooping, not sleeping, was my plan.

“We’re coming out of the jump,” Roy said over the intercom. “Everyone strap in.”

“So much for that,” Bullfrog said as he sat back down, pretty much speaking for both of us. Tresia and I joined him as Kyle and Willy raced in. Ciarissa wasn’t with us. I didn’t know if that meant she was with Roy and Doven or elsewhere.

The jump ending wiped thoughts of anything but my stomach out of my mind. I didn’t want to revisit my sandworms.

Coming out of hyperspace was always easier than going into it, though your stomach flipping was a given. It just didn’t flip as badly.

“Okay, we’re at the edge of the Pollisystem,” Roy said over the intercom. “Should reach Polliworld in an hour or so. Let’s get prepped.”

Despite the average being’s desire to breathe without snorting down a throat full of flies, Polliworld ran a brisk business in scientific exploration and experimentation. Some came to prove that every world had started like Polliworld, as primordial swamps. Others came to disprove the same theory. There were always some cross-species proponents or opponents around, trying to prove or disprove that the Polliwogs were related to amphibians on other planets.

All of these were outnumbered by the geologists, oceanographers, herpetologists, entomologists, and their ilk who swarmed over Polliworld at all times. Basically, the planet was a scientific playground, and because those scientists were around, Polliworld was almost as popular a destination as Roulette.

Most of the science teams didn’t stay long, but they made up for short stays by coming back frequently. And when they went home, the various scientists talked about Polliworld, if only to explain why they’d spent so much money to learn whatever they had, and why they wanted more money to go back and learn even more.

All this somehow translated into the denizens of their particular planets wanting to see Polliworld up close and personally, if only to see if it was really as awful as it appeared to be. Unless you lived for flies, it was, at least if you were outdoors.

Polliworld was a swamp planet. Everything on it had that kind of damp that never goes away. Mold, mildew, and mud were everywhere, and Polliwogs liked it that way. They felt it kept their planet lush and lovely. It also ensured other races weren’t going to try to move in and take over. Swamp living was hard on beings who didn’t have water-repellent skin and the ability to close their nostrils and still breathe.

The air was technically breathable for all of us, but it was thick with flies and all available surfaces were covered with things that attracted flies and helped them to make more flies. The smell was exactly what you’d expect for a huge, active swamp that doubled as a fly-making factory—fetid. The air quality redefined the term “humid.”

The few areas with solid ground went for a premium price—most Polliwogs lived in raised communities, called Pads, which hovered over their particular part of whichever section of swamp their family had claimed generations ago, supported by strong, water-resistant stakes and specialized grav-generators that ran on water power.

Prepping for landing wasn’t that big a deal. Polliworld was an older planet and possessed an excellent spaceport that was run efficiently. The risk of crashing existed, of course, but due to the swampy nature of the planet, the risks of injury from a crash landing were minimized.

Well, if we didn’t have a Quillian Shaman with us, landing would have been a big deal because we rarely liked to identify who we all really were and most planetary systems liked to know who was dropping by for a visit. Having Doven on the crew meant we could land on most of the planets we visited regularly without worry. Because of this, most of landing prep was on him and Roy.

Doven changed the ship’s identifying call numbers on the outer hull of the
Hummingbird
while he also altered a few exterior characteristics of the structure, which changed it into a different ship as far as anyone else would know.

Per Roy’s rules, once the call letters were changed, we all stopped calling or thinking of the ship by its real name. For the rest of our time in the Polliworld system we were members of the crew of the
Stingray
.

As far as anyone at Polliworld Mission Control was concerned, the
Stingray
hailed from Oceana and was a science ship, meaning it was a great cover for this world.

So while prepping for landing wasn’t that big a deal, prepping for exiting the ship and actually going onto Polliworld was quite a big deal.

“Bullfrog to the cockpit. Everyone not from Polliworld to the hold,” Roy said over the intercom.

“Enjoy,” Bullfrog said as he left us.

For Bullfrog, the flies in the air meant nothing other than that he could snack any time he wanted simply by putting his tongue out. For the rest of us, it meant wearing the Polliworld equivalent of a space suit, complete with helmet. The suits were the only things that ensured you wouldn’t be eaten alive by flies, suffocate from the smell or flies in your nose and mouth, or melt due to the humidity.

“Oh, how I’ve missed the suit,” Tresia said under her breath as she quickly cleaned up the galley. I couldn’t blame her for being underwhelmed—Polliskins were hard enough to get into with only four limbs. Eight arms and legs along with an Arachnid body made getting a Polliskin on a galaxy-class sporting event for Tresia and those helping her.

Because we had a Polliwog on crew and visited this world with a certain amount of frequency, we all had our own Polliskins. Doven and Tresia always needed assistance. Sometimes the rest of us did, too. So we’d learned long ago that we all had to get into the suits together.

The experience was always interesting. Usually fun, sometimes fractious, but ultimately bonding.

Once Bullfrog was in the pilot’s seat, Roy joined the rest of us in the portion of the hold where we stored our dangerous elements gear.

“Time to get ready for top world diving,” Willy said as everyone started to struggle into their Polliskins.

“You say that every time,” Kyle said as he helped Doven get his wings into their covering.

“One day we’ll go sea diving and you’ll have to wear a wetsuit,” Willy said with a grin. “They’re the only things worse to get into than Polliskins.”

“So you’ve always claimed,” I said. “But I don’t know how that can be true.”

“You’re the only one besides Bullfrog who could avoid using the suit,” Kyle pointed out.

This was true. I could shape shift into a Polliwog and go in without issue. However, I didn’t shift if it wasn’t necessary. Polliskins adapted to the person wearing them, so going in with my Polliskin on meant if I had to shift into something other than a Polliwog, I’d still be protected.

Besides, I didn’t want to eat flies, and if I shifted into a Polliwog and went outside, I’d have to or I’d stand out as a fake immediately. I’d eaten flies before and probably would again, but there was no reason to do so before it became absolutely necessary.

“She could,” Roy said. “But there’s no reason for her to be anything other than my cute little redhead right now.”

Everyone started teasing Roy, even Doven. It felt like things were back to normal. I hoped this was so, because after talking to Willy and Bullfrog, I had a bad feeling about this particular trip.