Big Surly

Big Surly flops into the captain’s chair. The crew doesn’t need to acknowledge him. Their role is to get the ship to Space Dock come hell or black holes.

Customs swarms their approach.

Big Surly sweats. This load is legal, but he has a reputation. All the warrants are suspended for the duration of this mission. Crewmates are angry he agreed to it. They don’t know it wasn’t a choice.

Clustered lanes clear for their approach. Cop ships join Customs, weapons pods bristling. Big Surly’s trigger finger twitches on the armrest. Law enforcement is protecting him, not chasing.

His crewmates breathe faster. He tastes their fear. For all they know, it’s a trap. He wishes it was. It doesn’t matter. They’ll let the kids go once the delivery is made.

His archenemy meets him at the docking hold. Sheriff Jones is ashen.

“You did it,” Jones says.

“Can’t let ‘em murder children.”

He doesn’t tell Jones two of the school kids are his. They’re why the school has been targeted. Big Surly is the only one who can pull this off.

The FedCon sends the ransom without delay. Big Surly has to wait until the kids are released before he and his crew are allowed to leave. If the kidnappers reject the payment, Big Surly is dead.

They find out from the news vid. Sobbing children run from the school. Payment accepted. Communications devices of all varieties go off, but Big Surly keeps his eyes on the broadcast. Several hundred little kids are scooped up by waiting family and police. He searches the faces, panic rising.

Then they appear. The twins are the last ones out.

Big Surly drops to his knees. Tears run off his face to pelt his leather-clad hands. Relief washes the terror away.

A hand settles onto his shoulder. He looks up and sees the sheriff’s cheeks are wet.

“You too?” Jones asks.

Big Surly can’t speak. He nods, chokes on emotion.

“What was in the delivery?”

There was nothing left to lose. The kidnappers took care of that.

“A family treasure worth more than all the Noble Families combined.” He stood, each excess pound draining his strength. “Don’t thank me for giving it up. It’s the worst crime I’ve ever committed.”

“What?”

“I just bought our kids’ lives with the key to the galaxy’s destruction.”

* * * * *

This story may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author.

He Sleeps

He sleeps, nestled against his mother’s chest, dreaming baby boy dreams. His mother kisses his blond head and inhales his sweaty-sweet aroma. Of all the futures she sees, his is closed to her

He stirs, his eyes flutter. She snugs the blanket up to his shoulders and sighs when he puts his fingers back in his mouth. She feels his muscles twitch in time with his even breathing.

To him, all is well. There are no worries beyond the nap. All is now, there is no was or will. His mother longs to experience this simplicity. Such a thing, of course, is impossible. Her guard must never waver. Vulnerability is not an option. Lack of confidence means death.

Another kiss to his fair brow. It is time.

She edges to a slit in the door. The street has appeared empty for hours, but it is the game they play. To them, it is a game. She is less than an insect in their regard. If she is destroyed, they will choose another.

Panic fights calm. For her son is to live, she must win. For him to be a free man, she must exceed all others before her.

She hesitates. Are they waiting around the corner? Maybe she lost them. She’d be dead by now if she hadn’t. Zephyr’s warning tugs at her. They’ve begun teasing the runners. Let them think they won. Take them down seconds before victory.

Still no sound from outside. No sense of nearby life, unless they’ve learned how to disguise that, too. Is that part of the tease, to let her think she retains her sole advantage?

The baby’s hand falls from his mouth, so deep is he in dreamland. She prays he lives to see a peaceful day.

She moves to the door jamb, presses her back to the wall. With what little remains of her source, she draws a misty veil around herself. As long as they don’t look directly at her, she’ll escape notice. She delivers a final kiss to her warm bundle then wraps her arms as tight as she dares. Using a slight source nudge, she opens the door just wide enough to slip through. She takes a shaky breath.

The little boy’s mother steps into the street.

* * * * *

This story may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author.