Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) by Ben Bequer Read Free Book Online Page B

two-handed.
    “What is that?” I asked of the lingering particle effect.
    He answered it by drawing a laser weapon of intricate design and firing into it. I expected treachery, and to die in an instant, but to my surprise, the effect acted as a shield, blocking the laser bolt from Drovani’s weapon. I lowered both weapons, both frightened and angered by the live-fire demonstration, but he just smiled.
    “Easiest way to explain it,” he said, shrugging.
    I nodded, “It’ll block anything?”
    “Small arms fire, for certain. More than that, I can’t say. The blades belonged to my youngest brother, before he was killed in war three years ago. He was large, like you, and he preferred a powerful hacking weapon to the usual more elegant blades of my people.”
    Drovani holstered his pistol and drew his sword, which was thin and elongated, closer to the dueling saber of a musketeer.
    “Thank you,” I said, as he sheathed his blade and reached for the wine.
    He poured me another glass and handed it to me as I put my blades away. “You will need them. Come this time tomorrow, we shall be knee-deep in the dead.”
    He seemed to want to go on, to tell me all about his people’s proud past, as if it were something I had to know, as if I cared, but I used a slight moment’s respite in the conversation to excuse myself. I said I had to relieve myself from all the drink, and I did, but more than that, I wanted to extricate myself from all the pointless chatter. I longed for action, to move ahead, to move forward, and leave things unsaid behind.
    I had saved the world, after all, saved everyone on precious little planet Earth, when no one else was there to. When all our heroes were impotent, it was I who stood on the side of right, and for that I was promptly banished, proving the adage that no good deed goes unpunished.

    A sharp kick on the rump from one of my fellow crewmembers woke me, and rising, I noticed I wasn’t the only one fighting the effects of the late-night drinking. We were like a bunch of turtles trying to fuck a football, and I was glad, for my sake, that I wasn’t the only one. One by one, the crew assembled at a bundled series of barrels where we dunked our hands and drenched ourselves with cold water to wake us from the stupor. After that, we mustered to the quarterdeck, hurried by the ship’s officers.
    Captain Nicatrix strolled out of her cabin under the poop deck and leaned on the railing overlooking us. Even before she came out, Zann and a few others passed flasks and wine sacks of the fiery liquid, which did little to ease our sore bellies. The crew welcomed the captain with a rousing cheer, and it was clear they loved her. Last night, many of the crew had lauded her and shared stories of victory, loot, and glory. To hear it from them, Nicatrix couldn’t be beaten in ship combat, and most potential prey simply surrendered rather than risk her notorious wrath. She was known throughout Shard World; no one could run from her, and giving up was the only chance you had.
    Once the rowdiness died down, she began.
    “Now I know you’re all as anxious as little children to find out what the big hubbub is all about,” she began, getting a few rowdy whistles in return. With a wide sweep of her hands, the crew went silent again. “I can’t tell you many of the details, but I can let you know about our target. It’s the Vershani.”
    This both shocked and appalled the crew, but no one spoke. Instead, they just looked at each other, unsure how to respond.
    “I know,” Nicatrix continued. “We’re going after the big boys. This is going to be like no mission we’ve ever run. This is the rainmaker, boys. After this, we’ll all retire in style. Even you, Skeetrix. Maybe you’ll marry that whore you visit every time we make berth in Mangalore.” The crew responded well to one of their number, their greatest warrior, being singled out and lauded. They enjoyed seeing him pleased. The Captain knew what she