StarCraft II: Devils' Due (11 page)

had a trick or forty-seven to counter with, and knew

Tychus knew it too.

Final y Declan shrugged. “There’s a back room, for

just such occasions.”

“Sounds just about right.”

A few moments later, they had been ushered into a

particularly dark and not particularly fragrant area of

The Pit. The room was quite smal ; Tychus practical y

fil ed it himself. Every member of the Screaming

Skul s had piled in for the conversation, and the smal

table did not have an inch of space to spare once

everyone’s drinks, ashtrays, and other items had

been piled atop it. It was further crowded because,

like Tychus, al the others wore harnesses with oxygen

so that they could extend their enjoyment of the

alcohol.

But apparently none of the Skul s seemed to mind.

They were the most—Jim groped for the word

—
cheerful
band of murderers and cutthroats he had

ever seen. There was much laughter, spil ing of

beverages, bawdy talk, and general y good-natured

camaraderie.

Declan made sure everyone was settled, then he

turned to Jim and Tychus from a distance of about

eight inches away.

“Now,” he said, his whiskey-scented breath bathing

them, “shinies.”

Tychus had the warrior woman in his lap—her

name was El i, or El a, or Al i; Jim hadn’t caught it

clearly in the hubbub of the bar—and had to maneuver

around her in order to fish out the crystal he’d brought

as proof of his and Jim’s good faith. Al i/El a/El i didn’t

seem to mind, chuckling throatily as she shifted on his

lap.

Tychus placed the crystal on the table. “One of an

entire freighter ful ,” he said. “Ought to fetch you a real

nice price.”

“Ought to indeed,” Declan said. He reached out a

hand for it, fingering it with the expertise of someone

who knew what he was looking for. His eyes narrowed

as he perused it.

Jim realized that, while not exactly an act, the

happy-go-lucky, wild playfulness Declan and the

others cultivated was far from al of what they were.

There was a blade in the colorful, over-the-top sheath

—a cutlass, no doubt—and that blade was very, very

sharp indeed. He was suddenly quite glad he was

doing business with the Screaming Skul s, not

competing or in conflict with them.

“Decent-quality crystals,” Declan said. He reached

over to Al i/El a/El i’s ample bosom and tucked the

crystal snugly between her breasts. She gave him a

wink. “We’l give you a decent price.”

He put a pile of credits on the table. It wasn’t as

large as Jim had fantasized about, but it was damned

fair. He nodded to himself. They liked booze and

fel owship, and they paid pretty wel for work.

Something cold splashed on his neck, and he

jumped.

“Damn, sorry about that. Let me clean it up,” came

a soft female voice. It was the other woman, the smal

blonde, and an instant later he felt a warm tongue

licking up the trickle of alcohol.

Oh yeah. He liked the Screaming Skul s.

Talk of business was suspended for a while, during

which time the party spil ed out of the smal back room

into The Pit proper. Jack, the large black man who

was apparently Declan’s second in command, was

sent to confirm that the freight was indeed as laden

with crystals as Jim and Tychus had promised. He

returned with a large smile. More rounds of drinks

were ordered, and some strange little snack that was

deliciously and addictively salty. Jim was certain he

didn’t want to know what it was.

At some point, the warrior woman detached herself

and stumbled up to the bar. She was passed a mic by

the grinning bartender. Finding one of the tables that

had only a few drinks on it, she stood on it, tossed her

black hair, arched her back, exposing her pierced

midriff, and began to sing. Surprisingly wel .

“Al i’s good,” Declan said, accepting a cigar from

Tychus and permitting the bigger man to light it for

him. “At a hel of a lot of things.”

Jim wondered if Declan meant what he thought he

meant.

“No shit,” said the dark-skinned man. “She fil ets

better’n anyone I ever seen. Gets them screaming

within three minutes, don’t finish ’em off until three

hours.” He shook his head in admiration. “One hel of

a woman.”

Jim settled back careful y in his chair.

“Got another job for you, if you want to take it,”

Declan said, taking another puff. The tip of his cigar

glowed orange. “We’d do it ourselves, but we ain’t got

the time. Gotta pace yourselves, you know? Don’t

want to miss the opportunity, but don’t want to burn

out.”

“One must pause to enjoy the little things in life,”

Tychus agreed, puffing on his own stogie.

“You impressed us with the freighter,” Declan said.

“So we’l share the profits with you. Generously.”

“Define ‘generous,’” Jim said.

“Seventy-thirty. And you get the seventy.”

Jim’s eyes went wide: it was one hel of an offer—

they must have made a mighty fine impression—but

Tychus had the better poker face.

“Let’s say twenty-eighty. Us.”

A murmur went around the table, and the

conviviality dropped several notches.

“I mean, after al , we’re the ones out there risking

our necks. Taking al the chances. You just got the

info.”

“Twenty-five–seventy-five,” offered Declan.

Tychus rubbed his chin, apparently contemplating

whether or not the stubble warranted a shave. “I

reckon that is acceptable.”

At once glasses were clinked and alcohol was

sloshed. Jim grinned and took another hit of oxygen

before ordering another round.

Life was good.

An hour later, the plans having been discussed,

staggering a little despite the oxygen they had inhaled

as a precaution, Jim and Tychus were aboard the

Screaming Skul s’ vessel, the
Privateer
. She was

medium-sized, older, but with a lot of personalized

touches. The slightly weather-beaten interior seemed

to suit the cheerful group that piled in, heading,

predictably, for a cabinet that housed a particularly

rare vintage of something golden and strong-smel ing.

Declan poured drinks al -round. Jim felt he could

almost get drunk off the smel of the amber liquor. He

swirled it around in the smal glass, mesmerized by

the thick flow.

“To new partnerships!” announced Declan, and he

knocked his back.

It was the best thing Jim had ever tasted—strong

like a good punch, smooth like a long, slow kiss. It

burned a fiery trail down to his stomach, and he took

another sip.

“If the partnership starts this way,” said Tychus, “I

think we might be doing business together for quite

some time.”

“Where can we drop you off, boys?”

There was only one place that Jim and Tychus

particularly felt like spending the Skul s’ money.

WICKED WAYNE’S

Raynor inhaled the smel of tobacco, other

smokes, and spil ed alcohol as if it were a fine

perfume. This was the smel of Wicked Wayne’s, and

it always made him smile. Big Eddie beamed and

ushered them in, cheerful y accepting his tip, and Jim

felt a smile stretching his own face as he looked

around.

If there was anyplace in this sector he felt he could

cal home, this was it. Peace settled on him as he and

Tychus entered, placed their drink orders with the

ever-efficient and lovely Misty, and took their usual

seats. Over in a corner, a live band was performing

tonight.

“Where’s Daisy?” Jim asked as he lifted his drink in

salute to Evangelina, who was currently undulating on

the stage in next to nothing.

“She’s busy. Guess I gotta find my own

amusement,” Tychus said. They sat and watched the

girls perform and drained their whiskeys in a

comfortable silence.

Every time Jim saw Evangelina, he found her more

striking. He kept looking for a physical flaw. He found

one: a tiny little mole near her right eyebrow. And that

was it. It astonished him. He’d yet to get her to bed—

usual y she was booked several weeks in advance—

but she kept assuring him that just as soon as she

had a break in her schedule, she’d be al his.

Tychus slammed his glass down with a grunt. “Time

to go liberate some credits from some poor

unfortunate souls,” he said. “You care to join me,

Jim?”

Jim was pretty comfortable right where he was, but

the idea did have merit. He had learned to play poker

in the military, with Tychus and the rest of the

Heaven’s Devils. Or rather, he had learned initial y

how to lose every payday. But by observing his

compatriots, he’d learned to recognize “tel s.” And by

stubbornly refusing to quit, he’d learned the game

wel .

Evangelina was going to be onstage for a while.

Why not accompany Tychus in the meantime? “Sure,”

Jim said, rising and grinning at his friend.

Four games later, there were three faces at the

table that registered varying expressions of glum,

sul en, and pissed off, and two that were rather

pleased-looking. Tychus’s pile was a bit larger than

Jim’s, but the former farm boy had done pretty wel for

himself. And the night was young.

Tychus ground out his stogie and grinned wolfishly

at the three losers. “Who’s up for another game?”

One of them, an older man with graying hair, simply

shook his head, pushed his chair back, and went to

the bar, presumably to see if Misty was in the mood to

extend credit, as Jim was pretty sure they’d cleaned

him out. The other two nodded.

“I want to get that money back,” said one.

“I don’t know how you cheated, but I’m sure you

did,” growled the other.

Tychus just grinned. The funny thing about al this

was, surprisingly enough, Tychus actual y didn’t cheat.

He just knew how to read people very, very wel .

“I think,” came a feminine voice, “that Mr. Findlay is

going to have to sit this hand out. And maybe a few

more after that.”

Jim and Tychus glanced up to see Daisy slipping

her arms over Tychus’s shoulders. “That does sound

mighty tempting,” Tychus drawled, “but I’m on a

winning streak right now, honey.”

“That you are,” Daisy replied. “Wait til you see what

I got in store for you.”

Tychus searched her eyes for a moment, then

grinned. “Wouldn’t be a man if I turned that down,” he

said, shoving his pile over to Jim. “Here you go,

Jimmy. Try not to lose it al on the first hand, al right?”

“I’l do the best I can, Tychus,” Jim promised.

Daisy was not a smal girl, but compared to

Tychus, giantesses would look petite. Her hand was

completely engulfed in his larger one as she led him

up the stairs, glancing back down at him with a half

smile and smoldering eyes that promised the world

and more.

“Everybody’s talking about how stupid Butler and

his posse looked,” Tychus said, “and that’s al due to

you, sweetheart.”

Her half smile widened. “I had fun,” she said. “You

know he’s come sniffing around Wayne’s before. I

had myself a good laugh, watching them scramble

around, trying to find you.”

Tychus chuckled. “I reckon you did. Jimmy and I had

a laugh just imagining it. They weren’t too hard on you,

were they, darlin’?”

Daisy rol ed her eyes and waved her free hand in a

dismissive gesture. “That delicate flower of a

marshal? Not likely. That deputy of his just kept turning

redder and redder trying to ask me about my

profession.”

Tychus guffawed at that and squeezed her hand.

“Thought you were usual y booked tonight.”

“I am,” she said, winking. “I made a special

exception just for you, baby. You usual y don’t stick

around here too long.”

“I always come back, though, and I always ask for

you,” he reminded her.

“That you do. And that’s why I wanted to do

something … wel … special for you tonight.”

Tychus raised an eyebrow in anticipation. “Special,

eh?”

She grinned and tugged on his hand. “Special.

Come on.”